First things first, a smokescreen.
Beluga, Sevruga: Come winds of the Caspian Seaaaa
I reach into the void by whose will I was created and make minions: small, big, mean, kind, every variety, and send them to do whatever they want around the universe.
[3] You create a school of highly randomized voidfish, and then tell them to do whatever. They swim off momentarily, presumably to do exactly as you've told them.
In that case, the only reasonable course of action is to create a massive (as in volume and area) system of stars orbiting a similarly massive (as in mass) black hole. Galaxies, ho! In fact, let's just throw everything at the cosmic wall to see what sticks.
[2] You'd do exactly that, but somebody before you seems to have had the bright idea of filling the entirety of the universe in bright exploding and collapsing stars. There's no real space for a whole galaxy with how densely these stars appear to be packed.
Screw this. Just turn all the books into mind control devices and make them my slaves
[6] You create funny writings on the walls of the tower (for that is where all the writing is placed - on the walls rather than in books, to ensure permanency) for the mortals of the tower to amuse themselves over, and soon you have them incessantly repeating the words contained within and guffawing when their friends recognize the references. They shortly become internalized and ingrained in the culture of the tower, the foundation of a brand new culture. The inhabitants of the tower start to worship you offhandedly, impressed by your multilayered, complex wit and excellent grasp of the divinely absurd. It helps that none of them were familiar with the very concept of humor beforehand, too, so you could bring out the very stalest material you had and it'd seem completely fresh to them.
Now all you need to do is keep this gravy train rolling!
"I`m going to make Dragons. What else did you think I would make Worm People?"
Make dragons of all different types, some breathing fire, some flying, some swimming, some that eat plants, and some giant Mountain Dragons that eat stone.
[5] You create a dragon for basically each ecological niche: flying red dragons, sand-dwelling blue dragons, lithovore mountain dragons, dragon caecilians, voledragons, gut-dwelling microdragons, bloodsucking microparasite dragons, grazing herd dragons, pollinator dragons, parasitoid dragons, filter-feeding dragons, fructivorous dragons, nocturnal dragons, diurnal dragons, shrieking dragons, hibernating dragons, thermophilic dragons, sulfur-reducing dragons and many, many more. Most of them don't quite seem to fit the standard conception of the dragon, considering that over 99% of them are about as large or smaller than a blade of grass, and over 99.9999% grow no larger than a housecat, but you feel that their inclusion was necessary nevertheless. The worms applaud the way you seem to have constructed a decently varied biosphere purely out of dragons, and with full cognizance of the square cube law, no less, so they don't even need magic or some other wanton violation of physics to permit them to fly.
"What beautiful baby cannon-fodder!" Cheesecake cooed. "Your children shall plunder many worlds and hundreds will shed tears as they pass!"
Imbue them with a bit of godly essence to speed up their growth and ensure they become healthy and strong.
[1] You put in a bit too much, and accidentally incinerate about half of them. The broodmother is shocked and appalled at this careless application of divine power.
[3] A minority of the children seem to be growing up normally. The others have... mutations. And not the cool kind of mutations, either.
Teach my scholars how to counteract mind control
[3] You teach your scholars ways to shield the mind - elementary methods, as more complex ones you have not had the chance to devise yet. You are somewhat terrified when you realize that this whole funny book thing isn't actually mind control. They appear to genuinely enjoy Seeches' intellectually questionable books, and by extension their ethically questionable divine author as well.
Distribute board games to every mortal and immortal in existence and a few in non-existence.
[1] You fill the universe with hidden games in viciously trapped boxes of impenetrable god-metal. More often than not the games are viciously trapped or horrendously cursed as well - wouldn't want to diminish the playing experience by taking away any challenge. You scatter the artifact games all about, and it takes but a few decades for the mouth-things of Tuk to unearth the first one and promptly get struck with a terrible plague that wipes out five percent of their population. Then, when they try to open it again, the exact same thing happens. Bet they didn't expect that! Life is the most dangerous game, as they say. Or as you say. You're not sure if you originated this saying. Probably, since you're a demiurge and all.
((Huh, so I made an avatar of conflict, war, and Death all at once. Neat.))
Make weapons for my worshippers.
[1] You craft a single mighty star-blade, sharper than anything ever created, invulnerable to wear, capable of rending anything in an infinite number of small parts, and bequeath it to your faithful. They take it and, after confirming that its best use appears to be for digging the earth effortlessly and carving dragonbone, store it in the Museum of the Arts and proceed to work on swords of their own, so that they may gain mastery over stubborn earth and other solid materials. They don't seem to realize that the enchanted, physically broken material of your blade is what gives it its properties rather than its shape, but they have ample opportunity to correct their misconception in the years to come.
Manifest. Run into the room region around the singularity at the center of the universe, slide to a stop, look wildly about, then run out to another room region of space, do the same, then stroll casually along toward the largest clump of dragons.
[3] You shape a slightly blobby approximation of a catlike body and move over to Otyx's realm, which is teeming with dragons of all shapes, equivalent phyla and sizes.
Consume everything that doesn't wiggle.
[4] You start to reach out and eat a neutron star, which you find very spicy. You then supplement it with a nearby black hole. Your reach is still woefully limited, but increasing slowly, and soon you seem to have wrapped your tentacles around the tower at the center of the universe. It's rather robust, though, and not at all easy to consume.
Create the Spirits of Lust in the reality of Instincts so they may help mortals to populate
[6] You create the Conceptual Realm of Consuming Lust, a morass of howling spirits that possess the mind of all reproductively mature beings every once in a while and drive them to seek a far greater frequency of mating. Unlike other conceptual realms, this one doesn't seem malevolent at all! Instead it's just incredibly distracting to virtually all life. Populations the galaxy over start to boom.
Author
Topic: Inexorable: a Minimalist Demigod Game (Read 80586 times)