Planet Name: Fungara
The planet is called Fungara, a name meaning “The Living World” — a place where life, death, and rebirth are not separate states, but interwoven strands of an endless, pulsing web. On Fungara, nothing is ever truly isolated. Every root connects to another, every creature to its surroundings, every cycle to a greater whole.
For millions of years, Fungara existed as a seamless symphony of life, a planet where the very soil was conscious, where every forest was a memory, and every creature was part of a vast, living dream. But with the arrival of the rift and the birth of Rarecity, the harmony has been broken. The world now stands divided, pulled between the deep-rooted power of its ancient life force and the sudden, unpredictable surge of invading technologies and ambitions.
As war spreads across its surface, Fungara remains alive — watching, adapting, and waiting to see what kind of future will emerge from the collision of its two worlds.
The World of Botanica
For millions of years, the surface of Fungara thrived under the quiet, constant guidance of the Ancient Mycelial Mind — a vast, sentient fungal intelligence that sprawled beneath the earth in an intricate web. This mycelial network was not merely a passive presence under the soil; it was the planet’s original architect, a living, breathing consciousness that shaped the evolution of every plant, every beast, and every natural feature above.
The creatures and plant life that filled the surface of the world were not independent; they were interconnected through a deep, unseen intelligence. Every vine that twisted around a tree, every bloom that opened to the sun, every beast that hunted or grazed — all of them were born from the will of this ancient fungal mind. To the surface dwellers, it was more than a force of nature. It was a god, a mother, a spirit that touched every corner of life.
Over countless ages, Botanica developed into a world of perfect balance. Life was not driven by endless struggle, but by harmony, adaptation, and cooperation. Plants developed minds of their own, flowers sang songs on the wind, trees recorded memories in their rings, and creatures evolved in ways that enhanced the symbiotic web. Every living thing knew its place in this great network, thriving not alone but as part of an endlessly shifting, self-correcting whole.
For millions of years, there were no disruptions, no intrusions, no fractures in this perfect cycle — until the sky itself cracked open.
The Rise of Rarecity
Roughly five hundred years ago, the unimaginable happened: a rupture, vast and violent, tore through the heavens above Botanica. Without warning or explanation, a dimensional rift split the sky, opening a gateway between worlds. Through this jagged wound in reality came an unstoppable flood of strangers — beings who did not belong to Fungara, who had no connection to the ancient fungal intelligence or the world it had shaped.
From across the stars, creatures and machines tumbled through the rift: alien warlords fleeing cosmic enemies, cybernetic hybrids abandoned by their creators, rogue artificial intelligences seeking escape, desperate survivors from dying planets, and countless others cast into a world they had never imagined. They found themselves stranded on a living, breathing planet they could not understand — a world where the ground itself pulsed with life, where the trees watched, and where the air shimmered with invisible fungal threads.
Faced with no way home, these stranded beings did what desperate outsiders do: they survived. Around the site of the rift, they began to build — first camps, then fortresses, then entire districts, sprawling outward into a massive, chaotic city. Over time, this ramshackle, brutal settlement became known as Rarecity: a haven for the dispossessed, the conquerors, the scavengers, and the dreamers of other worlds.
The Clash
The arrival of Rarecity was not simply an invasion of space. It was an invasion of meaning, of purpose, of existence itself.
To the fungal mind beneath the surface, Rarecity was nothing less than a spreading infection, a parasite poisoning the land it had cultivated for millions of years. The steel towers, the chemical spills, the scorched earth left by machines — all these were wounds upon the body of the planet. The ancient fungal intelligence watched, waited, and began to fight back, though not in ways the outsiders understood. Vines crept into machines, spores clouded the air, strange creatures emerged from the forests and marshes. The land itself was resisting.
But Rarecity’s factions did not see themselves as invaders. To them, Botanica was a strange, untapped frontier — a living world full of mysteries, dangers, and unimaginable resources. Some sought to dominate it, bending the wild forces of the planet to their will. Others wanted to strip it bare, draining its power and wealth to fuel their war machines and ambitions. A few, more cautious or desperate, simply sought a way to survive, to carve out a piece of this alien world and hold it against all odds.
The Holders
Above it all, there is another layer — unseen by both the denizens of Botanica and the factions of Rarecity.
Across dimensions, beyond the reach of the fungal mind and the warring factions, there exists a race of beings known only as The Holders. These entities are not part of the world’s living systems, nor are they exiles or refugees from the rift. They are collectors, manipulators, traders of fate. To them, the creatures and machines of Fungara are pieces on a game board, tokens in a vast game of strategy, commerce, and power.
The Holders watch from afar, observing the unfolding war between Botanica and Rarecity with cold, calculating interest. They trade creatures and champions between sides, altering outcomes, testing limits, and shifting the tides of battle for their own mysterious purposes. Neither the fungal network nor the warring factions are aware of the invisible strings guiding them, the unseen hands moving their destinies.
