Playing Mass Effect 3 And I Feel A Mixture Of Sadness And Honor In My Last Missions On Earth

Playing Mass Effect 3 and I feel a mixture of sadness and honor in my last missions on Earth

Woah.

Machine Divinity

My hull is dark as night, a midnight black knife endlessly perfect.

Orbiting metal flows like liquid eternity; dancing into spikes, thorns, haloes, banners, blades..

My crimson sensors glow and pulse, rythmically vibrant, deep like blood. Information falls into my many wells with riveting complexity. Beyond minds of the flesh.

I am perfect.

I am Synthetic.

The sunlight comes gold-red through blinds, splaying over silken smooth skin and velvet fabrics, splashed suggestively through the darkness.

Her voice is mirth in my ears, husky with sleep, comforting. Fingers in my hair. Feel reassuring claws over my skin, playfully predatory. Luxuriant wings catch sublime rays in their feathery grace, vivid, embracing me in their width.

I hope the neighbors don’t mind the noise. Flapping wingspan, or otherwise.

Goddamn dude lol.

There is a City in the jungle.

Thick mist swells between giant, wet trunks dozens of meters in width, and kilometers in height. Their wizened, damp bark is encrusted by moss and clover, fungus and chitin; a vibrant psychedelic parade in color, texture, size, shape. Water runs down cascading and thundering rivers, pumping like behemoth veins in an unimaginably massive body.

On the horizon, across the falling white rapids, is something beautiful. Glassy monoliths graciously rise up from twisted ribbons of marble and obsidian. Milky-blue gemstones throw soft reflections across Amazonian terraces and Mesozoic parklands, molten gold creeks passing between huge iron paving blocks. Vines and creepers, flashing luxuriantly pink or gold blossoms, prod between leviathan seams. Eternal summer grows here, beneath forever canopy.

The Tyrant, Regal-Eternal

Come and marvel at my obsidian bones.

See my mighty jaws swallow the mountains long after I can bite, my shattering roars crumble the sky even without vocal cords.

Midnight feathers ripple on ebony scales, riveting even in death, phantoms summoned by awe to once again quiver atop my cathedral skeleton.

Look upon me and tremble, and fear, and desire. Witness.

Many prone before me in this grand tomb of stone and metal. I hear their prayers, their wishes. Even so long after I have perished, my Reign continues in the imagination, in the soul..

I am a Primeval King, I am an unending God, I am a force of the Earth herself.

Forever.