The Void is a metaphor for the human transition from hunter-gatherers (collecting color from the environment) to early, wasteful agriculture (indiscriminate color planting leading to devastated fields full of predators) and then to enlightened, sustainable, eco-friendly agriculture (planting the right crops at the right fields, learning about the power of silver). It's an eloquent reminder of the perils of global warming and.... ok, ok, seriously now. 8)


The young sleeper lives a vibrant, colorful life, full of dreams. Alluring, clad in color dreams of possible futures, thriving and multiplying within. But real life has a way of crushing and suffocating one's aspirations and hopes. A boring, yet stable source of income. A mate that doesn't set your heart aflame, but that you have "learned" to like. The routine, slowly but surely setting in. Many of these dreams, these possible futures, start perishing. No, you're never going to be an astronaut as you believed in your childhood. Times have changed.

You wish you could do something. To grab your life by the horns, be the master of your destiny. But from the limits below, lower in the Hierarchy of Maslow, they come. All they know is fear. All they care about is self-preservation. Before ascending to this limit, they did not comprehend color. They still don't, in fact. They capture and smoother the sleeper's energy and passion, for dreams are a dangerous thing. The sleeper becomes apathetic, indifferent, walking through the motions of life, but not actually living it. Color no longer visits this void, for its source has dried up. The Brothers do not comprehend why, and pray for it to return. The sleeper sinks deeper and deeper into depression, his very soul fading into the depths.

But one of his starved dreams, one which has yet to perish completely, grasps the falling soul. She nurtures it with soft whispers of what could be. Of possible futures. Suddenly, some color returns to the void. The Sleeper has something to yearn for, something to rekindle the flames in his heart. This limit, this state of mind, might seem bleak and lifeless, but above it are countless other limits. You have already seem the one above, spirit. The sleeper remembers and nurtures his surviving dreams. A couple newborns have even come into existence as recently as now. But you have only so much color, spirit. The clock is against you. Which dream shall you pursue? Which new world will you create for yourself? Perhaps you'd like to leave your unhappy marriage. Perhaps you'd like to try your luck in a foreign country. Heck, perhaps you'd like to quit your stable, soul-crushing job and become a game designer.

The brothers grow restless. Dreams are dangerous things! You'll never find anyone else! You will never be accepted in your new country! You'll become homeless and starve to death without your job! We shall put a stop to this madness, we shall slay the sisters lest they murder the sleeper! Deep down, you know this is for the best, spirit.

Or do you? Above this limit are countless others. Or are you not interested? Creating your own world, your vision, your masterpiece. Being able to show it to the entire world. Gaining international and critical acclaim. Bringing new color, new meaning, into the lives of countless people. People who'll switch operational systems to experience your world. People who'll sing praises to all the vibrant color you have brought to a dying world of gray-me-too-first-person-shooters. People who'll write absurdly long-winded essays about their perceived meaning of your world and how it has inspired them. And who knows what lies in the limits even above that one? Perhaps even financial success!

But hearing the voice of color is a bad omen, spirit. We expected better of you than to be tempted by the heresy of the sisters. You don't have the budget. How many internationally successful game designers do you know in Russia? You'll starve to death without your day job. This is madness!

Madness... this is The Void! - The mute spirit, full to the brim with color, finally utters. One by one, he vanquishes his fears, finally giving them peace. Pursuing his dream with all his color, all his blood, the spirit makes the ultimate sacrifice. Time to freeze this canvas, time to show it to the entire world, time to ship. The spirit is dead. The deadlines, the nights and nights without sleep, the insidious predator-bugs haunting the canvas, the *Tension* of not knowing how the world will receive it... they have finally taken their toll. But fear not, spirit. For you have filled the sleeper with new color, and given him back his soul. Yourself. Reincarnated with new meaning in a much higher limit. In a much higher state of mind. For the only color that dies, is that which is not given away.