Nearly a millennium ago, we cast out into the void of space, riding our machines into the last frontier. Our solar system had been mapped, charted, observed, and theorized until it’s foreign soils were familiar to us who had never seen them. The cold moon, lifeless and imperious. The distant planets, Aithon shining second only to the sun, Anemoi of the endless icy plateaus, Skylla bathed in boundless oceans. All seen through metal eyes. All judged for life and found wanting.
Ponykind rose from it’s humble planet with eager hearts, seeking in the darkness other life. The universe was vast beyond reckoning, and the chances for alien civilization was as likely as not. In the golden days of the First Expedition, the three tribes competed with the Griffin kingdom, striving towards new galaxies, new resources. There was hope, and enthusiasm befitting the young races.
But we were alone. No matter how far we sailed through the stars, only desolate planets greeted us, drifting about cruel suns.
So we built. We colonized. We harvested.
We fought.
For in the grim darkness of the future, there is only war.