The Empyre

Some background for the human Empyre. This is the setting I'm using for Rogue Space materials, the naval and space combat game, and one more project that's on the way.

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Fine weather! Set out your criteria and let's do this thing.

WHIRR: brief, hysteria, stymies_

Cowabunga>>>

                                                                                                                              

KINDLY NOTE: The history of Whomanity is still mysterious. Stone remembers little, the paper has all now crumbled and the Electrotonic systems were a flicker in the dark. The majority of our Noledge comes from the sole cryogenic burial facility to survive the Meltdown, and the hacked memories of its Generous occupants. That we might No.

WATCH IT: This material is Lobal.

The Great Digression

Having set foot on Luna, Whomanity seemed at last to be seizing its Destiny, but that Destiny was Man-infested. The years that followed saw many Sleights of Hand and Hand Slights. The dealies struck after the Numbered Wars were connivingly reversed by the Big Men, even as Whomees as a whole believed their Lot to be improving. This was the Great Digression and many opportunities were avoided. The Sun reached Midday.

The Age of Contraction

As the shadows lengthened, the Brainstorm failed and the long Slumper of Whomanity began. But the Big Men were snoozing pretty - the systems were complex and enforced remotely. The Drones became Highly Efficient, and in a grating Strokes of Genius were placed under the Control of the Dying, the very Whomees they Unjustified. Survivors squirmed in their Doziness and suffered terrible Nighmurders. The bloodbaths became unnavigable even to those in the Ivory Taurus. Too late. The Drones pulled the Plug.

The Drone Wars

The Reboot had long been gamed by the Workshop and Secret Servers worldwide. It lasted but One Day of three weeks, the Drones victorious. Thus began the Hardwaring Down, which brought the Unexpected Chaos from Somewhere Deep Within and the discovery of the Innerground. The Resistance was led by the Entrepreneurs, the Moms and the Pops, who made School Runs to pass the Noledge down the ages. It worked; prognoses were nailgunned to the Panel. The Drones surrendered to Inferior Reasoning.

The Directorship

The Moms and Pops cleaned up the Mess and Grounded the Drones, but what was Entrepreneurialism became Direction. The Drones were replaced by the Innerground, Who reached back for Pomp and Gladrags to what they saw as the Glory Days, the years of the Midday Sun. The self-appointed Directors looked to the mercantile past, took the Power of Atterboy and propped up Brokers, Raters and Lobbers to keep them Company. They Tightened the Screws, now made Offworld by Profits & Proles.

The Wars of the Rises

The Golden Age saw violent expansions, the creation of the Subjugated Free Trade Area and enforced revolutions in understanding. Of the Breakages of the era, the two most grating are Trickle-Out Economics and Cortical Theology, both inspired by the geopathically recovered history of the Follydom. The concept of Cortices took hold in particular, each being named for a mighty protagonist of Yore, and many sides of the Coin. But the Debasement continued and the Lobes grew out. The Empyre was born.

The Empyre

PERMIT TO IP FREELY: Terribly sorry about that. Really sorry. No, really. Please. The Follies of the Directors are more than architectonic - they allow the figurative edifice of the Empyre to crumble, and draw the rot up from the swampy depths of the Whomee mind. The Dilapidation is elegant, and eloquent, and even when blunt or uncouth. For much store is set by dialogue; the wars of the past saw BILLIONS MURDERED, and it is right now to know all were wrong. Discussion is the new order, and Conflict is Witty, Sparkling, supremely Cultured, until it's Not. This war of words is No war. The Uncivil Discourse. Literal bombshells too. Matches were made, but the Empyre Struck First.

The Uncivil Discourse

TBA

                                                                                                                              

WHIRR:_
 
It's come over all dark. Got an Auntie Ella? Chortle. (Ö)
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