In WildStar, Tales From Beyond The Fringe was an in-game pulp magazine that told the epic tales about our iconic characters. They were a great way to share narrative content that might not normally have a place in the regular progression of the game.
Given the textual limitations of the system, these pieces needed to be short and sweet, delivering core character lore wrapped in a punchy story. It forced an economy of words that, in my opinion, made for better content. The three examples below are pieces that I personally wrote, along with the illustrated covers that accompanied them.
THE VIGILANT STAR
Toric Antevian, newly chosen to serve in the Radiant Legion, marched with his company on the rough road that led to Grudgel Downs.
In the east, the sky was a gunmetal gray that bled into the dark, purplish bruise of the horizon. Night was falling. The ground beneath them was covered in the damp, rotting leaves of late autumn, and the air was sickly sweet with the smell of decay.
The Legion had been on the march for weeks, rooting out heresy in the Westrun. A Vigilant priest had recently reported suspicions that the True Sons of Cassus, a heretical cult that had risen during the dark reign of Vorios the False, was practicing their unholy rituals in the lowborn village of Grudgel Downs.
At the front of the company, the Lamp of Korol was held aloft by the company's lampbearer. Toric's armor, polished in the hours before morning vigil, reflected its light. As the shadows closed in around them, Toric whispered the Prayer of the Legion, reciting the six Vigilant Virtues by name.
Grudgel Downs appeared from out of the gloom.
The village was blanketed in silence. Squat, mud-brick buildings were slung low and mean around a main square, where a massive bonfire burned with an intense heat that could be felt a hundred yards away. And just before the smell of cooking meat reached his nostrils, Toric saw the twisted figure strapped to a pole above the raging fire, wearing the charred vestments of a Vigilant priest.
Moments later, men burst in force from the buildings, wielding crooked blades, knives and cudgels. Dozens more appeared from the surrounding woods. Dressed in the black, hooded garb of the True Sons of Cassus, their eyes reflected a murderous rage as they closed the distance to the hopelessly outnumbered Radiant Legionnaires.
The company's captain died in the first moments of battle, run through by a hooked spear. The Lamp of Korol fell to the ground, throwing the soldiers into shadow, and the screams of dying men echoed through the woods. Although the legionnaires were some of the finest soldiers in all of the Dominion, the enemy's numbers appeared too great to overcome.
And then, when it seemed all hope was lost, a light flared out like a star in the darkness.
Toric Antevian, eyes burning with an unshakable faith, held aloft the Lamp of Korol as his blade cut down foe after screaming foe. Calling out for Azrion's strength and Tristan's courage, his face aglow with a terrible resolve, Toric felled the blasphemers who had dared profane his Vigilant faith. "For the Scions!" he shouted, his sword cutting through flesh and bone, leaving behind a grisly wake of the slaughtered.
The sight of the young warrior inspired his embattled brethren. Fighting to Toric's side, the remaining men formed ranks and attacked. Heretic blood stained their blades and soaked the ground beneath them. Soon the battle was won.
Those few who survived Grudgel Downs still speak in hushed tones of Toric Antevian's bravery. It was on that night, they say, that the Vigilant Star was born.
REVENGE IS A PARTICLE DESTABILIZER
Mondo Zax sat alone on the lumpy bug infested mat that served as his bed, lamenting the fact that he had ever been born.
To say the attic where he lived was uncomfortable was an understatement of galactic proportions. It was dark. It was damp. The walls were fuzzy with Vraxian supermold, and mutant rats made their nests in the rafters.
And, of course, there were people on their way upstairs to kill him.
Being an orphan placed Mondo on one of the lowest rungs in Chua society - just below lobotomized hull-scrubbers, and slightly above Palavian buttworms. Add to that the fact that he was a stubby runt with a big mouth and a bad attitude, and it was no surprise that Mondo's was having trouble getting a leg up.
The only things in his miserable, pathetic life that brought him any joy whatsoever were the machines that he stole from the sub-basement. The place had been used as storage by a now-bankrupt industrial vacu-bot manufacturer, and Mondo had spent hours studying the rusty machines he'd unapologetically filched from it. He liked the machines. They made sense to him.
Heavy footsteps echoed on the stairs below. The killers were ascending. He only had a few minutes left to finish his work.
The killers in question were Finkle Blurg and his merry band of half-wits. Blurg was the resident bully, an imbecilic goon with a lazy eye, stunted ears, and three missing teeth. Armed with low levels of intelligence and empathy, Blurg and his henchman had been terrorizing their fellow orphans for years - and they had recently set their sights on Mondo.
After a number of painful beatings, Mondo decided to strike back. Playing the sycophantic groveler, Mondo had offered Blurg an adorable Bezgerlorian tarbeetle - a gift that he had gladly accepted. Five minutes later, the insect had promptly exploded, covering Blurg and his cronies in a sticky black ooze that would require major surgery to remove.
The footfalls stopped just outside the small door. Mondo's hands worked feverishly. So close...
The door shattered, ripped from its hinges by the force of Blurg's boot. The angry youth stomped into the room, one side of his face and most of his body covered in the tarbeetle's death excretion. His minions, at least those able to make the trip, had not fared any better.
"You so dead, runt," spat Blurg.
Mondo raised the object in his hands and pointed it at Finkle Blurg. The once-antiquated vacu-bot had undergone a dramatic transformation, and was sporting various tubes, wires, and one very large red button.
"Bye bye," Mondo said.
He pushed the button, and a bright beam of energy shot out from the machine in his hands. Moments later, Blurg and his friends exploded into billions of tiny glowing particles. Mondo smiled. The black ooze was no longer going to be a problem.
Mondo set the particle destabilizer on the ground, staring out the small window of his attic as the glowing bits of his enemies floated dreamily around him. Surely the Dominion could use someone with his talents...
LUCKY DOON
The sounds of gunfire and swordplay echoed through the bowels of the marauder ship, followed by a series of bone-shattering explosions. Dark smoke billowed up from the lower decks, accompanied by a cacophony of incomprehensibly foul space-pirate profanity.
Moments later, Corrigan Doon burst through the smoke, clutching a polished skull in one hand and an open bottle of Redmoon Slush in the other. Despite the bloodthirsty howls in the passageway behind him, he stopped and took a long pull off the bottle.
Mid-swig, the voice of Cosine, his irascible mechanical navigator, came squawking over his datachron.
"Doon! Are ye there? What in the bloody hell were those explosions?"
"Nothing to worry about, love. That was just me, detonating the plasma charges."
"WHAT?!" Cosine bellowed.. "Are ye bloody DAFT? The charges were for the security doors that led to the escape pods!"
Corrigan finished off the potent beverage and tossed the bottle nonchalantly behind him. As he did so, a black-toothed marauder appeared out of the smoke, slipped on the bottle, and fell backwards into the rest of Corrigan's pursuers.
"Had to improvise, Cosine," Corrigan said, pulling a crumpled map from his pocket. "Bring the Phoenix around. You'll have to pick me up in the launch bay."
"THE LAUNCH BAY? Of all the stupid, half-baked...!" Corrigan switched off the datachron, and started running.
It had all started three days ago. The Star of Dominus, a fabulous jewel purportedly brought from planet Nexus by the first emperor of the Dominion himself, had been stolen by marauders in a daring raid. As they escaped with the priceless heirloom into the Darkspur Nebula, news of the incident had spread like wildfire across the galaxy.
Corrigan Doon recognized a golden opportunity when he saw one. While Dominion bureaucrats argued over the best course of action, he ventured deep into the heart of marauder territory to retrieve the jewel himself. For a man like Lucky Doon, it was going to be simple.
Of course, things hadn't exactly gone according to plan. Although he had successfully boarded the ship, broke into the captain's quarters, and taken the ornamental skull in which the gem was now mounted, there had been... complications.
After successfully evading a dozen guards, three battlebots, and a cyborg-ape named "Professor Monkeyzooka", Corrigan burst into the launch bay followed by a horde of screaming marauders. Moments later, Cosine expertly piloted the Phoenix into the cavernous space, trailing three heavily armed ships. Banking sharply, he lowered a tow cable from the hull and brought the ship in parallel with Corrigan on the launch deck.
Corrigan leapt off the deck, barely grabbing the cable before plummeting to his death. Swinging wildly as the cable retracted, Corrigan pulled out his pistol and targeted the bay's rapidly receding control panel. Closing the doors behind the Phoenix was their only chance to escape.
It was impossible. A one-in-a-million shot. And Cosine never heard the end of it.
If you made it this far, you're either a thorough individual or really enjoying yourself. Either way, here's a reward for your efforts - some additional examples of TFBTF cover art.