SGW and me.

Hello,

You certainly know about the future MMORPG Stargate-Worlds (or SGW in short, not to be mistaken for SWG, which is Star Wars Galaxy). I will play that game, and I am already member of a guild. But I am French, and it is an english guild. Yes, it will make things more difficult, but I wanted to improve a real life skill, the "speak english" skill. Also, the translations sometimes suck, like when the System Lords are "the Great Masters".

Speaking about the System Lords, that's the name of my guild. Yes, I will play a goa'uld. Fear my wrath, because I am lord Ouroboros! :baal:

Here, I will put some of the things I made for my roleplay.

First, here is the goa'uld symbol I made :


And now, here is the backstory I wrote for my character:

I. The experiment.

There was a time of new hope for the Goa’uld. The discovery of a planet, the Tau’ri , and a new species of hosts and slaves, the humans, while the symbiotes were facing their death. There was a time this world was the nexus of our empire. There was a time the Asgard, the Nox, the Furling and the Ancients made an alliance against our kind.

The Ancients were few, and tired of their war against the Wraith.
The Furling were rarely seen.
The Nox were pacifists.
The Asgard were motivated, but already suffering of genetic deterioration.

One rogue asgard, named Loki, was in quest for a solution to his species issue. He thought a symbiote could be used as a cure, if adapted to the asgard physiology. That’s why he gave his DNA to the goa’uld queen Angrboða. Several symbiotes came to life after this “mating”, and three survived long enough to become adults: Fenrisúlfr, Hel, and Jörmungandr. Loki had now to drive a test, and he chose Thor as an host for Jörmungandr. Loki's hope was that the two consciousness would be equally strong. Of course, Angrboða had accepted the deal because she expected her son to be stronger. Loki invited Thor to met him near a lake, in which Jörmungandr was swimming. When the symbiote attacked Thor, none of the two powerful mind succeeded to overrule the other. Loki then explained Thor how much of an opportunity this was, but Thor disagreed and continued to fight. Finally, the symbiote died, and Thor walked nine steps before falling dead from the serpent's poison. An asgard named Hymir had seen the whole event. He scanned Thor brain, for ulterior upload into a clone. Loki was disappointed by this failure, and had no will to help his “son”, but Hymir stressed that the symbiote was born a tool for a plan, as a life should never be, and deserved a chance to live by himself. That’s how Jörmungandr was sent back on Earth, and resurrected by Râ.

Jörmungandr took the name of Ouroboros as a symbol of his new useless, self justifying life.

II. The searcher.

Ouroboros was soon known as a skilled biologist. Thor had prevented him from gaining any memory related to Asgard tactics and weapons, but Ouroboros had anyway learnt a lot about the world of cells and virii. The scientist served many system lords, as a loyal servant on the short term but a mercenary on the long term. He used his science of life forms for the best and the worst, finding cures and poisons.

Ouroboros divides the living beings between those that are the will of the Ancients, and those that are the result of free evolution. The last are way more entertaining, and Ouroboros thinks the Ancients themselves could have lost against one of those species.

III. Physical aspect.

Ouroboros doesn’t keep the same host through millennia. He has experienced almost all ages, races, and genders of humanity. However, he always wears a long coat, as black as the night, embroidered with pictures the color of sand. The pictures show numerous tree branches and an anaconda swallowing its own tail on the coat left shoulder. An healing device is worn as a medallion, supported by a silver chain. In Ouroboros left hand, a laser ring can be seen.

Beside, he always has at least ten different scalpels in his pockets, because vivisection is an hobby like any other.

IV. Personality.

Some say Ouroboros is insane, but he would rather define himself as an eccentric. Ouroboros is also curious and skeptical, as a scientist is, and often believed to be cynical. He doesn’t trust in his own divinity, but he believes in his work.

It is often said that Ouroboros tells the truth, only the truth, but not all of the truth.

V. A tok’râ?

Ouroboros only uses the sarcophagus when injured, and lets his hosts die of old age. Many people have noticed changes in his behavior after he got a new host. He can also show kindness to his worshippers. That’s why he was once suspected of being a tok’râ.

In Ouroboros opinion, this accusation is a nonsense. Why would he bury himself in the ground when he can stand in the light? More important, the Tok’râ intend to destroy the Empire, what could only result in chaos. The goa’uld civilization may not be perfect, but it is still the most impressive one even built, at a galactic level, and Ouroboros is proud to belong to it.

Whoever thinks otherwise earns a visit in Ouroboros personal museum of scalpels.

Here is another story I wrote for my character:

The story of Kephas.

Prologue.

All goa'ulds do not take unwilling hosts, and all willing hosts aren't ennemies of the System Lords. Just like the First Prime is the champion of jaffas, the Lo'tar is the favorite among human servants. A goa'uld can trust his lo'tar more than he trusts the other goa'ulds, and he can share with him most of his secrets, making the lo'tar his confidant. A lo'tar soon learns that Goa'uld aren't gods, neither any kind of religious saviors, but he still shows loyalty to his master. The best dream of a lo'tar is to become one day an host, because the lo'tar expects to gain everything the goa'uld has. This human believes he will give orders to the worshippers, and will know several human lives of felicity.

Is a lo'tar a fool? Or can he really obtain the reward for his services? Only the gods know, and they don't all think the same way.

My name is Kephas. I was born in a small village on planet Na'hash. My family was of middle class, running a farm. We had nothing of high technology, because it was the privilege of the gods. But our god offered us school and medical treatment, without asking anything in return. We knew how to obtain miraculous harvests. It was like a golden cage.

One day, our god came. We learnt Ouroboros was on his way to the village only eight minutes before he arrived. It was eight minutes of terror and panic, because our streets and clothes were... just as everyday. The mayor was in another village that day, and nobody had enough courage to welcome the god. Neither had I. But I was chosen by the villagers. Was it an honor or were they sending me to hell? I never knew. And so I was in front of Ouroboros. At the time, the god was a goddess, an old woman with grey hair, wearing a dark dress with sand pictures. I didn't know what to do, so I tried to be as polite as I could. She told me she wanted to see the village, without ceremony, and so we did, meeting astonished people and visiting ordinary places. It was a strange day, like a dream that should have turned into a nightmare, but the goddess was pleased. Just before leaving, she told me I was going with her, right now. I didn't take any luggage, but just came on board of the convoy, with the servants.

This night began my first travel to Na'hash, not the planet but the city. I remember I asked myself why this was happening to me. It was the will of my goddess, no less, no more.

Part I.

No more, no less, yes… But no, of course. I had always been the kind of man who wanted to know how things work. It is like asking why, but asking it again, and again, deeper in the process. So, I talked with the servants. They told me I wasn’t the first young man recruited since a woman had become host of Ouroboros, and that the same had happened with young women when Ouroboros was a man. Seeing my face in this instant, while I was thinking to the divine but really old woman, they said I had no need to panic. Ouroboros wanted servants in accord with his or her current tastes, but would not sleep with them for so much. Well, not with all of them, at least. Anyway, the goddess seemed tired since the last new-year day, and not in mood for this. As I was continuing to ask questions, I learnt there was more. The lo’tar of Ouroboros was recently killed, during a meeting between minor goa’ulds. This had happened some days before the new-year day, and many servants stressed the goddess fatigue was actually sadness, because the lo’tar wasn’t a mere servant, not a gigolo and more than a friend. The lo’tar looked as old as the goddess, but, of course, it took many years for the goddess to look one human year older. During the meeting, another minor goa’uld’s lo’tar had suddenly disappeared in electric spikes, revealing a small objet firing zat-like energy shots in all directions. How this object was in his body remained a mystery. Was it the will of the Tok’Râ, the will of a system lord, or an individual action? Many goa’ulds and lo’tars died that day, while the survivors had to thank the random nature of the shots. But, of course, quickly added the servants, Ouroboros couldn’t have died, as she was the one true goddess, as immortal as the faith in her. Anyway, Ouroboros lo’tar had not yet been replaced. The post was highly courted, but nobody would be surprised if a stranger finally gained it. Yes, a stranger like myself, as said by one of the servants. I tried to learn even more, but I had apparently reached a limit of some sort.

The journey was long. It may have been the affair of some instants, but Ouroboros was taking her time. The forest was beautiful, after all. However, when we finally arrived in the glorious city of Na’hash, I thought I was living the most incredible moments of my life. The city wasn’t my village. It was bigger, and far more complicated. It was mostly made of stone, but also metal. I learnt later that the buildings made of metal were the goddess direct property, and used by the jaffas and the druids. My village had a druid, an healer-priest, but he was with the mayor when Ouroboros arrived. Speaking about that, he was the one who insisted for the mayor to go in another village that day. While I was seeing the streets for the first time, I had no such thoughts. And then, we entered the palace, which was like a city in the city, or maybe a forest in the city. All walls and roofs were covered of leaves. Some strange small spot of green light came through a tree, and a servant told me it was a special race of never aggressive ones. And then a room was given to me, and I was told to be a guess, until new order.

The day after, I became lo’tar of Ouroboros. It was an half surprise, but the half of a really huge surprise. My first official act as new lo’tar was to meet Ouroboros first prime. The jaffa acted strangely with me, as if I had no importance yet, but only “yet”. In all honesty, I thought his behaviour was strange, with no such description “yet”. I learnt the first prime was one hundred years old, even if only looking thirty. As a consequence of Ouroboros politic, he was more a cop than a soldier, but, with him, the law wasn’t something to joke about. I then became aware of my work as a lo’tar. In essence, I had to be here anytime the goddess wanted something, and keep my mouth closed about what she wanted. Nowadays, let’s say it has become an old habit.

As you certainly know, when several goa’ulds meet in a same place for political matters, they can only bring their lo’tar with them. That’s how I saw whole pantheons at the tables I was serving. The other lo’tars were… wannabe gods. Each of them was convinced that, one day, he would be a system lord, and so I began to ask myself about this. Could I become the new incarnation of Ouroboros? My goddess looked more tired every day. I decided to forget about this idea. Not because it could have been some sort of blasphemy... I was now beyond this. But because, even if I didn’t know what exactly was going to die, planning my success on a death was just wrong. This was the first teaching of Ouroboros religion, the respect of life. The kind of respect that drives you to anesthesize a mouse before you dissect it, but respect anyway.

Which system lord my master was a servant of wasn’t a constant factor, but she followed his orders. I myself had to serve system lords. The higher gods were something strange for my people. We knew their powers to be beyond anything else, but they were just… you know… far in the sky, dealing with matters that were none of our business. One of them, lord Amon, had a strange definition for the word “lo’tar”. He had an army of them, even if only one was with him during the meetings, and by “army” I meant those were soldiers. Did he know each of them personally? Maybe. Anyway, all other lo’tars were scared by them.

One day, everyone knew. Râ was dead. He had to be, because he would have never let his empire without leadership. This day, my master spoke to all humans and jaffas on planet Na’hash. This was a sad day, because Râ was the best of Goa’uld, but we had to see this as the dawn of a new era. I had never seen my goddess with a real smile, until that day. The last day I ever saw her.

Part II.

This night, the first prime came to my room, and told me Ouroboros wanted my presence. I asked why the goddess had not used the bell, as usual, and the answer of the jaffa was that Ouroboros wanted to be sure I would come. That’s how I knew my next work would be something different, something placing my loyalty in doubt.

The goddess was in her temple. There was an altar, made of two rectangular tables on the sides and a round one in the middle. The symbol of the goddess, the snake swallowing its own tail around the tree of life, was painted on the round table. The goddess was apparently sleeping on the rectangular table of the right. I recognized the ceremony. So, a circle was about to end, and a new one would start with me. I was the next embodiment of Ouroboros. Would that be for my glory or my hell? The first prime was behind me, a staff weapon in his hand. He wasn’t threatening me, not yet. He wasn’t crual, neither was Ouroboros. My death would have been quick and final. But I had only two alternatives. Ouroboros was life, everything else death, as always said by the druids. Without a word, alone with the jaffa and the goa’uld, I went to the altar, and on the rectangular table of the left, facing the ceiling.

And then it happened. The symbiote went out of the old woman body, and came to me. I sensed the bite on my neck. I sensed my skin cicatrising while filaments were invading my brain. But this was nothing in compare of what happened next, the melting of minds.

Ouroboros had never been inside a jaffa. Most peoples believe that his father, Loki, used asgard powers to instantly make him an adult, but that’s also false. The truth is that the young symbiote was put into a human host, and became an adult many years after that. This way, Ouroboros could have died, because a jaffa was a safe training for symbiosis, while a human wasn’t. And the young symbiote was, at first, unable of full control over his host. Loki wanted the symbiote to learn how to fight a stronger mind, as Thor was supposed to be the next host. As you know, the goa’uld and the asgard fighted to their mutual death, and were resurrected apart. After those hard times concluded by a defeat, Ouroboros knew he would never take pleasure in enslaving a host, because that would be a fake of victory. Or maybe was he tired of this kind of battle. Anyway, hosts of Ouroboros had the same advantages than tok’râ hosts. Even more, actually, as I wasn’t supposed to hide under the ground, on the contrary.

However, I wouldn’t consider this the best of an experience in life. If tok’râ symbiotes carried the sadness of generations, Ouroboros mind was nothing but ageless anger. His wrath was universal. Wrath against the other goa’ulds, underestimating him. Wrath against the Tok’Râ, always destroying, never building, hated even by those they pretended to protect. Wrath against the humans and jaffas, unaware that Goa’uld were doing nothing but use the humanoïd innate madness. Wrath against himself, for so many reasons. And there was the despair. Life isn’t fair, only more fair than death. “What would you do if you were me?” asked a voice in my head. “And that wasn’t meant to be rhetorical”, the voice added. “Rise, new living god. My powers are yours, and your will is mine. Entertain me.”

I standed up, while I had no such intention. My eyes looked at the first prime, and I sensed a calor in them, as they were glowing. The jaffa put a knee on the ground. Then, I took back my liberty of moves. The jaffa was still showing humility. It wouldn’t matter which voice would give him orders. The old woman was sometimes using a normal human voice, and now I knew why. So much power in my hand. I said “Kree, jaffa!”, and the voice in my head laughed. “Brilliant!”, said the voice with irony. “Look! He is going back to his duties as a first prime, just as you ordered. He is competent, so everything should be fine. But you won’t always say to people to just do what they think they have to do. You will have to take some responsibility. A lot, actually. If you don’t, I am always here, and I may reconsider our friendship, my dear Kephas.” The sun rose while I was the only one to hear the laugh of Ouroboros.

How Ouroboros changes of host.


Part III.

When you don’t tell people to do their duty, you can still give predictable orders. That’s a second way to stay in known territory. So, my first will as new god was a day of celebration, around the entire planet, in my honor. Of course, it wasn’t my fault if this was happening just after the death of Râ, but something in my head smiled. That “something” wasn’t exactly Ouroboros, but another voice, as weak as the memory of a life, the echo of an old woman, falling into spleep. After this day, my second action was to reorganize the staff, to move employees from a post to another. In the time of the previous host, there were mostly men working in the palace, but I replaced them by women, without surprise for anyone. But I had my first quarrel with Ouroboros.

I was sat on an armchair, in front of a mirror.
-There are many beautiful women working for you, now, said Ouroboros.
-They are a pleasure of the eyes.
-But only of the eyes. Why?
-Well, there is that girl in my village…
-Do you think you would betray her?
-If I did what you are suggesting, yes.
-That’s what you don’t want to do. But what do you want to do?
-I thought of asking her in marriage.
-You are so pathetic, poor fool.
-Are you saying our love is nothing in compare of my holy destiny?
-Of course. I am evil, you remember? No, seriously, it is way more complicated than that. She will get old while you will stay young. Do you believe this can work? Or maybe do you intend to use the sarcophagus on her? Even me, I am only using it when highly injured. I don’t believe in soul, but losing my mental health is something I prefer to avoid. She would become insane and dangerous after some month of this treatment. You could also find her a symbiote, if you can trust one.
-Maybe you can trust one.
-Many goa’ulds, who aren’t tok’râs, have respect for their hosts. Sleeping with them, however, would be my last mistake.
-So what? I forget her?
-I won’t allow you to see her. For her own happiness. Would she enjoy to meet a stranger with the visage of her lost boyfriend?
-I am the same man!
-No. You are me.
-I am not like you!
-But you will, very soon. If not, you will be trapped in your own body for the next centuries. You know I am not kidding.
-I …
-You aren’t free. You can do whatever you want as long as I agree, but that’s all. I won’t leave your body until your death, and you will obey or suffer. My only kindness is to not oblige you to obey and suffer.
-Yes, you are gentle. And the worst is that I am not doing irony. Anything is gentle in compare of what you remember from the goa’ulds before you.
-Exactly. So, if you want someone in your bed, don’t be emotional.
-I… Yes. I can’t argue with you.
-As Baal would say: “I am a god. So are the words of a god”.

I learnt, some days after, that she had been married by another man of my village. I would have liked to have this guy under my hand device, punishing him for his sins. But, when Ouroboros unallowed me to do something, this was often for the best. Often, but not always. One day, a traitor was found among the jaffas. While the shol’va was forced to stay a knee on the ground by two other jaffas, the first prime was waiting for an order from me. I said “Shol’va, you still have a chance to survive. You can ask for my pardon”. The sholva looked at me and said “Go to Sokar. I die for Cronos”. Then, I heard a voice: “You want your death? Well, I want your death too. Prima! Kek kree shol’va!”. This wasn’t only a voice in my head, because the first prime killed the shol’va. “Next time”, said Ouroboros for me alone, “you will give that order. It is easy, as you saw”. Next time, I found it too difficult, and spent a month without the ability of any move, just watching Ouroboros life. “We offer them survival, in exchange for their obedience. If they prefer death, why should we disappoint them? It is their choice”, said Ouroboros during that month. One day, someone supplicated Ouroboros for his pardon. “You are an insect”, said the parasite, “and my pardon can’t save you from yourself. I will let you live so you can learn. This second chance is your last chance”. I didn’t ask any pardon, but I asked for another try. I regained control of my body, and decided to play accordantly to the rules. I knew I had lost, but I had never had a chance to win.

If I could do something good of my life as a host, it had to be through my politic. The previous hosts had already done some great work, and I tried to be a good god. You would be surprised how difficult it was. Worshippers pray, and here is what they ask: “Great lord, please, make the world a better place. Purify it of all that is unholy. My mother in law, for example”, “Oh my god, give a sense to life. Life sucks, so it needs a purpose”, “Allmighty, I want to go in paradise. I will do whatever you want. I will kill all my family if you want”, “Please, make people understand I am right”, ect… Among all, the wisest was maybe "Dear lord, please save me from all your followers", and I tried to make it real.

Epilogue.

Nobody lives forever. Not as a totality, that’s a certitude. But we all believe that things we are made of have a chance to survive. Our DNA may spread through our species, and through the species that will rise from our species. Our culture and knowledge may survive through our civilization, and through the civilizations inspired by our civilization. Statues, pictures, books, cities… are here because we want to write ourselves in something that will “survive us”. And the whole after-life belief is a result of our limits in this circular task. Goa’uld, of course, have a different relation with this problem, as feelings and unspeakable ideas can also be given to the next generations. The longevity of one single symbiote is impressive, but genetic memory is their true power, and it works for hosts too. I may not die, even if I don’t live forever. The voice of the old woman, and the voice of the host before her, aren’t alive, but it is like reading a very well written novel, one giving you the illusion its author is speaking to you this very instant. You may call that a form of undeath.

Even if my story is not over yet, it is now mostly the story of Ouroboros. Sadly enough, you will never know what happens from now. You were a good audience, but you remain a murderer, and a serial killer. Because you want to survive, I won’t kill you. Instead, I will banish you on Echidna. After all, sending people in hell is also the work of gods. If you can survive the yellow light spots, the macroviral flies, and the numerous beasts on this planet, you will gain… more time in this lovely place. There are other humans like you on Echidna. One is a great cook when it comes to human brains. I will now launch your escape pod, and wish you a nice travel.

END

I may wrote other stories before the game release, and after it.

Great, lord Ouroboros. It's à nice story, well written, I think.

Your character seems to be a funny Goa'uld, with his scalpels and with his atypical personality.

Nice, too, your reference to Ragnarok.

Ienpk a écrit:

It's à nice story, well written, I think.

Honestly, I don't know if my english is that good.

Ienpk a écrit:

Your character seems to be a funny Goa'uld, with his scalpels and with his atypical personality.

I just read Skay-39's fanfic "Fragments", and my character is certainly not as evil as a goa'uld could be. But I want to play SGW for fun. Beside, I originally intended to roleplay a tok'râ, until the devs explained that archetype wasn't going to be playable.

Edit: I won't stay in that guild, after all.