beren terino

Probably not Rots... personal distaste. Why would any self-respecting Shaper make a disgusting half-rotted shambling zombie thing? If nothing else, it doesn't make them look good to the commoners. They were originally a rebel creation, weren't they? In any case, thanks for the compliments. It gets more epic, I promise you, but the next chapter will have to wait until I'm done fighting a ten to fifteen page research paper for school.

Leadership? In the games I've played, there have been plenty of times when you could take control of a master-less creation with sufficient leadership.

Originally Posted By: The Turtle Moves Some things are best not examined too closely. If we want to be sticklers, one character really shouldn't be able to haul around fifteen suits of armour. Or a hundred iron bars. Or a thousand vials of skribbane. Even thirty thousand coins would get a bit heavy. Plausibility is a victim of expedience. Get a cart? On the other hand, I never figured out why you could be encumbered by all that extra weight in your inventory (non-equipped items). It would take less than a second to drop your big sack of loot and pick it up again after the battle.

Thanks- I hadn't really thought about creation drift. I did realize none of the 'new' creation types (the ones made for the war against the rebels) would be available- no wingbolts, war tralls, or anything like that. They do use a lot of variations, though- battle alphas with organic claws or armor, giant swimming artila, unintelligent dryaks, and more. In unrelated news, I'm somewhere between halfway and two-thirds of the way through a new chapter. It won't be as long as the prologue, but it'll be the start of a longer epic...muahahahaha.

Originally Posted By: upon mars The narrative is a little to "no! yes! noo! yess!" for me... I'm sorry, I'm not sure what you mean by this. Originally Posted By: upon mars I always considered the Shapers, unjust in the way they treat people, always trying to kill non-Shapers off or use them as some sort of a dependent good-consumer, self-centred, secretive and yet, a very direct people that take themselves for those who "posses" the truth, but also, something you forgot, a very tragical nation... I guess my view is somewhat different than yours...I always thought of them as more of a 'hard but fair' kind of government...very much attached to an 'eye for an eye' justice system, absolutely merciless to those they perceived as enemies, but still protective of their people and creations, in an overbearing kind of way. A general attitude of 'we're better than you, you'll never be as good as us, so we'd better take care of you, because god knows you can't do it yourself." That seemed to be the line coming from the 'good' Shapers, anyway, and extremists like Alwan are usually the minority in any organization. Also note that there are differences of opinion among Shapers- Beren is more of a moderate, whereas others may rival Alwan in control-freakism. Originally Posted By: upon mars Further more i could disagree with the family portrait you are rendering, for as i see it, the Shapers are very deep Meritocracy, unconcerned by the daily matters of the more human enterprises such as love or the desire to favour one's offspring's chances in life... Again, I see where you're coming from there, but...among other things, that was part of the reason I chose to move the setting. These Shapers are several generations removed from the ones we know and love in the games. Obviously, even the Traditionalists have changed some. Additionally, Patronage does not need to be family-based. Plenty of high-level Traditionalist Shapers have absolutely no sympathy for their natural children, but do try to build power bases by offering 'favors' to younger Shapers. Originally Posted By: upon mars The rest is nickel, on top, la cerise sur le gateau, marvelous, so to speak. Thank you very much . And thanks for your comments as well; I greatly appreciate any kind of constructive feedback. You made me think more deeply about my setting, and the views held within it, and I hope to see you again for the next chapter.

Alright, I'm starting in on the second part...this one to lead into a more comprehensive story, maybe. Because I don't posses the kind of encyclopedic knowledge about the 'default' setting I'd need to feel comfortable writing about it, and the fact that things can go many different ways depending on player choice (and I don't feel entirely comfortable ruining Jeff's playground) I've decided that my stories will be set somewhere else... For the purpose of these fanfictions, sometime between the events of G3 and G4, as the Rebellion was just starting to take hold on the mainland, a group of wealthy Shapers realized how destructive the conflict would be. Rather than stay and fight- whether against the Rebels, or for reform to forestall the rebellion- they organized a colonial expedition and set sail for a newly-discovered landmass to the south. A fleet of fifty huge living ships left for the new continent, appropriately called South Terrestia, carrying hundreds of Shapers, thousands of sailors, and over ten thousand civilians in hibernation. Forty-three survived, a surprisingly small number, but the colony's leaders were among those lost. Consequentially, the different factions fell apart upon reaching South Terrestia. The events of my stories take place several generations later. ---------------------------------- Click to reveal.. (Traditionalists) The dominant faction, the Traditionalists, included most of the Shapers, and expanded inland, practicing Shaping just as had been done for centuries. Beren was born in the Traditionalist province of Highmoor, the son of a minor Shaper and her soldier husband. As was customary, he was tested for Shaper talent on his 5th birthday, and taken away for training on his 8th. At the time of the prologue, he is 21, newly promoted, with a reputation for 'undisciplined competence.' Traditionalists established a 6-level system of Shaper rank. Trainees and Novices are 6th level. 5th level Shapers are Apprentices, with their basic training completed, but little real-world practice. 4th levels are Journeymen, who have proven their ability and independence. 3rd levels are Craftsmen. (Most Shapers never rise above 3rd level. To be promoted above 3rd level requires more than raw power, skill, or influence; a combination of one or more of those qualities is usually necessary). 2nd level Shapers are Masters, with important posts in the armed forces, research directors, and so on. Finally, 1st levels are the rulers. Once promoted, a 1st level Shaper is either groomed to rule an existing province, or gathers a group of followers and sakes out a new one. They have two governing bodies: the Southern Shaper Council, and the Provincial Assembly. The Assembly is a purely political body, where each province has a single vote. The governors meet twice a year, but everyday business is handled by representative, who stay in contact with their governors via scrying crystal. They are not required to be Shapers. The Assembly has a tradition of hands-off governing, and each province has a high degree of autonomy. Their most important jobs are to arbitrate inter-provincial disputes and approve new governors. The Council, on the other hand, controls the Shapers. They're the ones who ban and approve creations, train new Shapers, and so on. The Council is composed of twenty-one first and second level Shapers, each serving a single seven year term. The terms are staggered so that a new Councilman is chosen every four months. Replacement members are chosen at random from a pool of the most talented Shapers in the country- everyone in the pool has to be approved by at least three sitting Councilmen. No-one can sit more than a single term on the Council. Click to reveal.. (Reformists) The Reformists, the second largest faction, who favored changing the practices that they thought had led the Rebellion, re-boarded their ships and sailed for a large island chain to the West. In their lands, Shapers do not have any special power or influence, above what their abilities bring them- although they do have a certain influence. There are about an equal number of Shaper and Commoner leaders. Click to reveal.. (Anarchists) And the Anarchists rejected all efforts at central rule, and established numerous small settlements along the coastline, each with its own customs, but most are fairly traditional, bowing to the arcane authority of the Shaper Council. Those that don’t, however, boast some extremely bizarre practices. Again, so far they probably won't appear in the story either, although they have more of a chance of worming their way in than the Reformists. All three Shaper groups have similar technology (all based around magic and Shaping). Shaper magic is relatively crude, involving fairly direct energy transfers. More ‘subtle’ magic requires Shaping skills. The other groups of consequence are the natives- the Dn'arre and the Crj'arre. Click to reveal.. (Dn'arre) The Southern city-states are occupied by the Dn’arre. They worship Dranir, the Lord Above All, who emphasizes nonviolence and peaceful coexistence with nature. Dn’arre (which translates to ‘People of Dranir’) are strict vegetarians, and view the Shaping of new life forms as akin to sacrilege. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on your point of view) their culture is also fairly secular. City states maintain professional armies and frequently fight over land and resources, although most battles are highly formal and dignified. Most city states (those closest to Shaper lands) are also unusually tolerant of their Shaper neighbors, recognizing that their cultures are different. They accept enough use of Shaper arts to trade for Shaped crops and draft animals. Technologically, they’re slightly more advanced than Shapers. They’re excellent smiths, and their military forces resemble Roman armies. Dn’arre mages are incredibly powerful. They are, on average, stronger than Shapers, and they are much, much, better at using that energy. They’re also quite good at enchantments, although they can’t build the same kind of large-scale magic-directing equipment the Shapers can. They do, however, have fairly effective flintlock rifles and artillery. Click to reveal.. (Crj'arre) Their Crj’arre cousins were nomadic tribesmen who occupied the same fertile lands where the Shapers landed. Over decades of warfare, they were largely forced into the infertile inland regions, and bear bitter grudges against the Shapers for driving them from their homes. While their most effective weapons are bows (and iron swords purchased from the Dn’arre), their practice strange, shamanistic magic that few outsiders fully understand. The only established fact about it is that a Crn’arre shaman can defeat a Dn’arre wizard nine times out of ten. Their hunters are also famous for their stealth and accuracy.

I'm a huge fan of the Geneforge series- like many of the rest of you, I imagine. Not just the games themselves, but also of the universe they exist in, of the Shapers and their creations. As a fan, and an amateur writer, I thought I'd have a go at cracking out a story set in the universe. I'm not the biggest expert on the lore- I never played the first two games- but where I didn't know how things worked, I made up answers that I thought were plausible. When I was finished, I thought it might be nice to share it with my fellow fans. Who knows, if you like it, I might write more. The story takes place during what seems to be a fairly common occurrence in-universe...something going astray at an underground research area... ------------------------------------------------ Prologue: Starfire Research Warrens Beren slept the dreamless sleep of the truly tired. He was that rarest of administrators- one with true competence. And although the Shapers were generally very good about weeding out the truly inept, they were no more exempt from abuses of power than any other large, entrenched organization. As so often happened, a powerful patron had arranged things to grant some of his favorites a prestigious position. Thus Beren, one of two assistant directors and only a third-order Shaper, found himself almost single-handedly running Project Starfire. Though the art of Shaping was hundreds of years old, it was still a dynamic, ever-evolving science. Not just in the eternal parade of improvements to existing creation types- new creation types were always being developed, and from time to time some researcher would create a revolutionary new element. The most recent such event had happened barely twenty years ago, when Lord Kinar had perfected ‘lightning glands,’ enabling the Shaping of electricity-firing creations. Project Starfire was a concentrated effort at a similar breakthrough. Past Shapers had been able to give their creations many types of projectiles- ice, fire, poison, acid, lightning, bolts of psychic force, even beams of raw magic. This time, the goal was to develop creations that could fire blasts of kinetic force, for use in sieges. After months of tedious labor, a junior researcher had finally managed to create a workable model. With the initial breakthrough complete, the entire compound had kicked into high gear, as dozens of Shapers labored to perfect the glands and integrate them into proven creations. It had been weeks since anyone had gotten a full night’s sleep, but now the latest batch of modified roamers had been Shaped and placed in suspended animation to await further testing. As long as the power flow remained constant, they were perfectly secure. ---------------------------------------------------- The compound, like most Shaper research facilities, was located underground, both for safety and for secrecy. The rooms were carved from solid rock, and then further reinforced with wooden walls and trusses. Even so, the walls shook as the sound of a massive explosion echoed through the compound. Beren literally jumped out of his bed as the ceiling beams creaked ominously and a pile of books precariously stacked on the edge of a desk fell to the floor. He stumbled across his dark room, feeling for the light. After what seemed like an eternity his seeking fingers came across the valve, and he opened it as far as it would go. Nothing happened. There was no gurgling rush of essence to nourish the bioluminescent algae in the lamp, and they remained dormant. He cursed, and snapped his fingers. A globe of pale light appeared, orbiting his head. Its light illuminated a rather spartan room. It was about ten feet square, with a bed and dresser against one side, a writing desk and bookcase on another. A small metal cylinder in the center of the room emitted gentle warmth. In the corner next to the door was a pile of straw for a creation to sleep. “Wake up, Frostfang,” Beren yelled at the cryora slumbering there, oblivious to the explosion. The dinosaur-like creation yawned, showing off its large, pointed teeth. It reluctantly, but obediently, rose, stretching its reptilian body. Five feet tall from its large head to its clawed hind talons, its body was armored with shocking blue scales that ran from the tip of its snout to its short, stubby tail. Its short arms, though dexterous, weren’t much use in a fight, but it had strong jaws and sharp teeth, and could emit blasts of icy energy from its mouth. This particular cryora was slightly larger and much more muscular than the standard breed, reflecting the greater time and effort Beren had put into its Shaping. While his creation woke up, Beren pulled on a set of boots and leather pants, held up by a belt enchanted to store extra essence, and his long protective robe. He donned a pair of magic-conducting gloves, and slung a necklace enchanted to boost his strength and endurance around his neck. Almost as an afterthought, he took a short sword and a belt pouch filled with various healing spores and magic-infused crystals. He probably wouldn’t need them…but there was no harm in being overcautious. There were a lot of crude, untested creations in the compound, and there was no telling how they would react to an explosion like the one that had just taken place. He opened the door, and stepped out into the hall, followed by Frostfang. His room was only a short distance from the main Shaping halls. Unfortunately, it seemed that not all of the compound had fared as well as his room— the ceiling had caved in not twenty feet from his door, blocking the hallway. Even from here, he could smell the spicy-vinegar scent of raw essence spilling from broken pipes. “Beren!” Beren turned to see Kiria, a plump middle-aged woman with faded blonde hair and blue eyes, emerge from her room across the hall, followed by a pair of glaahk. The insectoid creatures were almost impossible to describe in purely terrestrial terms. They were bipedal, with two huge, powerful legs and a long, scorpion-like tail tipped with a vicious spike. Their bodies were protected by plates of dark green, chitinous armor, and two beady eyes stared out at the world from either side of their small, hooked beaks. “Do you know what’s happening?” “No,” he said. “Worst-case, the main power crystals exploded.” Kiria let lose a distinctly un-ladylike curse. “At least the new roamers are secure in their cages.” “Unless their kinetic glands work better than we thought, and the explosion scared them into trying to escape,” Beren pointed out. Kiria’s eyes opened wide with fear. “I'm sorry for scaring you,” he said as they strode down the unblocked hallway towards the main control room, “The containment cells could hold half a dozen rampaging battle alphas, and there were only two roamers to a cell. They’re almost certainly—” He broke off his sentence when a bolt of rippling force smashed into his chest, picking him up and hurling him backwards down the hall. Kiria’s mouth opened in shock, but before she could move, one of the new roamers came charging out of the darkness at a terrific speed. Its body was larger than a normal specimen’s, making its legs seem skinny in comparison, and identifying stripes of black fur ran the full length of its body. Its head was also different, with a smaller mouth and a six-inch crystalline horns projecting from its forehead. Her glaahk moved to intercept the creature, but it fired another blast of force from its horn, knocking one aside. The other lashed out with its tail, but the roamer lept nimbly aside. Kiria’s hands glowed with power as she raised them to blast the offending creation to raw essence, but it was too fast for her. It leapt at her before she could finish her spell, and its jaws, though reduced, were still more than strong enough to rip out her throat. Beren managed to twist his head around just in time to see her death. His body was broken and twitching in pain, but he could still speak. “Frostfang,” he commanded, “Kill.” The cryora, waiting for the order, snapped its head around to face the roamer. Its chest swelled as it took a deep breath, and it opened its mouth and expelled it all at once, adding energy from a series of special glands along its throat. A wave of icy energy flew across the hall, colder then the coldest winter. It struck the roamer square in side, knocking it off Kiria’s body. The intense cold cracked its skin, froze its blood, and shattered its bones. It twitched and tried to climb to its feet once again, but the nearest glaahk brought its tail slashing down. The vicious stinger pierced its lung, and it finally died as it drowned in its own blood. Beren felt like he would do the same, but long training helped him ignore the pain and concentrate on his own magic. Closing his eyes, he called upon the essence stored in his own body to rebuild shattered bones and organs. As always, it moved sluggishly at first, before falling into position with a rush of pain. His newly-healed innards continued to tingle, but he ignored the sensation and stood up once again. Kiria’s glaahk were standing still, looking lost and confused without their Shaper to control them. If no-one got to them in time, they would ‘go rogue’ and attempt to strike out on their own. Usually, this led to creations attacking humans, out of fear or hunger. Fortunately, he was here, and strong enough to take control of the creations. He reached out with his mind, feeling their sharp, predatory intellects beginning to succumb to shock and confusion. Gently, he wormed tendrils of thought into their minds, wrapping them in his will. “You two,” he said firmly. “Come with me.” The glaahk looked up with new purpose in their eyes, and one let out a happy chirp. Beren crossed the room to the one that the roamer had blasted and examined it for wounds. He found a series of large cracks on the underside of its carapace. Noticing the greenish blood dripping from the edges, he reach out mentally once again- this time with his Shaping powers. He found the jagged damage to the glaahk’s form and called up more essence to smooth out the imperfection and build new tissue to replace that which had been damaged. Beren looked up from his task and sighed. Two glaahks and a cryora made a powerful force, but the the situation looked bad. If one roamer was loose, the rest almost certainly were as well. Not to mention the experimental war tralls, and the over-sized fyora that Guardian Orwel had brought in for study… If they were all loose and rogue- and given the evidence, he saw no reason to believe that they were not- he was facing a small army of foes. Not a problem, he thought confidentially. After all, we all know the old saying- one Shaper is an army all by himself. Sewn into the lining of his robe were three crystal containers of pure, living essence, waiting to be Shaped into something extraordinary. He pulled two out now, and took a moment to think about what he wanted to create. Past experience told him that he could effectively control up to a dozen creations, barring any kind of assistance, but he’d prefer to keep some capacity in reserve. The best mix of creation types probably would be… He cracked open the crystals and poured their contents on the ground in front of him. The air filled with the smell of essence, mingling with the coppery scent of fresh blood. He raised his hands and concentrated. The silvery liquid quivered, glowed, and then exploded upwards in a silvery mist before coalescing into five menacing shapes. Two were battle alphas, standing a good twelve feet tall and bulging with muscle under their dark red fur. Bony spines jutted from their forearms, but their chief virtue was their massive size and toughness. Even the new roamers would have trouble knocking them aside! The other three were vlish- one of the most alien creations commonly used by shapers. Each vlish consisted of a four foot tall, bulging sack made of tough, leathery hide, filled with helium bubbles that let it float just off the ground. Halfway down it had a pair of eyestalks, and three tentacles projected from the base. Two were long and muscular, and used for movement and manipulating objects, but the third tentacle was short and thick, and filled with complex organs used to store magical energy. The vlish’s brain, located just above its three main tentacles, could draw on that energy to project bolts of psychic force. Vlish were extremely advanced creations. Their unconventional form made them difficult to shape- not for nothing was their creator dubbed 'Boriv the Mad'- and they were frighteningly intelligent. Almost too intelligent- vlish were far more likely than other creations to go rogue. They would have been- and almost had been- barred, but they were just too useful. Their combination of intelligence and psychic power let them effectively lead large groups of other creations. This specific variety were known as 'pacification vlish'- their psychic organs were designed to stun rogue creations so that a full Shaper could bring them back under control. “Ok, team,” Beren said to his minions. He could command them mentally, but he'd always found it easier to give instructions verbally, particularly when commanding a large number of creations at once. “Battle alphas, you take point, and you glaahks can cover the sides. Frostfang, guard our rear. The vlish and I will stay in the middle of the group.” Beren and his creations moved down the hallway, keeping a close watch for other escaped creations. They did not encounter any more resistance, although they saw plenty of evidence of rogue creations- damaged rooms, dead and cowering serviles, and streaks of blood and essence. Eventually, they reached the main control room for the compound. A large, square room, it was walled off with thick stone and mystic runes. They only way in was through a large metal door, currently guarded by a trio of thads. The squat, brown-skinned humanoids looked like they were under control, but it was sometimes hard to tell. They were standing stiffly at attention, and looked alert, but thads had that kind of military discipline Shaped into them. “I am Beren, a third-order Shaper,” he announced confidently, walking up to them. “Let me pass.” One of the thads snarled, revealing inch-long fangs. Beren, who had not considered the ten foot tall creations a threat since he was an apprentice, glared back. “Move aside, you imbeciles, or I'll unmake you,” he threatened. “And then do the same for whatever idiot Shaped you.” The thads' only answers were angry growls, and the closest one lunged at Beren. “No,” he said calmly. He flicked his wrist, and a drop of essence flew out and hit the thad in the chest. For a second, nothing happened, and then the entire creature collapsed into a puddle of raw essence. The other two thads paused for a split seconds, their crude minds trying to figure out what had just happened, and Beren's vlish struck. Bolts of mental energy hammered at the two creations, driving them to their knees as they tried, in vein, to resist. “Enough,” Beren said angrily. He glared at the remaining two thads, pitting his will against their creator's. The contest was over in an instant, and he unmade the creatures with a single curt gesture. ---------------------------------------------- Garlet Baretson was only a fifth-order shaper, barely above an apprentice. At first, he had been honored to be left in charge of such an important project while his superiors attended to 'more important business.' But he was rapidly beginning to realize that he was in over his head and sinking fast. It had started with a single flutter in one of the main essence pumps. Like most Shaper technology, it was a living thing, a mixture of organic muscle and metal plumbing that nourished itself by absorbing a small fraction of the essence it pumped. And, while hardy, it wasn't immune to the ravages of time. This pump was starting to get old, and in fact it was due to be replaced in just a few weeks. But until then, the on-duty Shaper had to keep a close watch on it so that he could repair it if it began to fail. Garlet had noticed the problem. If he had the proper training, he would have been able to heal the pump himself, but he had only received his robes six months ago. Hiren, the man who had left him in charge, had told him to 'send a message to my quarters if anything goes wrong.' Garlet had sent three increasingly urgent messages over the course of the night, but there had been no response. Despite his fevered prayers, the pump failed two hours after he first noticed its struggles. Later investigation would diagnose the cause as a torn muscle, but by then it was too late. Other organic machines farther down the line shut down as their supply of essence was cut off. Before Garlet could overcome his surprise and engage the backup system, the entire compound was plunged into emergency shutdown. And now he was stuck here in the control center, shivering with fear. Even if he survived the rogue attack, he would surely be punished for his failure. Shaper punishment generally meant gruesome execution. He sensed, rather than heard, someone confront the thads he had ordered to guard the room. Truth to be told, he rather doubted his ability to control them under this kind of stress… It seemed the person outside felt the same way, for he felt the unpleasant jolt of his creations’ demise a moment later. There was a long moment of silence afterwards, and then the door shuddered slowly swung open. ---------------------------------------------- Beren let his direct control over the fungal creature that opened and closed the stone door fade away as he surveyed the control center. His gaze swept over the essence routers, the mirrored observation tubes, and came to rest on the hapless young shaper huddled in the corner. “You,” he snarled angrily. It had not been a good day. “What the hell happened here?” “Ah-ah- the pumps…they…it…I couldn’t…he…” Beren stood, tapping his foot impatiently, as the boy stammered out his explanation. “Fine,” he cut the young man off curtly. “We’ll worry about the past later. Right now we need to get power flowing again…I told them we needed a servile mind…” His voice trailed off as he sunk deep into thought. “Right,” he finally decided. “Take notes, boy, this is how you handle a crisis. The main problem is with essence flow. Originally, we could just heal the one pump, but the damage has spread too fast. Too much of the original system is damaged for it to be useful, so we bypass it.” Beren started pacing back and forth, in full lecture mode. “What do we need most? Security pylons. Golems. Recharge fonts, not everyone will have enough essence stored to protect themselves.” He turned back to the terrified young shaper. “Name and rank,” he demanded. “Garlet, sir. Fifth order Shaper.” “Garlet, I need you to run down the hall to room 32-C and revive the pump there. Can you do that?” “I…I think so. But…the rouges…” Beren cursed. “Fine, fine.” He waved to his battle alphas, who lumbered up loyally. “My alphas will protect you. Get going!” Garlet scrambled out the door, followed by the two hulking creations, and Beren turned his attention back to the problem at hand. He stared at the schematic for the compound’s plumbing. Surely there must be some… One of the speaking tubes at the back of the room whistled, and he cursed. “Beren here,” he yelled at it. “Beren?” The voice, though scratchy after passing through the tube, undeniably belonged to the compound’s director, a very well-born young Shaper named Daker. “Thank god! This is a complete disaster. We’re going to have to evacuate the compound.” “I have the situation well in hand,” he snapped back. “Give me fifteen more minutes, and I’ll have the pylons running again. Then we can-” “In fifteen minutes, I’ll be dead!” Daker sobbed hysterically. “They’re right outside my room…I can’t hold them off any longer!” “How the hell did you pass your Test?” Beren muttered to himself. “Sir, it would take much longer to rescue you, particularly since the golems are inactive as well. If you could send a creation to the nearest golem bay, I think the only problem is in the remote relays…” “I can’t! I don’t have any more essence! GET ME OUT OF HERE!!!” “Sir, to do that, I’ll have to-” “I don’t care!” Daker screamed hysterically. “Do whatever the hell you have to, but control these goddamned rogues! THAT’S A [censored] ORDER!!” “Yes sir,” Beren said. With a grimace at his superior’s panic, he returned to the task at hand. The essence pipeline was serviced by two types of pumps- large bio-organic creations like the one which had broken, and small, plant-like organisms that coated the insides of the pipelines, moving the liquid along with the help of thousands of tiny flagella. Those organisms should revive on their own once essence began moving through the pipes; only the large pumps would require the attention of a Shaper. The pump he had sent Garlet to repair serviced the entire creation storage area, where (hopefully) most of the rogues remained, and the essence storage tanks were fairly close. There was a lot of piping between the two, not all of which he understood, but all he really had to do at the moment was get essence flowing from point A to point B… Hmm…he thought he remembered the design for the organisms that lined the pipes. Theoretically, if he decreased the permeability of their cell walls, and gave them a skeleton to grow on… If this didn’t work, he was dead. The law had only one penalty for anyone who contemplated Shaping such radical new creations, and no-one would think twice about executing a failure. But if it worked…he was not without patrons of his own, and sometimes such initiative was rewarded… For now, he banished his ambitions and prepared to address the task at hand. The first step…he crossed the room and cranked open the valve to fill up the room’s essence pool. A large compound like this had dozens of such tanks, each storing thousands of gallons of the organic glop. Most were buried in the floor, accessible only through the large iron plumbing, but some- like this one- fed into a deep, open pool, for just such an emergency. Beren turned to his creations one last time. “I want you all to keep a close watch over me while I Shape. If anything gets close, give it a warning. If it doesn’t listen, take it down hard. Got it?” A diverse array of tentacles and craniums nodded in acknowledgement, and he closed his eyes, going over the details of the design in his mind. Plant/protist base… chitinous rods on the dorsal and ventral planes…segmentation…five-inch diameter…waxy interior…ready… He pulled essence out of the pool, sculpting it with his mind. The newly-Shaped creation, brown and soggy, immediately began to fulfill its task of pumping essence. As the thick liquid pooled on the floor, Beren used it to Shape the next segment, backing up as he did so. Slowly, surely, the new pipeline took form. By the time Beren reached room 32-C, he had been continuously Shaping for almost ten straight minutes, and his organic pipe stretched over two hundred feet. “What is that?” Garlet looked down at the creature with surprise, curiosity, and more than a little disgust. Shapers saw a bewildering variety of disgusting sights in their careers, far worse than Beren’s hasty creation, but something about it turned his stomach. “Living essence pipe. Help me hook it up to the pump,” Beren ordered. The two men stretched and strained in a most undignified manner, but they eventually managed to Shape a firm seal between the pump and pipe. Beren collapsed against the wall, wiping sweat from his brow. If he strained his ears, he could hear the comforting hum of security pylons powering up, and the offended squeals of stunned creations. “Sir? Are you ok?” Garlet bent down, eyes full of concern for his fellow. Besides him, Frostfang took a more forceful posture, nuzzling Beren and purring softly. “I’ll be fine in a minute,” Beren waved him aside, reaching up to scratch Frostfang’s brow with his other hand. “Just Shaping fatigue.” “Uh…ok, sir,” Garlet said nervously. “Oh, for god’s sake, boy, stop that stammering and grow a spine! You’re not a student anymore! Showing respect for your superiors is one thing, but you’re not supposed to kiss their ass either,” Beren snapped irritably. “You have power. Learn to use it, goddamnit.” “Beren! What the hell are you doing?” Beren turned his head to face the doorway, where the angry voice had come from. Standing just outside was Dakar, in all his (miniscule) glory. The man was tall and dark-haired, and he could have been very handsome, if not for his weight. Unlike most Shapers, who kept themselves fit and healthy through regular exercise, Dakar was morbidly obese. His three chins trembled with every word he spoke, and his voice was nasally and unpleasant, and he had neither talent nor power. Unfortunately for the rest of the world, his uncle was a particularly influential provincial governor, with an unfortunate tendency towards nepotism. He was flanked by a trio of battle alphas and a female human. Beren did not recognize her, although he could tell from here that she lacked any Shaping ability. She was a pretty enough thing, short and curvaceous- probably from the nearby village that supported the compound. Judging by the rumpled appearance of both her and Dakar’s clothes, they had been dallying together in an out-of-the-way storeroom before the attack. “I,” Beren said nastily, “am taking a moment to catch my breath after solving this emergency- almost single-handedly, I might add. What are you doing…sir?” Dakar ignored the menace in the words and continued to rant. “Solving this emergency? Half of the Shapers are dead! The labs are in ruins! The hallways are flooded with rogue creations! And- and- what the hell is that?” He pointed angrily at the organic pipe stretching down the hallway. “That,” Beren said in an icy voice, “if the only thing keeping power flowing to the pylons. I wouldn’t touch it if I were you.” “It looks like an unauthorized creation to me!” “Then you’re an idiot…sir,” Beren said. “It’s a structural modification of an existing type, and it can’t do anything but lie there. Now, can we please get back to the issue at hand? We need to organize parties to hunt down and subdue the remaining rogues, repair the rest of the essence pumps, contact the rest of the Shapers here, heal the wounded-” “You violated Shaper law! You will not do anything until a thorough investigation has been completed!” Dakar swung around to face Garlet, although he wisely did not touch the pipe-like creation on the floor. “And you! You were on duty when this disaster happened! Everything is your fault!” His voice rose to a hysterically high pitched shout. “You’ll die for such a failure!” The fat Shaper reached into the folds of his robe and drew a wand, which he fired at Garlet. A burst of pure energy flew across the room, but Beren moved like a snake. Before the energy could reach its target, he jumped to his feet and lunged across the floor to interpose himself between the spell and the junior Shaper. The energy struck his hand and fizzled out harmlessly. “If we’re talking about violations of Shaper law,” Beren said, his tone dangerously calm, “perhaps you would care to investigate who it was that left a newly minted fifth-level Shaper in charge of power flow to the entire compound with no supervision?” “Shut up, traitor! You’ll die! Both of you! DIE!!” Dakar raised his hands, fire swirling around them. Garlet closed his eyes and prepared for the worst. Instead of the expected fiery immolation, he felt only a cool tingling sensation. He cautiously opened one eye to see the dying embers of Dakar’s fire magic dying away around him. Beren must have dashed off a shielding spell, he realized. Dakar snarled in rage, but Beren moved faster. He twitched his hands, and a bolt of rippling distortion smashed the fat Shaper into the opposite wall. He bounced off with a sickening crunch and collapsed in a boneless heap on the floor, moaning softly. His battle alphas, their master down and hurting, lowered their heads and charged. Massive fists and shoulders thumped into Beren’s frail body, throwing him backwards, but his own alphas and glaahks stepped forwards to block them, and a furious scuffle broke out. For a moment, the room was full of flailing fists and stingers, until Beren’s voice boomed out above the din “SILENCE!” He accompanied his voice with a wave of mental energy that froze every creation in the room in place. He calmly threaded his way past the massive creations and loomed over Dakar’s broken body. “Sadly,” he said, energy swirling around his hand, “It appears that you were killed by one of the new roamers before we could rescue you.” Another bolt of energy, and the fallen Shaper’s head shattered like an overripe grapefruit. Garlet stared in disbelief as Beren disdainfully spat on the corpse before pivoting back to face him. “Can you control his battle aphas?” “What?” The young man was in shock. “You…you just killed him! That’s…you just…” “Garlet,” Beren said firmly, “You’re a Shaper. Get a hold of yourself. Yes, I killed him. In case you didn’t notice, he was trying to kill us.” He sneered. “But I’d rather avoid the issue altogether, so I would appreciate it if you kept your mouth shut.” “But…but…” “I’m not covering it up because I’m afraid of prosecution. A simple mind-probe will reveal the truth readily enough, and there’s both of us and our creations for witnesses. But it would make an enemy of Lord Dykan, which is not something we want to do. Much simpler all around for him to have simply been killed by a rogue. I offered you his battle alphas because they need someone to look after them, and I’d rather not unmake companions without just cause.” “Yes…yes, sir,” Garlet nodded. He felt for the creations’ minds, encircling their thoughts with his own, stamping his identity into them...and then everything clicked into place, and they turned to face him with loyal eyes. “Now…” Beren dropped his hand onto the young Shaper’s shoulder. “There’s still a lot to do. Let’s go to work.” --------------------------------------------------- Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Kind of long, but I had fun writing it. Let me know what you think- any feedback is appreciated.

How do you disarm the traps in the little building in the south of the Southwest Wasteland? The one with two mines at the back and four triggers around the edges? I've tried about twenty times and died each time.

Thank god I noticed this...I did the same thing, but I exited before clearing out the northern loop of the Western Passes.

Ah. Thank you.

I just noticed the trapdoor in the back of Haria-Kel only leads to an empty room in Mera. Is there supposed to be something there? Some scripted event where you spot a hidden door?

Ok, thanks. Now to go back and pick up all the canisters I skipped over... mwa-ha-ha-ha-ha...

I was debating whether or not to go canister-crazy on my first playthrough (yeah...I know...I was close to the end before, but my laptop died and I lost all my saved files.) I'm planning on joining Astoria's faction, and I have no problem with the extra aggression...but I was wondering if excessive canister use can give you an unhappy ending, like in G4. Try to avoid spoiling too much, please.

Besides the obvious new creations (podlings, patchwork, etc...ooo, and golems), I'd like to see more ability to customize your creations, perhaps through templates. Add a 'Burning' template to your Thad, and for an extra 10 essence, it's attacks do extra acid damage.

Shaper or Sorceress...it seems that whenever I play the one, my style slowly slides towards the other.

I found the folder of saved games and copied it to my new computer. Is there any way to import the saved games? I tried deleting the new folder and copying the old one to the same place, but it didn't seem to recognize it.

Thank you- that did the trick. Problem solved.

I just got a new laptop, which, sadly, comes with Windows Vista. I put the Geneforge 5 CD (which I successfully used on another computer) in the drive, and run it. The window comes up normally, and I press install. Error: 1045 An error occurred: File Execution failed, elevation required. ??? PS: I just downloaded and installed the demo, and it works just fine. Doesn't even need fast graphics mode.

I have a PC, not a mac, and I was planning on transferring the files to a memory stick. Where do I find the files?

My computer has been having power issues, and I need a new one. Only problem is, I don't want to loose my Spiderweb games. I have them on CD, but I was wondering...is there any way to back up the savedgames? I'm only halfway through G5, and I don't want to loose my progress...

If I've already paid for the original version, what do I do to get the upgraded version? Do I just download the new demo and install it? If so, will I still be able to use saves from v 1.01?

I downloaded the patch, and it had...interesting results. If I turn 'Draw Extras' off, everything works fine. If I turn it on, then it still runs perfectly...until I try to open the inventory, a container, or a shop. Then it begins to lag terribly until I close the inventory window, when it works fine.

Is it possible to create these horribly annoying little critters?

But ruby and sapphire can just be sold? As far as I know, crafting only uses gold and platinum, but I was afraid that had changed.

What's special about ruby and sapphire rings? Are they significant? should I save them, or should I just sell them for a little extra cash?