((Flippin love my moldy space ship))
Now try to make Combat Fungi
Also test drive the space ship, if it works give some fungi the sentience to pilot one as well as building more.
[6] Most of your kin, it should be said, are already quite poisonous by nature. Secreted antibiotics are nature's way of warning punk-ass lifeforms to stay off your lawn, and it's a sacred warning for your people in particular, establishing valuable boundaries between them. It also has the great side effect of killing off most other fauna that try to eat your people. An example of how a lifeform can be both sedentary and an apex predator, in a way. But even so, you decide to dial up the poison a little on everyone. Couldn't hurt anyone you care about, right? Although there is the matter that your ship's become a little less comfortable to live in, what with all the poison in it. But what can you do?
[2] Not much, you suppose, even as your spaceship, slightly weakened, fails to attain orbit. You fall to the ground with it, though nobody overly important was harmed by the admittedly soft landing.
My action was NOT to place them on me, my action was to FIND them.
[2] And you did. Sort of. There's no humans, snakes, apples or regular trees. There are, however, the faithful of Tuk, rare void serpents of many shapes and sizes and/or dragons, rose-like blooms of strange matter in Exotic System A and some colossal winged (but not exactly intelligent) trees.
Go off in search of adventure, and people to whom I might spread arcane knowledge
[5] You, after a slightly expensive teleporation ritual and a few excuses, arrange for a splendid vacation in the Dragonhome, where, as you understand it, all that stirs is dragons. And a bunch of worms. You suspect these lifeforms might appreciate some arcane knowledge. And there's so much Dragonhome to go around, too!
Try to create fauna.
[6] You let your being splinter, creating a new creature off a seedling of your light - it is a gargantuan shark of the land, full of hunger for the strong and beefy. After it makes short work of a good portion of the macroscopic life near the Tree, it then moves off elsewhere to seek more nourishment.
Drift through space, relatively oblivious to what goes on around me. Try to find some motion, for the emptiness of space is far to not-wiggly for my tastes. Keep wiggling of course.
[2] This is taking a long, long, long, long, long, long, long, long time. You suspect you might be at this for a while. For a long time. Forever. All the other gods will snicker about your predicament and call you an idiot and a glutton, you just know it. Bastards, the entire lot.
The Tyrant of Zil, target of an entire planet's hatred, stood upon the roof of his stolen estate and shouted. "Tuk, is that you? Hah, who else could it be. Listen, this will only end in tears and blood. Mainly blood. Lots of it. Why don't you go murder your own people somewhere else? As the particularly evil demigod of games, I've got that covered."
Better bolster the army, such as it is, with those mercenaries the rich must keep on tap. Offer more competitive rates. Simultaneously, send a coordinated military response to contain the situation. Should be just like Stratego, right?
[1] You have less than half of your original force remaining. You make it clear that you have a lot of treasure and loot, and that all these heavily-armed mercenaries (or, rather, integrated retainers, since they've been working for the same family for almost ten generations in the most severe cases, receiving inheritances and even properties) really ought to help you against this guy who ripped through your once-considerable force with distressing ease. You, who the land itself hates and, if the fate of your mercenary army is any indication, who bring the same misfortune to all who serve with you, and who also collaborate with the hated Shapers.
As may be surmised, they have a slightly better idea, which is to join forces with the invader, kill you, then loot as much of your estate as the Fourth Hero would consider within the bounds of just reward, and convert the rest into a memorial. You are now severely outnumbered, you note.
On the other hand, your estate hosts a few guests now. The Three Heroes of old, though disapproving of your methods, seem to feel like they ought to eliminate Tuk if they're ever to have a chance of leading carefree lives again. And the Near-Perfect Being with them, blessed with uncommon ability in practically all, also seems to concur with this idea, and is prepared to order you around to her whim, promising guaranteed success and already offering guaranteed defense from immediate attack.
((So are we like demidivine kin? Can we be? Makes for better RP. Also, seriously, demigod of War, Conflict, and Death. Tuk LOVES blood and tears.))
"You forget who you address, brother. These are my people. I created their forebears. And you would try to stop me with threats of tears and blood? Blood is the most wonderful color, and with it I shall paint a masterpiece upon this city of the faithless. I believe I have made my feelings clear on the subject of other gods encroaching on my turf without tribute. In fact, I'll top my masterpiece off with your head, unless you leave."
Continue the One Demigod (and Planet) Revolution. Maybe actually get supporters this time. Or kill them. Not really too picky.
Fortunately, once the richer, more entrenched elements of the planet get wind of what you're doing and what you've already done, they seem to think nothing of helping you out. Whatever keeps them from getting murdered and gets them on track with murdering that Zil guy, right?
[2] However, while you have managed to rout Zil's forces outside his estate, there does seem to be a bit of a problem, in that he's apparently been joined by four other demigods, one of them the Near-Perfect Being, which slides the balance of power back a little, enough to make you consider your next tack carefully. You recall that the Near-Perfect Being unraveled an actual god once. Maybe she can kill you, too? Manpower-wise, you win without question. Demigod-wise, you're outnumbered 8 to 1, or 4 to 1 if you count Tukta as a demigod, and you don't really see why not.
"Hello, I;m currently offering mercenary service to the one that will help me create a less.........Chaotic form of reproduction for my race of dice. Maybe you, former god of games, would like my services?"
SEE IF I AM ON TUKTA
[1] Tukta? What's that? You, as a matter of fact, seem to be in Dragonhome currently. Or so you think. You can't quite see, hear or otherwise sense it. But you have faith that this is the case.
Why you such a bitch, tree? If harmony is not desired, disharmony it is. Become toxic.
[5] With the convincing rationale of the cheeky motherfucker starting it, you poison the New Tree you helped grow. Its branches crumble, its sap dries up, and it grows hollow around you, allowing you free exit if you wish. The New Tree is immortal, it may be true, but now you have cursed it with advanced age - an advanced age that, creative potential permitting, may well last forever. Serves the damn plant right.
Replace tail feathers and wings with an Ion propulsion system. Turn my feet into ion engine fuel tanks as well.
[2] You... don't know how to do that. You could do it in the voidlife preserve, maybe. But you don't actually have much god-magic on you. You're not, like, formally educated, man. You're just immortal and sort of do minor things. Come to think of it, you don't even know how ion propulsion works. Sounds pretty fancy, though.
Take a vacation in the 5th dimention and study the crabcake planets. . . . The message had something to do with restoring them to their full glory or something.
[6] The fifth dimension's not a place. It's an axis of spacetime, as your mother always reminded you, smug piece of work that she was. But you do know where the gelatinous nebula is on that axis and, for that matter, where it is on the fourth-dimensional axis as well. You travel there and bear witness to the fall of the planetary crabcakes, now trapped in horrible, diseased forms of actual crabs, which is, naturally, quite sick and wrong. You suspect you could engineer some sort of plot to turn them back into the crabcakes they were meant to be the entire time. You'd just need funding.
On the other hand, if you could come up with a convincing method of turning crab-planets into crabcake-planets, who in their right mind
wouldn't fund you? You could open up a whole new niche for your race to inhabit in all perpetuity!
Disgruntled, ask the local chief for a task, to gain fame and recognition
[5] The chief guide gives you a relatively simple task - you are to travel to the planet Tooka and find the Relict Shapers, recreated along with a past version of this maze in all their sinister glory. Travel there and speak with them, understand their ways, seek alliance with the spiders of the Tree. Then you shall prove worthy of higher tasks and more important secrets.
Hmmph, my perception was that it was spread all about, equally hosting me, with a couple "inner" cores, but, things will happen soon enough
Create a new crystaline assimilator, that is able to absorb the old crystal, at a slower rate, but is much more permeable to modification, and is immune to the old spreading.
[2] Your limited edition crystalline assimilator variant absorbs the old crystal at a slower rate. Slower than what, you ask? Slower than it can reproduce itself, that's what!
For some reason, it doesn't work quite as envisioned. Or, rather, it does, but the result is monumentally disappointing, and soon dies out.
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Topic: Inexorable: a Minimalist Demigod Game (Read 80828 times)