In a bar made of constellations, where the interior is nebula chairs, lights are made of stars, and wafting gasses show the tapestry of existence. Great gods gather and watch a gargantuan rip in space. It shows a rotating planet, in the center, half showing it as it is now and the other as it was in the ancient past. Eight orbs with information scrolling next to them. Five of them were on the side of the ancient past. Three in the present, but two were dull and in the corner. Four smallerx rips on each side hugged the edges of the larger rip. Each screen showed a different species and land, aside from two which showed slowly morphing creatures and information scrolling to the sides of them. A humanoid in a bright and extravagant zoot suit walks on to the image from somewhere. Pristine white gloves cover its hands and hold an old earth humans 60s style studio mic. Its face a larger version of the mic it holds in its hands. {Goooooooood evening gods and goddesses of the multiverse and welcome to the opening of the newest session of To Rule A Planet.} It pauses for dramatic effect. Raising the mic in its hand, it draws out its next words. {IIIIIIIIII'm your host Mike the Mic, here to provide color commentary and context to what these wacky players are doing. For those new deities in the audience and those living under a rock golem let me give you a rundown of the game. Eight entities, picked at random from a pool of qualified candidates, plucked at the moment of their death are sponsored by an elder god and sent to a neutral trial planet. These Formless must create a race and religion to dominate the planet. The winner ascends to godhood, the losers stay Formless. This is a special season folks as the Formless are all from a baby universe and the winner will be the first deity in a new pantheon.} With a snap of its fingers Mike fades away as fireworks and a choir of alien creatures singing replace it, bright colors and fireworks go off in the background. After a few moments the image is again replaced with Mike strutting into view. {Now without further adieu, here are the eight Formless vying for godhood…} As Mike continues his spiel, an ever changing figure sits in a corner swirling around its drink. The stars and gasses near the figure change as he does “Shaper, I'm surprised to see you here.” another figure says as they approach. Clad in flowing blue gown mini suns revolving around giving it a warm glow, the wearer looks like a sentient planet complete with flora and fauna and gives off a vastly different presence than the one they called Shaper. “Growth,” Shaper acknowledges with a voice of grinding stone and metal bending, “I am a sponsor this year and figured I should at least be seen at the grand opening of the games.” Growth takes a seat next to the reclusive god, a cocktail filled with a deep blue and vibrant green swirl materializes in their hands. “I had heard that rumor. Any chance you're willing to tell me who you are sponsoring, I wouldn't want us to clash too early.” “I have no desire to help you win whatever scheme you have cooking up.” Shaper says without even looking over. With a humph Growth gets up and walks away. Shaper never takes its ever changing face off of one location. One of the rifts where a group of interesting creatures roam, their soul magic and abilities while not new were rare enough to warrant a closer look.

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