|The Astral Plate|
|Plane of Existence|
|Nine Abstract Circles|
| The Nine Circles
Baseplates of Oblivion
BrikHell is one of the major BrikVersian Afterlives, most famously visited by the VoL Leonidus in The LEONIDUS Saga. It is unclear whether there is an opposite BrikHeaven in the classical sense; the closest BrikVerse equivalent may be Volhalla.
Not all souls retire to BrikHell upon departure from the material realms, but a majority do. Of those that don't, many are stolen away from their final resting places by enterprising daemons looking to increase their standing in infernal society. Here, in this desolate place, souls are punished for the sins they committed in life, suffering eternally the woes of poetic justice. Or as eternally as can best be expected, what with all the regime changes and the seemingly innumerable entrances and exits into and out of the joint.
The Nine Circles
BrikHell is a functionally infinite plane of existence between the endless expanse of the Oblivion Baseplates and the ever expanding Nine Circles. Each of the Circles is named after the sin those daemned souls who inhabit it are now suffering for committing in life. The Circles aren't technically real circles or levels, as such. That's merely a convenient abstract model to describe the division of sinners in BrikHell. Each Circle seems an infinite and bleak expanse itself, littered with the domains of daemonic lords and daemned villages filled with sinners and daemons.
Limbo, the First Circle
Limbo is reserved for those souls that never actively participated, that never took joy or interest in the struggles of life in the BrikVerse. They are the lurkers and the long inactive. These souls never harbored any malicious feelings toward their lives and their universe. Rather, they were simply ambivalent...neither virtuous nor vile. It's okay, though, a lot of the coolest people hang out around here.
Butthurt, the Second Circle
Butthurt is the final destination for assholes, spoilsports, and whiners. Everything in life was a personal affront to them and they never, ever learned to take a joke. Something was always on the block to complain about. Most commonly, this had to do with perceived rules and regulations or some perceived slight against them in terms of social status. Butthurt souls would always try to overcompensate, lashing out against their so-called tormentors and just generally ruining everyone else's good time. Second Circle Daemons always carry Anal Disruptors to torment their charges, all the while continually belittling them with all the gusto of a bored Forum Moderator.
Plagiarism, the Third Circle
Plagiarism is one of the shittiest battlefields in Existence. Filled with the animated scraps of some of the coolest creations in the whole of the BrikVerse, from starships to super death tanks, the Third Circle is constantly at war. Plagiarist minifig souls, dressed in the spiffiest, most heroic duds imaginable, pilot these creations and wield weapons of seemingly immeasurable power against one another in proud single combat. But a closer look reveals the worthlessness of these creations, duds, and other such items. All copied, over and over again, each facsimile growing crappier than its predecessors. Starships crash when they attempt to open broadsides, heroic gear crumbles to dust at the slightest movement, and all the while, the Plagiarists continue shamefacedly trying to prove that theirs is original and best. They are constantly reminded by the hounding Third Circle Daemonic Mob, booing and hissing and throwing popcorn at them, of their eternal failure.
Munchkinism, the Fourth Circle
Munchkinism is a very easy place to get around. A visitor can see for miles and the whole place is open, flat land with little obstruction. Though packed to the brim with daemned souls, the souls here are very short and maintain very little substance. One could almost walk directly through them, the slightest contact dispersing their essences for days. Sometimes, Munchkins will attempt to puff themselves up and reclaim their former glory but this is almost always accidentally put to a stop by a passing Fourth Circle Daemon, on his way to a game with friends or out on an early morning jog. Really, a lot of Daemons see this as the cush job in BrikHell and are envious of the Daemons who display the sheer aptitude necessary to be placed there.
Cowardice, the Fifth Circle
Cowardice is a rough and tumble Circle. Naked minifig souls are forced by powerful Fifth Circle Daemons to fistfight one another or the giant magikal beasts they summon. They're forced to march in army formations against some constantly encroaching fear-infested darkness eternally on the horizon. They're forced to read fanfics longer than War and Peace and watch shitty anime for hours on end. It's a sickening, gut-churning atmosphere filled with the tense, shrill screams of cowardly souls. New fears and torments are devised daily in this place, reeking of a dark and foul imagination. Some whisper that the Circle itself is even sentient, gorging itself on the continuing nightmares of its inhabitants.
Heresy, the Sixth Circle
Heresy is an insane asylum, to be sure. None of the souls here have any idea who they even are anymore. They simply suffer the endless torment the Sixth Circle Daemons inflict on them. Their faces are redrawn with sharpies and burned with lighters. Some even have no faces, having had them removed via sandpaper or covered over in paints. These souls writhe uncontrollably on the ground, gasping for air they will never again suck in. Their bodies are melted in ovens and reshaped with Nega Parts, globs of Green Stuff, and crumbly, old play dough. They're covered over in nail polish and random decals, patchwork horrors all. Most notable of the Sixth Circle Daemons is a many-headed Dog named Fluffy. Fluffy is rumored to have been a very small HumaniVerse dog before it came here but now it's a big dog in a little park, renowned for chewing souls up and leaving them covered in slobber and teeth marks.
Pacifism, the Seventh Circle
Pacifism is a wartorn field. It's not particularly cool or glorious, like the final overview shot of a forum battle with no supporting context. It just is. The Seventh Circle Daemons are split into factions, each vying for temporary dominance in various wargames. Notable pacifists are shoved inside of them, along for each visceral moment of violence. They feel every cut and blow. They feel their claws raking through their opponent's intestines. And there is absolutely nothing they can do about it. Those not riding around in demons are forced into cyborg bodies, summoned monsters, and other such creations. They are taunted with failed peace accords, lulls in the fighting, and pretty green fields that soon get trampled into blood and mud.
Cheating, the Eight Circle
Cheating is a mountainous place, piles of Dice lying scattered about as far as the eye can see. Here, minifig souls can see the Dice. The artifax of fate are plenty and painfully obvious. Here, Cheaters are forced to break the Dice apart and haul the fragments from one place to another. They're forced sometimes to dig holes and bury the fragments inside them. Occasionally, Cheaters are rewarded by their Daemonic Overlords by getting to keep whole dice. They can manipulate events by pushing, stacking, and building with these Dice but the results are never in their favor. Eighth Circle Daemons watch their labors carefully and swoop into to alter values and rolls as the Cheater performs them. Even their rewards are always Crit-Fails in this daemned place. Cheaters, after all, never prosper.
Anorakism, the Ninth Circle
Anorakism is Chaos Incarnate. Nothing makes sense here. Everything is random. The Ninth Circle Daemons lie about, letting their imaginations roam, augmented by all manner of drugs and devices. Those thoughts and dreams become real via the magik of the realm. The Ninth Circle Daemons are the most numerous of the Nine Daemonic Clans and so their augmented realities smash against one another and mingle like waves and eddies in a vast ocean of possibilities. If a visitor can block it out, it's really just a bunch of dudes getting, like, so high but Anoraks have no such ability. They are forced to perceive each stream of consciousness as though it were absolutely real. They can sense a tantalizing thread, weaving its way through the combined visions, a commonality of consciousness and sentient awareness of existence. Try as they might, however, no Anorak has ever escaped this Devilish Snare. Whatever logik or rules-lawyering they employ, they are always defeated by the winding, wending, incomprehensible, totally fudged bullshit realm. And that's as it should be. Anoraks are the lowest of the low, combining the sins of each other Circle into one. Their one overarching shared trait is their utter dismissal of fun. They seek only to win, to prove victorious and thus prove superiority and self-worth. All that beautiful imagination flowing around them and they can only ever think of trying to find a way out, a way to beat some perceived system.
The Baseplates of Oblivion
|"...and thus it was decreed, that Asterios's soul shalt be shattered unto 15,000 pieces by the grace and justice of the Almighty Banhammer, never to be reformed."|
|-Book of Stubby, 09:37|
The Baseplates of Oblivion are an impossible expanse of featureless gray baseplates. It's unclear whether they are arranged in an infinite flatland or stacked in levels like the abstracted model of the Circles, continuing downward forever. Rumor says, if you go down far enough, there are Space For Rent signs all over the place. The 15,000 minifigs of Asterios linger down here, lined up in row after generally unimpressive row. Obviously, the number is biblically abstracted as well, for it is also known that the lower demons of BrikHell, its massive armies, armed with their Antimortallium Swords and chanting the Number of the Beast ("good good good") into the darkness, are all shards of that broken soul. The Armies insist that they are actually the rulers of BrikHell, if anyone is, simply because there are more of them.
In addition to all the various Daemned Souls, the Nine Daemonic Clans oversee their punishments. Upon achieving daemonhood, a newbie daemon is tested to determine his or her aptitudes. The newb can then make a choice to join a particular Clan, with very strong encouragement to join the clan their aptitude testing dictated to them, whereupon they receive further testing to weed out undesirables and finally training to fulfill their assigned functions. The Clans rarely interact, except to duke it out over who gets to be next Glorious Leader of Imperial BrikHell.
There are many types of Daemons besides, with a truly bewildering array of tasks and titles.
There are also several different types of monsters and other banished creatures wandering the hellish wastes. Refugees from the RealVerse, they are dangerous adversaries to all who cross their path.
Finally, several Fallen Angels have chosen to make their homes in BrikHell for recruitment or entertainment purposes.
Each Circle is riddled with both open portals and secret passageways that connect them together. Portals and secret ways also abound which connect to the RealVerse or other dimensions.