SWTOR, after being out for more than a week now had come to be known as one of the most revolutionary games in the world. Media outlets credited it as a 'reality 2.0' where people could literally lift themselves from poverty in the real world.
The marketplaces were stocked with materials, weapons and schematics that either cost in-game credits or actual money... The game itself allowed players to market items as they see fit, being monitored by an advanced Ai system that watched the transactions, gave receipts and set money caps for certain types of items within the game.
Technically this meant that having real life money meant an easy path to some of the more difficult items in the game... But to counteract that were the constantly shifting missions and the immense amount of objects in the game. Rich people were being targeted by poor people also, all for the chance to gain money, and the game didn't seem to care. A constantly realigning amalgam of fortune earners, stealers and workers... All whilst the poorer players farmed the game world for what she had and then either sold materials, or in some cases, forged their own 'Empires'.
People ignored the dissenting voices of those who lost or cried about lack of fairness, the general consensus being they were idiots who spent money on a game.
This was all but shallow waves on the surface of the game as the real players of the game, those who were playing for deeper reasons or more pure reasons, were beginning to understand that this game was a true simulation of real life in a way never seen before... Far from perfect, but definitely more real than any other game...
...
"This game intrigues me. It mimics the finer details of life, moves with the certainty of historical understanding. And yet, I find most of the gnats playing this game, pathetic."
A man with swept brown hair rubbed his thumb over his index finger, slowly grinding grains of sand between them as he gazed over a throng of NPCs—and what he believed were players.
"Sir, why are yo playing this fallacy then? If they are repugnant, why stay in their presence?"
The sand cracked under the constant motion of his fingers. His gaze drifted toward the distant seat of power on Dromund Kaas, his voice sharpened to a quiet edge.
"Do not make me repeat myself..."
He turned, eyes locking onto one of his underlings. The man shrank under the weight of that gaze, his breath hitching.
"The one who created this game is delightfully attentive to the mechanics of power."
His tongue flicked over his lips as he returned his attention to the crowd of players before him.
"Take the Sith, for example. They resemble the Romans in their fervour for conquest, their hunger to expand and claim dominion. Yet their philosophies… ah, now that is where they fall so beautifully into my own musings." He exhaled, watching the mass of digital life move beneath him.
"But the most masterful stroke of this so-called empire? Its inefficiency. These Sith, wizards, schemers, backstabbers...turn missions into tools of manipulation, betray allies for fleeting advantages, and sabotage their own kind in their pursuit of personal gain. It is not unlike the ancient Roman Senate… or the philosophical quarrels of Aristotle's time. A fascinating, predictable cycle."
He breathed in the intoxicatingly fresh air, the simulation of such a feeling quizzical to the truly ancient man. With a exhale he stepped forwards, gliding towards the nearby taxi port where he was about to hand over a mission.
The underling scurried after his master as the players joked, laughed, shouted and whispered to one another about the game. NPCs moved around, interacting with players and even stopping to speak with each other... The mechanics of achieving this, stunning almost everyone who played.
"Time to break that cycle. I will test my plans on this 'fallacy' as you have said. Let us see if anyone is mildly interesting in this game."
"Yes! Master Savage." The underling got into the taxi with him as star ships of a massive size translocated into geosynchronous orbit.
...
Corusca Sector, Coruscant System- Planet Coruscant.
Sitting by the side of a Senator from Alderaan was a man with dark brown mutton chops, green eyes darting around the vast chamber at the heart of all Republic Politics. He wore Jedi battle armour and carried the symbolic weapons of his station, two lightsabers. Both dangled at the side of his waist as the chamber broke out into discourse.
"The republic must NOT leave any ground to these monstrous SITH!!"
"Then what do you suggest, senator!? To let our soldiers die in a pointless struggle over land already blockaded by the Sith Navy?"
Gaul Panteer, the prince of Alderaan and the current target of the Jedi's attentions, stood and typed in his request to speak. Within moments the Vice Chair of the Republic noted the request and stood, his staff slamming down on a hard surface.
*BANG* *BOOM*
"The Floor recognises the honourable senator from Alderaan..."
Panteer straightened his jacket and put on his most regal expression, as if it were merely a coat one could wear to keep the cool away.
"Dantooine has been in war for a protracted period of time. Further fighting on our side will only serve to prolong the suffering of the innocents and promote the violence of the Sith Empire. Is it not our job, to our constituents, that we limit the bloodshed as much as possible!?" He spoke grandly as a holo-recorder whirred around him, attempting to gain the best shot of his 'grand' pose.
The senate further broke down into shouts and yells, many senators sitting back and waiting for the Chancellor to do something. Gaul Panteer stepped back to the sonata of clapping from his trusted Jedi ally, a man named Sebastian.
"Was it good?" A rueful grin slithered upon the prince's face as the Jedi nodded monotonously.
"A great speech indeed, senator. But, It would have been wiser to have organised supporters within your block, to support you."
The prince grimaced and sat down, his hands tensing powerfully. "Those useless buffoons? No, I'd rather make aggrandising statements in the heat of discussion than speak with those curs." Sebastian grinned.
"Perhaps... If you were to, gather dirt on them? If they have it, naturally."
"Are you suggesting to manipulate votes within the senate for my own benefit, Jedi?"
"No. I am suggesting that you inspect each member of your caucus and find out who may be acting illegally or, not within the republic's interest."
The prince thoughtfully frowned before smiling a touch.
"I understand, Master Jedi. Can I expect your aid, in some of these investigations?"
"Unfortunately not. The Jedi will not tarry into politics blindly..." The Prince glared with a touch of anger and dissatisfaction, until... "But, if there were evidence of a certain veracity, then the Jedi would most likely be willing to step in and, investigate, the matter. Perhaps, confirm or deny the claims as to their loyalty..."
The prince's eyes widened in delight as he eased back onto his chair. "You intelligent bastard. What do you want from me?" Sebastian widened his smile.
"Perhaps a kinder stance to the Jedi actions in the senate? Or, if that is too much... Maybe an offering of estate on Alderaan?"
The Prince reached out his hand, grasping Sebastian's as he put his out also.
"We have ourselves a deal. I'll begin investigating my caucus immediately master Jedi... Hopefully, there are no traitors amongst them."
"Agreed. Now, I must be off."
The two said farewell to one another before Sebastian found himself walking amongst hundreds of staff and workers, the background fixers of the Senate that handled the messages and dealings of the politicians in the background.
'I'll never get used to the uselessness of most humans... Why has no one figured this exploit out yet?'
Little did Sebastian know that many, many more players were beginning to warm up to the idea of political power and organisational power...
...
Factions had emerged all over SWTOR in my absence. People had begun to understand that this game was not played two-dimensionally. Instead, it was played in the fourth dimension. Time was money, money was power and power created influence.
The woman with red and blue hair in the Mandalorian space was perhaps one of the most powerful figures in the game so far... Her gamer-tag was: YunaTheCakeLover. She currently held dominion over an entire clan of Mandalorians and was leveraging her new found money, power and influence to subjugate uninhabitable planets that were rich in minerals.
She hadn't gained any schematics for base building yet, but her claimed clan had some basic structures nonetheless, the most important to her being a mining colony. From what I could notice she had enticed some bounty hunter players over to her clan's side and was aiding them in levelling in the star system her clan had set up in, which was Breshig.
The few worlds that were inhabitable in the system were dedicated to ship creation, though resources had been bled dry by rivals clans. This Yuna's clan was called Wren and had a distinctive yellow and grey pattern that she despised and immediately changed to be dark blue and maroon.
Yuna wasn't the only one to do this however as the Streamer Coalition formed by Ned was beginning to complete missions across Coruscant, Ord Mantel and Tython at record speed, resources, credits and favours stacking massively as they communally pooled resources to buy an entire planet... A shocking idea, but not one that other people hadn't thought of.
Planets that were uninhabited were few and far between, but those that hadn't been were purchasable as land... For companies, guilds, and factions associated with the greater government that claimed the region. Markiplier and Jack had been focussing on creating a space fleet whilst Peter, Ned, Emma and Spiff all worked their way up the power ranks of Jedi, Smugglers and Troopers, gaining advanced quests and a world boss quest...
They were far away from their goal, but within at least several months, they believed, they would have enough Credits and political power to purchase a planet.
...
And thus, I sat back and watched the beautiful piece of art I had created... The tapestry of Human behaviour weaving before my eyes as friendships, lovers, wives, husbands, enemies, hatreds, foes and alliances were forged.
A sigh escaped my lips as Artoria sat opposite me within the Jet, our journey home almost complete.
"Freya? What's up?" Twitch poked her head into my field of vision.
"Nothing, just exhaling after a long day of work."
*KABOOOOM*
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
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