“A Midnight Meeting” was written soon after I joined Carbine Studios in 2007. Carbine had been working on “Project Sanctuary” for a couple of years before bringing me on, and I was tasked with revitalizing the game’s creative design. After spending some time with the team, one of the first things I did was write this story. For those who are familiar with WildStar, many of the concepts will be familiar: a collection of interesting races, a galaxy in conflict, and a legendary planet just recently discovered.
This story was really the genesis of what the WildStar IP would become. I have included an excerpt from the story below.
A MIDNIGHT MEETING
The light of the full moon shone brightly on iron and etched crystal, casting the Emperor’s throne room in a cadaverous glow.
It was midnight. Outside, the great city of Illium was quiet, covered in a low-hanging fog pierced only by the monolithic towers at the city’s center. Here and there starships broke the fog, trailing ethereal ribbons of mist as they rose toward the heavens, but otherwise the city was dark and still underneath the gloom. The Emperor’s palace stood upon a hill on the city’s eastern border, looking down upon it like a great, marble bird of prey.
The palace lights had been turned down hours ago, but low voices could still be heard echoing in the Glorious Hall, faint murmurs not unlike a priest whispering last rites over a fallen warrior. Rare were the times when Emperor held court in secret, and always were such meetings dire omens of perilous days to come.
Three figures stood in a semi-circle around the Emperor’s throne, which itself sat upon a dais inlaid with the ancient seal of the Dominion. Upon the throne was Emperor Vorian, and beside him, rigid as stone, stood his only son Myrcalus, Captain of the Imperial Guard.
Myrcalus stole a momentary glance at his father. The Emperor hunched weakly upon his throne, holding fast with both hands to Indominar – the legendary spear of the Luminai Emperors. Keeping himself upright seemed an effort, and the knuckles of his hands shone white where they grasped the weapon’s shaft. His armor, once well-fitted to a warrior’s physique, seemed to hang crookedly upon his wasted frame. The skin on his face sagged in leathery folds from beneath his eyes and jowls. To look at him, the Emperor appeared an aged man in his twilight, but the truth was that he had lived just fifty years, and few were those who believed he would see the turn of another.
And then Myrcalus would ascend to the throne, and take his place among the exalted pantheon of the Luminai.
“Tell me what you know of the Beacon,” the Emperor rasped, addressing the group before him.
Pheydra, the Mechari diplomat, stepped forth and bowed slightly. Almost twice the height of a man, she was an imposing figure, and more so because of the severe, expressionless metal mask that made up her visage. Her eyes, little more than narrow holes in the mask’s surface, burned with the unnatural glow of the crystal that contained the entirety of her life force. Although the Mechari had once been a people of flesh and blood, most citizens of the Dominion regarded them as soulless, insidious machines whose loyalty to the empire was questionable at best. The Emperor’s distaste for the Mechari was evident on his face. He made it no secret that he tolerated their conniving and manipulative tendencies only because their intellect had served the Dominion so well.
“What you call ‘the Beacon’,” she said, “was a massive, energetic anomaly emanating from a star system at the edge of the Great Dark. Its energy signature is one we have never before encountered, but its power and modulation indicates that the it is not a natural phenomenon.”
“Did it convey any sort of message?” asked the Emperor.
The Mechari seemed to hesitate a moment before answering.
“There was a data component that we are analyzing, but our translators have yet to determine its intent. The format is…difficult.”
“Is it the Old Tongue?”
The Mechari cocked her head to one side, either surprised or disturbed at the question. Her featureless mask made it impossible to determine which.
“If it is, there are none who can decipher it,” she said.
“And the Exiles?” the Emperor asked. The group shuffled uncomfortably at the mention of the empire’s most hated enemies. The wound caused by their betrayal was still raw, even three centuries past.
“We can only assume that they have seen it as well,” said the Mechari.
“And will be sending forces of their own.”
The statement was rhetorical. Pheydra merely spread her hands, bowed, and stepped back into place.
The Emperor was silent for a moment, his glassy eyes unfocused, his mind elsewhere. Myrcalus could guess where his thoughts had taken him. The glory of his past conquests. The unbearable weight of a bitter defeat. The Emperor shook his head slightly, and his eyes came back into focus. Despite the ravages he had endured, Vorion was not a man to wallow in regret.
“And from where was the Beacon sent?” he asked.
A bespectacled human in academic robes stepped forward. The man was unknown to Myrcalus. The pale expanse of his forehead was beaded in sweat, and his eyes bulged out from his skull like an insect’s. His hands clutched a ragged sheaf of papers, scribbled with unintelligible notes and equations. He had never been to the Emperor’s court, and seemed petrified that his first visit was shrouded in such secrecy.
“W-W know very little about its origination, my lord. Given that it has just recently emerged from the Great Dark, we have no historical information about the star system itself. We do know that the signal emanated from the system’s lone planet, and that we believe that planet to be habitable to life.”
“Nothing else?”
The academic’s eyes darted back and forth, like those of hunted prey.
“M-My lord, I hesitate to mention it, but a number of archaeologists at the university have been analyzing ancient star charts and poring over the oldest texts in the Dominion Archives. There is a small but growing contingent amongst them who believe this place might be…well...”
“Nexus,” said the Emperor.
The moonlit hall echoed hollowly with the name. Nexus. Tales of the legendary planet were known across the galaxy, but most considered it nothing more than a storyteller’s yarn or a treasure hunter’s folly. The lost world of ancient race whose knowledge rivaled that of the gods. A world that held wonders beyond imagining.
But for the Dominion, it represented something more. Ascendance. Divinity. And a glorious destiny yet unfulfilled.
The thing in his gut writhed at the thought, and Myrcalus barely suppressed a shudder.
* * * *
[Full text available upon request.]