The shift bells sound every six hours.
Nobody remembers when they started.
The underhive transit corridors are full tonight.
Workers moving shoulder to shoulder beneath flickering industrial lights while giant propaganda screens glow through smoke and recycled heat.
PRODUCTIVITY IS GRATITUDE
LABOR IS PURITY
SACRIFICE IS HOLY
Nobody even looks at the slogans anymore.
That’s the first bad sign.
Sean sits on an overturned cargo crate with a guitar across his lap.
Not playing.
Just listening.
Eljara watches the endless worker lines below.
Thousands of people moving in perfect synchronization through checkpoint gates and manufactorum routes.
Eljara:
They move like machinery.
Sean nods once.
Sean:
That’s the goal.
Silence.
A train loaded with sealed ration containers screams through the lower rails beneath them.
The entire corridor shakes.
Nobody reacts.
Eljara:
Do you think they believe it?
Sean plucks a single guitar string.
The sound disappears beneath industrial noise almost immediately.
Sean:
Yeah.
A pause.
Sean:
But not because they’re stupid.
She glances toward him.
Eljara:
Then why?
Below them, an injured laborer is quietly removed from the worker line by security servitors.
No resistance.
No panic.
Most people barely even look.
Sean watches the scene calmly.
Sean:
Because survival teaches repetition.
That lands hard.
The worker disappears toward lower processing levels.
The line keeps moving.
Eljara:
Useful people survive longer.
Sean nods slowly.
Sean:
Yeah.
Silence settles heavily between them.
A child nearby repeats labor hymns while helping a parent repair work gloves.
The parent corrects the prayer before correcting the repair technique.
That unsettles Eljara more than the hymn itself.
Eljara:
Children learn usefulness before identity.
Sean looks toward the endless manufactorum lights.
Sean:
Identity doesn’t feed people.
A beat.
Sean:
Function does.
The Imperium doesn’t survive by forcing impossible lies onto people.
It survives by attaching survival to those lies.
If labor keeps your family alive—
labor becomes sacred.
If obedience protects the hive—
obedience becomes virtue.
If suffering increases survival—
suffering becomes holy.
Not manipulation.
Adaptation.
Eljara:
That’s not just the Imperium.
Sean glances at her.
Slightly impressed.
Sean:
No.
A pause.
Sean:
Every civilization worships the trait that keeps it alive.
The Mechanicus worship functionality.
The Orks worship conflict.
The Drukhari worship cruelty.
Chaos worships surrender.
The Tyranids worship consumption itself.
And suddenly the slogans around them stop feeling like propaganda.
They feel inevitable.
A group of exhausted workers passes nearby laughing while comparing shift scars like medals.
One proudly shows a missing finger.
Everyone laughs.
Eljara watches them disappear into the crowd.
Eljara:
They’re proud of it.
Sean’s voice stays calm.
Sean:
If suffering keeps you alive long enough—
A beat.
Sean:
eventually suffering becomes proof you deserve to survive.
That changes everything.
The horrifying part is not that civilizations consume people.
It’s that eventually—
people begin calling the consumption holy.
If you remember what this felt like —
you already know what you’re missing.
Step back into it.
Or keep missing it.
👉 https://startplaying.games/gm/dunchan
Want to go deeper?
Then don’t stop at the surface.
The full stories. The dossiers. The things behind it —
they’re waiting. Or they’re not.
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