THEN SIMPLY BUILD SOME KIND OF SHIP THAT CAN GO INTO AND NAVIGATE THE 4TH AND 5TH SPATIAL DIMENSIONS
[5] You need but bend the light just so, and a box of mysterious conveyance materializes in front of you. You bring your form into it, and start to convey yourself across the fourth and fifth dimensions - knowing that such a thing can only be done offhandedly and without thought, as most gods are restricted to three-dimensional orientation abilities, you elect to apply your power in this vessel of utter sensory deprivation.
[6] You have no idea how much time has passed when you finally encounter vigorous wiggling shaking you from your trip. Peeking out of the box, you notice that you seem to have plowed right through the gelatinous nebula, leaving a massive trail of anomalies made solid. The nebula now has a distinctly toroid shape, or so at least you think after the flash of your explosive entry, the very flash that brought the single bit of light into this empty corner of the universe, subsides entirely.
Alter the mind plague so that it also gives it's victim arcane knowledge.
[6] You empower the mind plague, granting it the ability to teach mortals the ability to manipulate the forces of creation and destruction that you happen to command - to a degree proportional to their other thoughts stolen, naturally. The Thought Core acquiesces to your manipulation, and fills its near-mindless victims with great divine power.
[6] It is in the next few moments that it occurs to you that giving a creature without any ethics, morals or capacity for judgement great magic may not have been the best call. Fortunately, the victims thus far seem to be focusing on creating things such as food, warmth, shelter, and attractive mates - this sudden manifestation of supernatural abilities does not go unnoticed by their concerned fellow creatures. Some feel the knowledge to be a blessing, as many choose to use their magic for non-destructive means, while others consider it a curse of sorts, as the users of this new power are typically using it rather selfishly.
Create a base for Giant Cosmic Space Life, so that the creatures do not immediately die. (The base is supposed to be not really physical but more of an area that gives all the things needed for Giant Cosmic Space life.)
[6] You create a large sphere, an intangible sea in the void that you envision as a paradise for all giant space life, a place where they can proliferate in peace, where they can ask and immediately receive all of their mind's desires. It is nigh-imperceptible to most, but its siren call draws all creatures of supreme size and dietary requirements, promising quick and effective provision in all perpetuity. Mind controls and conjures matter here, and ordinary physical rules such as the square cube law need not necessarily apply.
Destroy the source of the mind plague.
I like Tuk's planet. Plenty of wiggling potential in those species.
Help him destroy the mind plague.
[1+1] The mind plague exists in conceptual space - methods of conventional war cannot destroy it, and conventional means of searching cannot locate it. The conceptual basis of the mind plague now dwells in the minds of all of Tuk's creations - indeed, the minds of all sentient life, in fact, to one degree or another. And the plague appears to be changing now - instead of merely stealing thoughts, it now imparts knowledge of the divine methods in return, almost like an equitable trade. The winged hivebeasts are taking well to the new arts the plague is teaching them, it seems, and to a lesser extent the others are as well.
Expand the golden disk adding mountains, forests, and even streams for dragons and other reptiles to live in.
[5] You fashion the golden disk into a much more livable shape, with gleaming peaks and valleys and rivers of golden dust, all of which soon comes alive with all manner of vibrant plant life with leaves of red, yellow and orange - adapted to this draconic realm by your decree and definition, the flora thrives and fills the entirety of the disk, forming tall and ancient-looking forests, steppes of golden grass, deserts of windblown twinkling dust, red seaweed-laden oceans and more. Your elder dragon of light and darkness is excited by this sudden emergence, and zips about the landscape at the speed of light, eager to take in every new sight and impression.
Hollow the rock and fill it with blood. It shall be Aros, the living rock.
[1] Aros the living rock may indeed be its name, but living it is decidedly not. Or even a rock after you're done with it. The crust of the planet cracks and sinks into the relatively light blood, and soon you get but a sphere of blood, one that presumably possesses a core of shattered earth coated with coagulated vitae. The rest is an enormously deep ocean, cold and thick with quickly dying cells.
Grant the Thought Core sapience that increases in intelligence the more minds it consumes. Ensure that it has the wisdom to not exhaust its food source or lower the population more than a moderately successful natural predator might.
[6] The Thought Core thanks you for your generous donation of new divine thought, and expresses regret that it cannot repay you with its newfound secrets of creation, as you know them all anyway. It takes your advice into consideration, and thanks you again. You notice that its attacks on the populace become slightly more random. Or is it merely a method more obscure, even to one such as you?
At any rate, you watch it grow richer with new thoughts, and dole out its existing, easily reproducible, low-value knowledge of divine abilities of creation in return. In its unassailable position, the Conceptual Hoard grows, and the Thought Core becomes increasingly complex. The populace of Tuk's planet seems to achieve a slight equalization of arcane power, you notice - the Thought Core trades a little thought with all, rather than stealing lot of thought from few. The exact thoughts traded remain a mystery to you, however.
Create the stars! Light shall be eternal!
[6] You shake the fabric of the universe as you coalesce your infinite ambient light into trillions upon trillions of stars of varying size, and still manage to have infinite light left over. All points of observation across the universe are now united by the thing they see - a sky filled with uncountable multitudes of stars and quasars, organized harmonically around the center of the universe. The brightest and largest burn out immediately, forming great black holes, while a few others take a little longer. Surprisingly quickly the stars begin to deplete, their numbers immediately in sharp decline.
I am Kropotoko God of Altruism, and I create a solar system with circling stars and nine planets.
[2] You would, but there is no free space - the efforts of Goliad have filled the universe with stars to the point of overpopulation, leaving little to no space for your own project. Impermanent stars they are, too, willing to explode and collapse into black holes or neutron stars at the slightest provocation. You don't feel quite safe with all these stellar formations littering the universe.
Fly my home among the myriad works of the others, looking for a decision to make.
[3] It seems the gods and their creations have their business well in hand - most of them do, anyway. On Tuk's planet, however, you do notice a certain part of the local populations - the most magically empowered of the lot are also the most indecisive, and seem to be looking for any sort of guidance, as even their most basic thoughts appear to have been stolen.
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Topic: Inexorable: a Minimalist Demigod Game (Read 80510 times)