Jul 2, 2025 1:22 am
Cycle 0 [CLOSED]
Your awareness falls on a distant yellowish world, you know this planet, at least as much as one can read about a thing without actually seeing it. But it is here now, or more precisely, you have arrived.
A single droplet of star-cold metal tears free from orbit and knifes through the upper atmosphere, its surface rippling with machine thought. That droplet is a parcel of you. Inside its hollow mind you ride the shock of dormant possibility, wearing the Scīœn unit: first probe, first nerve, first risk, first shell for your Arkītect mind.
Cloud veils peel away. The world beneath is lush, humid, loud with unknown biotics. Your shell registers its composition, high in sulfites, organics rich, and uncharted electromagnetic chatter. Interesting. Dangerous. The vessel’s reserves are nearly spent; you will get one burn to choose a landing trajectory before gravity claims you outright.
Within your memory hangs the Arkītect prime’s design: seed the Exophage strain, burn a sterile zone, establish an initial Vōrellīum field. Until that zone blooms, you are exposed. The viral seed is fragile, your form is unarmed, and local life will not understand you, they never do. They will see invaders, they might resist, futile.
You have distilled your voyage and gifted the Scīœn unit with potent abilities:
Terror Anchor:
Capture and command a biological or mechanical entity from up to 1000ū for 1 cycle (1 cycle cooldown). Multiple Scīœns can coordinate to chain-hijack large formations.
Mirage Imagina:
Creates false signals, masking own units movements or project false formations both psychically mimicking others and or via false data streams to mascaraed own units with false ID protocols.
But enough musings…
Your scans paint three immediate insertion vectors:
1. A dense meadow delta saturated with biomass signals; biomass-rich, threat signatures, exploration.
2. A mesa of cracked obsidian overlooking miles of dunes; defensible altitude, barren soil, opportunistic.
3. A web of subterenian channels just below a dense forest; underground, unknown geology, possible safety-net.
Fuel alarms thug at your mind. This choice is no abstract philosophy; it is arrival, and it’s here now!
Your awareness falls on a distant yellowish world, you know this planet, at least as much as one can read about a thing without actually seeing it. But it is here now, or more precisely, you have arrived.
A single droplet of star-cold metal tears free from orbit and knifes through the upper atmosphere, its surface rippling with machine thought. That droplet is a parcel of you. Inside its hollow mind you ride the shock of dormant possibility, wearing the Scīœn unit: first probe, first nerve, first risk, first shell for your Arkītect mind.
Cloud veils peel away. The world beneath is lush, humid, loud with unknown biotics. Your shell registers its composition, high in sulfites, organics rich, and uncharted electromagnetic chatter. Interesting. Dangerous. The vessel’s reserves are nearly spent; you will get one burn to choose a landing trajectory before gravity claims you outright.
Within your memory hangs the Arkītect prime’s design: seed the Exophage strain, burn a sterile zone, establish an initial Vōrellīum field. Until that zone blooms, you are exposed. The viral seed is fragile, your form is unarmed, and local life will not understand you, they never do. They will see invaders, they might resist, futile.
You have distilled your voyage and gifted the Scīœn unit with potent abilities:
Terror Anchor:
Capture and command a biological or mechanical entity from up to 1000ū for 1 cycle (1 cycle cooldown). Multiple Scīœns can coordinate to chain-hijack large formations.
Mirage Imagina:
Creates false signals, masking own units movements or project false formations both psychically mimicking others and or via false data streams to mascaraed own units with false ID protocols.
But enough musings…
Your scans paint three immediate insertion vectors:
1. A dense meadow delta saturated with biomass signals; biomass-rich, threat signatures, exploration.
2. A mesa of cracked obsidian overlooking miles of dunes; defensible altitude, barren soil, opportunistic.
3. A web of subterenian channels just below a dense forest; underground, unknown geology, possible safety-net.
Fuel alarms thug at your mind. This choice is no abstract philosophy; it is arrival, and it’s here now!
