Create giant space hounds made of fire to gaurd the universe from evil
[3] You craft a single space hound as a proof of concept, and watch as it moves over to Meeses' voidlife preserve due to having no evil to fight. This seems a bit wrong until you understand that you've forgotten to specify what evil might be, and how one would find it.
USE THE BIGGEST STRAW EVER TO SUCK THE NEBULA INTO A CONTAINER THE EXACT SIZE OF THE NEBULA
[5] Your simplest plan yet appears to work perfectly. You have contained the gelatinous nebula. What's more, the pipe you used appears to have preserved all the essential order within it. The crabs, you're fairly certain, have not noticed a thing.
Hm...I suppose I'll just have to make a new, better, sentient, magical, immune to any godly interference other than my own, warlike species that worships me to destroy the other species on the planet. Or I can just scrap the planet and start over, maybe get the other gods to do something instead of piggybacking on my awesome creation.
[5] You craft a species of bipedal creatures with a single large mouth flanked by tentacles that serve as manipulator limbs - a simple design, easily reproducible, with a very nasty bite and a level of intellect that is higher than you would quite expect. And as the final touch, you render them immune to foreign divine interference. They move into a serendipitous dragon carcass lying about in the plains of your world, finding it most agreeable with their lifestyle. The bones are very useful, too.
[2] They then find themselves at a slight issue, which is that, while they do worship you, they're not quite mountain-adapted enough to go hunt the winged hivebeasts, or soil-adapted enough to do much damage to the caretaker worm population. And the four-legged soil hunters run a little too fast for them to easily catch, though your servants' efforts make a considerable dent in the numbers of the heretical beasts.
[5] You are also pleased to note that they seem unusually resistant to the abilities of the Thought Core and its Conceptual Hoard, despite it technically not being a god at all.
The largest gas giant will have sapient thoughtmasses coalesced from the gas, which will control the lesser, similarly exotic creatures on its moons, like gods. The larger terrestrial planets will have more mundane beasts of flesh... at first. Every other planet and moon will be given the components for life, but perhaps not life itself.
Trees are welcome in my domain.
[2] That's a pretty tall order, you find. You made a
lot of planets here. And most forms of life you manage to create don't take well to the radiation of the neutron star. Makes them loopy, it seems. Or dead, just as often. Can't even get the thoughtmasses right.
Create a horned dragon the size of a metropolis and release him on Tuk's planet.
[2] You craft a humongous dragon and place it on the planet of Tuk, and quickly realize that it can't move very quickly, or fly under its own power, or do much of anything, really. As a consequence, a race of two-legged mouth-things quickly murder it and make a proper dwelling and food base for themselves out of its corpse. You're helping! Yay for altruism!
Considering the unfortunate ruin caused by my action, I override and capture a few of the very strongest of the Heretics, for future examination, and to minimize the further damage they can cause.
[5] You scoop up the Machine-Heretics and deliver them to your stellar barge, and quickly determine that a simple logical decision making apparatus seems to produce nothing short of pure, insidious evil if not given any form of familiar ethical framework. The problem was rather easy to spot, all in all.
Construct a tower dedicated to knowledge upon the supermassive black hole. Obviously, there will be magic involved to make it, and contents/inhabitants immune to the whole gravity thing.
[5] You contain the black hole in a great divine machine, and build upon it a humble tower dedicated to knowledge, the unassuming appearance of which hides a great deal of structural strength and invulnerability to most of the common hazards of the area, not least of which is the massive amount of gravity. It feels a little cheaty, but as a stronghold of knowledge, you figure you can let people know that being privy to the innermost secrets of the universe do give you the ability to wantonly flip off physics.
A distance away from the content and happy Giant Cosmic Space Whales, Create a spiritual (For the dead of these 4-legged creatures.) pathway from Tuk's planet to the domain of the Giant Cosmic Space Whales, only for the spirits who have had a kindred soul may pass although there those who accept a binding contract may pass, under restriction.
[4] You endow the four-legged beasts of Tuk's planet with a contingency that ensures their relevant information is marched over to your doorstep single-file and then presumably given a body of some sort - you don't quite give it a continuity of consciousness, but does that really matter to the outside observer? You figure not. And the pathway comes out a touch metaphorical. But it's definitely serviceable, and no sooner are you done than the... souls, you suppose, yes, souls of these dead arrive to your voidlife preserve, and get back a reasonable approximation of what they think their body should be. It seems to work out nicely for them, and they seem well-provided for in your realm.
Summon Cthulhu into the 4th and 5th Spatial Dimensions!
You summon and summon, but nothing sees fit to respond. You suppose this isn't really a multiverse, is it?
I am 
(insert various alien symbols from every existing cultures here), God of Curiosity and indecision.
Feast upon the non-unity of the other gods and grow in plus ones Power
Unless you mean that as a metaphor for opportunism, you're going to have to come up with something far better to eat than an abstract concept. I hear they're not very filling.
And if you do mean that as a metaphor for opportunism, you're going to have to be more specific.
Create an afterlife of blissful wiggling, accepting any as long as they wiggle.
[1] You create a designated arrival area in the void where all who wiggle as they die are copied to when their vital functions expire. There is a surprising dearth of entrants. A few random creatures that do appear are dead at this point.
turn the disk full of whales into a disk full of qualls.
[6] You transform the inhabitants of Meeses' disk into... quails, one would assume, as it rhymes rather well. This confuses and bewilders the occupants of the disk, since their cosmic travel adaptations appear to now be gone, leaving them floating helplessly in their paradise.
[3] While some of them do figure out how to move around, most just seem content in creating food and amusement delivery systems out of the blue for their use. It works well enough, they suppose.
Plant trees on Oyo's planet.
[6] You cover each and every one of Oyo's planets, all several hundred of them, gas giants included and moons pointedly excluded, with trees of all eventually conceivable shapes and sizes. Gas trees, liquid trees, conceptual trees, fractal trees, photosynthetic trees, bifurcated trees, dead trees, living trees, winged trees, colossal winged trees, clonal trees, individualistic trees, sentient trees, sapient trees, hyperintelligent trees, mobile trees, hard trees, soft trees, heavy trees, light trees, photonic trees, plasma trees, quantum trees, degenerate matter trees, strange matter trees, exotic matter trees, antimatter trees, big trees, small trees, trees somewhere in between. Trees. Trees everywhere. This shall be the system of trees, you decide. Trees are mandatory. Or, rather, the ones that survive this initial wave of appearance will will be.
[6] Oddly enough, you seem to have placed them nicely enough that all of them appear to find their ecological niches. Yes, even the strange matter tree. It eats other trees. It's a veritable tree-based unified ecosystem there. You've even got clonal colonies of Bose-Einstein condensate trees out on the edge of the system that span several planets, tethering them together in ways you prefer not to consider, lest they suddenly disintegrate and cause havoc with the whole thing.
This black hole will do nicely. Use it as a portal into my dimension (an empty one for now). Accept all hopeful applicants, explain to the planet-sized crabs that army life entails fighting and winning.
To the crabs especially, due to their size, they'll be used as siege soldiers and transport.
The cosmic whales will be used to navigate space, scout and recon, and be ambassadors.
To the winged wizard hivebeasts, they will serve as living cannons and use their wizardry to lay waste to any in our path.
For the caretaker worms, (I don't know what they do yet so I'll leave it to the GM to decide where they fit best in the army.)
The power I grant to these soldiers after they accept my terms will be anything from money, to political power, to physical and mental power, to arcane power or to knowledge. But I will not grant immortality, invulnerability, amnesty from the afterlife, or anything else that will nullify our contract.
Service to the army will end when a soldier dies a hero's death. I will be the judge of said death. If it was not worthy, I will reincarnate him to fight again until he dies a hero. They will then live in peace in my realm. If they fake death, or try to desert the army, I will have them executed repeatedly until the universe ends.
[2] You could maybe create a conceptual space to keep your shit in. A dimension as such is an additional axis of space (or something else, who knows) for you to play with, and those are pretty hard for you to navigate, considering you're a three-dimensional thing spatially. You look away for a second to figure this thing out, and return to see everything in a state of complete and utter disorder.
The crabs are badgering you with questions about what they'll be fighting and why exactly. The whales have turned into helpless quails floating around in their voidlife paradise, and seem to have no more interest in your offer. The winged wizard hivebeasts have been abducted by another god while you weren't looking and now reside in its traveling home. The less-than-brave worms have lost interest since the afterlife they got now has no conditions for entry and it seems less harsh than what you're offering, plus no chance of hideous punishment, the importance of which cannot be overstated.
And what's more, that tosspot Ogejabogeja has plugged up your black hole with a woefully non-ostentatious tower and claimed the place as his own, in the few seconds in which you weren't paying attention, no less! The gall on these bastard gods! Well, you'd never!
[6] You work up your contract system anyway, you suppose. Might as well get it done with right now. You create your system in full, for easy automation later because damn if you can be bothered to listen to every other mortal asking you about this stuff non-stop.
The zero-dimensional planet of Zil will come into existence next to the Thought Core in conceptual space. Its inhabitants are independent thoughts that have escaped their conceivers to enjoy an existence of infinite recreation.
[4] The Thought Core sets aside a conceptual space for your planet and lets you work on it. Concepts seem awfully easy to shape, you note. Especially since you've made it without even a conceptual shape, and stole all the thoughts you put on it. Come to think of it, you didn't actually need to make a single thing. This is just a little side extension of the Conceptual Hoard, really, though with a little bit of an afterlife feel. Afterlives are trendy right about now after Tuk's creations rose a big stink about it. Yours has the unique distinction of not really benefiting anybody at all, acting more as a repository of information, as thoughts on their own are not particularly known for their sentience. Nevertheless, you think you've invented the fallibility of mortal memory. That's something to be proud of, isn't it?
I am - -
My name is - -
Known as Anathema
I am Void, its will coalesced into being
Primary directive is collection of essence
Essence disrupted\eradicated by abundance of stars
Light energy eats away at the void//vitae
Alternative energy sources must be discovered\established
I attempt to create a place//dimension where souls are sent when their life is extinguished. Their eternal anguish shall be the furnace that fuels my existence.
[6] You create a little corner of the universe where the information of all living beings is copied to eventually, given a body and then tormented creatively for a short while in the vacuum until they expire horrendously. Then they're remanifested again. The best part is, information can be copied as many times as you like, so everyone can come here! Everyone! Or an iteration of their death-info, anyway. There sure as heck is an alternate version of them someplace else, though, enjoying the high life in their new sugar god's realm.
This is all good fun, naturally, and after the basic setup of this rather expansive afterlife is done, you consider the style of the place. Thus far it's rather minimalistic. All business. No style or flair, which is really no way for an afterlife to be. Also a bit of an energy guzzler, you note. But you've got power to burn.
"Oh noble Worms, you may be reincarnated on my world in your true forms if you promise to protect any of my future creations."
Allow the worms to reincarnate on my planet.
[4] Taking inspiration from Meeses and Jublo, you set up a system that copies a living form of a worm about to die, only fixed up entirely so it'll last a while yet, and places it in your realm, free of any strings attached. The worms are most grateful, and the first two hundred to die readily form a committee to hear out your immediate goals and concerns. Some seem a little disappointed that the afterlife doesn't seem all that distinct from regular life, but they figure regular life in a much friendlier realm where their creator and overseer isn't out to kill them ("yet", they don't hesitate to add) isn't that bad of a deal no matter what way you slice it. They do wonder when you'll be getting to making more than just the dragon-image, though. They'd like to prepare the golden land for the arrival of any lifeforms, and it'll be easier to do if you relay your plans to them first. It'd be efficient, even, which is a double win in their book.
Author
Topic: Inexorable: a Minimalist Demigod Game (Read 81113 times)