Perfect. I'll leave them to their egg-making and laying. Meanwhile, try to make a large beacon attached to the colossus to map the area, marking key strategic locations and resource-abundant areas.
[3] After fidgeting about with making a beacon that's actually not for beacon stuff and is instead some kind of intelligent camera thing for some time and failing rather miserably, you decide to just tell the colossus to tell you if he sees anything strategically important or rich-looking while in orbit. The colossus says that he'll need a polar orbit to actually do much of that kind of surveillance, and that the inclination change is going to be a bit of a bitch to do. You tell him to do it anyway. Not like maintaining an orbit is costing him any effort right now, is it?
[5] Meanwhile, eggs seem to be hatching already! Look at all the cute little babies, the broodmother says. They look just like their father, but smaller. And they've got their mother's eyes, the colossus coos.
Head-Boop the Wiggle-Star. Find the warmest spot in the universe, and nap on it.
[3] You nap inside a neutron star for a short while before realizing you haven't got a body and technically don't need and are not even capable of napping. And if you
did have a body, you sure don't anymore. You don't remember if you really did or not.
Make a physical avatar of war. With weapons and offensive power. And defensive power. And horns.
[1] You create an elephantine personification of war with six legs, bristling with spikes, energy emitters and vicious atomic weaponry, its skin so thick to be virtually impenetrable. And horns! Upon landing on your planet, the creature's limbs simultaneously declare war on one another, and its head decides to opportunistically join in. War rages as the creature fights itself, gnawing off one leg, submerging another in lava and burning it off, and finally one particular leg manages to get the others to fully surrender before its mighty weaponry (which the leg convinced to fight on its side with promises of riches and titles). Upon the surrender, the other legs are summarily executed, and the resultant one-legged creature drags itself around for a good few hours before the weapons, dissatisfied under the leg's new regime, usurp it and engulf it in nuclear fire. They reinstate the head as the sovereign ruler for a few more minutes, until realizing that it's probably better if the weapons owned the entirety of the state, and execute the head as well. The remaining torso travels around the countryside until the weapons run out of ammo and collapse into lifelessness.
[6] The carcass is then looted by your faithful tentacle things, who place the overheated, damaged and weathered weaponry into their Temple of Arts, not daring to remove it from the hide of the elephant that had it. The horns are repurposed as parts of your high priest's ceremonial accoutrements.
the screams, the pain, the tears... they taste... delicious
ehhehhehHEHHEHHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE-
not quite. i try to fork my conscious, allowing the part that takes joy in the torture of mortal souls to stay and oversee said torture, while the logical part stays with me and assist me in the planning stage. i name this fork Zhiren, and I will keep the name anathema
[5] You leave something that is best described as another you to oversee your hell, and then bugger off someplace else to plan your next move. It works wonderfully, you think as you listen in on the screams of the unduly punished.
Create a force field that extends far beyond my disc of beings but will not interfere with any other god's creations and will also let spirits through.
[4] You create a repellent effect that will hopefully shield the inside of your voidlife preserve. It's generous in terms of space enclosed, but not overly large. You can also still copy things through it. The fruits of your labors are all but unnoticeable.
I am [Insert Generic God Name] and I am the god of obscure world threatening quests and chosen ones.
My first task is to give one infant of every race a chosen one. As well as creating 1 obscure world threatening quest for the chosen ones to compete over.
[4] A chosen one... to each infant? That sounds a bit difficult. You have one infant of every race (except Tuk's faithful tentacle mouth things, as they seem resistant to your manipulation) a chosen one.
[3] You then have a little trouble deciding what could possibly be an obscure world-threatening quest any of them could possibly care about. Well, any that they could possibly complete - you could conjure up a giant monster who'll eat the universe someday or whatever, but you don't see how any of the sentient creatures in the universe could do anything about it.
GRAB THE INSOLENT ONE WHO TRIED TO DRAIN MY POWER (zomara0292) DIVINE ENERGIES AND SUCK MOST OF IT INTO THE GELATINOUS NEBULA CONTAINER, TO HELP FEED THE CRABS BETTER.
[4] It's not strictly your power, you think. There's just power. Everyone has it, really, and it seems to be a shared pool. So it's a little difficult to steal it. You can still pour some creations into the gelatinous nebula if you like, though.
Curde the magical tower not to hold arcane magic, but to hold the fools who have entered and try to gain the power of gods.
Most definitely oppose
[2-1] You try to curdle the magical tower by some unknown means, and predictably it doesn't seem to work. Many observations are recorded of your futile attempt at the behest of the creator of the tower, and the wizards within are deeply thankful that you've provided them with such an effective demonstration of a deity at play. They'll make sure to improve on your technique in their spare time and grow even more powerful.
Dejected, you then screw up the unsuspecting Ankron's ship to make yourself feel better. It works perfectly!
Create fairies of joy that help out in dire situations
[1] You create a race of dancing lights that occupy conceptual space, appearing in the mind of all who attempt something clearly dangerous and stupid that will put their life in immediate danger, and then inform them of the power of positive thinking and having faith. They then do a charming dance of congratulation all the way as the person in question attempts the questionable endeavor, and should a sufficiently maimed victim be produced, record its image and put it in their great gallery of thoughts.
Did you mean to ignore my last post? 'Cause I'm good with that, but uh...
Begin enhancing my home, adding more armor, better structural components, some armament, that sort of thing.
(I'd never ignore a post on sheer principle. If I found something about it objectionable, I'd probably just run it in a condescending and spiteful manner. I just happened to miss yours. Perhaps don't use the font? It's a little difficult to read or notice.)
[1] After poking and prodding your home a little, you decide that this sort of work is probably beneath you, and also rather tedious, and promptly subcontract it to Seeches, God of Blood. It seems trustworthy. You then pop off on a little errand, perhaps to investigate the proper application and design of an ethical framework, and return to find that your home has been turned into a decidedly less metallic and airtight garishly painted marble thing with a lot of columns. The walls seem oddly curdled.
[6] The Machine-Heretics you kept in here, meanwhile, seem to have died of suffocation. Serves the bastards right, you suppose. You can always make new ones if you need.
Sweet! Hi five all the wiggly things in the universe for being so rad.
[2] You don't
actually have infinite tentacles. And neither do you seem to have much reach. This saddens you, as in your non-fleshy form such a menial thing as a high-five would be as simple as... well, anything at all for you. At least you got a friendly symbolic head-boop from Cat.
Author
Topic: Inexorable: a Minimalist Demigod Game (Read 76989 times)