James felt the world around him stretch into noodle-like lines, before his body… no his soul was pulled an almost infinite distance away.
*Crack*
A sound that felt so deep and primal that it could be mistaken for the breaking of reality itself preceded James' soul arriving on top of a blue planet.
[You have selected:]
[Unnamed World #aaSW1q1: A world of liquid water with a moderate coverage of land. It however, has a small size in total, and as such as weaker gravity and a less dense atmosphere, meaning it would be difficult for larger creatures to evolve, but no other flaws or advantages]
[Please assign it a name:]
James thought for a moment before responding, 'Neues Reich'
[You have changed the name for Unnamed World #aaSW1q1 to 'Neues Reich']
[You have been given 1x seed of life. Please use it carefully]
James nodded before looking at the blue planet below him with a grim determination. Then he selected to implant the seed of life into this planet.
[Confirmed]
For a moment, nothing changed, before suddenly James felt his vision being dragged closer ot the ocean of this world… his world.
He saw it. The very first life of the world. It was not actually a living creature, but it was something far smaller and far more fundamental in the growth of life, some kind of odd double-helix structure. It looked odd at first, but gradually it took on a more comprehensive form.
Within shallow basins where salt and sunlight mingled, fragments of lipid matter gathered around the delicate strands of DNA, as James was given the name for this structure by the system, forming small bubbles that could trap them within. These bubbles divided when struck by waves and reformed when the waters calmed. Through countless repetitions, some of them learned to keep their contents intact, and those that did not fell apart, leaving nothing behind but fragments for others to use.
In time, one of these fragile shelters found a way to copy its own inner thread. It was imperfect, often losing parts of itself, but each division left behind a trace that allowed another to improve. Within this endless repetition, error became advantage, and advantage became survival. From these first cells, each carrying the same sets of instructions, the oceans began to stir with motion.
The earliest cells fed on what the planet freely offered. They drew energy from the heat of mineral springs or from the slow reactions of iron and sulphur along the ocean floor. These were the chemotrophs, blind and patient, turning the planet's stones into sustenance. Others learned to capture light, taking power from the sun's glow to bind carbon and water into nourishment. These became the first photosynthetic cells, the ancestors of every green leaf that would one day stretch toward the sky.
As they multiplied, the seas darkened with their presence, and the air began to change. Oxygen, once rare and fleeting, grew more abundant, altering the very breath of the world. The new gas poisoned many of the older forms, yet from their ruin, others rose that could use this new air to drive their life further. These were the aerobic cells, stronger and faster, the first to truly master energy as a living force.
Among them came a turning point when one cell consumed another and, instead of destroying it, kept it alive within itself. The smaller one continued to produce energy while the larger one offered protection. From this fragile partnership arose the first complex cells. Within their walls, structures began to appear: a central core for holding instructions, small bodies for shaping and storing energy, and delicate membranes that separated one function from another.
They spread slowly across the world, each carrying the memory of that union. In quiet lagoons and under the faint shimmer of early sunlight, colonies of these complex cells began to link together. At first, it was simple cooperation; cells clustering for safety or sharing resources. But with time, they began to specialise. Some took charge of drawing in food, others of sensing changes in light or pressure, and others still of reproduction.
These colonies grew more structured, their parts no longer equal but necessary. Here the first multicellular organisms took form. They were small and soft-bodied, like threads or sheets of living film that clung to rocks or drifted with the currents. Algae came first, spreading across the oceans in slow green tides that breathed oxygen into the deep. Sponges followed, anchored to the seafloor, filtering the waters that had given them life.
With each generation, complexity grew. The seas filled with shapes that bent and stretched, coiled and divided, searching for light and nourishment. The planet that had once known only storms and stone now carried within it the rhythm of life.
Word Count: 838 words
{AN: Story will pick up soon once the race he wants is fully evolved and the real fun begins. Please leave comments and reviews on how you like it so far. Enjoy!}