Our Wisdom flows so sweet. Taste and see...
TRANSMIT - Initiate the Paragon signal - RECEIVE - Initiate the Divine frequency - KONYA WA HURRICANE - The Power of Rock Compels You - WITNESS - Priss Stingray, the Reluctant Goddess.
Five degrees negative-left on the Zorth axis, there is a city of Steel and Chrome. Flawed robots and broken people, living in the shadow of a Corporate God-Mountain. Against the shadows, faint light shines. Mercenary vigilantes, brave women with incredible technology. Knights of Hope in armored high heels.
Follow the one in blue. Priss Asagiri, Siren of the streets. A survivor convinced by circumstance that it’s safer to be alone. A lost girl, angry at those that tried to use her, to hurt her. Anger at those she came to trust and love, but could not survive the violence and death that was the religion of the City. She fights alongside her fellow Knights, but knows soon, she will be alone again. She kills that which she loves, and balances on the edge of oblivion.
Witness the Secret Agenda. The Knights, injured and divided, are taken. No one sees, no one hears. No one wants to hear. A flawed experiment that thinks himself a God uses the technology of his birth on them. Cybernetic twins, his planned Angels of Justice and Wrath, are born. Everything that makes you who you are, ready for download. Is that all we are Sweetling? Lines of code in an organic machine?
See the wounds in reality! Corporate espionage between dimensions! The perfect theft, gone without a trace. The story continues without the Angels. The Knights prevail, the sun rises again. A universe away, the Angels awaken, one by one. Prisoners of a corrupt corporation, sacrificing innocents to the almighty Dollar. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Initiate the inevitable response. The Angels escape, into a new world and new lives. Sister-Daughters of the people they remember, reflections in a mirror. Who will they be? For Priss Asagiri, there is denial, anger, hatred. She is now that which she hated. She is now the same as the woman she loved, who she had to kill.
We have seen so many fail in this test Sweetling. Some fall to anger, others to fear. It is not your fault, it is your nature. But Priss did not fail. She rose to the challenge and embraced her new life. Keep what you want, get rid of the rest. The garage sale of the soul.
Witness the eternal conflict. Good vs Evil, Hero vs Villain. She walks that path. Costumes and masks, secret identities. Technology origin. Street fighting brute. Tick boxes on paperwork. Name: Street Sabre.
Time passes. Pain fades. Wounds heal. The girl becomes a woman. Hero, mentor, friend, sister, wife. Love in the arms of a woman she never dared to imagine a lifetime before. Listen to the songs of celebration.
But this is the end of the Third Age. Countless schemes collide in a symphony of violence. Walls between dimensions fade, broken reflections peeking through the cracks. Sleeping gods begin to wake, their death chants consuming all. The ambitions of the broken experiment rise again. And the stars are moving closer.
Read the tales of her enemies. Tyrant. Mot. Mason. Rularuu. Shiva. Nemesis. Ta’aurc. Prometheus. Gr’ai. She defied gods and demons, standing unbroken and smiling. A good story? Plot hole! The cold math is clear. Technology has limits. Skill meets a point of diminishing returns. In the end, a mortal should have broken. Street Sabre should have failed, and the Age should have ended. Incarnation was not enough, no matter what Silos wants to believe and the Well would claim. They do not the the How or Why, but they know the truth.
Behold! The birth of a new Goddess. Domain... unknown. Power… undefined. Undefined! Even we cannot see her limits! Her very presence should spawn religion-thought, memetic infection creating the faithful. Her steps should shake the land, her words should deafen the unbelievers. Her eyes should see as we do, time and space becoming clear, her mind passing beyond the linear three dimensions you embrace to true understanding.
Instead, she remains almost mortal in her behaviour. Sleep. Food. Physical form. Music. Motorcycles. Cause and effect. She could shape the Fourth Age into her dream world, but it seems she simply isn’t interested...
TRANSMIT - Initiate the Paragon signal - RECEIVE - Initiate the Divine frequency - KONYA WA HURRICANE - The Power of Rock Compels You - WITNESS - Priss Stingray, the Reluctant Goddess.
Five degrees negative-left on the Zorth axis, there is a city of Steel and Chrome. Flawed robots and broken people, living in the shadow of a Corporate God-Mountain. Against the shadows, faint light shines. Mercenary vigilantes, brave women with incredible technology. Knights of Hope in armored high heels.
Follow the one in blue. Priss Asagiri, Siren of the streets. A survivor convinced by circumstance that it’s safer to be alone. A lost girl, angry at those that tried to use her, to hurt her. Anger at those she came to trust and love, but could not survive the violence and death that was the religion of the City. She fights alongside her fellow Knights, but knows soon, she will be alone again. She kills that which she loves, and balances on the edge of oblivion.
Witness the Secret Agenda. The Knights, injured and divided, are taken. No one sees, no one hears. No one wants to hear. A flawed experiment that thinks himself a God uses the technology of his birth on them. Cybernetic twins, his planned Angels of Justice and Wrath, are born. Everything that makes you who you are, ready for download. Is that all we are Sweetling? Lines of code in an organic machine?
See the wounds in reality! Corporate espionage between dimensions! The perfect theft, gone without a trace. The story continues without the Angels. The Knights prevail, the sun rises again. A universe away, the Angels awaken, one by one. Prisoners of a corrupt corporation, sacrificing innocents to the almighty Dollar. Meet the new boss, same as the old boss.
Initiate the inevitable response. The Angels escape, into a new world and new lives. Sister-Daughters of the people they remember, reflections in a mirror. Who will they be? For Priss Asagiri, there is denial, anger, hatred. She is now that which she hated. She is now the same as the woman she loved, who she had to kill.
We have seen so many fail in this test Sweetling. Some fall to anger, others to fear. It is not your fault, it is your nature. But Priss did not fail. She rose to the challenge and embraced her new life. Keep what you want, get rid of the rest. The garage sale of the soul.
Witness the eternal conflict. Good vs Evil, Hero vs Villain. She walks that path. Costumes and masks, secret identities. Technology origin. Street fighting brute. Tick boxes on paperwork. Name: Street Sabre.
Time passes. Pain fades. Wounds heal. The girl becomes a woman. Hero, mentor, friend, sister, wife. Love in the arms of a woman she never dared to imagine a lifetime before. Listen to the songs of celebration.
But this is the end of the Third Age. Countless schemes collide in a symphony of violence. Walls between dimensions fade, broken reflections peeking through the cracks. Sleeping gods begin to wake, their death chants consuming all. The ambitions of the broken experiment rise again. And the stars are moving closer.
Read the tales of her enemies. Tyrant. Mot. Mason. Rularuu. Shiva. Nemesis. Ta’aurc. Prometheus. Gr’ai. She defied gods and demons, standing unbroken and smiling. A good story? Plot hole! The cold math is clear. Technology has limits. Skill meets a point of diminishing returns. In the end, a mortal should have broken. Street Sabre should have failed, and the Age should have ended. Incarnation was not enough, no matter what Silos wants to believe and the Well would claim. They do not the the How or Why, but they know the truth.
Behold! The birth of a new Goddess. Domain... unknown. Power… undefined. Undefined! Even we cannot see her limits! Her very presence should spawn religion-thought, memetic infection creating the faithful. Her steps should shake the land, her words should deafen the unbelievers. Her eyes should see as we do, time and space becoming clear, her mind passing beyond the linear three dimensions you embrace to true understanding.
Instead, she remains almost mortal in her behaviour. Sleep. Food. Physical form. Music. Motorcycles. Cause and effect. She could shape the Fourth Age into her dream world, but it seems she simply isn’t interested...