In a land untouched by famine, where abundance flowed in every conceivable form—food, resources, comfort—there were no predators, no threats, only the undisturbed rulers of a world known as Gastrovia. On this planet, everything was easy to obtain—except balance. At the peak of this unchallenged ecosystem stood a variant of humanity known as Homo Gludanis, who once resembled "mankind", now corrupted by excess and blinded by their own dominance.
The Gludans had long forsaken restraint. Their bodies, grotesquely bloated by generations of unbridled indulgence, were no longer capable of standing upright on their own. They relied entirely on mechanized "thrones"—self-propelled chairs engineered not out of necessity, but out of a deep-seated desire to feed their gluttony without interruption. These contraptions enabled their excess, making even movement an afterthought in the theater of endless consumption.
They felt no hunger, and yet they were never full. Their culture was not built upon shared values or intellectual exchange, but on rituals of consumption—eternal feasts, ceremonies of devouring, and the worship of fat as a sacred emblem. Social interaction had degenerated into spectacle: a performance of who could eat more, who could flaunt more, and—more disturbingly—who could metaphorically or even literally consume another. Among them were whispers of cannibalism, not out of survival, but as an extension of dominance and decadence.
A few began to awaken—too late. They looked upon their own monstrous reflections and remembered, dimly, what it meant to be human. Yet they fought, relentlessly and without rest, to reclaim some fragment of dignity, even as their bodies betrayed them. They were no longer what they once were, and perhaps never would be again, but still they struggled—to be worthy of the word "human."
The Gludans lived not in paradise, but in an illusion of comfort—a prison of their own making, padded with excess and sweetened with denial.
Here are the steps :
Soon, a Gludan will appear—seated upon their “throne”—and with them, a deeper revelation of what they truly are. What was once seen as merely grotesque indulgence will unfold into something far more unsettling. Their throne is not just a tool, but a symbol: of dependence disguised as power, of a species that traded away its freedom for convenience, and of a legacy built on the ruins of restraint.
