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Thar-Korr
The World of Chains
"On Thar-Korr, you learn to forget the sky. They teach you obedience by grinding it into your bones—until pain becomes language and silence, your shield."
Verek, Former Laborer
A harsh, oppressive planet, made up of industrial zones where skies are choked with smog and desolate wasteland where the land is scorched by relentless sun.
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This planet wasn’t always an industrial sewer. Two hundred years ago, they picked it for its mineral-rich territories and hyper-magnetic core—a geological jewel. But a planet with a living consciousness is a threat to power. So, they suffocated it. Carved into it, bled it dry, then drilled even deeper. They transformed it into an engine, turned the world into a machine. Now the land aches, forced to witness its own decomposition. Everywhere you look, the planet is rotting under productivity. It’s an autopsy. A gaping carcass pinned open with steel, toxins flooding its veins, life flushed from the soil itself.
Most people are chained to the core industry in some way: the labour Pits.
Massive iron towers loom over endless labor fields. Machines grind endlessly, powered by the enslaved workforce. The labour pits aren’t just work holes. They’re the orifice of the hungry economy. Munching through bodies like gears in an engine. Feeding. Chewing. And the corporations that run them are the patrons of hell. Pushing the edges of efficiency. One goal—keep profits flowing. Maximum production. Maximum control. Minimum humanity.
In the deepest pit, Underground Artificial suns flicker overhead, casting an eerie, flickering glow—an imitation of real light, designed to distort the passage of time.
The corporations have carved the landmass into a grid, a neat data-sheet imposed on living soil. Catchment zones span the planet, each one cut into twenty-five Sectors, sustaining thirty to sixty pits. Ownership follows the same pattern: a cohort of corporations at the helm, a governing class perched above, feeding from the order they enforce. Zone 7 is no different, except here, the weight of power bends under the twisted desire of a matriarch who rules it like a personal empire.
The zones are walled, watched, patrolled by Enforcers, predators feeding on compliance. Every corridor, every locked gate repeats the same truth: you’re not free. This is Thar-Korr’s true currency of power. Private agencies compete in a blood sport of innovation, each upgrade crueler than the last. The more savage the device, the higher the market price. Interrogation rigs that sear memories into scar tissue. Bio-trackers leaked into the water system, live in your blood stream, glowing incandescent under the skin. Compliance tech that rewires free will at the neural level. People live inside the regime. And they die inside it. That’s the only horizon most will even know.
Most of the labour class are Foundry-born. Mass-produced bodies, pulled wet from industrial pods. Shipped into work sites as soon as they can lift weight. This is engineered muscle sold into decades of service before they even know their own names. But not all. Some are born naturally into their caste, pressed into the same slots their parents died in. And deeper still, scattered across the zones, linger the almost forgotten lineages. There are remnants of tribes and communities that once called this planet theirs, long before the colonies wrapped their grip around its throat. Now, they're ghosts walking. Heritage turned to background noise under the grind of the machine.
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Lying beyond the outer walls of the catchment Zones there’s the Wasteland—the negative space between the cages—where the silence can steal a life and the wind moves like it’s lonely. The land is scorched and cracked, and many of the rivers are running black with industrial waste.
What you need to know:
Thar-Korr is where the story begins—not as a choice, but as a condition.
In the aftershock of the Great Fracture, this world operates as a field of density along the Woundline: the consciousness of the planet is now heavy and compressive, due to the extractive nature of those who now inhabit the world.
Life has narrows into survival logic. Power is the driving force within all systems. Time feels tight. The body learns to brace. Those who endure do so by adapting—by numbing, performing, bargaining, or becoming useful to the machinery that feeds on them.
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Symbolism
Thar-Korr embodies the unconscious mind held in repression. It is the Survival Self made architectural: fear stabilized into routine, desire redirected into productivity, and imagination contained by necessity. The city mirrors the inner state where conditioning masquerades as reality—where conformity is rewarded, denial is normalized, and the possibility of another way of being is quietly edited out.
Oppression here is not only external; it is internalized. The forces that keep inhabitants compliant are the same forces that keep awareness collapsed—training people to mistake endurance for safety, obedience for belonging, and extraction for purpose. In Thar-Korr, awakening is not forbidden. It is simply made too costly to consider.
PLANETARY NODE: THAR-KORR
Designation: 3rd Outworld Earth Colony
Established: 2128 E.R. (Earth Records)
Current Year: 241 A.O. (After Occupation)
Quadrant: 7B, Milky Way
Star: Kepler-452 (G-Type Main Sequence / Sun-Analog)
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Thar-Korr orbits close to the inner edge of the habitable zone. The star’s higher stellar output produces long, oppressive heat cycles that compound fatigue, irritability, and physiological stress—conditions quietly exploited by the ruling systems to maintain compliance.
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Governance: Fragmented Dominion & Managed Collapse
Thar-Korr is not governed in the traditional sense. There is no singular authority, no planetary sovereign, no unifying vision. Power here is fragmented by design—distributed among corporate dynasties, industrial houses, and inherited wealth-states that each claim dominion over a Zone. These Zones function as semi-autonomous city-states, bound together only by extraction quotas, trade necessity, and the shared knowledge that collapse would be far more costly than coexistence.
Stability is tolerated only when it serves profit.
Low-level conflict is constant and ambient, like background radiation. Espionage bleeds across borders. Resource sabotage is common. Information is trafficked through black markets more reliably than truth through official channels. Gang wars erupt and fade, often serving as proxy conflicts between Zone elites who never expose themselves directly. Cooperation exists, but only as a temporary alignment of interests. Betrayal is not a failure of governance on Thar-Korr—it is one of its core operating principles.
The true wealth of the planet lies beneath its surface: rare mineral strata, psycho-reactive elements, and deep geological anomalies formed during the Great Fracture. These resources ensure that no Zone can afford withdrawal, no ruler can afford restraint. Extraction is relentless. Competition is structural.
Governance operates through managed despair rather than ideology. The ruling elite understand that hope breeds coordination. Instead, they cultivate exhaustion, addiction, and dependency, ensuring rebellion never coheres long enough to organize.
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Technology & Security: Asymmetric Control
There is no unified planetary control system. This absence is intentional.
Instead, Thar-Korr functions through overlapping, competing enforcement architectures, creating a fog of corruption where no authority is clean and no protection is reliable.
Control mechanisms include:
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Surveillance grids patched together from legacy Earth tech and proprietary Zone systems
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Biochemical compliance agents introduced through labor rations, water cycles, and recreational drugs
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Predictive behavior modeling focused on containment, not prevention
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Enforcement teams operating with Zone-specific mandates and discretionary violence.
Security exists less to protect than to deny exit. Escape—physical, psychological, or social—is treated as contagion. Non-compliance is crushed publicly; and all deviations are quietly erased, reabsorbed, or redirected into sanctioned violence.
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Culture & Society: Survival as Identity
Thar-Korr is, above all else, a mining world. Its culture has calcified around extraction so completely that labor has become identity. The population is divided vertically, not just socially but architecturally, stacked into strata within towering megacities that mirror the planetary caste system. Upper tiers are granted aesthetic privilege and limited mobility, enough to feel superior but never secure. Mid-tiers manage logistics, labor oversight, and enforcement, absorbing the moral injury of the system in exchange for relative stability. The lower tiers cycle endlessly through the Labour Pits, where bodies are consumed at a rate that renders individual loss invisible.
False privileges are distributed strategically, encouraging internalized oppression. Those granted marginal comfort become invested in maintaining the system that exploits them, fearing the fall more than the injustice.
Work cycles span nearly the entire 29.5-hour rotation. Rest exists only as recovery for further labor.
Desperation has become a currency.
The upper elite entertain themselves through gambling, the rich elite don’t gamble on chance. They gamble on people. Auctioning bodies for sport. They call it The Drift—their social web of wagers, alliances, manipulations, and cruel aesthetics. In their world, destruction is curated like art. Every crisis, entertainment. Every drama, theater. Points are earned for clever ruination. Status is given for the unmaking of others. Betting on death-matches, blackmailing ministers through hacked neural-feeds. Sponsoring gang wars in the lower levels to observe the chaos unfolding in real time. They feed off spectacle. They dine on suffering—secondhand but intimate. And the deeper they sink into decadence, the further they sit from the consequence.
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Atmosphere & Climate Control
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Atmospheric Pressure: Slightly denser than Earth
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Increases heat retention, respiratory strain, and chronic fatigue
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Long-term exposure linked to nervous system dysregulation and exhaustion syndromes
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Weather Systems: Entirely artificial
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Rain generated via synth-water sanitation networks
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Moisture circulated through orbital and high-altitude purification arrays
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Rainfall scheduled by sector, not season and used to suppress disease, control pests, and cleanse labor zones. Natural storms are rare and officially classified as system failures. Unofficially, they are treated as omens.
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Zone 7: The Tyrannical Matriarch
Within this structure, Zone 7 stands apart, ruled by the figure known as the Tyrannical Matriarch. Her authority is not maintained through overt brutality alone, but through psychological mastery. She governs by seduction as much as fear, by intimacy as much as threat. Under her influence, loyalty feels personal, submission feels chosen, and resistance feels like a betrayal of the self. Emotional mirroring, reward–withdrawal cycles, and ritualized dependency fracture collective identity, binding individuals to her rule through attachment rather than force.
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Addiction, Gangs & the Wanting
Gang networks control the distribution of Juice—a modular combination-drug engineered in countless variations:
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Stimulation
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Dissociation
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Emotional amplification
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Compliance
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Euphoria
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Oblivion
Juice is not merely recreational. It is social glue, emotional anesthetic, and survival tool. In a world where language for inner experience has collapsed, chemistry does the work of meaning. Widespread addiction, combined with lingering perceptual instability from the Great Fracture, has given rise to what is known as the Wanting: a memetic mind-virus characterized by insatiable desire without object. Those affected feel a constant pull toward something unnamed, a hunger that cannot be satisfied because it has no clear source. Many can no longer articulate what is missing—only that something essential has been lost.
Subcultures & Undercurrents
Shadow Bounty Hunters: Freelance enforcers, trackers, and retrieval specialists operating between Zones. Neither loyal nor moral—only precise.
Hidden Rebellion: Fragmented cells holding suppressed planetary knowledge, historical memory, and forbidden cartographies of Thar-Korr’s deeper strata. Their power lies not in numbers, but in what they remember.
The Crimson Fire Sect: Liturgical Authority as Control
Overlaying all of this is the Crimson Fire Sect, an extractive derivative of Earth’s Gothic religions.Once a cult of traditional worship, now a syndicate of the powerful—aristocrats, bourgeoisie, media architects, oilgarchy—who have now become addicted to emotional control. They gather in chambers lit by their sacred red flame. The creed is simple: the pain of others brings pleasure, dissonance feeds desire, morality is obsolete. They preach “purification through fire,” but it’s never their flesh that burns. It’s the nervous-systems of the lower‑caste—the pit workers, modmeat, the dreamless masses who keep the grid alive. Each time a tower lights up red for another Sect ceremony, a new shadow falls on the city below.
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Summary Symbolic Function
Thar-Korr is not simply oppressive—it is internally coherent oppression.
A world where survival replaces meaning, control replaces care, and adaptation becomes identity.
It is a planetary unconscious locked in repetition—dense, extractive, and resistant to change—yet threaded with fractures where memory, interference, and emergence still find a way in.
Role in the Story
A fractured planet ruled by control, labor, and systemic psychic conditioning.
Home to both the deepest oppression and the earliest sparks of rebellion.
Symbolizes the survival self: what we become when we forget who we are.