[ERF] Stories, Legends, and Myths

EXAMPLE STORY
Type: What format and genre this story fits into. This should be laid out as "Format, Genre". In example, "Book, Non-Fiction", or "Video Game, Shooter".
Language: The original language this story was written in.
Dispersion: Where on Erf - or in orbit - this story is most told.
Date: When this story was first told, or when it was first discovered.
Author: The person, people, or organization responsible for creating this story.

A single paragraph description, at least, outlining the fundamental ideas presented in the story. This should include at least a brief synopsis and overview of its influence on the world. In addition, the description may also include the entire work itself, but only if so desired.

THE MEATGUY
Type: Computer Game, Shooter
Language: English
Dispersion: Global
Date: December 11th, 493 OSC
Authors:
- Juan Capstone †, Project Lead
- Fritz Gurnudy †, Level Design
- Roman Jackson †, Audio Engineer
- Tom Farber †, Graphics Design
- Edward Grandberg †, Programmer
- Steven Stewman †, Lead Writer
- Michael Barling †, "Meat Consultant"
- Montgomery, General Assistant

The Meatguy is the Looney shooter to end all Looney shooters. It's the quintessential classic; one man, one mission, two-and-a-half dimensions, and a whole lot of meat. The original concept was just a parody of the old days of shooters - a cheap laugh packed full of meat puns and screaming guts. The end result was a smash hit so immense that it's been cemented in Looney lore as the metric by which all other games are compared. It's gone everywhere from Talto to Cloneston, the Chambers of Myth right up to high orbit. It's held a powerful place in Looney hearts for eight centuries and counting - and it's only getting more sequels as time's gone on.

At its core, The Meatguy is a shooter. At its absolute most basic, it's about splitting meat monsters in half with a shotgun. Its core gameplay is what's kept it in Looney hearts for centuries. It's zippy, punchy, and so full of explosions and intestines that it's nearly impossible to tell what's happening at any given moment. It's built to the classics' specifications, with smooth, crisp, no-frills gunplay and a deep supply of killing tools. It's packed to the gills with freakish monsters using simple, intuitive attack patterns that all complement eachother like a well-oiled machine.

Topping it off is the endless variety in the game. For The Meatguy, there's no wrong way to play. Fists-only economy runs, beastmaster style with monster infighting, or just holding down the trigger until the exit pops up - nothing's off the table. Small features add on to it at every turn. Reliable physics interactions allow for environment-based playstyles. Robust hand-to-hand mechanics enable melee action limited only by the player's creativity. Detailed stealth factors with a heavy emphasis on light and sound make for a game that can run at any speed the player wants.

A massive, sprawling campaign with a dizzying amount of level variety keeps the game running for a long time. Secrets and hidden levels are everywhere. At the same time, only six of its eighty maps are absolutely mandatory. Players pick the path they're comfortable with on their rampage across the meat. Every level has its own gameplay, its own soundtrack, and its own host of nasties on the prowl for the player's pancreas. Three different endings with a different path to each make for a surprising level of replayability even at its fastest.

The Meatguy's story has been described as a "sinewy power ballad of ground beef." It follows the enormous, eponymous Meatguy on his quest to rip things apart and tear monsters to pieces. It starts off with the Meatguy waking up inside a Looney bunker's refrigerator with a handgun. All three of its endings thrust him into the global spotlight as a hero - and promptly hurl him back into another adventure against the meat. Most Loonies laud it for its lighthearted comedy, realistic portrayal of the meat, and its extensive lore - most of which is consciously nonsense.

The Meatguy was developed long, long ago in 493 OSC. According to its credits, it was produced by the Loonies of Fort Thunderguts. Not many people are ready to believe the name was truth. Its creators were a mix of patrolmen, research staff, and miners, who strung together their free time to work on the title. Originally, the project was supposed to be done in a week and dumped off as a quick giggle. Instead, according to the credits, it sprouted chunky legs and took off on its own. It stayed in development for two years and went live on the MASTER network on Christmas day.

It's held on ever since, bouncing between bunkers, computerized towns, and even spacers and Space Loonies up in orbit. It's been kept alive as a nugget of Montgomery's code that's snuck into just about every Looney facility on the planet. It's something of the same breed; a cherished, ancient relic from the Loonies' glory days as Set's chiefs and protectors. It's been used as a training tool for miners, spawned countless fan sequels and derivatives, and even been catalogued on Unity Station as an example of indigenous art. As doofy and goofy as it is, The Meatguy is Set's premier shooter - and he's not about to let go of his throne any time soon.

THE DEEP DOGS
Type: Oral Tradition, Folklore
Language: English
Dispersion: Ventannen (Loonies), Iron Rock (Origin)
Date: 817 OSC (Alleged beginning), 1066 OSC (First retelling)
Author: Grut Gutsomundo

For the Loonies of Ventannen, in and out of the meat, there's a legend of the ancients. There's a story of a great hunt, lost to time in the turmoil of the Splinter Wars. There's a tale of old heroes, left for the listener to think they might still be out there; the Deep Dogs. What not many could ever believe is where the story came from. In spite of it being an acknowledged aspect of Looney culture, the tale of some of the toughest miners on Erf came from the ugliest of places on the continent - and one of the ugliest men alive. That man is Grut Gutsomundo, the Corpulent King of Iron Rock - and he's held it as fact that he was one of them.

The legend of the Deep Dogs begins in 839 GSC - or 817 OSC, for the rest of the planet - during some of the worst fighting in the Splinter Wars. From the king's own mouth, five veteran miners and one outsider were gathered together by the top strategic minds of Madness Command Post. It was known then that the Pioneer Network wasn't long to last. Political feuds with the Zaschia and Unity Trust were boiling over during the war. Frustration with the species-wide involvement of the redworlders with the Cult of Meat was tearing at Loonies on the ground. The Violet Uprising, the scars from the harvesters - the wise ancients of Madness knew that any victory would have Hell to pay, no matter how it happened. The six they gathered were to be their means to a solution.

So says Gutsomundo, they were charged with a simple task, still bordering on the impossible. Lost across the years were timeless minds - immortals beyond reckoning - that were thought to be the keys to unity. They were remembered as peacemakers, that could bring together even the most unlikely of alliances, with nothing more than a firm hand and a kind word. Even with the many years behind the minds of Madness, finding those lost old souls was no small feat. Every name on their list - when and where they had names - had been missing for centuries. Some had been gone for so long as to have been thought taken by the First Jump.

The king's telling of the tale paints a picture of six colorful characters - of which, he's only ever named one. The first was the outsider, so titled as the Mastermind; a man of potent intellect, ruthless ambition - and a twirly moustache right off a cartoon villain. The second was his kinder counterpart; the Wise One, a Looney combat engineer, and the beloved leader of the team. The third was their deadliest, and tiniest; the Wild One, a miner, an accomplished assaultsman, and a mouthy shrimp of a man even in his powered armor. Fourth and unfathomable was their most senior; the...well, the Weird One, a fatboy miner made of nothing but hair and gumption. Fifth was a troubled soul; a patrolman, just shy of his assaultsman glove, remembered for his worried heart as the Dark One. Last as a loner was the king himself; the Wily One, once trained as a medic, then remoulded as a miner.

They were brought together first to assess their fitness to the task ahead of them. Their training was trial by fire; they were deployed across orbit to contested derelicts, across the planet to anomalous events, and beneath the surface to chart the depths of oddities beyond reason. As Gutsomundo claims, they were there at the graveyard orbit to stop the first tendrils of the Ognascite plague. They were there at the Shrine of the Broken Path to break the back of a ghostly rebellion. They were there under the Erf to thwart the Cult's claims on the mysterious relic known only as Klaad Zuto. They were tested, again and again, and not once found wanting.

When they had proven themselves to the satisfaction of the immortals of Madness, their task was finally laid at their feet - and not a moment too soon. Their base of operations was an orbiting Looney supply depot far from Madness - and far from the same protection. The war pressed closer to the station. The fleet defending the station was whittled away. The minds of Madness made an unprecedented decision; the newly-christened Deep Dogs were to join the ranks of the timeless. Even were the Pioneer Network to fall, the Dogs would go on, only concerned with their mission - never with what time they had left. So it was, that in the same hour as they had earned their assignment, the six were granted the gift of immortality - and ran straight from their treatments to the escape pods.

In that same hour, their home station was sighted in by the Third Invaders and blasted out of the sky. By the next, they were all planetside in a life pod that'd landed in a deep chasm - almost as if their name had come to collect its due. From there, it was an uphill struggle against danger, darkness, and demons - if the king's to be believed - just to get up and out to the nearest Looney base. For each of them, it was a time of self-discovery, of acclimation to their new condition, and a recommitment to their mission - or so it was for most of them.

Each man found a new purpose in life with their newfound eternity. The Wise One devoted himself wholly to the mission - and to its meaning, to seek a deeper peace for the planet. The Wily One, Gutsomundo himself, believed he could find a truth of existence that could turn evil against itself - and the jury's still out on whether or not that's working out. The Mastermind thought only for his own meaning; he would pair his immortality with his intelligence to assure he would one day reign supreme across time itself. The Wild One sought control over chaos, to be one with war, and to "mrmmmfrmmrmmnum!" - and even Grut couldn't translate that for him. The Weird One...well, it was hard enough for Gutsomundo to figure out what the Wild One was on about, so he - in his own words - "didn't even bother with that syllable stew."

It was the Dark One that would turn aside. He did not - and could not - find a deeper meaning to his endless future. He could scarcely find faith in their mission. He believed the war lost. He believed the world drawing to an end. He could never imagine a day in which the Pioneer Network - or some imitator thereof - would rise to unite the planet again. He sought comfort in his humanity, in the same things he expressed his wants and desires for, when his life was finite. Years and years passed. Battles and battles raged on. The Deep Dogs persisted for a century, shepherding refugees, quelling horrors, and scouring the world for immortals lost. The Dark One's bleak heart could find nothing but simple survival in his future - until someone crept inside it.

In the long wake of the Big Split, in the year of 944 OSC, the Deep Dogs were dug in with a town of exiles; the lost and broken the rest of the world wouldn't take in. Loonies from broken bunkers, aliens refused their rise to orbit, even cultists ashamed of their own atrocities - all walks stood together there. The Dogs were their protectors, and their messengers to others nearby. It was among those masses that the Dark One found a soulmate - and even the Corpulent King himself refuses to utter her name. It was there that man's greatest muse awakened within him - and love planted a bitter seed.

The Dark One succumbed to a deeper fear. He was overwhelmed with thoughts of his beloved's suffering - that an attack on the walls might wound her, that a drought might wither her, that his own passing might leave her with nothing. He gave no thoughts to the infinite possibility in his own future. In secret, he confided in the Mastermind, and the cunning of the schemer's twistly moustache sunk its fangs into the Dark One's soul. Their new home was the largest settlement for as far as they could travel. So long as it stood alone, the Dark One's bride would forever be imperiled. So it was that they hatched a scheme together; their bastion would rise as the capital of a new nation, one that would forever shield the Dark One's love - and that the Mastermind would rule from his shadow.

The rest of the Deep Dogs were skeptical, but saw merit to it. Though they could scarcely keep control of an empire, to have sway in such a tremendous machine would empower them in their quest. So it was that their adventures turned to diplomacy. The Wise One did to their neighbors as the Mastermind did to his new pawn; with guile and wit, he promised prosperity in unity. With the Wild One and the Weird One at his command, he had the horrors of the wilderness crushed, and showed them the strength in his wisdom. It was within the decade that towns united, and the Deep Dogs' home grew into a city. To this day, only Gutsomundo remembers its name, and its legacy - as the...well, the "Big Bad Idea". Sometimes, the "Really Bad Idea".

The rise of the nation took its toll on their brotherhood. The Wise One saw through the Mastermind's schemes, and was soon cast out for his protests. The Weird One followed soon after, incensed with the Wise One's banishment, and imposed exile on himself in a rage. The Wild One grew distant as their toil bore no fruit in their hunt for the ancients. The Wily One, as admitted by his own word, had grown too distracted with the advances of the Cult, and his own quest to turn evil against itself. The Dark One labored on the throne, but it was without the insight of his brothers that he could not see the Mastermind puppeteering him - with endless invented threats to his soulmate.

It was another century of growth that saw the empire - that, so we can hope, nobody actually called the "Big Bad Idea" - embroiled in war. Loonies saw it as a threat. Mercenaries saw it as bloated and ailing. A callous slaying of stranded Space Loonies drew the ire of guns above. As the sun set, the Mastermind exacted his toll. He saw fit, then, to start anew. He gathered up dissenters and his inner circle, and readied for a departure. He scattered the armies of the nation, stirred its people into revolt, and antagonized the heavens above. He did all this, and poisoned the Dark One - with but a few barbed words to the woman of his devotion.

As fire rained from the sky over the capital, from orbital gunfire and Looney strafing runs, the Dark One's bride met her lover deep within the subterranean command center of the empire's capital. As raiders and rioters mingled in the streets, she confronted him with what the Mastermind had told her - all truths, too terrible for her heart. She told him of the Mastermind's schemes. She interrogated him over his obsession with her safety. She spoke in horror of how he had dismantled the defenses of an entire nation in his escape. There, as she finished - as the Dark One struggled for his own words - she found that cold, bleak place in her lover's heart. Her will faltered. Even as orbital bombardment collapsed the command center around her, she stayed frozen where she was - and the Dark One begged her to escape with him.

In those great halls, the Wily One had watched on in terrible astonishment. He needed only a look in the Dark One's eyes to see how the two were ensnared. He fled to the surface, to escape the crumbling capital, and to find the brothers he hadn't thought to follow. As he ran, the Wild One tore through the streets to follow, cutting through an endless tide of invading monsters and rebelling guards. The two were not to meet. The Wise One and the Weird One were lost to the Wily One. There, in that maelstrom, was the end of the Deep Dogs - with the Wily One running blind into the Veinlands.

As always on Erf, things aren't usually that simple. Gutsomundo's take on it might be detailed - and might be backed up by at least a few hundred bunkers' worth of recognition - but it's all still got that big, fat stamp of "legend" on it. There have been uppity city-states rising from nothing, bands of nomad Looney buddies tearing through the wilds, and even real, honest, moustache-twirling villains, but anybody on Set knows that fact and fiction are on kissing terms. The only thing anybody can be sure about is that Gutsomundo is definitely immortal, and definitely thinks he can turn the Cult against itself - much as most reckon that his immortality is all because he's just too fat to die by now.

Much as nobody's got much empirical proof on it, Loonies still eat up the Deep Dogs tale. It's the kind of grand adventure any wanderlusting miner can get behind - even if most are sure they'd do better in the end. What doesn't help is that people keep saying they're running into the big figures in the story. People keep saying that the Weird One is the guardian of the underground, blazing caves clean whenever fate's not giving miners a fair deal. Bunkers around the Chopping Blocks and the Veinlands borders keep saying that the Wild One is out there, fragging freaks and gibbing goons wherever a bit of righteous might is needed. There's even that damned "Let's Go Deeper" documentary - and people are positive that "that guy" is one of the Dogs.

As for why the tale started life from the lips of the not-quite-Cult-crazy Corpulent King, and why Loonies have been trying to quietly sweep that detail under the rug - well, that only makes the whole thing even more confusing.