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>An eternity away from Sol, a bloodred star which has no name in earthly tongue lays, a swollen tumor on the cosmos, throbbing with malice. Caught in thrall of its orbit are five satellites, two near, three far, and not one in the goldilocks zone. The farthest is an eyesore: a gargantuan lump of ice broken by peaks high enough to scrape the upper edges of even its atmosphere. Rather than stay still, the sheets of ice are shifting, forever crashing and surging in a hateful rhythm, dancing to the noiseless tune of half a dozen and one petty moons. The surface is scoured with radiation and below, where the ice thins and droplets thicken, it reaches deep, scorches the stones and taints the ripples there. Though the immaterium is becalmed in an age without feeling, the boundaries between dream and reality are hazy here and an unmistakable nausea lingers.
>This planet is inimical to higher life as Terran scholars know it, by no right should it be any more than another dead rock in billions, and yet… Life has found a way. Deep beneath the ice, where the waters are just warmer than freezing, the radiation field is weak, and light is faint where it is at all, life endures. Epochs ago, a singular, impossible single-celled microorganism emerged from the murk, its primitive genome shredded and its remains decayed without a trace in the span of just under ten Terran minutes. Against the odds, it managed to reproduce just before dying without note and its offspring did the same, setting a pattern for millions of years to come. Now, numberless generations later, among the countless blind, pale, sickly and frozen wretches clinging to momentary existence, a species with true evolutionary potential has emerged.
>Your species.
Before you can evolve in earnest, you’ll need to determine which species is yours. To do that, you’ll make three more simple choices and in the doing, narrow infinite possibilities to a lone certainty. After roughly 12-24 hours, your gauntlet of evolutionary strife will begin.
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