#and bring Octavian's absolute worst nightmare to life

[asha-mage]

"Sid Meier's Civilization is actually about a group of immortal god kings condemned to forever struggle against each other in a never ending cosmic game in which their empires and nations are but pawns" gets brought up as a funny 'ha ha' joke about Civ, but the thing is that is the most supported reading of the game's mechanics, writing, art direction, and even trailers.

But what's really funny is that each new installment leans harder into this idea then the last. With Civ 7 making it so that leaders aren't even tied down to their 'historic' civilizations (meaning you can't even argue the 'national personification' thing anymore) and since Civs can change while leaders can't, that means that leaders are also the only constant across an entire campaign.

This means, for example, in the universe of Civilization, the likes of Gaius Octavius, Hatshepsut, Napoleon, and even Gandhi are constantly reborn, take up leadership of a small singular village, live for uncountable eons (unless slain by another Leader or dethroned), rebuild the same nation, people, empire over and over and over again with only slight variations, until one achieves victory over the others (be it by sending their people into the stars, building a society that culturally subsumes all others, conquering the world, or otherwise somehow 'winning history' by the metrics they held dear in their mortal lives) and gains...nothing as far as we know.

We don't know if they wither to dust instantly Gothel style, or reign until the heat death of the universe, or begin aging and live out a mortal life for however long remains to them. All we know for certain is that they are right back there again at the stone age as soon as the next game starts, becoming chiefs of a tribe of thatched roved houses on some unrecognizable landmass, with nothing to do but start all lover again from scratch. Build the same walls and monuments and wonders, fight the same endlessly shifting battles against the same rivals. Maybe this time Rome is stamped out in antiquity, and maybe this time is launches the first space colony. Maybe Egypt raises up the pyramids once more, and maybe they raise up the Colossus, or the Hanging Gardens, or Statue of Liberty, or the Sydney Opera House. Maybe Napoleon's France finally achieves perfect ideal democracy, or maybe his warring ways lead a coalition of Japan, China, the Gauls, and Sumerians facing off against him all over again. Maybe Gandhi decides mutually assured destruction is the only way to protect world peace. The names change, the lands and continents change, the ages change, eventually even the civilizations themselves change- Gaius finds himself the Emperor of Egypt and Hatsheput the Queen of the United States of America- but the only thing that doesn't change is the leaders. Their configurations vary and sometimes they face off against a newcomer they haven't before, but always it ultimately comes back to a group of immortal rulers- the great and the good, the wicked and the genius, the mad and the unlikely, and the just plain lucky that one and all ended up in the history books- who keep trying to take one more swing, one more run, one more turn at fulling the ambitions of their mortal life, and leading their people to glory.

Because the only way to break the cycle, to the end the game (both in universe and out) is to stop playing. Give up. Stop pushing that glowing little arrow button. Stop following the ambitions, the ideals, the dreams, the hopes that lead them here in the first place.

But just like Civ players and just like humans in general, they never do.

[firesofdainix]

all my wolves begin to howl, oh wake me up the time is now

Fragments of Jason's life before The Lost Hero.

.

His mother told him that she would be back, but it has been hours since he had last seen her and Thalia. He calls for them as he crawls through the Wolf House with his hands and feet. Then he starts to cry, and he feels his ordinary life, from his sister, his mother, tearing itself apart inside of him. As if his childhood is finally done, and a new life is ahead of him.

But still, Jason wishes to hold on, to hope that his mother and sister would come back for him. That fades when a lone howl pierces through his baby ears, and a figure steps out from the shadows.

Sadly, Jason wasn't afraid.

Sadly, Jason Grace was taken away from his old home to a new one with the wolves.

And the cycle continues.

Life with the wolves had been fun. Frolicking in the house where his mother and sister left him, spending the day in the woods trying to catch prey.

Lupa is quite a mother wolf, a strict one, but still a mother whom he barely remembers.

Finally, after months of training, Jason Grace at age three is now ready to face on the cruel world to find Camp Jupiter.

To say he didn't look back was not true. He did look back, to see another kid older than him being taught by the same wolves he considered as a family.

His family of wolves seem to have moved on like the family he barely remembered as a child.

They all look up at him, Jason Grace.

Jason Grace.

Son of Jupiter.

Jason Grace.

The King of the God's son, everyone says.

The son of a no good Dad, he wishes to say, but those words were stuck in his throat, refusing to come out.

He wonders if he'll just become like his father, which is his worst nightmare.

Instead of joining the First Cohort like everyone expected him to be, he joins the Fifth Cohort, filled with what they say, the sea of nobodies.

It's good to be a nobody.

The first time he got his mark, it hurts like Hades. There was a brilliant flash of light... and it's there now.

The eagle, symbolizing his father, the SPQR, and a line representing his first year.

The others say he'll get used to the pain.

He already did.

He just chooses to feel numb.

Being marked was supposed to be the most special time. It means that he is fully accepted into the legion, into the arms of the cohorts. He isn't a probatio anymore; he never is treated as one.

They try to make him join their cohorts.

Anything other than the Fifth Cohort.

And he just glares, because he knows they're not being any fair to the members of the Fifth Cohort.

Bigots.

Bullies. He hates them. He hates them all.

They think they're so high and mighty, picking on the younger probatios, but just one glare from Jason Grace and they'll be running another way.

Jason's just a kid.

A six year old.

Ten year olds run away from him.

Jason Grace tries to become a blank slate one time, resulting in him hearing most of the conversation of the bullies he had driven away.

"The Fifth Cohort thinks they're so powerful, just because Jason Grace is with them", one says.

"Just wait until Jason Grace realizes what he's done wrong and leave the Fifth Cohort", another one says.

Fury engulfs Jason. He didn't know what he was doing, unaware.

He didn't know he summoned lightning and killed three people on the spot.

He isn't a blank slate anymore.

Therapists are common in New Rome, of course. Some descendants of the gods had been involved in wars or had been put through many traumatizing moments throughout their life.

Jason thinks he doesn't count as any of those people.

He doesn't even know what war is supposed to be like.

No one here knows how much damage a war will cost.

"All right Jason", the therapist says in a warm voice, just like all the other therapists before her. "I want you to tell me what you have learned the past year in Camp Jupiter."

It was such a simple question. Jason didn't know where every thing went wrong.

"That the Fifth Cohort is the best cohort anyone has ever seen", Jason says nonchalantly.

The therapist nods slowly. Sooner or later she'll give up on him, like all the others. "Anything else."

"Everyone who tries to say other wise are bigots."

"Mister Grace, your language."

"What is even the point of this? To see if you think I regret killing those assholes a year ago."

The therapist nods. "Yes. You should be ashamed of yourself. We would've sentenced you to death-"

"But you don't want to, since I'm a son of Jupiter, is that right?"

The therapist doesn't reply.

It was his eighth birthday today, and everyone from all cohorts gave him a simple phrase of Happy Birthday.

No one asked him if he was fine.

No one dared ask him what happened in the ward.

He just wants to talk to someone, anyone.

He was elevated to a centurion of the Fifth Cohort, along with Dakota.

Together they kill bassilisks in the temples, and lead the war games with their comrades.

Jason is the reason why sometimes, the Fifth Cohort always win in the war games.

Twelfth Legion doesn't bring pride to Jason at all.

He has no idea to why everyone would be okay to be called 'the twelfth best legion'.

Now that he's a centurion, maybe he can change the minds of the campers of Camp Jupiter.

Rename it to First Legion, he says.

They're hesitant.

He knows why.

Only Octavian stands in the way.

He has no Roman pride.

He only has pride within himself.

Octavian was handpicked as the augur and it made Jason's blood boil.

How could he become an augur? Why had their praetors done this? Do they know how much political power and blackmail Octavian has?

Maybe that's why.

The praetors were also scared by his absolute power.

Jason cannot let him be a praetor given a time.

Then a marvelous and life threatening idea looms over his head.

Yes.

That's how it's going to be.

Jason is standing over Octavian's lying body, blankets covering most of it.

Jason was holding his ILVIS sword, tightly too.

He's going to kill Octavian.

He's going to do it.

He trudges over the legacy of Apollo's bed, but something stops him.

Jason regrets stopping because after that Octavian yells something about murder.

He jumps off the window and into the night.

Fuck you hesitation.

Reyna Avila Ramirez-Arellano.

That's her name.

A daughter of the war goddess Bellona.

That's nice.

She loves Diocletian as much as he does, and they'd stare at portraits everyday while getting lost at the subject of history.

That's good.

She's also his first friend.

That's the best news.

Reyna's been acting strange lately.

After that little quest, their relationship was never the same.

What did that woman do to Reyna?

Sure, they were still talking, but Reyna seems to be distant, as if thinking of something.

Being wary around Jason Grace.

But Jason tries not to give up, trying to still rebuild their friendship.

"So, you're Bryce Lawrence." Jason looks at the boy with the mix of disgust and indignance.

This-this no good son of Orcus really thinks that a little murder is entertainment.

He should've been dead, but his family is one of the most influential families in all of New Rome.

They can't just execute him and face his angry relatives.

But he was a goddamn psychopath.

Gods, Jason already hates him.

A lot of Roman campers have been missing lately.

The praetors said that they were rewarded a quest by the augur.

But they don't come back after a week.

Jason sighs as he flips his coin, transforming it to a sword.

He's going to find those campers and bring them back here.

Jason didn't know what got into him.

One moment, he was fighting a dracaena and another moment he was fighting one of his own kin, a demigod.

But the demigod isn't Roman.

He said he was a son of Hermes.

And he looks a lot like him.

Who is he?

And how could he do this to his Roman kind?

"Join me, Jason", he says.

Luke.

His name is Luke.

"Together we can tear Olympus apart stone by stone!"

Jason shoots lightning at him, but he seems unharmed.

At the end of the day, he fed the traitor Romans to the sharks.

Nico.

Nico di Angelo.

That was the Ambassador of Pluto's name.

People were wary of him.

Jason? He wasn't wary of Nico.

Finally, a cousin.

He seems secretive, but that's alright.

Jason has a lot of secrets.

And one day Nico brings Hazel, also a child of Pluto.

He cherishes them both.

There's a battle.

And he's in it.

Everyone is in it.

Against the Titan Kronos who has escaped from Tartarus.

He didn't tell anyone about that Greek demigod.

But before they go to New York, they have to face Krios first in Mount Othyrs.

It's going to be a long battle.

Their praetors are dead, and many are wounded.

Everyone is panicking, and Jason and Reyna tries to stop them from that.

Reyna comes up with battle tactics, and Jason is quite proud of her.

They march into Krios' domain, where they're faced with a dragon and the Hesperides.

Reyna kills them singlehandedly as the legion descends into battle.

Jason reaches Krios, and that is where it gets messy.

Hand-to-hand combat.

Why is Jason so impulsive?

His face burns.

His legs are tiring.

His right arm is broken.

And the entire legion is watching them, weapons ready.

They want to see if he lives or dies.

He looks up at the sky as he finally kneels for what felt like years, exhaling.

His lungs are burning.

His heart is beating too fast for his own good.

He feels blood on his face, and his eyes hurt.

He finally prays to his dad for the first time in his life.

And he's overcome with strength he had when he and the Romans scaled Mount Othyrs.

Krios is disintegrating, slowly but surely. He growls, but Jason just kicks him in the face.

"Who even are you?", Krios spits out.

Jason smirks. "I'm Jason fucking Grace bitch. And you'll remember me for centuries."

He watches Krios fully disintegrate with a self satisfied smirk.

And he faces his comrades, all full of amazement or intimidation.

Reyna starts to clap.

Sooner or later everyone starts clapping.

They made him and Reyna praetors of the first legion.

He dreams.

He dreams of his achievements, of his mother and sister, of his family.

But something is still missing.

In all his life, he never called anything a 'home', or a 'family'.

Even in Camp Jupiter, where it was supposed to feel at home, he never feels like it.

He finds Juno staring at him with a smile.

No.

He cannot be used as a pawn ever again.

Juno chuckles.

"It is your time now, little hero. Your destiny awaits."

No.

NEVER AGAIN.

Who is he again?

Where is he?

What is he doing here in a bus, in the middle of wilderness?

He feels something warm on his hand, and he looks over to see-

The most beautiful girl he's ever met.

And, suddenly, he feels a pang of hope, that maybe, just maybe, he will find a home and family.

Maybe is a strong word.

"Jason? Are you alright?"