The Metaverse is set in present day, on an Alternate Earth and Alternate Universe, allowing for the Multiverse concept of endless valid realities.
Two years ago, they came.
The Strangers, the Otherworlders, the Refugees.
Alien filth, space trash, the names for them go on and on.
[3:27 PM]
They come from a diverse collection of planets.
The Metaverse, often simply called The City, is the last bastion of life on the Planet Earth, where the survivors have built their Brave New World. The last place on the planet inhabitable, after the Last War. But even a ravaged Earth might seem a paradise to some. The Ark was seen in the sky, a gigantic spacecraft bringing the Refugees from another War, this one battled in the cold reaches of countless dying planets.
The City found itself a place of refuge to these thousands from beyond this world - for better or worse.
Since the Refugees came, everything changed. They're everywhere, of course now, and that means hate, intolerance, fear, suspicion and outright murder from some quarters, and from others, intermarriage, mixed species children, a dozen new possibilities brought to fruition from the adept technological sorcery of the Refugee scientists, saints and doctors.
This has become the place of Sanctuary, designated a place for them to assimilate and acquire the skill they will need to live among the humans of the Earth. To go from being cosmic hobos cast off in an unending sea of space, to being trusted and productive members of this society of mankind. "Alien" has become a slur, now, and they prefer to be called either Refugees or Newcomers. Some of them don't like any labels at all.
Some look human. Some do not. But all are now here for good, since the Ark destroyed itself in the Landing, all those years ago. But there's more to the story.
Something else has happened to the Metaverse. Something past unusual, something of madness itself.
The papers discuss it in terms of enigmatic and uncanny, but no one as yet will say it.
"Gold" has come to mean something else now, than the beguiling metal that now may be had for a fraction its worth.
[3:28 PM]
...
People are dying. After all, that's what people do. But they aren't staying dead. No, they don't return as zombies, drooling and shambling in desperate and final hunger, feasting on flesh. It isn't flesh at all, they seek. Nothing is blatant or terrifying, all is film noir tones of hushed grey, softness and almost sweet, like the tender aura of a mausoleum's fragrant chemicals. What they hunger for is called artron, and it's become the new addiction of those who prefer to avoid death's chilly ways and means.
Artron, brought here by rogue Time Lords of the Gallifreyan race, and now seen as the giver - and taker - of Life itself.
"Gold" ...is now slang for artron.
The Fountain of Youth is guarded by dragons merciless and mad, and if you want to stay alive ... you better find a way to pay the new Lords of Life. And just who are they, who dole out the stuff of dreams as they threaten nightmares all the same?
Preying on people's growing fear and prejudice, the Crime Lords are rising. Sometimes those thought long, long gone from this world.
[3:29 PM]
...
A shadow organization called the MIB - the Men in Black - strikes terror in the hearts of the Metaversians now. And the stories are only increasing.
What the Men in Black giveth, so they may take away..
Want your loved one brought back? Want to ensure you yourself never know death's kiss? No worries, but it will cost you. They'll take organs, the forfeit of a child, a favour ... as well as cash. Gold can be had for many prices, but the MIB control it all. Those who try to muscle in on the market find themselves worse than dead. Much worse.
And just by the way, don't think it takes just one dose of the magic potion. Oh no, it only works that way for Gallifreyans. if you want to stay alive, you're going to need a fix every week. Every seven days ... no matter what. Be sure you can afford to stay alive, or buy life for your child or parent or ... significant other. There are penalties for failing to stay on the 'Stuff'. Ones you don't want to find out about. Ones that make the original idea of death natural and normal seem like a walk in the park.
Once you commit, the MIB feel you've signed on for ...pardon the pun, 'life'.
Time Lords, Crime Lords.
The line is blurred now....
Two years ago, they came.
The Strangers, the Otherworlders, the Refugees.
Alien filth, space trash, the names for them go on and on.
[3:27 PM]
They come from a diverse collection of planets.
The Metaverse, often simply called The City, is the last bastion of life on the Planet Earth, where the survivors have built their Brave New World. The last place on the planet inhabitable, after the Last War. But even a ravaged Earth might seem a paradise to some. The Ark was seen in the sky, a gigantic spacecraft bringing the Refugees from another War, this one battled in the cold reaches of countless dying planets.
The City found itself a place of refuge to these thousands from beyond this world - for better or worse.
Since the Refugees came, everything changed. They're everywhere, of course now, and that means hate, intolerance, fear, suspicion and outright murder from some quarters, and from others, intermarriage, mixed species children, a dozen new possibilities brought to fruition from the adept technological sorcery of the Refugee scientists, saints and doctors.
This has become the place of Sanctuary, designated a place for them to assimilate and acquire the skill they will need to live among the humans of the Earth. To go from being cosmic hobos cast off in an unending sea of space, to being trusted and productive members of this society of mankind. "Alien" has become a slur, now, and they prefer to be called either Refugees or Newcomers. Some of them don't like any labels at all.
Some look human. Some do not. But all are now here for good, since the Ark destroyed itself in the Landing, all those years ago. But there's more to the story.
Something else has happened to the Metaverse. Something past unusual, something of madness itself.
The papers discuss it in terms of enigmatic and uncanny, but no one as yet will say it.
"Gold" has come to mean something else now, than the beguiling metal that now may be had for a fraction its worth.
[3:28 PM]
...
People are dying. After all, that's what people do. But they aren't staying dead. No, they don't return as zombies, drooling and shambling in desperate and final hunger, feasting on flesh. It isn't flesh at all, they seek. Nothing is blatant or terrifying, all is film noir tones of hushed grey, softness and almost sweet, like the tender aura of a mausoleum's fragrant chemicals. What they hunger for is called artron, and it's become the new addiction of those who prefer to avoid death's chilly ways and means.
Artron, brought here by rogue Time Lords of the Gallifreyan race, and now seen as the giver - and taker - of Life itself.
"Gold" ...is now slang for artron.
The Fountain of Youth is guarded by dragons merciless and mad, and if you want to stay alive ... you better find a way to pay the new Lords of Life. And just who are they, who dole out the stuff of dreams as they threaten nightmares all the same?
Preying on people's growing fear and prejudice, the Crime Lords are rising. Sometimes those thought long, long gone from this world.
[3:29 PM]
...
A shadow organization called the MIB - the Men in Black - strikes terror in the hearts of the Metaversians now. And the stories are only increasing.
What the Men in Black giveth, so they may take away..
Want your loved one brought back? Want to ensure you yourself never know death's kiss? No worries, but it will cost you. They'll take organs, the forfeit of a child, a favour ... as well as cash. Gold can be had for many prices, but the MIB control it all. Those who try to muscle in on the market find themselves worse than dead. Much worse.
And just by the way, don't think it takes just one dose of the magic potion. Oh no, it only works that way for Gallifreyans. if you want to stay alive, you're going to need a fix every week. Every seven days ... no matter what. Be sure you can afford to stay alive, or buy life for your child or parent or ... significant other. There are penalties for failing to stay on the 'Stuff'. Ones you don't want to find out about. Ones that make the original idea of death natural and normal seem like a walk in the park.
Once you commit, the MIB feel you've signed on for ...pardon the pun, 'life'.
Time Lords, Crime Lords.
The line is blurred now....