Transcript of the mandatory broadcast The Hour of Friendship and Sporting Glory, carried simultaneously to all three cities of the Everlasting Omnidemocracy and to the loudspeakers of every labor-district, where attendance is recorded. The fixture is the Friendship Match: a…
We received a quote from a factory. This gives us the ability to start planning for the crowdfunding campaign. We must still adjust components and designs to get the best experience for our coaches. We can only launch once! What…
The Method — in full, the Recovered Method — is the internal scripture of the archeomonks. No complete copy has ever left a monastery, and the Order holds that no complete copy exists even within one, the later devotions being…
This is not a fixed text. The Radiunai keep no scripture and draw no map; their history lives in those who keep it, and changes with every telling, because — they say — a thing that has stopped changing has…
The recitation spoken over the feast — the origin the Necralites tell of themselves. The deep packs of Nullaterra still say it whole; the city quarters keep a shorter, quieter form. It is not history. The archeomonks who have read…
In a frozen world, water is everywhere. It stands underfoot for kilometres on end, grey and eternal. But that water is poison — the fallout has soaked into every snowflake over thousands of years, and whoever drinks surface ice ages…
Vela learned to walk before she learned to taste anything but fungus. In New Londrax’s sixteenth sector, and there in its lowest corridors, food always came from the same place: the tunnels of the ferris. The iron-born grew a grey,…
We have now a first prototype set of the miniatures ready. Four teams with 6 players have been designed. A goalie, 3 attackers and 2 defenders. And two different referees! Which, like Unto, are a crucial part of the game.…
Unto Manninen adjusted his reinforced titanium chest plate, feeling the familiar ache in his lower back as he pushed off across the frozen filth. At sixty-four, he was the oldest hooman still crazy enough to wear the black-and-white stripes in…
The air in the Spare Parts Arena was a thick fog of exhaust and the iron tang of fresh blood. This wasn’t a game for the faint of heart; it was a collision of meat and metal. Volkov, a massive…