That third planet kept revolving around its axis in an ever slowing cycle as if it pondered on a comfortable position in which to enter the final lonely sleep. In turns some lands were engulfed by the dark whilst others were shown another glimpse of the rising sun. It could never be said whether this day would be the last they or if another one would follow the night. In one of those corners, where the morning had just begun to melt away the icy blanket of the night was a frozen river cutting through the stony landscape. Slowly, it too began melting as the sun continued laboriously climbing up. The hoarfrost blanket that the river had cast over the rocky shores around it was gone after several hours, but the solid frozen river itself took much, much, longer. At first it was just the small trickles of water, which were barely more than a finger wide, that made sinuous paths in the surface of the frozen river -like veins. They grew and the trickles became streams that ate into the cold mass. Simultaneously, underneath of it all, a yet larger, stronger stream continued to bore its way up unseen. Soon enough, the water could break free. In many places all along the riverbed the ice crumbled in a chain reaction, which had began in the far end that lied somewhere closer to the day. The water that had been chained for the long night continued its free rapid flow again. The last reminders of the nightís reign -those few rafts of ice- sailed on the currents for a while longer, but they too would eventually vanish.
Onto the shore closer the oncoming morning rose a figure from water in such calm manner that had anyone bored witness to the event they would have sworn that was not a being of that forlorn world. It was as if this scenario was just another ordinary morning for the creature, and it knew nothing of the apocalypse that had came and went. Out of the waves' embrace it walked, with its head held high and back properly straight. Step by step it climbed up along the underwater slope until its feet stood on the grey stone of the shore. It was not a being wholly different in appearance to what most would associate with the image of a typical sentient creature. It was essentially humanoid in shape, with a smooth and utterly featureless head on top of a short neck, a sleek torso and two pairs of limbs with additional finger-like appendages in their distal ends. This creature was perfectly black, and even the few droplets of water that had been captured in the nooks its body flowed off of it quickly as if they were fleeing after coming to the realization that they had treaded somewhere where they should never venture.
Alone and freshly awakened the creature did not yet know how to proceed that day. It stood still facing towards the horizon from where the sun was returning, but the dark face did not form an expression. The creature was still in middle of processing its memories that the long night had thrown into disarray. This was nothing new for it though, as the cycle had repeated itself many times. For now, it would not move or think overly much. The sunlight, though harmful in noon, was in the morning optimal for it to absorb and store as energy that it would require to repair itself -and later to move.
While going over its own past, it would not associate any name with itself in its own thoughts -not then and not later- thus we named it as the awaker for any name that the other remnants of the planet could give it would not truly depict its most unique quality, the ability to awake from the night, as accurately. Many went to sleep in the cold of the night, but few were those who ever woke up again. The awaker was one such being for it could to some extent withstand the merciless forces of nature during both day and night. A lot of time passed before the awaker concluded the reconstruction of its complex internal systems. During this, the sun had barely moved at all.
Once fixed, the awaker did not need to look around to know what lie in which direction. There was the night; the inescapable sleep. Ahead was a new day and it knew what that meant. There was the struggle of life and there were the others. That was the only place where it knew other beings existed, though of course the awaker had run speculations of things existing outside the day night cycle of the surface and of the existence of outer beings like us, but it had yet to meet any such individuals or groups of such. What it did know with certainty was that those other beings of the day would seek to interact with the awaker if it crossed their path.
This had happened on countless days before this one, and although the awaker did not have sufficient data to predict the details of each individual encounter that had yet to happen, it knew the general pattern. The survivors would have seemingly random motives which they pursued with varying levels of effort and indifference depending on how much hope they still placed on the dying world. Most thoughts that these survivors had would sound completely alien to the awaker, whilst others perfectly logical and reasonable. However, it knew that its own logic was false anyway so none of that held any meaning anymore. All the accumulated errors in its logic pathways caused by the radiation and other corrupting factors would have long since impaired its ability to simulate pure rational thought. All of the the thoughts it had recorded from when its mind had been clear seemed lacking and dull now. The awaker had soon after the beginning its own corruption concluded that this difference in the quantity and exact properties of the piled errors was what differentiated its own process of thought from other beings. It could no longer say if its own past thoughts had been any more profound than any other sentient wandererís, nor did it matter to it anymore. They, the awaker and the time they had lived would all soon end when the day that sun would choose not to rise. Despite all this it immersed itself in the moment, enjoying immensely the feeling of its photosynthesizing machines warming up.
Once the brighter beams of morning moved from its face to the feet, the awaker saw fit to move. A soft cloud of dust rose into the air after it laid down the first step towards rising sun. Between rising its feet from the cold ground and placing them back down on soil it had never stood on before, the awaker was pleased. It walked at a pace slightly different from the optimal, but the awaker could no longer calculate perfectly so it did not bother with trying to. Its internal systems began compensating the increased heat gain caused by walking. In the awaker's chest, an orange hue of the power core began glowing through its black surface.
For the longest while, the awaker walked in absolute solitude with only the unchanging wasteland around it. It sharpened its sensors and listened to everything from vibrations of air to the electromagnetic waves. Beneath the sound of its own footsteps it could still hear the splashing of water that it had left behind ages ago. Amidst all the cosmic noise and the disturbance caused by the dying sun it also caught a short radio signal from directly ahead. It was a plead for aid. In that moment, the awaker thought it was lucky. Not because it could save a being, but because it happened to be directly on its course. It would not have to redo the calculations, and it found strange satisfaction in the coincidence.
Tedious was the walk over the dead fields of stone, but eventually change came just as the intensity of morning light grew and began adding yellow into the monochromatic grey world. Small things, tiny at first, sprouted from between the cracks on the ground. They weren't quite like the green plants that we are are familiarized with, neither in origin nor structure, but they created an illusion of life nonetheless. The awaker did not know them by their correct name, but in its mind it called them simply flowers, for they too rose towards the sky, carrying similar beauty as those flowers of old. Yet, they were merely imitations of life simulated by similar complex hive of machinery that kept the awaker moving. It moved past the first flower bud and as if in response to that, many more began rising from their sleep. Black little plants with squarely shaped sharp leaves, completely smooth surface and bundles of yet un-budded flowers waiting for the sun to creep high enough for them to burst into full bloom. Soon the grey and yellow ceased to be the dominant colours, and instead of an odd flower appearing in middle of the vast greyness it was the turn of the dead stone to be the odd one in middle of a vast field of deep black ocean of flowers.
There the awaker saw the source of that radio signal, a broken husk lying amongst and partially under the flowers that so eagerly climbed on anything to get a good spot under the sun. It was an old thing, from the time before beings like the awaker had even been thought of. The husk had once had the shape of a beautiful human with pleasing proportions and surface as smooth as silk, but now all that was left of it was the head and the upper half of its torso from which cords, internal machinery and spinal structures were sticking out. Some flowers had crawled their way inside as well. Most of the skin had smoothed off and the cold steel below revealed. It still had little burned tufts of hair sticking to the top of the skull. The awaker halted when it was still good distance away from the broken thing. It could not yet identify how dangerous the corpse was.Characters and Setting:
Itís a post apocalyptic setting. Exactly how much of the old worlds and itís inhabitants remains is up to us, but I would like to keep it low. Almost everything and everyone is dead and these or destroyed and the planet itself is slowly dying.
The story would involve two main characters, the agendered nanomachine construct and the other robot that once had female appearance (it could also have been some sort of cyborg.) Iíd be up for playing either of them.What Iím looking for from this story:
Exploration of dead and calm places, alien logic of non human minds and quiet solitude. Iíd like to play the game with both characters never having had very human like thought process to begin with, but have them also been further deteriorated by the collapse of the world. Generally would just like to focus on the hands on experience of being on a dying world and knowing that there is nothing you can do about it and you are among the last survivors, just waiting for it to end.
Additionally, I just love describing scenery like this
, but I wouldnít mind seeing apocalyptic world that others can paint with their words.Game length and posting pace:
We should probably discuss what sort of plots or stories weíd like to run in this or if we just want to sandbox an apocalypse before determining how long we would aim the game to continue. I would like at least couple of scenes, maybe even just enough for the characters to go through one day and get frozen again by the night. Posting length could vary, if they have dialogue one paragraph should be enough. Who do I want to play this with:
Anyone who is comfortable with playing a very ďnon eventfulĒ game where not much happens in character.