.:	Etemenanki by Ionous 	:.
	
My miniscule contribution to the Christmas 2017 1024 jam, occasionally run by Negke. 

Filename: 		xmasjam_ionous.zip
Authors: 		Ionous 
Email address: 		voice.of.the.nephilim@gmail.com 		 	
Description:		Small SP map clad in a mixture of Sock's blue Egyptian textures and other sources, based upon the theme forged in jam5_scampie.  
Single Player:		Yes
Cooperative:		No
Deathmatch:		No
Difficulty Settings:	Yes
Base:			My imagination
Editors used:		J.A.C.K. 1.1.1064  			
Textures:		ur.wad (jam5_scampie extraction), probably a few other ones
Build Time:		Three months on and off (mostly off). 

 
			
Brushes:		6,875
Faces:			38,774
Point Entities:		542
Solid Entities:		189

Monster Count:
Easy:			47
Normal:			91
Hard:			114

Map background:

After working a giant map for a long time, I wanted to work on something smaller. A map with 1024 limits fit that perfectly.
I probably should have extended the upper area so it didn't look too cramped, but wanted to stay within the 1024 cube more. 

Sock had some gameplay recommendations, but time has been tight in the week leading up to the Christmas, so what's here will have to be good enough.
Negke recommended I make the crystals more natural looking, but every attempt ended up looking like a blue penis, so meh. 

I like the individual pieces of the story, but had far more story than places to put it. Since the earlier parts were of higher quality, I focused on those. I've pasted the various pieces, permutations and attempts at the story at the bottom of the file, if you're interested. 

Thanks:
 
Thanks to Sock for Arcane Dimensions and for making me a better level designer. 
Thanks to Negke for kinda running this jam. 
Thanks to Scampie for jam5_scampie, which unlocked the mental image of the 'Hanging Gardens' I always had. 
Thanks to Kell for the great skybox (Verdanis_cool).
Thanks to func_msgboard and fellow Quakers on Twitter for the encouragement on the shots I posted, and for keeping the Quake legacy alive and well. 
Thanks to Sock and Negke for testing. Thanks to them, this map is almost possible on hard. 
Thanks to my wife for putting up with my nerdy habits (mapping is only one of many). 

-
Story junk (the early stuff, ironing out ideas):

1. A shimmer in the distance

2. Oasis

3. Aggressive wildlife

4. Cerulean minerals

5. The voices

6. Summoning

7. Beneath the ground

8. One remains

9. Kenosis

 

A verdant valley nestled among the mountains. It seems to exist outside the passage of time; a glimpse untold millenia backward, before the sand swallowed Mesopotemia.
Our supplies dwindling, throats parched, this oasis saved us from death.
Yet I cannot ignore the impossibility of its existence.
A green splotch would have stood in stark contrast to this climate's arid backdrop.

This place saved our lives, but sure as fuck might just kill us if we ain't careful. I made a show of laughing when Karris screamed like a flaming at that spider in his bedroll, but my heart wasn't really in it. If I'm being honest (and I probably fucking should, writing to myself and all), I might have pissed my pants a little if it were me. Spiders, bugs...I been in the wild, this shit usually don't bother me, but I ain't ever seen insects this big, or fucking angry. I swear, one of those fucking weird fish nearly took a piece out of my arm. This fucking place, man.

I don't know if I can do another night here. In the dark I wait, sleep the furthest thing from my mind. Every single rustling of leaves feels like one of those giant, hideous spiders creeping closer. And even when all is still, I hear faint whispers. It's low, the sound barely perceptible...but it's there. I even asked DeBois about it, and not only did he deny it, he said I was talking in my sleep! Asked me if I was studying my Farsi a little too much. I do wonder if he's messing with me; in the rare occurence I sleep, my sleep is dreamless.

At least, I hope they are.

It dances outside the edges of perception. I run my hands over the raises runes scratched upon the tablets, I can almost hear the voices calling to me. The crackling flames that swirl just beyond my reach. If I listen hard enough, focus the whole of my being, the words almost become decipherable. A call of beckoning, remove the barriers, to see the truth of this holy place.

We thought it was bad here. The nightmares, the phantom glow, the malicious wildlife. Yet still we stayed. What fools we were. We should have seen something was wrong with Karris, but how easy it was to attribute his odd behaivor to fever from the spider bite. How surprised could we really be when he spoke in ancient, dead tongue. Dust of a thousand years shifted as the barriers opened, and the shadowed apparations sprang forth, bearing a tongue of searing fire.

I can hear them stalking. The eyeless, assymetrical horrors. I am almost afraid to put pen to paper, but must. If I do not transfer these thoughts from my mind, I fear they shall consume me whole. Even now I picture their attention honing in on, claws raised, prepared to strike.

 
<Cloaked it sits, a verdant valley among the arid desert.>

 
Five were all that remained, and the last of us clung to life with a single finger. Through cracked and sunburned skin two eyes peered up from the makeshift cot, nearly rolled up to the whites, yet Johnston still murmured occasionally, despite the wrapped, weeping wound where his lower leg bad been cruelly amputated. Karris and I kept our agonies to ourselves, but we had been carrying deadweight across the cruel sands for what seemed like ages, with no end in sight.

Upon cresting a rise, a verdant valley in the distance came into view. It was almost blinding against the monochromatic hardpan, and for certain seemed a callous trick of the mind. Yet the vision never wavered, and as we drew closer, the gurgle of water occasionally broke through the howling desert winds. Strength long dormant began to flow back into my legs, rekindkled for the first time since we left the flaming wreckage of the jeep behind.

<How vicious the fauna reacts to our presence.>

Here we sit, in a verdant green valley nestled within the northern Mesopotamian sands. Our canteens are filled, and our sun-seared flesh has reprieve. Yet I am far from assured.

It feels blasphemous to question is existence, but such an anomaly of climate should have been a widely known commodity.

How vicous the fauna reacts to our presence. The insects grow large, far more so than any breed I've heard of. A spider the size of s serving platter even charged the comatose Johnston and bit him, before my ax blows reduced it to ichor and twiching legs. As if the poor bastard didn't have enough challenges to overcome. We pray the bite was not venemous.

I feel as if frozen in time. Weathered ruins protrude from the earth like the bones of a celestial creature, yet all the door-like structures are sealed. In a way, it's almost a relief. There is enough to unnerve me on the surface; I've no urge to push underground to hunt for more.

Whispers in the dark of the night. An eerie glow.>

The night pulls hardest at my sanity. While everyone else slumbers around the warm embrace of the campfire, I watch. The wildlife here is ever restless, and who knows what horrors may emerge from the thicket and charge, as they did to Johnston.

Though if I am to be honest, that is far from the worst of my fears. Carved deep into the masonry are figures and signs. And while the symbols are unfamilar, they fill me with an encroaching dread. A primal fear I struggle to properly elucidate.

And in these dead circles of the night, the locked doors exert an almost gravitational pull, as if beckoning me to open them, and explore the darkened halls below. It as if something is calling to me through the layers of stone and moss.

Are we the ghosts among these ruins?>

Despite the words of hope and assurance we spoke, to both ourselves and the comatose Johnston, we felt in our hearts that the blood loss and spider venom would be too much to overcome.

Yet this morning he rose again. His movements were slow, his eyes heavy, but he is back.

At least, I think he is.

This is not the garrelous, motormouth we've known over the past half-year. The words, when they pour forth, are dead, lifeless. No trace of his trademark smile has been seen. He spent the day hobbling from tableau to tableau, as if studying the weathered runes. When asked, he claims that he doesn't know what the words mean...but I'm not sure I believe him. What is he hiding? And to what end?

Shrouded apparations stalk these dead halls.>

 It was the glow that warned us, an almost malicious orange luminescence that shone far outside the range of the meager fire. As we rose, we heard the chants as well, echoing from the southeast corner of the valley.

Within the circle, Johnston stood, arms raised overhead. Phantom shapes comprised of twin eyes of fire spun around him. At my scream, he turned. The blue is his eyes had been replaced with fire, and a malicious, evil grin broke out, that elicited more fear than the spectres.

Without warning, several shapes phased into existence behind Johnston, skeletal shapes clad in rotting robes. Hands held high, they began to rain fire down upon us. The stench of burning flesh suffocating my senses, I rolled forward to avoid a volley, and found myself tumbling down into darkness. 

Creatures from beyond the veil of reality.>

Fire spirits. Undead mages in command of sulphorous flames. Our team, six strong when leaving (some base), down to two people, Karras and I.

Yet we have only scratched the surface of the horrors that plague this unholy place.

In these decaying halls stalk many degrees of madness. Creatures of unimaginable darkness, malovalent eyes shining with an evil sentience. We stalk the shadows, praying that their predatory gaze will not fall upon us. Only the weak glow of the blue crystals offer respite from encroaching darkness.

The stones that parted to allow access to this cursed city have sealed once again, trapping us down here. I don't know how much longer we can last down in the dark, but I've no plans of giving up. To be able to see the sky again...

It draws its strength from the blue crystal.>

Deeper we channel into the heart of this place. I feel its nexus creeping closer, as if steering a boat towards the precipice of a waterfall. Surely no salvation waits for us at its center, but an ending of sorts. At this point, it's all I can ask for.

It is an odd thing, how perception changes with knowledge. When they first arrived to this place, they thought this place an ancient human city, but that is almost an insult to the true purpose of this place.

Kenosis.

Throughout recorded history humanity and deity has been linked. The son of the Christian deity was born human, and ascended to something greater through death. I wonder; when the conferences gathered, and the holy books were written, was it necessary to link the lives of the flock with those of the gods? Was the idea that something greater than a human too unrelateable, too alien to sell to the masses?

Or perhaps is there a less obvious answer? On a conceptual level, it seems obvious that every single religious sect grew from a seed of an idea planted by man, but is it deeper than that? Are deities self-created?

I intend to find out

-
Disclaimer / legal stuff:
Legalese. Legalese. I made this map. Don't fuck with it without our permission, or modify its conten, without contacting us first. Unless you're Skacky. 

Skacky, you have carte blache.  
