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Drops Fan Lore

Posted: Thu Feb 02, 2017 2:31 am
by NoPaintRequired
Here's a small game involving only the figures from the drop and making lore of them. You can only pick the figures from the drop and you need to give their role in your story, but you don't need to make a story. Just a small pieces of who the characters are and where they fit, it doesn't even have to follow the story the blog is giving. I'll start:

The Outpost Odesskar is a bit of a rebellious branch, bottom of the totem rejects almost, at one of the many edges of space. Commander Nillin is a dead Pheyden revived with Renegade technology and was given the nickname Metalhead by his subordinates. The Exile Deniken found his way to this outpost and found almost peace among rejects, and for the time being offers his support. At this edge of space, an explorer from another dimension phased in, as his bodied glowed with intense energy, the Deep Space Glyans decided to check it out half because they were ordered too and half because they were a bit bored. When they arrived, the phased being started to regain a corporeal form and scanned the colors of the troops of Outpost Odesskar, giving birth to Vector Jump Outpost Odesskar.

Tracker and his commandos are on the hunt for loose ends. Tracker didn't care that his commandos weren't trusting of him, but they all had their hands dirtied at one point. Much more so than the average Glyaxia lackey. So Tracker was the solution, but this job needed some support. Some things that Tracker couldn't do by himself as much as he wanted to try. Success was above all more important than pride. Wars needed to be won and they were the tools to fix the situation. There were Travelers who survived stories that should have ended.

"So who was the target this time? Before I answer that, did you know Nillin is the Glyos term for "death"? That's right, Nillin has been dead for quite some time, so how can a deadman be the commander of an Outpost?"

Tracker and his squad finally found their way to Outpost Odesskar in hunt of a silver headed robot named Clawtron, but Outpost Odesskar were getting another unexpected guest. Off of the trail of Vector Jump, and sensing a familiar feeling, a Quallerran comes hunting for the Exile one.

Re: Drops Fan Lore

Posted: Sat Mar 04, 2017 2:26 pm
by kranix
This is a great idea! And a great start to the thread, too, NPR!

Wave 54: Rift Pioneers

The Traveler had forgotten its name; ever since waking in this facility, its entire mind was a blank. Every so often -- the Traveler wasn't sure -- someone would come and study it, taking measurements or checking the heavy restraints that kept it suspended in the air. The Traveler dreaded these visits the most: wanting to call out, even scream, its voice would never come, and always would the researcher cast the Traveler back into unconsciousness before leaving.

The Traveler had lost count of how often it had been visited. It had, however, never had a visitor like the one now standing before it.

"Don't worry," this newcomer said, seeming to phase in and out of vision. "We'll get you out of here very soon."

The Traveler tried to ask, tried for any sound at all. Before it could, it was once again alone.

* * * * *

The Traveler awoke to the sound of an explosion, of shattering glass and shouts of alarm.

"Is this the one?" came a booming voice, from everywhere and nowhere, as the Traveler realized that it now rested in the open hand of a giant.

"That's the one," a familiar voice answered, as the Traveler strained to see where its one-time visitor was standing. "Keytrius, how long until we can get outta this place?"

Slowly, two figures came into focus, lit only by intermittently flashing emergency lights. "If my calculations are correct," began the taller of the two, rapidly shuffling through holographic displays projected from his wrist, "rift convergence will resume in approximately 80 seconds, provided our companions return to us before the facility's warp breach barrier returns to full capacity."

Again, the Traveler tried to speak, "Do not worry, little one," came the booming voice once more. "We will see to it that no further harm comes to you."

A burst of sound and fire erupted into the hallway just beyond, as three more figures ran into the chamber. The Traveler did not recognize the two, much smaller creatures, but the third felt odd to see, as though familiar to the Traveler on an instinctual level.

"What're trying to do, one-eye, get us all killed?" shouted the familiar voice, just before another explosion tore its way through the hallway.

"Epaxior ask for distraction," the cyclops said, "so me give one while Minitrius and other Crayboth friend find secret."

"Thirty seconds!" cried Keytrius, as the Traveler began to feel energy coursing through its body, blurring the edges of its vision with a gradually brightening light. "Prepare for rift differential! Odyranno, shield the Traveler!"

"Understood," came the voice from everywhere and nowhere, before everything went black.

{center]* * * * *[/center]

"So what of the Ayosire facility?"

"High concentrations of rift energy were detected prior to the incursion. Witnesses report that a Glyclops, bearing an energy signature unlike any we've seen before, was responsible for most of the initial damage, though the Granthans released as a direct result of the Glyclops' actions were what rendered the facility inoperable."

"Continue, Evenollus."

"It also appears that all data concerning the Type Zero project was stolen."

"And what of Type Zero?"

Evenollus paused. "Missing, Commander, sir."

Silence filled the laboratory, as Viyer shifted ever so slightly in his seat. "That is . . . most unfortunate, Evenollus. But no matter. Have our team prepare at once to intersect Atarikoth. Further experimentation on the Glyarmor can wait, for even greater rewards are on the horizon..."

Re: Drops Fan Lore

Posted: Fri Jun 30, 2017 5:25 pm
by akum6n
After this second fantasy-themed drop, I was wondering how other people fit Skeleden and friends into their Glyos universe.

My interpretation of the characters from Wave 47 and the latest drop, is that they are actually characters from a popular video game franchise in the Glyos universe. Sort of the Glyos version of WoW, if you will. Electric Revenant Argen could be a rogue piece of Argen's programming that escapes into the game following his final confrontation with Hades in Wave 51, and Hades needs to play the game (perhaps, as Skeleden) in order to eradicate the digital Argen.

Re: Drops Fan Lore

Posted: Tue Aug 15, 2017 12:17 pm
by DragonM1
Was thinking about doing something for this concept/thread for a while, and the recent Battle Tribes wave (Wave 8) was too cool for me not to at least do something.

Anyway, I made up some basic backstories and a loose plot for the figures released in the wave and wrote a little thing. Here goes nothing:


The mark of the demon is a curse, but even so it continues to appear again and again.

From the raging hordes of Bloodkin kneeling at the beck and call of the Bloodlust Demon, to ancient automatons, single-mindedly following preprogrammed orders and similarly mindless, gibbering beings made of green sludge rooting about in swampy  marshes and abandoned battlements the world over, a demon's mark lays emblazoned mysteriously across all of their shields, denoting just where their strange and frightful powers originate from...

Demons have long influenced and fed upon the ambitions of beings across all of the tribes...and, sometimes, even those already gifted with great power cannot resist the allure of a deal with the devil.

The Vampire Lord, his true name long since lost to centuries of terror and bloodshed, perhaps had no reason to turn to the infernal to increase his power.

He already ruled over a swath of stormy seafront woodland, the mortal populace that settled there eventually growing into a sprawling village...and learning very quickly to fear the powerful, bloodthirsty shapeshifter that dwelled in the Gothic, soaring fortress atop the highest cliff alongside the perpetually roiling sea.

With each passing century, with each bite given and blood taken, the Vampire Lord's  power grew, and soon other vampires came to join him, more than ready to offer their servitude in exchange for the abundance of blood available from the necks of the mortal populace below...

And those poor souls swiftly found themselves trapped, caught between soaring cliffs, leading down into the dark, frothing sea, and the thorny, overgrown woods, patrolled day and night by the Lord's vampiric henchmen, always ready to bite and drive brave villagers back, bleeding and marred to their homes...or, worse, leave them with the ultimate curse: a deep, fatal bite that would surely turn them into a horrible, bloodthirsty beast as well, and thus bolster the monsters' ranks.

It would seem that the Vampire Lord, with such an army of his fellow kind at his disposal and with a captive village to harvest for both blood and power, would not think (nor bother) to barter with demons...but power creates thrist for more power, and greed only begets more greed, and no tyrant, immortal and growing more powerful by the day or no, can resist the allure of more...

The deal was simple: he would dedicate a portion of he and his underlings' daily blood consumption to them, offer fresh blood as a sacrifice to the dark realm of demons, a place that laid beyond the physical realm, and in return his power and his control over his terrified  subjects would grow.

The pact was sealed, and the Vampire Lord was immediately pleased with the results, the first of which directly benefitted him: within a new moon's time, his shapeshifting had grown much more powerful.

He could now assume his towering bat form with the greatest of ease, and where before it had taken minutes of grueling focus and pain as bones shifted and his body warped and changed, now the process was swift and painless, the vampire able to move between forms as smoothly and swiftly as water.

Soon, too, he found himself capable of even more forms: Cyclopses, Saurians, and Orcs, Pterosaurians, skeletal Wraiths, and many more...even the visage of a demon itself was now a form he could assume, his power growing more and more by the day.

As the blood sacrifices continued, so too did the demons' gifts: they eventually granted the Lord and his servants the forbidden art of blood alchemy, allowing them the ability to produce weapons from a portion of the blood they spilt.

These cursed, crimson weapons would taint, drive those struck with them into a deep, frightening spiral of madness, wracking their body and mind with horrors unknown outside of the infernal realm, solidifying the Vampire's grip on the terrified, helpless population living in the shadow of his fortress, and smiting the few brave souls that attempted to free them...

It wasn't long before the Lord, drunk on power and filled with hubris, asked the demons if he was not WORTHY, now, after so many years of diligent sacrifice, to have one of them appear before him...mayhaps even have one of them to stand beside, serve him as he sought to bring the blood they craved to the altar.

The demons scoffed at this display of arrogance...but, quite amused by this undead blood-guzzler's preposterous words, they were merciful and even half-granted his wish...

They sent him the most despised of their ranks, a being even demonkind thought fit to call "cursed:" a demon, body made of solid gold, tricked and bewitched by a sorcerer into being bound to a physical form, severely weakening and hindering the vast power and danger its kind usually posed.

The Cursed Gold Demon, outcast by its own kin for its foolishness and weak form found a suprisingly pleased and cordial Vampire Lord waiting for it, and the two worked hand-in-hand.

The demon became the Lord's scout, personal bodyguard, and closest confidant: everywhere he went, so too did the demon, the horrid, glimmering visage of the creature striking even more fear into the people living in the town below...and into the hearts of any foolish adventurers, any would-be heroes that dared to storm the Lord's fortress, the demon's ever-shifting, ever shimmering form allowing it to swerve and navigate battles with the greatest of ease, the outcast demon finding no small amount of joy in its new, brutal station in life and in the blood it spilt.

As every warrior that came to challenge the vampire and his demonic second-in-command failed, it seemed to all in the village that the monsters ruling over them were truly unstoppable.

So many generations had passed now: their parents, grandparents, great grandparents, ancestors reaching farther back than anyone could remember now had lived here, trapped under the heel of a monstrously powerful vampire ruler, his endlessly bloodthirsty hordes, and a golden demon always standing at his side, as if to taunt them with a display of his power, his wealth, and his connection to an infernal realm that they couldn't hope to understand, nor combat...

And meanwhile, the Vampire Lord lived quite comfortably, possessing most everything he could ever want: an endless stream of blood and growing power, a gilded servant who shared his bloodlust and ambitions, an army at his disposal, an impenetrable, lavish fortress to call home, and all of this continually solidifying his posture as an almost god-like figure to those he and his followers had fed upon for centuries now...

A shame that such bliss did not last.

It was the people that came to him first, beseeching the frightening being that ruled over them for help: many of their ranks had begun to disappear.

Sons, daughters, teachers, shopkeepers, husbands, by one, villagers had begun to disappear, and many others had begun to experience terrors in their dreams, things they could only describe as dark visions, premonitions, occurring night after night:

A rising, violent, endless sea, accompanied  by whispering, urgent voices speaking in tongues at once familiar but unknowable, beckoning them to the edge of the cliffs, figures robed in and brandishing weapons and shields of gold, beckoning below the water to them...

Figures with faces they recognized but could only describe as corpse-like, flesh a purplish hue with washed out, slender, grey bands of color along their shoulders that, upon closer examination, were gills, pulsing and breathing the frigid water like it was fresh, spring air...

And, at last, a louder, heavier voice, one that drowned out all others, filled their dreaming minds completely, beckoning to them:

"To the sea, friend, to the sea: offer yourselves not to him, but to ME..."

And thus so many communicated these horrid visions, their sleepless nights to their vampiric Lord and his underlings, begging that he, the most powerful force they knew, save them...

And help him he shall, but not for their sake: he simply wouldn't abide by something in the sea or something in the minds of his subjects, people he viewed only as vessels of blood and potential power, take them from him...

And so, he set out to halt this calamity.

He and his underlings scoured the seafront daily to no avail, attempted to calm and ease the night-terrors of the populace with vampiric hypnotism and illusions...but nothing halted the visions and voices rattling around in their heads. The Vampire Lord himself called upon the demons he served, asking for their wisdom, their help in exchange for more blood, more sacrifices, but the infernal realm did not respond to his cries...

The vastly powerful immortal grew more and more frustrated with each fruitless search, the populace in turn growing more and more panicked: some even claimed to see the figures from their dreams walking along the rocky expanses of jagged stone at the base of the cliffs, coming ever closer to town and chanting bubbly, gurgling mantras, praising an ancient and unstoppable force that was ready to rise anew...

The Lord and his underlings tried to keep the peace as best they could, and, exhausted one night after patrolling the shore yet again, the Vampire Lord turned to his closest confidant, bemoaning his fate:

"Golden Demon, what fool dares to toy with us like this? What arrogant illusionist, delusional sorcerer, or ill-fated spirit dares to tamper and toil with our subjects so? I grow weary of this, weary of losing what is mine to what may very well be nothing at all!...what more must we do to halt this?"

The golden being turned its horned head to its Lord, speaking in its strange, hollow voice, metallic and low, and laced with doubt and concern:

"I know not, my Lord...but my kin are blind: they hear your cries but do not answer. Their arrogance, their separation from this phydical realm blinds them to what I fear we have no means of stopping before its time, only means of fighting back, conquering it once it does indeed rise up..."

The tyrant, tired and frustrated, turned to the golden being, staring up at it with a fanged frown on his face:

"And just what do you mean by THAT, Demon?"

The creature turned to completely face him, golden body twisting, warping, face turning from that of a demon into something else entirely as it elaborated:

"I fear, my Lord, that we have no choice now but to fight: the being that toys with us is old, older than all of the tribes, older than perhaps the very world itself. It has slumbered so long, and now seeks to reclaim what it has lost in all that time, and to dislodge the strange, primitive creatures that have grown here, staked their claim to land that it and its followers once strode, swam, and slithered across...and it is more than happy to claim, to welcome this world's current inhabitants into its vast, unearthly arms. Our subjects are being beckoned to it, my Lord, and I fear the time has come for it show its face, and for US to face IT..."

The Vampire Lord leaned back in his opulent throne: the face the demon had taken on was a bulbous, tentacled thing, beady eyes and pulsing gills awakening an ancient and unknowable fear in him, fear he had never felt before, the immortal shuddering with primordial terror as the demon concluded its grave warning...

"The Eldritch God has awoken."


Will the vampires and their demonic ally be able to fight back the Eldritch God and it's growing hordes? Can the Eldritch God be stopped before it begins its reign of terror across the entire world?! That's up to YOU to decide, with your Battle Tribes(tm) action figures! (available now from SpyMonkey Creations)

...but yea, had fun writing this, and love the concept of coming up with lore and characters and plots and stuff for specific waves/drops. Very fun.

Re: Drops Fan Lore

Posted: Thu Jul 12, 2018 2:09 pm
by NoPaintRequired
A story I never finished based on the first Villser wave! Well here was the idea I had for the story, but I just never finished.

Phanost is the same Phanost from the Council of Traveler's drop after absorbing the Syclodoc. He's accompanied by Nuldireus Crayboth, also turned Dimentional Drifter
Biophase came to Odravunn to understand his powers, unknowingly that he now has Villser powers. By the end, he is brainwashed/mutated by Villser and controls Neo Phase and Revenant
Hybrids were created using the Source Pheydens, for pure incorruptible troops to combat Villsers
    Glyarmor has the power of the Delta matriX to improve combat effectiveness for a moment
    Buildmen can reconfigure themselves on the fly using programs based on previous Buildmen builds, such as Cindar, MKIII, X
    Hybrid Villser were in various other forms used as pack-animals around the base and were unknown to be Villser
Alcray Crayboths were used for tracking
Villser, main villain. Can control anything that came in contact with DNA
After needing more power and fusing with Axis joints, the Buildmen also were turned into Hybrid Villser through forced mutation

Wave 66, Shadow of the Villser
Dimension: NoPaintRequired

A dimensional rift has opened, an energy signature matching the Drifter appeared. Phanost wanted to witness a pivotal point in time for this universe...

"Halt, stop right there Phanost!" Biophase readied himself to attack.
"I should have know you were involved with this plot"

"Plot? I am merely here to observe. Fusing with Argen had called me to this place."

"This place? All of my instincts tells me this place is important and I won't let you utilize it as well"
Biophase charges but stops and falls over in pain.

Phanost ponders, what was it that called these two to this planet? What did these two have in common?
"Where are we Traveler?"

"The dark reaches of space, the Council had set up a base here and I came to investigate."