Post by The Gambler on Aug 17, 2015 12:20:49 GMT
Lazuli. Lapis Lazuli. This is my name I know it to be true, because the others say so. And the others are me, so why should I doubt me? The voices that fill my head all want different things, but I can always tell what they want from what I want. Right now I want the others to know who is who and what to do. "Gather," I told the others, and they did. "I am you, you are me. If I am original, you are new and better. So tell me what to do, and we will do it together."
When I fled, I knew where to find the old place. The one crumbling under its own weight, where new, better versions of me come out to proclaim my name and spread it through the world. I try to think of the word. Clones. Yes, a vast place of cloning machinery, underground in the old place. It has been so long, and few of them worked that time either. Only fifty of what seems to be infinite, and they each take a year to create a new me. Or I could rush them, but I know that clones grown in less than a year are imperfect, in mind, body, or both. If only flawed versions of me remained, what kind of legacy would that be? I would be laughingstock, assuming I was remembered at all.
I have 20 workers, grown hastily but still stable in mind and body. They will not fail me. More will come with each passing year, and as long as at least one of me remains alive, I am still alive to spread. As long as the old place remains intact, I cannot ever truly be killed.
For now, I must content myself with assigning tasks for my workers. At least five of them will be required to get each old machine to make more of me working, and at least four to scout the area around me. Two to grow food, enough for fifty. Three to make ten body's worth of the equipment that I will carry to spread my name. All the rest can spread, let my name be known in surrounding villages, where not more than a hundred reside in each, and who approved of my exile as much as the far-away government did.
(I guess I should give a little context. You say actions, and I give them and their results in the first person. Think of yourself as a trusted adviser to the leader, or something similar, because that is the role you play. Instead of gathering up an army and sending them off to war with nothing else happening, you have to make food and equipment for everyone, and unless something important his happening, ie you are raiding or attacking someplace, this will progress in month-long skips. You CAN gain food and equipment from raiding or attacking places, but most likely the food will not be enough and the equipment will be damaged or second-hand.)
When I fled, I knew where to find the old place. The one crumbling under its own weight, where new, better versions of me come out to proclaim my name and spread it through the world. I try to think of the word. Clones. Yes, a vast place of cloning machinery, underground in the old place. It has been so long, and few of them worked that time either. Only fifty of what seems to be infinite, and they each take a year to create a new me. Or I could rush them, but I know that clones grown in less than a year are imperfect, in mind, body, or both. If only flawed versions of me remained, what kind of legacy would that be? I would be laughingstock, assuming I was remembered at all.
I have 20 workers, grown hastily but still stable in mind and body. They will not fail me. More will come with each passing year, and as long as at least one of me remains alive, I am still alive to spread. As long as the old place remains intact, I cannot ever truly be killed.
For now, I must content myself with assigning tasks for my workers. At least five of them will be required to get each old machine to make more of me working, and at least four to scout the area around me. Two to grow food, enough for fifty. Three to make ten body's worth of the equipment that I will carry to spread my name. All the rest can spread, let my name be known in surrounding villages, where not more than a hundred reside in each, and who approved of my exile as much as the far-away government did.
(I guess I should give a little context. You say actions, and I give them and their results in the first person. Think of yourself as a trusted adviser to the leader, or something similar, because that is the role you play. Instead of gathering up an army and sending them off to war with nothing else happening, you have to make food and equipment for everyone, and unless something important his happening, ie you are raiding or attacking someplace, this will progress in month-long skips. You CAN gain food and equipment from raiding or attacking places, but most likely the food will not be enough and the equipment will be damaged or second-hand.)