You know I'm not going to bother pointing out how flawed your statement is. Th infamous Reddit AMA went over possible reasons for why the game is the way that it is. The issue here is that you are utterly wrong about the lore. ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Awoken "The others sing this song of Light and Dark. We, together, have transcended such unimaginative limitations." It is said that the Awoken were born in the Collapse, descended from those who tried to flee its wrath. Something happened to them out on the edge of the deep black, and they were forever changed. [b]Today many Awoken live in the distant Reef, aloof and mysterious. But others returned to Earth, where their descendants now fight for the City.[/b] [b]Earthborn Awoken who venture out to the Reef, hoping to learn its secrets, find no special welcome from the reclusive Queen.[/b] _______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Your character has to be Post-Golden Age since anyone before then is just dust. Of course there are major issues that I found in the Grimoire that throw everything that anyone thinks that they know about the story into dout. [spoiler] My name is Eriana-3, disciple of the Praxic Warlocks, marked by the Cormorant Seal. We came here under one banner, united in a host of thousands, to claim the Moon. But the battle goes against us. I have taken a prisoner and this is the record of its interrogation. If I transgress in your eyes I ask for your forgiveness. [sound of current or discharge] /Eriana. It responds to pain. It responds to the Light. Hurt it again. Monster, heed me. Who is your master with the sword? [static event] I can hear it. In my head. The swordbearer's name is CROTA. Record that. /Should I burn it again? No. I think you're only feeding it. I will touch its mind. Ghost - help. They call you Wizard. You must be ancient. I think you value power very much. Will you still be powerful without this piece of your mind? Tell me how to kill Crota. [static event] It showed me the battle. It showed me Wei Ning dead on Crota's blade. It showed me how Crota killed a Guardian with a screaming knife hammered out of his own Ghost. So I will take a piece of its mind, and ask again. Tell me how to kill Crota. [static event] Incredible. Where? Where is his throne? Where is the twilight world under the dead star eye? /Eriana there's word from the company in Mare Imbrium. Crota is upon them. Half a hundred dead. They need us. Tell me where! Tell me how! TELL ME! [static event] /Eriana what did it say - It showed me how it did this, just exactly this, to an Awoken man, the knives arranged by its will, like little silver ships, like Ghosts - It laughed at me. It said we were the same. /Crota marches with a thousand Knights and they say the sky above Mare Imbrium has turned into green fire. They are dying in numbers I cannot bear to repeat. He kills them one by one with a sword that eats their Light. Eriana, we have to do something - Kill the Wizard. Scatter the ash. It has nothing but lies to offer. Get your Sparrows. We have Light and fury. That will be enough. [/spoiler] [spoiler]Deep Stone Crypt This is the tower where we were born. Not the Tower. Just a tower in a dream. The tower stands on a black plain. Behind the tower is a notch in the mountains where the sun sets. The teeth of the mountain cut the sun into fractal shapes and the light that comes down at evening paints synapse shapes on the ground. Usually it's evening when we come. The ground is fertile. This is good land. We go to the tower in dreams but that doesn't mean it's not real. Some of us go to the tower in peace. They walk through a field of golden millet and a low warm wind blows in from their back. I don't know why this is, because: The rest of us meet an army. You can ask others about Deep Stone and they'll tell you about the army. They might confess one truth, which is this: we have to kill the army to get to the tower. Usually this starts bare-handed, and somewhere along the way you take a weapon. Ask again and if they're buzzed they might also admit that most of us don't make it to the Tower, except once or twice. None of them will tell you that the army is made of everyone we meet. The people we work with and the people we see in the street and the people we tell about our dreams. We kill them all. I think because we were made to kill and this is the part of us that thinks about nothing else. Often I kill people I don't know, but like most of us I think I knew them once, in the time before one reset or another, when my mind was younger and less terribly scarred. So that is how we go back to the Deep Stone Crypt, where we were born.[/spoiler] [spoiler]Dreams of Alpha Lupi The universe is a beast. The body is made from tiny stuff, from near-nothings. From atoms swimming through a blood of crackling sparks. Simple, eternal Laws shape the beast. The largest galaxy is ruled by principles of mass and motion. Electrons are slaves to charge and to chance. And this is why the universe feels inexhaustible, eternal. No sun complains about its death. Life is the problem. Life can be woven from flesh or circuit or thoughtful light. Origins don't matter. But small, half-smart creatures have a fierce talent for denying the inevitable, for balking and complaining about injustices that don't exist and consequences that should be borne in silence.[/spoiler] [spoiler]The Exo Stranger I stand here now and now and now many times, this view, this ground... This is where I always choose to stand. I put my feet where I put my feet before and where I will again and I look at the sky. Great things moving, rendered small with distance, lesser things not moving, watching me. I always stand here, resolute. Then fall back to that point, there, where everything shatters... [spoiler]Ghost Fragment: Ghosts Beyond. It is a place, a place casting shadows and emotion. It's a real place, I know. One hot blue sun, say. And other suns too. Five? I like seven better. What I'm recalling is a giant star with a family of six smaller suns, and you could spend days and nights counting all of the planets circling those suns...except there are no planets. Not anymore. The powers in charge have carved up all of the worlds, and maybe a brown dwarf or two for good measure. With that rubble, they fashioned a topologically creative enclosure, a twisting of space and time sealed behind doors that admit only those who know the magic words. The bones of a hundred planets have been cut smooth and laid out like a floor, a polished and lovely floor creating vast living spaces. A floor bigger than ten thousand worlds, catching the fierce glory of the seven suns. For light, for food. For beauty. And nothing escapes. Not heat, not gravity. Not even the faintest proud sound. It could be anywhere. It can live in the cold between galaxies, or folded up inside matter, near enough to touch right now... I remember it and maybe it's exactly as I describe it. Seven suns wrapped inside magic. Or it's something else entirely, perhaps. A place still fat with life. An abundance of sentient souls, some decent, maybe a few of lesser quality, and everybody stands about or floats about, or they bounce between dimensions. The point is that the residents of this hidden realm live inside a bottle so perfectly hidden that they can't see beyond their own borders. Which shapes a mind in very specific ways. But, Beyond is their name for a mysterious, doubtful realm that they can't see. Which is us, of course. (The sky isn't special here, certainly no better than any other sky, but it's the view I know best.) The silent avalanche begins. Rock and dust. Falling chaos. Machines, as a rule, hate chaos. Our enemies outflank us from below, above, left, right, before, beyond. The Traveler - shattering. There are always the dead. Their names shift. Sometimes I think I see myself among the dead. But I am resolute. [/spoiler]