So, to (re)-contextualise this one, back in second-ever Daily Writing month, I did a scene that was Sci Fi instead of Fantasy — basically, Realmgard in Space, kinda-sorta inspired by the fact that Warhammer 40,000 is Regular Warhammer in Space.
Incidentally, Regular Warhammer no longer exists — with the exception of a forthcoming spin-off game. Games Workshop torched the franchise and ran. Apparently, the entire Warhammer Fantasy product line was being outsold by black paint. I’ve heard that on Reddit, so grain of salt and all; 40K was demonstrably and significantly more popular than Fantasy. It was rebooted as Age of Sigmar, basically 40K in not-Space.
I don’t have an immediate plans to do a full Realmgard in Space — which I’m provisionally conceptualising as “Spacegard” — story, but I think I would like to explore the setting as a spin-off at some point. Turns out Spacegard is apparently a brand of air filter…
Speaking of Warhammer and 40K, I’ve gotten back into collecting and painting dudes. I don’t really intend to actually start playing, but I have been doing a dive into the lore for both 40K and Age of Sigmar.
Mostly, I like the Necrons — basically Ancient Egyptian Terminators who are waking up after millions of years to reclaim the galaxy and rebuild their ancient Empire — and the Orks. Given the self-seriousness of most of the other factions, I like that the Orks are football hooligans who literally operate on duct tape and prayers.
But, seriously: Reject Emperor, Embrace Robo-Skeleton.
So, basically, Space-Kat likes Necrons, too.
Amarantha, Princess of the Third House of Vallda of the Vanr Throne-World of the Arch-Regnal Dynasty of the Ljósálf System pauses as she steps into the freighter’s main living area. She blinks quizzically at the young pilot at the table, surrounded by her horde of little figurines.
“Um, Captain,” the Alvaraean princess says tentatively. “I was hoping to discuss how long it will take us to cross the Lohengrin Verge. But I must confess that I’m now much more interested in what you’re doing.”
Kathryn Starstone looks up from her game? hobby? — Amarantha isn’t quite sure what exactly is it…
Kathryn heaves a heavy sigh. “It’s my ship,” she notes with exasperation. “I can do what I want.”
“I didn’t mean to imply otherwise, Captain,” Amarantha says.
Kathryn sighs again. “Look, I’m the heiress to one of the largest corporate consortiums in the galaxy. I’m a freelance courier. I have a lunatic of a little sister—”
“Hey!” Dunstella calls from the far side of one of the bulkheads.
“—to take care of. Our dad’s a nefarious space pirate who’s been missing for five years, and that leads to some complicated emotions, okay? Plus, it seems like someone is sending assassins after you ever other galactic standard day.”
She sighs again.
“My life gets pretty stressful, alright? Sometimes, I like to unwind with my Osirium Sepulchrites.”
“Your what-now?” Amarantha asks.
She gestures broadly to the little skeleton-robot figures overrunning the table.
“They’re a species of immortal undead cyborgs who spent the last hundred million years in suspended animation,” Kathryn explains. “And now, their Bio-Canopic Sanctums are slowly awakening and the World-Pharaohs of the Osirium Sepulchrites are preparing to reconquer a galaxy that is rightfully theirs after it was stolen from them by the younger species.”
“How darling!” Amarantha exclaims giddily. “You like to play with toys! Why, Captain, I never took you for—”
“They are not toys!” Kathryn protests. “They are tactical wargaming miniatures! It is a perfectly mature hobby for perfectly mature individuals such as myself.”
Amarantha stares sceptically.
“They play it all over the galaxy! It is not weird or juvenile! It’s recommended for ages 12 and up!” Kathryn continues.
Amarantha stares sceptically.
Kathryn scoffs. “You’re just jealous you can’t play out the subjugation of the galaxy at the bio-synthetic hands of Ozym’Neferu the Star-Farer, Pschentifer of Seventh Pentarchical Dynasty of the Duat Galactic Arm.”
Amarantha blinks in confusion.
“I don’t think any of those are actually words, Captain.”
“That’s just because you haven’t read up on the lore,” Kathryn mutters. “I’ll send it all to your personal terminal.”
“And the, uh, little pyew, pyew noises, Captain?”
“They’re shooting lasers! What other sound would they be making?”
“Well,” Amarantha, sitting at the table across from Kathryn. “Why don’t you introduce me to you, um, robots?”
“They are not robots! They are a humanoid species who uploaded their sentience into bio-synthetic endoskeletal carapaces crafted one atom at a time from materials harvested from the cores of dying stars,” Kathryn says.
“Well, they look like robots.”
So, basically, the trick to writing actual Necrons or lawywer-friendly not-quite Necrons is just throw together a lot of stuff that sounds vaguely Ancient Egyptian.
Nailed it.
But, seriously: Reject Emperor, Embrace Robo-Skeleton.
Incidentally, Games Workshop, if you’re looking for writers, I know a guy.
There’s a preview of my next Realmgard story this week:
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