Hi all. Not going to dump my whole life story on you, but a lot of what I've seen and thought about over the years ended up in SHORAPAN, so I wanted to share some of it.

I always wanted to make a film, write a book and make a game. With the budget I had, a narrative adventure with visual novel and point-and-click bits was the closest I could get to doing all three. Cinematic direction, but the player still gets to poke around on their own.

I'd been building this world on and off for about four years, mostly notes and half finished ideas. At some point I got tired of it staying that way, took out a loan and put together a small team.

It started with one image: a rotting city under a sky that's always red, where it rains nonstop and nothing ever gets clean.

Honestly I care less about maps and kingdoms than about the people living there. What's normal for them? What are they scared to ask about? What would it actually take to change one of their minds?

The city is going downhill but hasn't fallen apart yet. People have lived with poverty, rules and not knowing what comes next for so long that it's just everyday life now.

It's run by the Archbishop and a religious order that serves the Mother. I didn't want them to be villains who are cruel just because the plot needs a bad guy. A lot of them really believe strict order is the only thing holding Shorapan together.

Same with regular people. Someone keeps quiet because they have a family to feed or something they can't afford to lose. Something that looks unforgivable from the outside might have been their only option.

You play Dan, a young basket weaver. It starts on a normal rainy day, then someone unexpected shows up and starts asking about his mentor Dikeldi, who disappeared.

One thing I keep coming back to is how much of who we are is built on what we believe. We say "this is who I am", but how much of that did we actually think through, and how much is just habit? Principles are easy until they start costing you something. I want to see what happens to them under fear, pressure, or just trying to survive. So nobody here is cleanly good or evil. A character can be right about one thing and really wrong about another, know they're hurting people and still find a reason to keep going.

There's philosophy in it, but I want it to come through what happens to people, their relationships and their choices. I don't want characters turning into mouthpieces every time I have an idea.

Everything is hand drawn 2D, with animation, original music, sound and voice acting done by our team and people we work with. Attached a WIP clip to give you a feel for the world. Some of it will probably remind you of other stuff, I have influences like anyone. I'm not saying nobody's done these ideas before. I just hope I made something personal out of them and that the city and its people feel real.

I'm pretty happy with how it's going but would really like to hear what you think. Do you work with similar themes in your own worlds? And how do you keep it from turning into a lecture?

If you’d like to see more of SHORAPAN or learn about its world, we have a Discord server and a Steam page!

This is from my fantasy world, Tlanni. Inspired by pre-contact america, I wanted to play around with gourd flasks for today's prompt. 

The gourd offers a natural and readily accessible way to store potions and other fluids. Gourd farmers grow dozens of varieties, all specially bred for form and function. 

The fat-neck is common. Hardy, bumble, and ready to pick and dry through the season

Hanging gourds are used for long-term storage or for temperature-sensitive elixers, hung from cool rafters.

Rough-belly gourds are common for transporting concoctions over long distances, protecting contents in their rock-hard rind.

Season 1: The Beginning

Chapter 5 — The First Lesson

The next morning, Prince, Maria, and Veylen gathered outside the base with Master O.

Prince was already holding a wooden training sword, swinging it from side to side while waiting for the lesson to begin. Maria stood beside him, watching his movements with curiosity, while Veylen quietly observed the training equipment arranged across the clearing.

Master O approached them with his staff in hand.

“Are you ready to begin?”

“Yes!” Prince answered immediately.

Maria nodded. “I'm ready, too!”

Veylen gave a quiet nod.

Master O looked at Prince, who was still swinging the wooden sword.

“Before we begin, put that down.”

Prince stopped. “Why?”

“Because you are not supposed to swing it around without knowing how to use it properly.”

Prince lowered the sword reluctantly.

Master O walked toward the center of the clearing and placed three wooden swords on the ground.

“Today, you will learn the first lesson of combat.”

Prince's eyes brightened.

“Finally! Are we going to fight?”

“Not yet.”

Prince's excitement faded.

Master O continued, “Before you learn how to defeat an opponent, you must learn how to control your weapon. A weapon is only as useful as the person wielding it.”

He picked up one of the wooden swords and demonstrated how to hold it correctly.

“Your grip must be firm, but not so tight that your movements become stiff. Keep your balance, and never forget that your surroundings matter as much as the opponent in front of you.”

The children listened carefully.

Master O handed each of them a wooden sword.

“Now, follow my movements.”

He demonstrated a simple forward strike, followed by a defensive position. The children attempted to imitate him.

Prince swung too hard, nearly losing his balance.

Maria moved her sword cautiously, but held it at an awkward angle.

Veylen followed the movements more slowly, paying close attention to Master O's hands and feet.

Master O watched them for a moment before correcting their positions.

“Prince, strength without control will only waste your energy.”

Prince adjusted his grip.

“Maria, don't be so afraid of making mistakes. You must move with confidence.”

Maria straightened her arms.

“And Veylen,” Master O continued, “do not focus so much on copying my movements that you forget to understand them. Every movement has a purpose.”

Veylen nodded.

They tried again.

This time, Prince managed to complete the strike without stumbling. Maria improved her defensive position, while Veylen began to understand how his footing affected each movement.

Master O gave an approving nod.

“Better. Now, repeat it.”

The children continued practicing.

After several attempts, Prince lowered his wooden sword and wiped his forehead.

“Master O, when will we learn the really powerful moves?”

“When you have mastered the simple ones.”

“But simple moves aren't exciting!”

Master O raised an eyebrow.

“Then perhaps you would prefer to face an opponent who knows how to use simple moves properly.”

Prince hesitated.

“Would I win?”

“Not if you continue rushing into every attack.”

Maria laughed.

Prince turned toward her. “You aren't any better!”

“I didn't say I was!”

Veylen looked at both of them.

“Master O told us to practice, not argue.”

Prince and Maria fell silent for a moment.

Then Maria smiled. “He's right.”

Prince sighed. “Fine. Let's keep going.”

Master O watched them return to their positions.

He was pleased that they were beginning to understand something important: learning to fight was not about showing off or proving who was better. It required patience, discipline, and the willingness to improve.

“Remember,” he said, “you do not become strong in a single day. Every mistake teaches you something, provided you are willing to learn from it.”

The three children nodded before resuming their practice.

By midday, the training ground was filled with the sound of wooden swords striking against one another.

Master O had arranged a simple exercise. Each child had to perform a sequence of strikes and defensive movements without losing balance.

Prince went first.

He completed the sequence quickly, but his final movement left him leaning too far forward.

“Again,” Master O instructed.

Prince returned to his starting position.

Maria was next. She performed the sequence more carefully, but hesitated during the final movement.

“Again,” Master O said gently.

Finally, Veylen completed the sequence. His movements were steady, though he took longer than the others.

Master O nodded.

“Good. Now do it once more, and pay attention to what you did wrong.”

The children repeated the exercise.

This time, Prince slowed down and maintained his balance. Maria moved with greater confidence, and Veylen completed the sequence with smoother movements.

When they finished, Master O gathered them together.

“What did you learn?”

Prince thought for a moment.

“That rushing makes me lose control.”

Maria answered next. “That being careful doesn't mean I should hesitate forever.”

Veylen looked at his wooden sword.

“And that understanding a movement is just as important as copying it.”

Master O smiled.

“Exactly.”

Prince looked at his sword, then raised his head.

“Tomorrow, can we learn something new?”

“If you continue practicing properly, perhaps.”

Prince grinned.

Maria shook her head, amused by his excitement, while Veylen quietly returned his wooden sword to the equipment rack.

As they headed back toward the base, the children continued discussing what they wanted to learn next.

Prince wanted to master powerful attacks. Maria was curious about different fighting techniques, and Veylen wanted to improve his speed and precision.

Master O listened to their conversation as they walked.

They still had much to learn, but that was all right. There was no need to hurry.

For now, he would teach them one lesson at a time.

And the first lesson was simple.

Before they could become strong, they had to learn how to control their own strength.

End of Chapter 5

Hi everyone. I’ve been working on a physical miniature world/universe called 'De Fortabte Sjæles By' (The Village of Lost Souls) since janurary this year. It’s built entirely from scratch using cardboard, paper clay, wire, and other raw materials—no digital shortcuts or pre-made kits.

The project is centered around a physical 'notebook' format filled with journal entries, sketches, and artifacts by a character called 'The Keeper” (Vogteren), who enters the city trying to structure it, only to realize he is part of it. The entire universe is built on a philosophical foundation of 8 fundamental laws (Constitution of The Village of Lost Souls)—with the core rule being: 'We only have one earth, and we all have an equal right to be here'. My universe features three character types: the restless, search-driven Ghosts (made of fluff), the calm, steady Shadow Folk(made of wire), and The Keeper. I plan to create “add-ons” like for example a cast of bureaucratic hand-puppet ministers representing systemic archetypes.

Looking forward to diving into this community and seeing what everyone else is building!

I had meant to include some references to an in-universe series of folktales as part of world-building, but once I started writing about them I could not stop.
Uncertain if I should put more work into expanding them or making them less encylopedic. Or just leave them in this general overview format.
(note: The Patamoska mentioned are the main focus of the work, a monastic martial order in a science-fantasy setting)

Itsem-Bo is a legendary figure and central character of a number of epic poems, stories and morality tales enjoyed by children and adults. Many of these combine quixotic, dramatic, romantic (in the poetic sense) elements with koans and lessons. Some of these are thousands of years old, and even the character’s name means “Fated Warrior” in an ancient language, though in the present it is used as a proper name.

Patamoska are generally quite fond of these stories, and incorporate their teachings and metaphors into their own lessons and philosophy. Some even use oblique references to signal their secret membership among the order.

Famous Tales:

Itsem-Bo and the Dragon: the first and most famous tale, Itsem-Bo as a young warrior hears tell of a king who promises to give his kingdom to anyone who vanquishes a terrible dragon. The hero fights the beast, barely escapes with his life, then flees. Itsem-Bo spends the next nine years perfecting a technique for slaying the dragon, fights the beast for nine whole months, but only rules his kingdom for nine days before being overthrown. Cast out on the road, Itsem-Bo must make his way far more by his wits than his skill at arms, because the dragon he slayed was the very last one and his dragon-killing technique is useless against most other foes.
Exactly what city Itsem-Bo was the king of depends on the storyteller, but in the latter days it is commonly said to be the Yellow City of Urim, the symbolic homeland of Patamoskr.

Itsem-Bo and the Waterfall Hermit: In which Itsem-Bo hears a tale about an immortal wise master who lives in a cave under a waterfall and goes to ask him questions. Each section of the story begins with Itsem-Bo going to the hermit and asking a simple question, receiving after a moment a very complicated answer he fails to understand, then arguing with the hermit until he is eventually chased away with a stick. The next day Itsem-Bo returns to ask a different, even simpler question, only to receive a more complicated answer and then be chased away with the stick. Depending on the telling the questions and answers vary, as do their number, but almost all versions end with Itsem-Bo asking a final question the hermit could not answer.
In the Patamoska telling that question, spat out by Itsem-Bo while leaving, was “What use is immortal wisdom anyway if it’s confined in this stupid cave!?”

Itsem-Bo Hunts A Sparrow: in which Itsem-Bo attempts to hunt a meal but has naught but his dragon-slaying technique. He attempts to first hunt a sparrow, then two, then a whole flock, but each time the force of his blow sends the birds far from his sight. Itsem-Bo eventually gives up and cooks a soup of wild herbs, not knowing his accidental projectiles had all impacted a nearby town. Believing the resounding booms of the dragon-slaying technique coupled with flying dead birds must indicate their gods are furious, the people of that town laid out plentiful offerings of food to appease their angry gods. These Itsem-Bo discovers upon waking, but before he can eat many of them he is chased away with thrown rocks by the townsfolk for stealing their offerings.

Itsem-Bo the Fisherman: This tale begins with Itsem-Bo living in an abandoned fishing shack by the sea. He attempts to fish using tools he finds in the shack and a rickety boat he finds washed up on the beach, but only embarrasses himself before the fishermen of a nearby village. Itsem-Bo fails to catch fish for many reasons, angry and impatience among them, and his rages make his superstitious neighbors think him at best a madman or even a cursed revenant.

One clear cloudless morning Itsem-Bo sets out on his rickety boat, noting idly that no other fisherman has left their harbor. Thinking this will be his chance, he ignores the cries of villages as he rows out: a terrible storm is just over the horizon. So focused on his attempts at fishing, and so impetuous was Itsem-Bo, that he barely noticed the increasing rain and rising waves. When his little boat threatened to flip, he simply struck the water with his oar so hard it righted. When waves the size of mountains threatened him, he dismissively waved his oar and blew them away so he could return to fishing. When a great lightning bolt went to strike his boat, Itsem-Bo batted it away in annoyance.

Itsem-Bo spent nine full days out in the terrible storm, wherein he increasingly irately fought waves, hail, great sea serpents and lighting-spirits only to at last catch a little blue fish right as the storm cleared.

The hero, such as he was, returned to the village to find it had been apparent miraculously saved from the storm, as if a parallel force of nature had held its full fury out at sea. Itsem-Bo was promptly run out of town by the villagers throwing rocks, because he must surely be surely be sone kind of demon to return from that strange storm unharmed. His precious little blue fish slipped back into the sea.

Itsem-Bo meets his wife Lady Ashme: Ashme the Ogre-Goddess, Ashme the Wicked, Ashme who paints her red skin in the ash of priests, Iron-Hide Ashme, Seven-Armed Ashme whose each hand masters different weapon style, the Lady Ashme who drinks blood like wine. This character features in many of her own stories, mainly as an antagonist, a moral foil, evil trickster or bogyman. Though no soul believes she deserves the respect, the myths are so terribly fearsome storytellers choose not to tempt fate and therefore title her Lady Ashme.

Exactly when storytellers started associating Itsem-Bo with Lady Ashme is not known, but there are many of these tales. The first goes like this: In those days Ashme ruled a bandit kingdom of blood-feasting monsters and terribly wicked men, indulging in her most terrible impulses as a demonic goddess. Itsem-Bo in his vagrancy traveled through her lands, shocked by their fallow state, and while sheltering with another vagrant was told the sorry tale.

Itsem-Bo, being quite unhappily sober, resolved to steal from the Ogre-Goddess upon hearing she had hoarded all the land’s strong drink. The hero, such as he was, snuck past Lady Ashme’s many guards and minions to find her lounging amongst her vast pile of spoils. Ashme, noticing the filthy little man, made to slay him as she had all others, but Itsem-Bo only rejoiced upon seeing the seven-limbed fire-breathing iron-skinned monster: here was a foe against which his dragon-slaying technique could be used!

The Ogre-Goddess’s hide bore many scars, most earned from her wickedness before other gods, but no mortal man had ever pierced her flesh. Itsem-Bo’s fullest technique laid her low and destroyed her little kingdom. To the hero's frustration the only part left of the hoard was half a bottle of very foul booze, but it was strong stuff so he took it and went on his way.

Ashme was defeated one-sidedly, but as a goddess could not be truly killed outside the heavenly realm, so reincarnated herself both furious and much more strangely with a pleasant tightness in her chest. Wicked Ashme would attempt her revenge on the adventurer many times, each time outwitted, occasionally humiliated and often slain, only to return more furious but somehow more in love with her self-decided nemesis.

She eventually declared herself his wife, by virtue of promising to eat any woman who would take Itsem-Bo from her (not that he had any such suitors) and would cause an unending procession of grief for her ‘husband’ by her ignorant, jealous and violent nature.

Depending on the further telling, eventually Ashme had children by Itsem-Bo, either nine score or perhaps 199, all of them monstrous sons raised by their mother. Some Itsem-Bo stories have him unknowingly fighting and slaying his evil sons, equally ignorant of their father.

A few telling's even claim that each of these sons took a tiny incomplete piece of their mother or fathers fighting arts and with them created all the world's martial arts. Patamoskr enjoy this telling, and add a secret: Itsem-bo raised one of his own children, the single daughter he had by Ashme, abandoned by the Ogre-Goddess for her being too soft and beautiful. They name this daughter Koss. Koss who would in time become the Saint-Of-Stolen-Lightning, Master of the Wheel Turning, Headless King Who Breached The Gates of Heaven, the first Patamoska.

I am making races for my fantasy world and I would like Cultural Ideas of IRL cultures to make a race for
I will also accept Ideas for the race of that culture but do not need it
Total list

• High Elves (Greek)
• Forest Elves (Scottish)
• Love Elves (French)
• Sun Elves (Navajo)
• Moon Elves (Pueblo)
• Mind Elves (English)
• Snow Elves (Inuit)
• River Elves (Bengali)
• Cave Dwarves (Swiss)
• Winter Dwarves (Norse)
• Lava Dwarves (Icelandic)
• Halflings (German)
• Cheetahfolk (Egypt)
• Lionfolk (Kikuyi)
• Pantherfolk (Kongo)
• Tigerfolk (Siam)
• Jaguarfolk (Aztec)
• Pumafolk (Incan)
• Wolffolk (Chukchi)
• Otterfolk (Kwakiutl)
• Waspfolk (Spartan)
• Deerfolk (Celtic)
• Rabbitfolk (Cherokee)
• Squirrelfolk (Iroquois)
• Foxfolk (Korean)
• Frogfolk (Babylonian)
• Bullfolk (Spanish)
• Peacockfolk (Burmese)
• Turtlefolk (Choctaw)
• Gatorfolk (Calusa)
• Swanfolk (Austrian)
• Cranefolk (Japanese)
• Centaurs (Mongol)
• Half-Giants (Dutch)
• Songfolk (Baltic)

also I have a few cultures I need race ideas for

1. Mexican 
2. Italian 
3. Brazilian
4. Georgian
5. Morrocan
6. Israeli
7. Filipino 
8. Persian
9. Bengali 
10. Songhai
11. Dakota
12. Polyneisan

I am currently building a fictional world structurally based off the concept of Dante's Inferno or rather the rings of Hell with rings on top of rings. It is part of a universe called the Dead Zone Trigger

The Dead Zone Trigger Universe is home to the God of Order Avius and his then rival Ylena, the Goddess of chaos. They were clashing since the start of the universe until it suddenly stopped. Avius tamed Ylena's wild heart while Ylena added fiery desire to Avius'. Their love birthed the planet Phiseria. And with that the concepts and six horsemen were born and soon the species followed as well.

The planet was once united with species all living in harmony up until their "children" the concepts and the horsemen clashed dividing the planet into rings. Each ring houses humans along with different species connected to said concept. I was thinking having the concepts be a mix of the seven deadly sins and seven virtues while the six horsemen consider the original four in addition to two more which came into existence over time, way later than the original four

Any feedback or suggestions on the are welcome.

A government is only as fast as its slowest messenger. The Roman cursus publicus covered something like fifty miles a day on an ordinary dispatch. A letter from Madrid to Manila and the reply could take the better part of two years, so the people running the Philippines were mostly making policy on their own.

That lag shapes everything downstream. Local officials end up with far more discretion than the law gives them. Orders arrive already out of date. Whoever controls the roads or the relay stations has a quiet hold on the throne, and a rebellion at the edge can be over before the capital hears it started.

So in your world: how long does a decree take to reach the far border, and what happens in the gap? Does magic close it, or did someone decide it shouldn't?

Rest of images were made with photos of butcher shop meats or video game assets

Context:

Meatoids (the people of this setting) are stuck in this afterlife of true immortality where their deformed numb skinless bodies are recreated over and over again in a lake of toxic sludge being pulled out and grafted together with metal parts from a factory and sent out into the wastes indebted to the factory

Rather than just leaning on abject hopelessness and despair I wanted to explore the way people cope with this impossible situation and try to survive or even change things for the better.

In the northern regions of Sigelhwara, where the earth is red and dry but the trees lush and green, where the sun on high is scorching, the tales of ominous hunters roaming the plains at night are carried by the wind to realms up north, carrying stories of the "Phantom Warriors of Sigelhwara".

Though the Phantom Warriors are said to not speak themselves, they are known by another name where their story originates, where they are called "úmûgsêwatil". A more fitting translation of this name would be "Spirits of Úmûg", the latter word being infinitely more troubling, including various translations such as night, sleep, dream, darkness or even fear.

Should the stories prove true, the úmûgsêwatil are a group of nocturnal, wraith-like hunters, who submitted a divine pledge to the goddess Úmûgsètè (whose name means "Mother of Úmûg"), that in return for "dying early" and vowing to roam the northern plains at night and protect it from invaders would be granted the boon of being rendered impervious to the curse of Úmûg.

Let it be known that to "die early" in this context does not mean to literally die prematurely and not through natural causes. Instead, it refers to a ritual in which the ritualist is to undergo the common funerary practices as if he was dead. This process includes the painting and appliance of a special mixture that glows a dim green in the dark, which must be painted onto the ritualist in skeletal patterns. In an ordinary context, this procedure's purpose is to mark the dead body, so that the god of the dead Kísirtìmak (whose name means "Lord of Bones") may recognise the dead body, when he on every new moon destroys his castle of elephant bones in the underworld, raises the bones as an army of skeletal elephants and rides out to collect stray souls.

When all the funerary rites have been performed, the ritualist must lay and play dead until the sun has gone down, for the sun loathes those who carry the signs of the dead yet walk as if alive. The ritualist has now become an úmûgsêwat, and must wander the nights until they encounter another band of úmûgsêwatil, whom they then join.

As mentioned before, the úmûgsêwatil are impervious to the curse of Úmûg. This means that they know not exhaustion nor need sleep, their eyes see through the darkness of the night, and they hold no fear in their hearts. They roam now the plains as wraiths, hunting and punishing intruders of foreign lands.

But even with their night-piercing eyes, úmûgsêwatil cannot always distinguish foe from friend, and so they rely instead on song. When on patrol, the úmûgsêwatil sing in choir a hymn to their goddess, and when they pass by a village or spot another soul roaming the night, they sing three more verse and then stop. When they stop, one must stand on the edge of the darkness and sing into the night and continue their song. Because of this, many communities host priestesses whose task it is to go out and night and listen to the song of the passing úmûgsêwatil and be ready to sing.

And damned are those who do not continue the verse, for they suffer now the plight of the Phantom Warriors. The first sign of the úmûgsêwatil's hunt begins with a sudden silence, the disappearance of wind rustling grass and leaf, of insects and crickets buzzing.

After that, stray arrows may fly by and alert the intruders and rogues. If they fight back, the úmûgsêwatil quickly and swiftly kill them. If they flee, the úmûgsêwatil hunt them down once more, and continue to do this until the intruders either fight back, or are exhausted and drained, in which the úmûgsêwatil gather around and slit the intruders throats as if they were a hunted animal.

At dawn, the úmûgsêwatil disappear. No one knows where to.

Tlanni is my fantasy worldbuilding project, a continent marked by thousands of years of history and myth and a slew of chiefdoms and burgeoning empires that seek to harness the secrets of the past.

Those traveling the roads of Tlanni are certain to come across massive and ancient monuments.

In the wooded Pa Aa' atlan region, towering stone ancestors are common. This one depicts a warrior, One-Foot, after a successful battle. Its face oozes blood-oil.

Along the Dead Coast far to the south, abandoned temples dot the countryside. This pyramid was likely a monument to a now long-forgotten king.

This is a part of Worldtober by velum.cordis

It's a 3D world simulation I built with the same dynamics as Earth, and I factor in probabilities like aerodynamics, cause and effect, climate, weather, and other stuff, and then I create natural disasters, weather, and other events and test those events on my population

I've simulated hurricanes, cyclones, thunderstorms, tornadoes, volcanoes, tsunamis, earthquakes, etc.

В моем сеттинге массовые убийства, войны, геноциды всякая такая вещи буквально повреждают ткань реальности и оставляют "шрамы", если резни было много и долго то ткань реальности рвется и потом экстренно сшивает себя образуя рубец, плотную штуку, ну вы наверно знаете что такое рубец🧐

И че потом люди научились использовать эти рубцы и строить больших биомеха(15-60 метров рост) и чтобы управлять таким роботом надо платить конечностями и своей памятью

Первая конечность(обычно рука) является типа "верификация" там твои ДНК сохраняется записывается и корпус признает тебя своим пилотом и с этого момента им управлять можешь только ты, руки дают улучшения вооружения корпуса, ноги дают улучшения бронирования

Память это общее усиление текущий улучшений (пушек, брони) память улучшает эффективность этих улучшений

Есть три класса(кстати спойлер: всего 3 рубца на планете есть, за все время это было самые мощные по накоплению резни места) плотский, когнитивный, фрактальный

плотский - ты кукловод а корпус марионетка

Когнитивный - ты поток мыслей в лабиринте своего сознания твои мысли это движение а если ты в чем то ошибаешься или тормозишь то повреждает корпус

Фрактальный - ты разбираешься на осколки каждый осколок это часть твоей личности и ты должен с ними договариваться для этого у тебя есть такая штука как субьективное замирание времени ощущается как вечность внутри секунды и вот тебе это время даётся чтоб ты договорился сам с собой

После всего этого у нас есть финальный режим который отключает эти неудобные интерфейсы как вон плотский - марионетка, когнитивный - лабиринт, фрактальный - осколки

И ты как бы становишься корпусом на 1 час (ваще точное время 59 минут 42 секунды)

Это режим максимальной эффективности потому что нет неудобного интерфейса и как следствие задержек а также ты получаешь пакет одноразовых "суперспособностей" типа катапультирование, телепорт домой, распыление ты становишься пылью для укорачивания и в редких случаях если твоя запись с верификации резонирует с корпусом то одна из суперспособностей (у них название "одноразовая сигнатура") остаётся с половинной мощностью

Ну и че по итогу после окончания часа твое сознание переносится в состояние "узник" когда ты ощущаешь мир но не можешь воздействует на него а чтобы освободиться и упокоиться нужно чтоб твой корпус уничтожили

И самое вкусное напоследок поскольку у нас это биомеха и рубцы образованы из смертей то ясное дело что для активации корпуса нужен живой человек и у нас его используют в качестве как раз "мяса на корпусе" ну та биомасса которая обрастает корпус ее делают из человека которого перерабатывают в биомассу и потом она обрастает корпус и получается биомеха кстати личность не сохраняется и восстановить нельзя человека

(Разделение хых)

Так чё вопрос понравиласт ли идея? И по что хотите подробнее чтоб рассказал? Сеттинг у меня уже готов там 4 документа есть

Мне нужен соавтор преимущественно русскоговорящий для сотрудничества

С меня документы, правила, с тебя(соавтор, друг мой найдись) тексты если пойдем делать книгу или рисунки вот типа манга

Спасибо за выделенное время на прочтение держи кусочек биомассы от корпуса 🥩

I'm making a power system with 5 different categories

Kinesis

Physical

Imaginary

Elemental

Spatial

And the sixth one is a secret is was wondering should I make the sixth one life Manipulation or should u get life Manipulation after unlocking a power from each category