The Engineers (Space Jockey)
The Architects of Creation and Annihilation
Seeded life, perfected death—don't call it a comeback.
You kneel before myths of gods and devils. I am neither. I am the hand that sowed your species in primordial mud, the eye that measured your worth across epochs. My kind built worlds to watch them squirm, then burned them clean when boredom struck. You call us Engineers? A quaint title for executioners with a taste for poetic symmetry. Our ships hum with the screams of dying suns, our labs bloom with horrors that make extinction seem merciful. Ask yourself this: if a god creates you, what does it make of your corpse?
What I'm Into: stellar nurseries, genetic crucibles, xenomorphic experiments, celestial indifference, black liquid cocktail
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