Monday, April 20, 2009



((1 - Myst Theme))


The city perches on the edge of infinity. It juts forth from an endless vertical expanse of crystal. To both sides, above, and below, the mottled crystal fades into bottomless gray fog. Many have tried, but no one has ever found an end to the crystal. Expeditions of climbers have set out, chipping their way into the crystal, but none have ever returned with news of an edge.

There is only the crystal, and Face, emerging defiantly to dangle over that endless gray void. Face itself is wrought from twisted sheets of iron and steel, fragments of glass windows, wood grown into misshapen planks and boardwalks. Many corridors and rooms are also carved into the crystal itself.

A few thousand live and thrive in its corridors and functional promenades. No one knows where they came from, or why. Religion and history are all but unheard of in Face--for in such a bleak world, is there anything to dream of? Indeed, there is no writing system at all, nor have any there heard of such a thing. Their world is, and has always been, just as it is.

It is a reasonably normal city, much as something in such a place can be considered normal. Mayor Bear leads the city, and he does a good job of it, backed up by his efficient and effective police force. No one wants to cross them, for in Face, there is only one punishment: down.

Food is grown in large bays, from water (which is easily captured from the moisture in the air, using machines that have always been there). For eight hours out of every twenty-four, the light that permeates the fog dims drastically, resulting in a fairly normal sleep cycle. Lives are not very long on Face--few people live past forty or fifty. Medical arts are negligible, and while sickness is unheard of, injuries tend to be fatal or crippling.

Technology is not much more advanced than that of Earth's dark ages. Basic blacksmithing exists, and some principles of architecture. Beyond that, the lack of a writing system or resources have prevented much development. All transportation is on foot, and messages are carried by couriers. All light is natural, or if absolutely necessary, oil lamps. Clothes are woven from plant fiber and passed down. Interestingly, there are no animals anywhere on Face. Only humans.

Mayor Bear has quietly dispatched couriers to certain people in the city.

Face is doomed.

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