I’m Starving NFT game.

I’m Starving lore

Teaser introduction

His parents had named him ★ because he was their guiding light. However no child should be made to feel responsible for binding such opposing energies. Their high expectations bundled with his deeply rebellious nature only drove him down and out, instead of up.

★ duly completed all modules of his education, he was quick witted and able to routinely turn potential failure into success with often late and little emphasis. He could take any ware and turn it into self-sustaining organic functions of high metric productivity. However, it left him empty and he yearned for a task of even greater effort. He decided to brute force change by moving out of his family home. Little did he know that life on the outside would not be the same.

He hoped to draw a new line and experience something truly extraordinary.

Trading society for nature, raw and unbridled. Time slows and he flows like water to the lowest point, following the easiest paths. Winter’s white coat lays all about the fields, glimmering banks swallowed the lush green forest. ★ once again found himself at a crossroads, but joined by an enormous sense of burden this time.

Half way down a narrow jagged cave, shadows dance all around him. They circle and recede into the edges of ever deeper darkness. Like an unkempt bedroom, flotsam of food waste from too easy seasons past lays about the floor. What opportunistic hope of Spring tumbles into Summer and soon becomes Autumn. What proceeds after is a truer test of value, well beyond his sun kissed cheeks noodling for wild cherries or freshly fallen acorns. Amongst smol animal skeletons, his knees sink softly into the dirty sand, as he leans over the dying embers. A warm smoke rises past his chest, mingling his skin, hair and ragged clothes. The heat gives the impression of the smoke moving through his being and continuing onwards without consolation for his presence. 

If he had a sense of purpose previously, it was not nearly evident in any of his prior lives. He reaches a mental platitude that if he is to continue, not thrive, then “EASY MODE IS OVER!” To, simply survive, then “EVERY DESCISION” must be made with utter care and consideration. If he gambles, he risks himself only, no other, not that any other seems to exist beyond his sharded memories, now distant dreams. He inhales deeply and draws…

• Ash from the fire to strike lines across each cheek.

• A straight stick nearby across the rock face, sharpening the tip to a spear.

• A torn and heavy puffer jacket across his shoulders, tying it with a leather belt.

• A gourd filled with chunky goat milk to his mouth.

• A crude drawing on the wall with the crushed red berries he collected earlier.

The forest’s deep and the world is wide.
Can he save himself?

The choices we make will be the defining moments of our story.

The core tenants of writing content for I’m Starving

Deep story narratives that should be visited:

• Sense of quirky humour

• Primordial rawness crossed with a sci-fi edge (the juxtaposition of our lives)

• Reminder that we are the guardians of nature

• Surprising narratives that entertain

• Associative memories (cultural references, stolen musings, crypto)

• Find common grounds (how is it like us)

• Make inferences to the value of the Magic network

• Always use ★ instead of Star

• ️Catchphrases: Good: Ping, Nom, Bagz / Bad: Ashes, Dash, Toil

I’m Starving Food Poems

• Snow can be carried with you, but it will soon wet your pocket, melting your ambitions.

• Sticks in a bundle are less likely to crumble, but a good strong skewer sticks out fewer.

• Spring onion bulbs grow down in the dark, but their green leaves aspire to sunshine higher.

• Sakura mochi are an earthy sweet round treasure, hidden in a pickled leafy sheath.

• Pheasant, pheasant, tasty and pleasant how do you feathers grow, as gorgeous quills tucked in my hat.

• Chest of hold, I pursue not gold, but tools to enrich my journeys sold.

• Milk is smooth and sips like silk, running down your lips from mothers drips.

• Renkon snap tenderly, bursting flavour contrasts upon me.

• Cheese of raclette easing, unfold your dairy and deliver my pleasing.

• Azuki Beans smell a little like chestnut flour, I eat them for their sweet, nutty power.

• Eggs are strong when laid on their end, but the silky interior will soon have me on the mend.

• Coconut tumble and sometimes crack, losing milk without a shuck.

• Cabbage will crack when fresh from the ground, but wilts in my pan and flavour abounds.

• Okra are clean greens, best when char roasted and well salted.

• Trout is a wild bounty, roe spills onto my plate and rare flesh is finely sliced.

• Almond handfuls are an edible game and widely thrown tree seed of the same name.

• Fresh Pine Needles fold and claw like knotted spines within my jaw.

★’s origin story.

Xanca as a planet carries 240,957,888 souls who thrive, screw, spoil and do all that life tends to do. They are well advanced, but not far enough to have wiped themselves out yet. This is a consequence of having gone in a direction that has forsaken the old ways, seldom taking the time to seek enlightenment of the inner self. They seldom hold the naked soul beneath the magnifying lens of the deepest mysteries of this life. Instead, they look constantly for the fastest new tooling without care for the reason. This industry extracted their cities high into the sky, away from the soil, the very earth that gave them life, and which yearns for its reverberation.

️★’s home on Xanca was a gloomy smudge of a capital city. The higher the buildings rose, the deeper the shadows that fell across the land. A constant orange haze clung to everything like a hand across your mouth. If they weren’t physically building the maze of infrastructure ever higher, they were constructing an endless verse of the mind to further entrap the escaping souls. Minds flourished, whilst bodies wasted and an unhealthy pallor fell across the land. 

Against these odds and by some surprise, ★ could succeed in this place. But he felt a calling… like a trillion tendrils meeting at the union of his being and not so gently drawing him awake. A tug here, a pull there, a gigantic rolling whiplash that transcends time and space – not unlike divine intervention. 

A bridge between worlds.

Much like every home world in the universe, Xanca is no more or less connected to Bridgeworld than any other place. It is neither special nor permanent, as is all life that exists in a vacuum. However, the funny thing about vacuums is they are entirely devoid of matter – until they aren’t. And this moment is when things get interesting, weird or entirely confounded.

When your civilization cultivates a sophisticated yet isolating sense of appreciation for itself, it spends too long basking in its glory and forgets to continue the task of attaining it. But that is no concern, for it is from this world that some lucky souls will be delivered to Bridgeworld.

When you think about destinations and the description of their location, you think not that the journey itself may well be the destination. Bridgeworld is not a pin at the end of many lines of string, but the string itself. It does not exist within the universes, but between them. The ethereal threads that we run along like marionettes, they traverse and mingle through it.

We are all magical trees.

What most do not know is that there are countless versions of ourselves echoing through the vastness of an eternal and expanding nothingness. Every significant soul creates split pathways with each new decision they take, unraveling into huge trees of life emanating from their first. They play out infinite possibilities, stress testing to the extremest gamuts of life. Each soul lives every reality in parallel, but each of their branches is a unique path. Every decisive action creates a fresh universe, a new ★. 

Sometimes, with the inevitable ending of a soul’s tree – instead of fading out to nothing – something magical happens. A new soul appears within Bridgeworld. One single Bridgeworld soul is an entanglement of nearly infinite lives from other universes, dense with experience and life. Unfortunately, the comprehension of so many lives would lead to a great deal of overload and malfunction. It is thus that these souls arrive at Bridgeworld with all their memories wiped. Although the mind cannot hold such volumes, the soul can, in fact it must, if it is to arrive.

Chaotic nature ensures that occasionally, tree branches mingle and blend. A soul tree destined for Bridgeworld must enter with almost every branch intact and mostly pure, without foul branch corruption. A perfect form is a highly sought after state to achieve, especially if you receive a rare foreign branch that dramatically amplifies your own tree. 

As such, not many can enter Bridgeworld, or are even aware of the vastness of experience they endured to get there. However, like nature tends to do, there can be great events of mystical nature that draw unusual forces towards Bridgeworld. Once it is your time and you have traversed the path that cannot be ignored, you may remain in/enter into Bridgeworld.

Like the trees in Bridgeworld, the most worthy soul trees have the longest branches that run far through time and space, touching the most exotic edges of the magic realm.

The forest is deep and the world is wide. Discover your path.