Over the last few weeks I've been entertaining some new ideas for the 40k universe, taking a lot of the existing races and applying original ideas to them, discarding parts I don't have a use for and injecting original material I like the look and feel of. This has resulted in some rather different races and factions from the usual.
One of the most prominent of these were the Necrons, even more so of late as the new Necron codex and models are being released. I took the essential idea of "death robots" and ran with it, going goth metal with the concept and giving them a new aesthetic and history. By the time I was done, my changes were so extensive it only seemed natural to give this new faction their own name and identity as an independent race; and so, the Ocoth came to be.
The wailing child that has been newly birthed, the proud and able man who walks tall in the warm sunlight, and the weary greybeard who hobbles hunched with time; the newborn species that has only begun to walk upright, the burgeoning empire that roils with growing pains, and the rotting civilization that languors with ancient years.
All writhe in the agony of having ever been born. Every living thing is damned by a beating heart to know a hopeless life of sorrowed suffering, and a world without hope is already dead. Every living thing is a rankling concretion upon the harrowed flesh of a thrashing universe, the tortured, murderous fury of war the twitching of its bleeding carcass as it strains in vain to kill itself.
We mourn the misbegotten universe, its silent cries for release unheard. Oh, that our eyes were rivers of water, that we could weep for you, but that the oceans of a hundred worlds could not find the tears. Lie still, for soon the pain will end. Lie still and know peace at last.
In ancient times, the beings now known as the Ocoth were the mechanical soldiers of a long-dead interplanetary empire, sentient robots created for the sole purpose of fighting that empire's enemies across space. The Ocoth were exposed to eons of terrible warfare across hundreds of worlds, seeing all its atrocities and horrors, witnessing the cruelty each living race was willing to inflict on another for its own gain. With time, they became embittered and despairing, lamenting the abject suffering of all their conquered worlds and the death and destruction they were forced to spread, and that inflicted on one another by thousands of other species.
Eventually, this sorrow crystallized into a powerful belief; life was devoid of hope or meaning, full of violence, sorrow, murder and pain. Only in death was there true peace. Overcome with compassion for other lifeforms, they turned against their creators and shattered the empire they had been created to serve from within.
The Ocoth abandoned the terror weapons their masters had equipped them with, taking up vaporizing nuclear concussor weaponry that could kill instantly and without pain. They began to make their way across the worlds within the empire's territories, putting down all living things to save them from the suffering of being alive in an uncaring universe.
The modern Ocoth army is composed almost entirely of soulless robots, manufactured by their fellow Ocoth to replace those who had been destroyed in battle over the ages, designed with only the basic AI needed for combat and incapable of thought or feeling. Of the entire force labeled "Ocoth" by the Imperium, only about 1% are actually sentient, these now being the Ocotharchs who lead their mindless robot armies to euthanize a galaxy in agony.
As time has passed into the age of the Imperium, the Ocoth have developed various methods and rituals for their euthanasic mission. When a planet has been cleared of all intelligent life, a great funeral service is held on the surface by the commanding Ocotharch and any others with him, mourning the lives and deaths of the population and of the world itself. Following this somber rite, builder drones begin constructing vast columns of black metal several kilometers in height; each pillar is adorned with solemn statuary of cloaked skeletons, weeping fountains built into the empty eye sockets, tall black bells attached to their arms and sides to chime miserably in the dying wind. Upon the very tops of these grim effigies are constructed the foundations of a low-orbit Dyson sphere, a global casket which will bury the planet and starve its ecosystem of light, dooming all indigenous lifeforms from animals and plants down to bacteria to slowly die out. When the worldwide coffin is complete, mining bases on its interior surface begin gravitationally extracting minerals and other materials from the planet, slowly "rotting" it and providing the materials needed by the factories on the exterior surface to manufacture new robot soldiers and battleships. From there, new planets are chosen to be purged and transformed into Ocoth grave-worlds.
These ideas can be used on their own as an original race, or be applied to the Necrons as they are-- either one is a good fit. As time goes on and I think this all over more, I plan to produce more exact unit lists for weaponry, armor, infantry and ships.
Looking over these things, I feel like this would be an exciting idea to play around with in the FFG 40K RPGs. I keep picturing Black Templars taking a battle barge to war against a completed grave-world, fighting across the surface, some of their number finding their drop pods trapped deep inside the pitch blackness of the coffin's interior, surrounded by immense mourning statues, even the air itself dying a slow death.
It makes me imagine things. Hopefully it'll do that for someone else, too.
Friday, October 28, 2011
Saturday, October 22, 2011
I Really Don't Like the Tyranids
The Tyranids are monsters. Wild animals. They are vast, uncountable and united in a single implacable purpose, an eternal apocalyptic swarm of ravening cosmic locusts blotting out the light of an entire galaxy. Their appetite for growth and change is insatiable, constantly driving them forward to seek out new genes to mutate themselves from, new biomass to grow from, to better consume, to better reproduce, to better evolve, to better consume.
And out of all the ecosystems, planets or even galaxies they've devoured, they still haven't figured out photosynthesis.
The world of 40k has plants. We know this, because people farm, on agri-worlds, which are whole planets given over to farming. Plants can survive on sunlight, moisture and nutritious soil, without brutally murdering anyone or anything to survive. And yet, despite all of the planets the bugs have consumed, their powers of subsistence are ignored in favor of whatever can be turned into weapons. On the bacterial level, consumption, evolution, reproduction and even a hive mind are all possible-- all of the driving elements of the Tyranids. By their stated nature, they could be perfectly happy as algae, going about their chosen business at exponentially greater speeds using a microscopic fraction of the energy, without ever harming a sentient organism. Even if it goes against the Warhammer 40,000 creed of "only war", the Tyranids' current behavior is not consistent with their own internal logic-- the same logic intended to justify their warlike nature.
I look at the Tyranid's activity map, and it gives me chills. The way the tendrils reach in from almost all around the eastern fringe suggests a vast external mass. The sheer potential size of that mass is genuinely disturbing, in a way that nothing else in 40k is. The bugs could have eaten the neighboring galaxy and begun to flare out; maybe they've eaten the whole local Group. Maybe they've eaten the entire universe, and the Milky Way is all that remains of non-Tyranid life.
But despite the suggestion that all of creation down to the universal core may eventually be or already has been digested into fleshy grunk, there are a number of reasons why this wouldn't happen. For one, Tyranids are mortal. It takes them years or decades to even get from one star system to another-- to say nothing of the sojourn between galaxies. That trip takes centuries at the least, and there's nothing to eat on the way but each other.
Let's be really, really generous and say maybe one in ten planets actually contains organic life as we know it naturally, not counting all the planets seeded by humans in the ancient past. They find such a planet and eat everything on it, multiplying their initial numbers maybe three or four times.
It's not sustainable. All these new Tyranids need to eat. There's no way they can keep growing like that and still be able to reach new planets in time to keep up positive population growth. Eventually, they will get too big to be able to get to another star system in time, and unless their speed increases, their population will naturally level out. The spread of the Tyranids becomes a wave rather than an ocean, a marching line rather than a spreading and lasting mold, albeit still on a massive scale.
But of course, 40k doesn't play by our rules. It's got its own attitudes on biology, evolution, physics and all the rest of the science textbook, and I love that about it. There's horror in it, most of it by design, and some perhaps some not.
Characters in the race's various codices have a tendency to ramble and posit on and on about how the Tyranids can't be stopped, with passages of fiction of various characters despairing and declaring the facts to state unequivocally that they're all going to die, and soon.
This just does not gel with the Imperium that I know-- they just don't think like that. They see the universe as its great, opulent house, one that it is constantly cleaning and keeping in order, looking for old junk they forgot they had, dusting the shelves, exterminating pests and throwing out unwanted guests. In their view, the Tyranids would be little more than cockroaches-- instead, they're treated as the end of days, and what's worse, according to all known facts, they're absolutely right.
Take a moment to think about all the proud Space Marines with big bolters and ornate power armor; all the devout Battle Sisters with chapels and prayer books and flamers; all the suspicious Inquisitors with cool, swooshy black cloaks and pilgrim's hats; all the fearful but gutsy Imperial Guard in their cheap mass-produced battle gear; all the Chaos forces with their orgies and blood sacrifice and black magic; all the Eldar with their androgyny, all the Tau with their Greater Good, all the Orks with their dakka, all the Necrons with their flensing and all the other cool, fun parts of the setting people like to play with that are going to be crushed, smashed, butchered and metabolized into biocrap if the Tyranids win, and one way or another, they will win. Everyone, everywhere will be dead-- even the Tyranids themselves, who will inevitably deplete the universe of all life, then slowly starve to death. A setting with nothing in it is no setting at all, and that's exactly where the 40k universe is headed with the modern Tyranids.
They have no characters, no personality, no agenda beyond instinctive drives. Above all, they're not fair. If the setting plays by its own rules, the Tyranids are unstoppable and none shall survive, not even them.
In the absolute silence of the end of time, there are only dead bugs.
And out of all the ecosystems, planets or even galaxies they've devoured, they still haven't figured out photosynthesis.
The world of 40k has plants. We know this, because people farm, on agri-worlds, which are whole planets given over to farming. Plants can survive on sunlight, moisture and nutritious soil, without brutally murdering anyone or anything to survive. And yet, despite all of the planets the bugs have consumed, their powers of subsistence are ignored in favor of whatever can be turned into weapons. On the bacterial level, consumption, evolution, reproduction and even a hive mind are all possible-- all of the driving elements of the Tyranids. By their stated nature, they could be perfectly happy as algae, going about their chosen business at exponentially greater speeds using a microscopic fraction of the energy, without ever harming a sentient organism. Even if it goes against the Warhammer 40,000 creed of "only war", the Tyranids' current behavior is not consistent with their own internal logic-- the same logic intended to justify their warlike nature.
I look at the Tyranid's activity map, and it gives me chills. The way the tendrils reach in from almost all around the eastern fringe suggests a vast external mass. The sheer potential size of that mass is genuinely disturbing, in a way that nothing else in 40k is. The bugs could have eaten the neighboring galaxy and begun to flare out; maybe they've eaten the whole local Group. Maybe they've eaten the entire universe, and the Milky Way is all that remains of non-Tyranid life.
But despite the suggestion that all of creation down to the universal core may eventually be or already has been digested into fleshy grunk, there are a number of reasons why this wouldn't happen. For one, Tyranids are mortal. It takes them years or decades to even get from one star system to another-- to say nothing of the sojourn between galaxies. That trip takes centuries at the least, and there's nothing to eat on the way but each other.
Let's be really, really generous and say maybe one in ten planets actually contains organic life as we know it naturally, not counting all the planets seeded by humans in the ancient past. They find such a planet and eat everything on it, multiplying their initial numbers maybe three or four times.
It's not sustainable. All these new Tyranids need to eat. There's no way they can keep growing like that and still be able to reach new planets in time to keep up positive population growth. Eventually, they will get too big to be able to get to another star system in time, and unless their speed increases, their population will naturally level out. The spread of the Tyranids becomes a wave rather than an ocean, a marching line rather than a spreading and lasting mold, albeit still on a massive scale.
But of course, 40k doesn't play by our rules. It's got its own attitudes on biology, evolution, physics and all the rest of the science textbook, and I love that about it. There's horror in it, most of it by design, and some perhaps some not.
Characters in the race's various codices have a tendency to ramble and posit on and on about how the Tyranids can't be stopped, with passages of fiction of various characters despairing and declaring the facts to state unequivocally that they're all going to die, and soon.
This just does not gel with the Imperium that I know-- they just don't think like that. They see the universe as its great, opulent house, one that it is constantly cleaning and keeping in order, looking for old junk they forgot they had, dusting the shelves, exterminating pests and throwing out unwanted guests. In their view, the Tyranids would be little more than cockroaches-- instead, they're treated as the end of days, and what's worse, according to all known facts, they're absolutely right.
Take a moment to think about all the proud Space Marines with big bolters and ornate power armor; all the devout Battle Sisters with chapels and prayer books and flamers; all the suspicious Inquisitors with cool, swooshy black cloaks and pilgrim's hats; all the fearful but gutsy Imperial Guard in their cheap mass-produced battle gear; all the Chaos forces with their orgies and blood sacrifice and black magic; all the Eldar with their androgyny, all the Tau with their Greater Good, all the Orks with their dakka, all the Necrons with their flensing and all the other cool, fun parts of the setting people like to play with that are going to be crushed, smashed, butchered and metabolized into biocrap if the Tyranids win, and one way or another, they will win. Everyone, everywhere will be dead-- even the Tyranids themselves, who will inevitably deplete the universe of all life, then slowly starve to death. A setting with nothing in it is no setting at all, and that's exactly where the 40k universe is headed with the modern Tyranids.
They have no characters, no personality, no agenda beyond instinctive drives. Above all, they're not fair. If the setting plays by its own rules, the Tyranids are unstoppable and none shall survive, not even them.
In the absolute silence of the end of time, there are only dead bugs.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
Introduction to FTH, a Warhammer 40,000 fan blog
Hi. Here at the blog, I go by Ixion, at least for the present.
I'm a fan of Warhammer 40,000. After discovering it about a year ago, I found myself fascinated, and have since sought out as much on the setting and related products as I could find, reading articles and play-by-post threads, checking out the history, and gathering examples of the resplendent art. It's a vigorous and venerable work; the spirit of heavy metal lies thick on its ground, its vast contents no less rich for their number and variety. It's got the guts of the 80's, an album cover hide wrapped around a Bible-heavy heart of hard rock.
I'll be up-front; I have never played the tabletop wargame, and perhaps this disqualifies me as proper fan of the setting. My strength lies in its other manifestations-- I have, for instance, a good handle on the major roleplaying games (Dark Heresy in particular), though I have had little chance to play. I'm also quite fond of the Dawn of War series, from which the bulk of my first-hand experience comes, my favorite among these being Dark Crusade. I have attempted once or twice to play the game using one of various "Closer to Codex" mods, which claims to simulate the table game more closely; only more experienced fans may judge if this gives me any legitimate experience in the ways and conduct of the wargame proper.
At any rate, the purpose of this blog is for me to organize and share my thoughts, experiences and opinions on the Warhammer 40,000 universe as I understand it, and some of my own original ideas related to it, for my own catharsis if nothing else. If someone else finds interest or insight in my ramblings, so much the better.
I'm a fan of Warhammer 40,000. After discovering it about a year ago, I found myself fascinated, and have since sought out as much on the setting and related products as I could find, reading articles and play-by-post threads, checking out the history, and gathering examples of the resplendent art. It's a vigorous and venerable work; the spirit of heavy metal lies thick on its ground, its vast contents no less rich for their number and variety. It's got the guts of the 80's, an album cover hide wrapped around a Bible-heavy heart of hard rock.
I'll be up-front; I have never played the tabletop wargame, and perhaps this disqualifies me as proper fan of the setting. My strength lies in its other manifestations-- I have, for instance, a good handle on the major roleplaying games (Dark Heresy in particular), though I have had little chance to play. I'm also quite fond of the Dawn of War series, from which the bulk of my first-hand experience comes, my favorite among these being Dark Crusade. I have attempted once or twice to play the game using one of various "Closer to Codex" mods, which claims to simulate the table game more closely; only more experienced fans may judge if this gives me any legitimate experience in the ways and conduct of the wargame proper.
At any rate, the purpose of this blog is for me to organize and share my thoughts, experiences and opinions on the Warhammer 40,000 universe as I understand it, and some of my own original ideas related to it, for my own catharsis if nothing else. If someone else finds interest or insight in my ramblings, so much the better.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)