Omni Wrote:So, spoiler, any video or images you take in the Oververse will be completely covered in massive white splotches once you leave. You won't be able to tell shit from them.

Gamzee Makara Wrote:-clarifying- After omni and top man have a selfie, s'my turn to post right?

Gamzee Makara Wrote:After thiswhoever is going right now, I would like to call a spot for a question that I hope isn't met with disapproval, because richtofen is more or less serious. You have every right to be as anticlimactic as you want, fair warnings. I have a post ready, though I have reason to suspect it will not be my last.

Gamzee Makara Wrote:

Gamzee Makara Wrote:After thiswhoever is going right now, I would like to call a spot for a question that I hope isn't met with disapproval, because richtofen is more or less serious. You have every right to be as anticlimactic as you want, fair warnings. I have a post ready, though I have reason to suspect it will not be my last.

-calls again- Sorry xD I'll be more specific next time. But yes, next spot is mine, called, please.

Gamzee Makara Wrote:I DIDNT KNOW IF IC OULD POST OR NOT tare: tare: tare: tare:

Gamzee Makara Wrote:I am, to say the least, distraught. Conflicted, torn, confused, and völlig zum scheitern verurteilt. Almost painfully quickly to me I realize that there is no happy ending here. What are my options, eh?

I can become a prime and be sent back to the nexus, left to my own devices. But what would they be? What would I even seek out? Yes, there is technology and science and so much knowledge and intricacies that this Universe has to offer but-

Is it real? Is any of it actually here? Is it not all byproducts of this being, this Omni and his machinations? Omnilium. Omnilium is what courses through the veins of this world. It is what Primes have used to create, quite literally, EVERYTHING. While it is true that Omni has pulled beings from their home worlds or universes or dimensions, he did not do the same for all things that came after. The Primes created everything in their verses with Omnilium, using their imagination to sculpt out and try to bring pieces of their world into this one.

However…

None of it is the real object or thing or concept or person from the world it was pulled from. It is a copy, an elaborate veil. Even we secondaries are not the actual person we appear to be. I am not Edward Richtofen. That is not Captain Crow. This pony is not Raw Onion. We are lumps of clay that were molded by Primes to be an exact copy of the thing they so desperately seek: a piece of home.

Eine Erinnerung.

This is why I look at Heerführer Klaud and feel twinges of sadness and remorse at her situation. The dream she has of being a Prime and resurrecting her loved ones as secondaries is so tempting, so inviting, but alas…

She would not be resurrecting them. She would be building shrines to their actual deaths. A small consolation we are allowed for coming this far and deciding to pledge our lives as entertainment for Omni.

And furthermore, the irony of this entire desire to recreate one’s loved ones is exactly what ruined Christa’s existence in the first place. She could not bring her sister back. There was no right way to do it, especially not for a secondary.

I’m beginning to think that there is no right way for anyone, prime or Omni, to bring back what we have lost.

I want so very badly to have answers, but I do not know where to begin with my inquisition.

I could ask to go home, to my universe. Yet, this all cycles around to the cold hard fact that none of us are the real us.

My gott, my English is not perfect, but I know for a fact my grammar there was terrible.

Still, the truth hits home: we have no homes. We were born of Omnilium.

Not even to mention that if Omni were to send us to our original Universes to be essentially the real version, would that not have some sort of fallout, some lasting detrimental effect on our sanity? Would this not happen if we became Primes? Even if I were to go back to France on that fateful day when the hordes were unleashed, sanity intact, everything as it should be, it would be a miserable existence. As I have already discovered in the murk of the Swamp, my (or Richtofen’s, rather) life is one big game, a huge cycle that starts, stops, and begins again from the beginning at the will of some unknown force.

It does not matter. Keine dieser Fragen! Alles dies ist ohne Bedeutung.

I resist the urge to fall to my knees at the weight of this knowledge and hypothetic realization. Blitz, still atop my head, voices his worry. It is most likely about my mental state.

I simply cannot comprehend, logic or no, the intricate web that this white, perpetually smiling bastard has woven.

And that angers me.

But there is nothing I can do about it.

I clench my tired, beaten, worn fists.

And then I let it go, the pressure leaving my body.

One thought at a time. One after the other.

And then another thought hits me.

A possible out, a way to gain more insight on this eternal dilemma.

I take several steps forth, making my presence known.

“What was the first question or request ever asked of you?”

Quote:Translations:
völlig zum scheitern verurteilt. = utterly doomed

Eine Erinnerung. = A memory

Keine dieser Fragen! Alles dies ist ohne Bedeutung. = None of this matters! All of this is irrelevant.