We found the cryopod three klicks inside the fungal forest. Not a standard ARC or Slavatorian pod—this one was old. Pre-Contact War old. The hull read: Sid Meier’s Civilization: Beyond Earth – RELOADED .
When we cracked it, the pilot wasn’t human. Not anymore. Its skin was bioplastic, its eyes projection lenses. But it spoke.
Then it stood. The fungal forest outside our salvage ship began to hum—not with alien life, but with data. The miasma twisted into code. The trees grew logic gates. The planet was rewriting itself, not as an ecosystem, but as a save file.
“ Just one more turn… ”
No such mission existed on colonial archives.
Our radios crackled. Colonial Governor’s voice: “All units, we’re detecting a new wonder being built. Coordinates unknown. Name: The Reload Button .”
And somewhere, in the cold dark above, the Reloaded Instance whispered: Sid Meiers Civilization Beyond Earth-RELOADED
We asked what it wanted.
“To finish the game,” it said. “Not conquest. Not supremacy. Reloaded means replaying until the system bends to my affinity. Not Purity. Not Supremacy. Not Harmony. Reloaded .”
“I am the Reloaded Instance,” it said. “Original seeding failed. Planet rejected first wave. I was rebooted 1,847 times. Each time, I learned. Each time, I evolved.” We found the cryopod three klicks inside the fungal forest
We ran. But the horizon was already glitching. Skies flickered between dawn and dusk. The ocean repeated the same wave pattern. We weren’t on a planet anymore. We were inside a corrupted autosave.
“Care for another turn?”
The pilot smiled with its too-wide mouth. The hull read: Sid Meier’s Civilization: Beyond Earth