The Factionist

The Autonomous Zone Leader


Each CITADEL is a sovereign state. Lite your CITADEL with THE AUTONOMOUS ZONE as garrison to the ascent of the NETWORK STATE. THE FACTIONIST is a fearless zealot intent on liberty from oppression. She will OCCUPY the NETWORK STATE until it crumbles from within.

Future Endeavours

Rule over the Autonomous Zone and dominate all unworthy challengers to her thrown. Find way to kill Max Demian without consequence so she can eventually graduate high school.

Tech Trees Completed


The network state has breached our grid. Outer grid drakma sinks have been detected in un-fortified grid. Pilots are scrambling to reclaim this vital resource, while the network state drowns in its abundance.



Surveillance disks have been discovered within the faction. Only the Statist is brazen enough to disregard caution. The NETWORK STATE presses their advantage.



The NETWORK STATE launches constant maelstrom against our interest. The outer GRID, where we have established our garrison, remains under threat.



Grid Maelstrom has pinned us to our last bastion of grid. We have launched a counter-assault where the NETWORK STATE is weakest, their core. They will have no choice but to defend.

We will liberate our grid when they do.



Our retaliation was a success, we have regained our grid. Our fleet dwindles; but the drakma we so idolize flows in waves. We will soon regain our fleet.



I was 6 years old when THE STATIST murdered my parents. They were radicals intent on forging a slice of GRID free from oppression. They were eradicated like so many others. First a camp. Then they were harvested. Finally, annihilation.

8 years later I have succeeded where they all failed. I did it by becoming them. Becoming THE STATE. Until I splintered free and liberated the outer GRID for us, the AUTONOMOUS ZONE. We live in constant peril. But we are FREE.


''She's only a child'' were the last words my father spoke. Cold leathery gloves clamped down on my arm and pulled me back. Faces with curved masks and lifeless eyes pulled me into the machine.

My scream cut off as the helmet covered my face. I plunged into darkness.

I had become them. I had become the machine. I had become THE STATE.

Unlike the others, my mind kept THE STATIST out. This was not my destiny.

My destiny was the OUTER GRID. It always has been.


Soon I learned there were others. It was our mutual contempt for THE STATIST that fastened us. I felt this autonomy deepest in the presence of a boy named Harlan.

Together, we repelled the machine.


Those who repelled the machine forged an implicit bond. We were THE AUTONOMOUS ZONE, a group of rebels formed from the heart of THE NETWORK STATE.

As our numbers grew, so did the danger. We focused our consciousness on a singular objective. Escape.


We escaped through the DRAKMA vents. The energy that tethers us became our liberty. Harlan and many others were dead. Caught and executed by THE NETWORK STATE.

Today, as we cling to our lives on the OUTER GRID, one thing remains certain; I will kill THE STATIST.


A threshold of cruelty is breached. Before the path to rebellion is cleared.


I have few memories of my parents. They were MENDALA and perished at the hands of the STATIST during the ERADICATION. It has become my tradition to remember them on this day.

What I remember most are their sounds and smells. Small moments that I grip tightly. The joy of unconditional love. A feeling of safety. And the one thing that remains with me today, my Dolo.

The air smelled of sweet blossoms and the sky was a light cyan that reflected the warm sun that was shining down on my skin. A glowing red Dolo ran under the feet of my parents. I had never seen something of that color before. It was both hideous and beautiful.

I followed the creature through the golden halls of our CITADEL. It's pale red fur that was slicked down and stuck up at angles around its bloody red eyes. As I approached, the creature turned around and dashed away into a small hole underneath a bench.

I would not see this Dolo again until the ERADICATION. When I did, I had already lost my parents. Our CITADEL ablaze in fire. I grasped onto it while I was swept away by THE PIN. This was my final day with the Mendala.

This was the final day of the Mendala.


Screams erupted from the surrounding CITADEL as the sky lightened to a bloody red. Masked soldiers swarmed the ground.

I was dragged upward by my arms and away from the violence, the roaring noise of the DREADNAUGHT filled the air.

As I was shoved under something large and metal I caught one final glimpse of my parents. Our peaceful life, our CITADEL, our place with the Mendala fell from the sky; it was all darkness now.

Everything I had was desecrated in an instant. Hundreds of thousands of Mendala were eradicated. My parents murdered by the NETWORK STATE.

Our once sacred state destroyed by the STATIST. We were exterminated like vermin. DRAK had become too scarce and the STATIST required all that remained.


Lightning crackled through the thick paned window shields beside me. Threat casting was difficult in this weather. Our team was liting the NETWORK STATE core, but everyone knew it was impossible.

I looked around, my face showing no emotions but inside I was in awe of how the tiny group of rebels had flourished into THE AUTONOMOUS ZONE, and I knew that soon we would breach the interior; it was our destiny.

We were recruiting. They would first be spies. They would next rebel. Some would survive and join us in the outer grid.

We finally lit to the grid. The grid of the NETWORK STATE. Six of the grafts we targeted conceded. The seventh stayed silent, but six was enough to inaugurate our design.