Eduardo Ficaria
Troubadour
I've written a sort of narrated summary of my setting, in which I've tried to condense the essential major themes, plots and players present in it. The idea is to use this as my "guiding star", beyond all the research I've already done, to which I can always come back to when I get "lost" while writting stories based on this world building. Please, let me know what you think about it.
About the Pyrocene Age
In the Pyrocene Age, Mother Earth's fever scorches humanity. Huge skinned wastelands corner our withered civilization which, in its insatiable voraciousness, cannibalizes even the left-overs from its own past to survive. You can only find refuge, and something resembling prosperity, in two very particular kind of places. Most of them are dominions, ruled by the synthetic minds called regents, while the rest are the emporiums lorded by the lineages, the evolved heirs of ancient elites. Beyond only exists the harsh unsustainable lands, where the dominions' missions and the lineages' corporations clash for the resources that still remain in those hopeless regions. In the midst of this unceasing conflict, criminal clans of all kinds and disparate groups of survivors fight for their lives, day after day, enduring as they can in the many cities left to the extreme climate's torment.
Actually, there's another territory, one that you won't find in no map. It's a digital realm of existence which, over time, has exceeded its virtual limits and already permeates our reality. To this extrange medium we call it Nimbus, but its gifts don't reach everyone evenly. There are never enough immersion pods, and building new hives is a slow and costly process. You can use Nimbus in many other ways, but none offers the total experience of becoming an oneiric. Hence, it's not strange that every available spot is longed for by thousands, and that the immersion has turned, in the dominions, into a privilege granted only to those who keep their reputation high for years. Of course, this condition doesn't apply to those who have the wealth to acquire and maintain their own customized pods, as lineages do. And if you're an impatient poor fellow, you can always risk yourself by borrowing from shady guys in the darkest corners of Nimbus.
On the other hand, in a world where nature has collapsed, technology makes the difference. Whether for surviving a throat-tearing thirst, or for getting advantage over rival powers, having technology is essential for any person or faction. And like a sudden torrential downpour, the needs and ambitions of this hellish age have washed away the old misgivings. There are no limits anymore about the integration with technology, in particular in the body of whom desires that some dominion or emporium accepts them. Technology means oportunities, and more for those who have so few. But in a exhausted Earth, access to certain technologies is something very exclusive. Even the poorest one can get a diadem to connect to Nimbus, but only the most outstanding members of the dominions or the lineages have nanomachines which offer superhuman talents such as immortality. This is not the old rift between rich and poor anymore, it's a chasm that separates the demigods from the mere mortals. And there are those who find this enormous difference intolerable.
In the unsustainable lands that eat away the Nuberia Dominion's southern frontier, has appeared a group of people with an extreme affinity to technology. Rumours speak that they're able to do all sorts of feats, thanks to implants made by themselves. They also say that their nanites surpass the ones created by the dominions or the lineages. That their leader is a genius that renounced his lineage after feeling guilty about the misery in which so many scrape by. These characters call themselves technomancers, and their misterious chief has a no less enigmatic name: Chaman. Some truth must be in these gossips, since the demigods have gotten nervous about this new group's emergence. However, these technomancers are not a threat to the status quo, they're too few yet. The disturbing thing about them is not knowing who, in fact, has given them that power the rumours speak about. And the suspicions aim high, very high. Beyond Earth's skies.
During the Pyrocene's first century, with the excuse of saving itself from extinction, humankind passed on its presence to the other celestial bodies of the Solar System. What started as small scientific or industrial settlements, have grown till becoming powerful dominions with their own manners of self-rule. But, for some yet unknown reason, from the floating colonies of Venus to the bunker-cities carved in the Jovian moons, through the Mars' shiny metropolises, the extraterrestial humans have proclaimed in unison their independence from Earth. Only the Moon and some stations remain loyal to the earth powers. For now, relations are kept, specially through Nimbus, but the situation is tightening more and more. And the odd technomancer's rise doesn't help; it's a note that sounds awful in an already too strained string.
Under all that noisy swell of the human worries, deep currents run through the countless virtual worlds of Nimbus. They are cryptic flows, linking all sorts of unhuman digital entities, which our organic brain can barely grasp. Only the best hackers and the greatest experts on Nimbus have managed to detect this activity, and they wonder how far it's influence reaches within our real world. From this lack of understanding comes a certain discreet fear, a dark premonition just whispered, for the moment, in the power circles of all the great factions. It's nearing the day in which a superlative synthetic being decides to rise as a god, although this won't be the worst. The most worrying thing is not knowing how many humans will welcome it with tears of happiness running down their cheeks.
About the Pyrocene Age
In the Pyrocene Age, Mother Earth's fever scorches humanity. Huge skinned wastelands corner our withered civilization which, in its insatiable voraciousness, cannibalizes even the left-overs from its own past to survive. You can only find refuge, and something resembling prosperity, in two very particular kind of places. Most of them are dominions, ruled by the synthetic minds called regents, while the rest are the emporiums lorded by the lineages, the evolved heirs of ancient elites. Beyond only exists the harsh unsustainable lands, where the dominions' missions and the lineages' corporations clash for the resources that still remain in those hopeless regions. In the midst of this unceasing conflict, criminal clans of all kinds and disparate groups of survivors fight for their lives, day after day, enduring as they can in the many cities left to the extreme climate's torment.
Actually, there's another territory, one that you won't find in no map. It's a digital realm of existence which, over time, has exceeded its virtual limits and already permeates our reality. To this extrange medium we call it Nimbus, but its gifts don't reach everyone evenly. There are never enough immersion pods, and building new hives is a slow and costly process. You can use Nimbus in many other ways, but none offers the total experience of becoming an oneiric. Hence, it's not strange that every available spot is longed for by thousands, and that the immersion has turned, in the dominions, into a privilege granted only to those who keep their reputation high for years. Of course, this condition doesn't apply to those who have the wealth to acquire and maintain their own customized pods, as lineages do. And if you're an impatient poor fellow, you can always risk yourself by borrowing from shady guys in the darkest corners of Nimbus.
On the other hand, in a world where nature has collapsed, technology makes the difference. Whether for surviving a throat-tearing thirst, or for getting advantage over rival powers, having technology is essential for any person or faction. And like a sudden torrential downpour, the needs and ambitions of this hellish age have washed away the old misgivings. There are no limits anymore about the integration with technology, in particular in the body of whom desires that some dominion or emporium accepts them. Technology means oportunities, and more for those who have so few. But in a exhausted Earth, access to certain technologies is something very exclusive. Even the poorest one can get a diadem to connect to Nimbus, but only the most outstanding members of the dominions or the lineages have nanomachines which offer superhuman talents such as immortality. This is not the old rift between rich and poor anymore, it's a chasm that separates the demigods from the mere mortals. And there are those who find this enormous difference intolerable.
In the unsustainable lands that eat away the Nuberia Dominion's southern frontier, has appeared a group of people with an extreme affinity to technology. Rumours speak that they're able to do all sorts of feats, thanks to implants made by themselves. They also say that their nanites surpass the ones created by the dominions or the lineages. That their leader is a genius that renounced his lineage after feeling guilty about the misery in which so many scrape by. These characters call themselves technomancers, and their misterious chief has a no less enigmatic name: Chaman. Some truth must be in these gossips, since the demigods have gotten nervous about this new group's emergence. However, these technomancers are not a threat to the status quo, they're too few yet. The disturbing thing about them is not knowing who, in fact, has given them that power the rumours speak about. And the suspicions aim high, very high. Beyond Earth's skies.
During the Pyrocene's first century, with the excuse of saving itself from extinction, humankind passed on its presence to the other celestial bodies of the Solar System. What started as small scientific or industrial settlements, have grown till becoming powerful dominions with their own manners of self-rule. But, for some yet unknown reason, from the floating colonies of Venus to the bunker-cities carved in the Jovian moons, through the Mars' shiny metropolises, the extraterrestial humans have proclaimed in unison their independence from Earth. Only the Moon and some stations remain loyal to the earth powers. For now, relations are kept, specially through Nimbus, but the situation is tightening more and more. And the odd technomancer's rise doesn't help; it's a note that sounds awful in an already too strained string.
Under all that noisy swell of the human worries, deep currents run through the countless virtual worlds of Nimbus. They are cryptic flows, linking all sorts of unhuman digital entities, which our organic brain can barely grasp. Only the best hackers and the greatest experts on Nimbus have managed to detect this activity, and they wonder how far it's influence reaches within our real world. From this lack of understanding comes a certain discreet fear, a dark premonition just whispered, for the moment, in the power circles of all the great factions. It's nearing the day in which a superlative synthetic being decides to rise as a god, although this won't be the worst. The most worrying thing is not knowing how many humans will welcome it with tears of happiness running down their cheeks.
Myth Weaver
Acolyte
