Chapter 50: Fighting Natural Selection
Natural selection. Life’s most cruel competition.
Think of it as a survival game, where creatures of all walks of life compete to see who lasts the longest. Animals adapt their builds through evolution to achieve peak survivability and endure throughout the eras.
Many animals do so through various means.
Some sharpen their biological weapons, bolster their armor, or push their speed and endurance to the limit. Others use special tricks, fall in line with the meta for their environment, or vastly improve their reproductive abilities.
Australia, for example, might as well be the peak of Earth’s PvP servers for animals participating in natural selection. Various animals there have developed traits optimized for combat and survival.
It’s so insane that it’s a wonder how humans managed to endure such a land full of uniquely dangerous creatures at all.
Though humans like to consider themselves distinct from other creatures on Earth, they’re animals too, which means that even to this day, we’re still participants in this eternal competition.
What makes us especially different from other competitors, though, is that one could argue that we’re vastly in the lead as beings capable of reshaping the world at our whim. Although things weren’t always that way.
Anyone with even a basic grasp of archaeology, anthropology, or history would know that there were once more “types” of humans. Not the races as we know them today, but entirely different human species.
In fact, many people still possess bits of the DNA of those lost humans today. And as for where those humans went… the answer’s pretty obvious. They got naturally selected off the planet, failing to adapt to the new survival meta.
Homo sapiens, as we are known today, emerged as the prevailing victors of the human branch of natural selection—thanks to our adaptability, resilience, and keen pattern recognition, which together gave rise to our unique intelligence.
Natural selection ultimately breeds resilient creatures—but it leaves the weaker ones in the dust.
There are many reasons why creatures evolve the way they do. Some for practical reasons, and others… are almost inexplicable. In the case of the gnomes, who descended from humans living in Starfell, their evolution had a unique cause, which was the meteor’s influence.
An investigation into the meteor will have to wait for another day, but what’s important to note here is that we are currently at the point in time when gnomes might very well start falling off.
Gnomish society in Gnomewood is highly reliant on foraging and trade to survive. While they, too, work hard at their own small fields wherever they can, their character builds make farming an extremely inefficient process.
Farming is immensely labor-intensive. Though modern farmers today can handle several acres of land with a seemingly “small” number of people, that’s because of our high reliance on new technologies to help ease the burden of labor.
In primitive societies, even a handful of healthy men would struggle greatly with caring for a few acres of land. That isn’t to mention the threats crops might face that could affect seasonal harvest yields, like environmental problems, insects, birds, and such.
Gnomes fared even worse. Beast taming is still far off due to spiritual beliefs that run against the trend, making farming even more difficult due to the absence of beasts of burden that could help plow the fields and fertilize them with their refined animal shit.
This meant that their ability to sustain themselves was sorely lacking. Even with the introduction of fish farms, should they not find more means to feed themselves, their numbers will stay small, and the chances of their continued survival will be slim.
The core issue here was that their build was completely antithetical to the human meta of survival, which was hunting, farming, and forming communities. Relying almost solely on trade was practically a death sentence waiting to happen for any society, especially one as small and fragile as the gnomes’.
Heavy reliance on trade meant that they were leaving their lifeline to some other group to handle. And should that group choose to cut them off—whether because the relationship lost its benefit or for some irrational reason—they’re as good as donezo.
The game was rigged from the start.
Game End. Restart with a new build.
“Interesting. If the LifeMakerUI is to be believed, though they are quite small, gnomes seem to have quite the stamina. It really is like they were hyper-specialized to be factory workers with how high their stamina and crafting stats are.”
Not only that, but it seems they’re also quite resilient to diseases and even poisons, more so than I’d give any human credit for. No amount of training or poison resilience could amount to this level of resistance.
This is a peak factory worker build I’d love to have among my colonies in Dark Worlds. I suppose it’s no wonder that they eat so much if they can endure for so long.
“Lord Yvell… What are you planning, exactly?”
Oh, right. I guess I might’ve gone ahead of myself there.
“Esphera, tell me, would you be alright with letting your faithful gnomes die off naturally?”
“What?! Of course not!”
“Then, tell me, do you think it would be possible for the gnomes to reconcile with the residents of Starfell?”
“That… might prove difficult.”
“If the gnomes move out of Gnomewood and settle elsewhere, do you think they will fare much better?”
“I… cannot say for sure. Perhaps they would?”
“Incorrect.”
“What?”
Starfell’s crater region is one of the safest regions to start a civilization in at this very moment. The fact that there are barely any dangerous magical predators here is already a big plus for the weak-bodied humans. Not to mention, the mountain ranges formed by the impact of the meteor protect the region from most hostile weather patterns, and the land here is incredibly fertile.
What would that mean for the gnomes then?
Step out of the safe zone, and they’ll turn into dog food, that’s what.
This also ignores the far-reaching and likely long-lasting effects of Snide’s propaganda against the gnomish people.
For now, his influence only stretches as far as Starfell’s territory. But tribes from elsewhere traveling down the river come to trade rather regularly. In the process, some traders and travelers might carry his beliefs with them, thus spreading such negative perceptions of the gnomes.
In fact, some of that has likely already spread in small forms here and there, even before Snide’s recent actions. And his words only serve as amplifiers to resentment already existing within.
That would mean that even if the gnomes choose other partners to trade with, they will inevitably reach the same issue once more. Even worse, things could escalate into full-on crusades with extinction as the objective in mind. The gnomes would stand no chance.
Evolution can’t come soon enough to save their ass from natural selection.
Thankfully, however, we have our options for fixing this problem. Though, honestly, I didn’t want to come to this, given the moral complications of the subject. But it may very well be a necessary measure to ensure their people’s continued survival.
“Humans were not always humans in this world, correct?”
“Yes, that is correct. They were a lot… furrier, once upon a time.”
Yes, they used to be furries before Esphera decided she liked the look of humans better and altered them in their entirety. From their bodies, all the way to even their memories.
“Then, do gnomes always have to be gnomes?”
“What do you… Oh!”
That’s right.
Instead of committing to a build and losing the game of natural selection, why not change up the build entirely? We have a walking avatar editor in Esphera right here. Just switch up some traits and be done with it… is what I would have said if this were a game, but since this is actually real-life, it feels just a bit wrong.
In fiction, race changes and shifts in self-identity are often treated casually, as if they were just masks one could swap at will. For example, when a character is suddenly reborn as a pig, they often find little issue with the change and continue living as if nothing were wrong, sometimes explained away as instinct doing its work.
It’s rather jarring how little disconnect there is between their mental and physical states, though there are some exceptions across fiction. It’s one of my primary critiques of the genre. And while Esphera herself may have the power to force it to work, whether it’s right to do so or not is another can of worms entirely.
I’m not a body purist myself, but directly altering another’s existence carries its own moral dilemmas, regardless of intent. In doing so, you risk erasing parts of their prior identity—and the history tied to it.
In many ways, it amounts to cultural erasure. Something Elynthys has already witnessed before, with the divine extinction of the furry race as they were transformed into humans.
Though it is undoubtedly the most pragmatic choice here, I suppose that at this point, it would amount to a question of whether the gnomes themselves want that or not.
“We can draft plans ahead of time and ask them whether they will desire such a radical change or not.”
“That will be for the best.”
Ideally, we would amplify their more positive racial traits while shoring up their weaknesses. And, for my own peace of mind—and to make the change easier to accept—it would be best to reshape them into a form not too different from the one they already know. I think I know exactly how to do that.
“Esphera, oh Goddess of the Silver Flames~”
“Um, yes, Lord Yvell?”
“How do you feel about getting dwarves to worship you?”
“Dwarves? What are dwarves?”
“You will see soon.”
I still need to draft up the right character build for dwarves, after all.
“Hey, do you have a minute?”
“... Oh. Ori? What’s up?”
It’s late at night now.
I was busying myself with working on the dwarven design while lying on my sleeping bag, using the spell stone to power what looked like a holographic tablet—another one of Ramube’s excellent products.
LifeMakerUI.exe was an excellent tool for drafting plans for creatures you’d like to make, but it wasn’t all too optimized for the job. Think of it like comparing some substandard sketching program + a basic word editor program to a fully-decked out professional illustration program.
It was still rather barebones for what it was, so I had to put in some extra time to get the details right.
“Are you busy with something? That image floating in the air… is that supposed to be a goblin or something?”
“... It’s supposed to be a dwarf.”
“You suck at this.”
“... Yeah.”
“Here. Let me try.”
Ori’s godly aesthetics have come to my aid once more. She manipulated the holographic screen with ease, cooking up a rough image of a male dwarf. She even drew a short young boy next to the dwarf, which I suppose would be their younger version.
“I didn’t expect you to get the image of a dwarf done this well. Don’t BL artists have a fixation for really beautiful, sharp, and curvy art styles? The gritty, rounder shapes that dwarves are typically depicted as don’t really fit that typical style of drawing.”
“Not every artist is bound to a style, you know. While there are definitely some that get hyper-focused on one style, making it their signature art style, there are others that love to experiment.”
“You sure went above and beyond for your BL fan fics.”
“You got a problem with that?”
“No. Not at all. If anything, I’m grateful.”
Ori looked surprised for a moment. Did I say something strange?
“... I was expecting you to make a jab at me again.”
“Ah. No. Well, if I wanted to, I could’ve, but I do need to say my thanks where it is needed. And… I’m thankful for the help you’ve given me here in another world.”
“...”
Honestly, while I’ve been getting used to working on things here in Elynthys and improving my larping game, I still find myself feeling a little terrified of what might happen if I did something wrong. So, it’s comforting to me to have someone who can make up for my mistakes and… well, it’s just nice to have another person from Earth around.
Ramube is nice company to have too, but he’s a gorilla. There’s kind of a deep gap in our perspective on things because of that.
I mean, as deeply entrenched in the internet as he might be, he’s probably never paid taxes before, has he? I’m sure those orangutans that drive golf carts sure haven’t.
“... You’ve been acting really differently today, Vell. I wanted to talk about that.”
Oh… I suppose I have. Ori’s probably never seen me go ballistic like that before, so that impression is earned.
“Fight or flight, I always choose fight. Pretty stupid, I know. But it’s second nature at this point.”
“Is there any reason for that?”
“Other than some deep-seated trauma from my younger years? Not really.”
“Typical.”
“Right?”
High school is just the worst, isn’t it?
It’s easily one of the most miserable periods a person can go through, given the wrong flip of the coin. It’s always been one of the most hit-or-miss experiences, depending on who you ask.
Some people come out of high school happy and hopeful for the future. Others just drag themselves through the mud. Some schools are no better than prisons (which is an exaggeration, of course)—depending on who’s really in control. And I’m not necessarily talking about the staff here.
“You’re not going to trauma dump on me, are you?”
“God no. But you’ve got your answer now, don’t you?”
“I guess…? It’s not exactly satisfying to hear only a tidbit of the truth, though.”
“Maybe over a drink or two.”
“I’m not a drinker.”
“Neither am I, but a certain dumbass used to often pull me around for a swig or two.”
Fucking Luke.
“... Maybe I can settle for one drink one day.”
“Oh? Alright, then. Want me to invite Luke as well? We could make it a small offline drinking party of sorts.”
“... You’re so fucking dense sometimes.”
“...”
While I’m not sure if Ori was satisfied with my answer or not, she left regardless, leaving me alone to think to myself.
“Trauma, huh…”
If we want to prevent random acts of violence against the gnomes from happening again—and keep the people of Starfell from leaving ugly scars on gnomish history—then we’ll have to make a show of it. Another big, grand display to knock some sense into those idiots.
Just you wait, Snide. I’ll be sure you won’t get your way.
