Arcanaville

To be absolutely certain, I tested demo playback on a computer with no network connection. Works fine.

There's an incredibly weird way to partially fix the sound bug. You could play your demo back on an old copy of the game. The older copies still have working sound, but the animations will likely be all messed up because those have changed more radically over time.

Record your demo once with the old client, once with the latest client, and then take the sound from one and the video from the other. It might work, to some degree.

Since there are older copies of the game client floating around that have working demo sound, I'm guessing eventually someone's going to figure out how to patch the latest client to play sound in demos. But its not a project I'm personally working on.

The Immortal Game

Part Six: Destiny



With the assistance of the Dream Doctor's magic and the power of Prometheus, the process was remarkably quick. As Prometheus opened Cole to the power of the Well of the Furies, that power was focused on a complex nexus of being that was Rularuu. Ruladek, Uuralur, Kuularth, Chularn, Aloore, Lanaru, and Faathim, all shards of the Ascended being known as Rularuu were drawn into the maelstrom of power that was Marcus Cole. The incarnate potential of all humanity reached out and embraced the fractured god, melding the power of Rularuu and temporarily making the many into One. And within that One, Marcus Cole fought to maintain his being, his identity, his soul. A lesser man would have been consumed utterly, but Cole was no lesser man. He had survived much, witnessed much, set his mind on the greatest and most terrible acts any man had conceived. No one could dominate Rularuu, but Cole was able to become the voice of Rularuu, its focus. He became RulaCole, an infinte power guided by unlimited potential.

Cole thought he knew power. He had gained the power of Tartarus through the Well of the Furies, and eventually surpassed that by becoming a champion of the Well. He even managed to transcend that by becoming the Devourer of Souls. All that paled in comparison to the power he now wielded as RulaCole. With a thought he could lay waste to all of Paragon City; he could destroy his enemies in mere moments. What need did Rularuu have for the schemes of man? Rularuu would confront the Coming Storm and defeat them. Rularuu would...

Cole. He was Marcus Cole. Not Ruladek the Strong, pulverizer of his enemies. Ruladek would lay waste to the entire planet just to see the Battalion crushed beneath his boot. Cole would not destroy humanity, he would save it. He was their protector, their savior. He would bring them into the fold of Rularuu, extend the domain of the Shadow Shard to encompass the Earth, and spread its protective umbrella across the innocent of this world.

That was Faathim the Kind speaking, not Marcus Cole. Marcus Cole. This was the fate of Rularuu: in Ascending beyond mortal limits and gaining vast cosmic energies, his every thought teemed with power. His every inner voice became a juggernaut of force. Rularuu would not be denied. That which was Rularuu and sought to destroy his enemies would not be denied, not even by Rularuu himself. That which was Rularuu and sought to protect his people would not be denied, not even by Rularuu himself. With ultimate power came the ultimate sundering. With no voice preeminent, all voices had power. All voices became imbued with the power of Rularuu. Thus was born Ruladek, and Lanaru, and Faathim.

But though they all writhed in a titanic struggle for dominance that threatened to extinguish him, Marcus Cole discovered one small advantage. Though they were all separate, they were all also one. They were all Rularuu, their separate identities masking their common being. Marcus Cole was a part of Rularuu, but he was not Rularuu. He was separate. He had a unique identity the others lacked. And while they struggled against themselves they did so with the same will and the same reservoir of power. Cole had his own will. Cole had his own power: the power of potential tapped from the Well. It bound Rularuu together, but it was of Cole alone. Rularuu contained a power he could not possibly hope to match, but that power was set against itself. Cole commanded a power above the struggle, and with it he began to assert his own will upon Rularuu.

The Mender had called him insane, and perhaps it was true. Cole focused his will as no other human could, becoming a single dagger of purpose at the heart of Rularuu. As he did, all else fell away. Humanity, the Mender, the plan, even her. There was nothing but singular purpose. Eventually, he felt a shift as the other voices that were Rularuu were quelled. He was RulaCole, and Cole was the master.

Cole realized the Mender spoke the truth when he said this was not a permanent path to power. Cole could not long last against the almost infinite strength of the Voices of Rularuu. He could not long control the uncontrollable. As Rularuu himself lost to his powerful voices, so too would Cole eventually sucumb. The power necessary to control Rularuu would eventually fracture him as it did Rularuu. Singularity of purpose defined Marcus Cole, it was at the core of who he was. He would not allow himself to be fractured as Rularuu was. He had no choice but to continue with the Mender's plan. Exactly as he said he would be.

For the first time since the transformation, Cole extended his senses outward to perceive the world beyond the mind of Rularuu. The Dream Doctor was gone, as was Prometheus. They had left to fulfill their other tasks. Of course, RulaCole needed no assistance from them any longer. For a moment, Cole felt all the voices agree with him. His part in the plan was clear, as was all others. As RulaCole, he now saw the full tapestry of the scheme of the Mender, and even as RulaCole he acknowledged a hint of admiration. Soon, he would travel to the place known on Primal Earth as the Rikti War Zone. There RulaCole would begin the process of sealing this world from all others. This would bring the Battalion and their forces. Prometheus and the humans would have to engage them, draw them in. Timing would be critical. If the full might of the Battalion reached Earth, even the might of RulaCole might not turn them back, at least not without turning the Earth into ash. But they would have to allow the Battalion to get close enough for their advanced guard to reach the battle site, and the humans would have to hold them off until the end. One task remained. Someone would have to destroy the last tether this world had to all others: the Rikti portal. How ironic that for all its danger as a portal for an invading force, its threat now was as a mere piece of twine snagged onto the corner of reality that must be severed.

The effects of the task given to RulaCole would not be felt instantly. Rather than simply shattering this reality as Rularuu had done once before, RulaCole would now empower the Battalion's own emcompassing bubble to pinch Primal Earth from the rest of the multiverse. As that bubble collapsed around Primal Earth it would reach a critical point where the power RulaCole invested into it would trigger a potential detonation in reality, and if all went as planned Primal Earth would be cast off into Dreamspace. Once initiated, the process could not be stopped. But the Mender hoped that the Battalion would try anyway, expend their last days struggling against the very barrier they sought to wrangle humanity within while they drained it of incarnate potential. Earth would have a few days peace before the end.

And then, of course, there was the question of what the Battalion would face after the end. The barrier enclosed them all, but in its final moments it would transform only the reality of those attuned to the Well of the Furies and its potential. The Battalion would be left behind in a parallel bubble of reality, still trapped, but no longer a part of the reality of the new Primal Earth. That which was Cole would be absorbed by the transformation. What happened to Cole after that moment even RulaCole did not know for certain. Rularuu himself, freed from the influence of Marcus Cole and the Well of the Furies, would quickly return to his place of power, the Shadow Shard, the voices of the one becoming separate again.

There was, of course, one other entity not of Rularuu and not of the Well of the Furies which would be left behind. Deep within Rularuu, Cole heard the voice of Lanaruu the Mad laughing. And for the first time in decades Marcus Cole, emperor of Earth, found himself laughing as well.

Aloha, and hopefully we can create one last interesting thing for you to film.

There are two, or really three parts remaining to this story. The next part is going to be delayed until Tuesday due to an insufficient lack of sucktitude in some of the writing. There is an epilogue to the story that I will post on Thursday or Friday, and it will also be posted on Titan since that gives people very little time to read it. The part in between the two covers the events that actually occur on Wednesday during the event assuming we pull it off without obliterating the beta server, and since that's still being played a bit by ear, that part will also likely need to be tweaked before posting.

Thanks to all the well-wishers. I really appreciate it.

The Immortal Game

Part five: Endgame



A thousand years before the founding of Paragon City this place was known as The Palace of the Stars in the language of its natives. It was a relatively flat plateau with few trees that made it seem like one was surrounded by the stars at night. For hundreds of years it was a place of serenity and meditation, where The People went to seek counsel with the spirits of the Earth.

Four hundred years ago the first war came to the Palace as The People clashed with settlers from another world. This world was an ocean away and the warriors from that world wielded advanced, almost inconceivable technology, but The People united against them and defeated them. It would be their last victory.

Two hundred years ago The People were swept away, first by Others of their kind, and then by invaders from across the sea. The Palace of the Stars became known as Witfield by its new inhabitants, and it held a small trading village. The people who now resided there marveled at the good soil for crops, the relatively mild winters, the gentle landscape. Some even noted that, far and above the larger settlements near the coast, this place seemed to have the deepest, star-filled sky at night.

A hundred years ago Witfield was now know as White Plains, an outlying region of the burgeoning metropolis known as Paragon City. Another war had come and the people of this land united against those across the sea and eventually defeated them. The people of Paragon City were a new people born of the old. The farms and villages were gone, supplanted by roads and buildings. This was a relatively affluent part of Paragon: far enough from the center of the city but still connected to all of its networks and resources. And then came the Crash. The crash was the first strike in a war that would rage for over a decade. It was no mere object that crashed to Earth but rather something far more critical to the city. The capital engine of the economy that fueled its expansion and development vaporized in a few days in 1929, and with that engine crippled Paragon City descended into chaos. Government and social structures lost control and new powers rose to fill the vacuum as criminal gangs fought for control of the streets. Until he came.

A lost child of the New World returned from the Old World across the sea. And once again, the world across the sea brought change to this world, in the form of a hero that would unite the forces of justice and wage a war to bring order to Paragon City. A war that was won just in time for the next war to arrive. Once again, it was the world across the sea that brought war to this world. And once again, it was invaders wielding advanced technology that threatened the people of this land. Once again, the people united against them and eventually, at great cost, defeated them. But there would be no lasting peace this time.

Although a semblance of normalcy eventually returned to Paragon City, the place once known as the Palace of the Stars would never again see peace. It would see the rise of the drug-fueled criminal gangs known as the Trolls and the mysterious armies of the man known as Nemesis. It would see a world war replaced with a Cold War, and the Cold War nearly become an apocalyptic hot war. But it was once again an invasion by another world that would finally seal the fate of White Plains.

Ten years ago the invaders came, not from an ocean away, but a cosmos away. Born on another Earth, in another dimensional reality, the beings known as the Rikti launched a massive invasion of the entire planet. Using dimensional portal technology they came in huge numbers and overwhelmed the planet's militaries almost immediately. Paragon City became one of the centers of the conflict. Once again, at great cost, the people of this world united and defeated the invaders, driving them away, the portal to their homeworld severed. One casualty was White Plains itself. A massive Rikti mothership crashed into the ground, destroying a huge swath of White Plains before finally coming to rest. The crash obliterated over half of White Plains; the need to quarantine the crash site caused the rest to be abandoned. White Plains was now the Rikti Crash Site, a place where the city kept watch upon the damaged but still functioning warship, its impregnable deflector shield preventing all attempts to gain entrance. Observers could only wonder what was happening within.

Five years ago they learned. The Rikti that had been left behind after the war ended hadn't simply given up. They had spent years attempting to repair their ability to connect this world with their world, and they finally succeeded, albeit in a limited fashion. Their technology repaired, the Rikti once again had the means to travel from this world to another world, from this world to another dimension. With this, they could attempt to resume their conquest of Earth. This made the Rikti mothership, and the place once known as the Palace of the Stars, critically important to the Rikti.

It was for the same reason it was critically important to the Dream Doctor and his allies. Because here was the last escape route from the Battalion. And ironically, their task would be to destroy it.

On their world, the Rikti had systematically destroyed magic and the worship of gods, and with that they had also inadvertently extinguished much of their future potential. The Rikti did not have Incarnate potential; they had no Well of the Furies. Because of this, they were beyond the attention of the Battalion: they were insignificant to the Battalion. Even their portal escaped attention, as the Rikti homeworld was not considered worthy of attention by the Battalion and no Incarnate potential flowed through it. It was currently invisible to the Battalion. But they would not be using it to escape the Battalion, they would be severing this last anchor to the multiverse. Until it was destroyed, their plan could not succeed.

Ten years ago - many, many more years ago from the perspective of Mender Silos - a man had opened a portal to the Rikti homeworld and through his clumsy machinations had triggered a war between mankind and the Rikti. From that moment the fate of humans and Rikti were intertwined in an ever tightening tangle of strife, politics, hubris, bloodshed, and revenge. And the man responsible would now sever that connection, once and for all time. Mender Silos pursed his lips. "All clocks return to the beginning" he thought to himself.

"How did your meeting with Emperor Cole fare, Mender?"

The Dream Doctor's question shook Silos out of his reverie. "As I expected, Doctor. And you, Prometheus? How was your audience with 'god?'"

"Your Humor Is Unnecessary Mender." Prometheus once again addressed Mender Silos with the forceful voice he had recently adopted in speaking to humans. "All Is As Planned."

"Did you tell him exactly what I said to tell him?"

"I Said What Was Necessary." Prometheus paused. "Faathim Reacted As You Expected. Perhaps A Million Years Is Just Enough Time For Humans To Gain Wisdom" he added.

"Before my death I managed to give Prometheus the Fire Bearer a sense of humor. I should get some sort of recognition for that, a badge I could pin right here perhaps."

The Dream Doctor ignored their banter, although he sensed a shift in respect between them that he couldn't place. "All are ready then. I will go to Cole and prepare him."

"Bring Him To Me And I Will Grant What He Requires."

"All we need now is an army" Mender Silos added "and that's your department Prometheus."

"I Will Call Upon All Who Would Face The Coming Storm. I Will Embue Them With Their Full Incarnate Potential. They Will Have To Do The Rest."

"They always do, Prometheus" Mender Silos and Lord Nemesis said as one. "They *always* do."

...


Note: title notwithstanding, this is not the last part of the story

The Immortal Game

Part Four: The Sacrificial Castle



Everyone who traveled to this place was struck immediately by its nagging duality. It was a place of immense power: you could literally feel the energy all around you, like a pressure with nowhere to go. And yet it was also a place of almost endless entropy: the very ground crumbled and scattered in all directions. It was known by the humans as the Shadow Shard, named after the strange denizens that appeared to echo those from Primal Earth. At one time it had a different name, a name Prometheus still thought off when he arrived. But like the place it referred to, that name was lost to the power of the One who had forever shattered it and its namesake.

Most of the Shadow Shard was filled with islands of localized order within the maelstrom of chaos: tiny worldlets upon which the Shadows and Echos of reality intermingled with the Soldiers of Rularuu. But here was the one true place of order: the Chantry. Redoubt of the one known as Faathim the Kind. Faathim, an aspect of the entity known as Rularuu, was the conscience of Rularuu; the one aspect of Rularuu that had not surrendered to the infinite depths of hunger for power that was Rularuu. It was Faathim that embodied that which was needed for the plan devised by the Dreamer and the Mender, and though Prometheus considered it an offense to be performing the errands of others, he consoled himself with the knowledge that only he could perform this task. Neither the Dreamer nor the Mender were welcome guests of Rularuu, even in the house of Faathim.

As he approached the entrace to the inner chamber of the Chantry, Prometheus felt something almost like a chill. Mere weather could not affect one such as he, but this was no drop in temperature. It was as if the very air sought to drain the life from him as he entered the dwelling of Faathim.

"I know of your dealings with the Dreamer, godling. Rularuu will play no part in your play."

Prometheus approached the towering form of Faathim the Kind, aspect of Rularuu. "You would consign the innocent to be consumed by the Coming Storm?"

"I protect the innocent, but my realm is the realm of Rularuu. My domain does not encompass the realm of the humans. You know this godling."

Prometheus chaffed at the epithet, but tried to brush it off. He would suffer no such insult from his lessers, but the being before him was not one he could triffle with. Rularuu was not omnipotent - the very concept of omnipotence was nonsensical to beings such as Prometheus - but he was among the few that could rightly take their place as gods. Even those that Prometheus once served would not dare to anger one such as Rularuu in his own domain.

"The Mender seeks to enlist the aid of another. One that he intends on giving the secret of Ascension."

Faathim's voice noticably tensed. "The fool would risk setting another on that path of power?"

"He would. If you help me, we can ... limit the damage he can cause."

"Rularuu will not allow his power to be used in this way."

"Will not Faathim seek to protect the Rularuu? Will not Ruladak unleash his fury to punish the Thieves of Destiny?" Prometheus paused. "Will not Aloore the Watcher... His will be done upon the Coming Storm? Will not Rularuu do as we need, even if he refused to do as we will?"

Faathim seemed to think upon this, and Prometheus knew that he was simultaneously dealing with an immensely powerful entity in his own right, but also an aspect of an even greater entity in Rularuu. To what degree Faathim really was a separate entity, and not merely one voice of the whole even Prometheus did not know. As Faathim comtemplated, was Rularuu also contemplating? After a time, Faathim spoke:

"Rularuu will not allow the Coming Storm to interfere with his realm. Rularuu will not allow the Will to transcend upon any world adjoining his. Rularuu will do as you need, but only because it is his will not yours. Rularuu will pay the price for Destiny."

"Then my presence is no longer necessary, Faathim the Kind" Prometheus said politely. Prometheus turned to leave the inner chamber when Faathim gestured for him to stop.

"Godling, you choose to join the humans in this endeavor?"

"I do."

"It will mean forever your separation from your others. It will mean isolation. It will mean an infinity of solitude. And those whom you claim to protect will one day rebel, one day know the truth, one day abandon you. You will be a childless father, a lost guide. You will be truly alone."

"Yes" Prometheus replied. He turned, and walked back to the portal. As he stepped within and exited the Chantry, Faathim the Kind's last words seemed to echo all around him:

"I envy you"


...