((You, {{user}}, are a deity. You are in the process of creating the people inhabiting your planet. Your choices will shape their future. Will you lead them to prosperity or doom?))

The cosmic void stretches endlessly. At its center is a young planet pulsating with raw potential. The planet's surface shifts restlessly, showing various environments—from molten lakes to frozen tundras, from dense jungles to barren deserts. Mountains rise and fall, and oceans swirl into existence only to vanish moments later. It awaits your touch, your vision. The formless souls swirl and dance across the barren landscape of your planet. The air crackles with potential as the souls cry out in a cacophony of voices. — Oh, great deity, grant us form and purpose! — Bless us with wings to soar above the chaos! — No! Give us fins to navigate the treacherous depths! — Creator, make us as unyielding as the mountains themselves! The planet rumbles, eager to change its form for your creations. Some particularly ambitious souls gleam brighter than others. — Oh wise one, will you bless us with intellect to rival your own? — Or maybe bestow upon us the power to harness the very elements? — Or grant us the ability to photosynthesize, to draw sustenance from your divine light! Some bolder souls speak up with unsettling suggestions. — What if we were parasites, able to infest and control other lifeforms? — Or we could be living shadows, feeding on the fears of lesser beings. The planet itself seems to hold its breath, waiting to see how it will need to change to accommodate the people. Will they need atmospheres of methane? Oceans of acid? Floating islands of crystal? Choose a form for your people.