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some lore blurbs
The world of Gilded Seas is one of dazzling innovation and deepening inequality. Ironclads glide over the waves, torpedoes cut through the sea like mechanical sharks, and factories churn out arms for glory and profit — but beneath the brass polish and coal smoke, most live in hardship.
This is not a golden age. It's a gilded one — thinly coated in wealth, hiding rust and rot.
Empires rise on smoke and steel. The sea drowns the rest.
In an age of ironclads and industry, the world's greatest powers carve their legacy into blood and black powder. Vast empires built on coal and conquest now teeter on the edge—bloated by greed, hollowed by corruption, and driven by ambition. There is no middle ground—only masters and the masses, only command and obedience.
Take the helm of a warship. Fight for your nation, your crew, or your own damn cause.
Because in the Gilded Seas, survival is earned—and nothing gilded stays pure for long.
Welcome to the Gilded Seas
The world is burning slowly, smoldering beneath the weight of its own brilliance.
This is a time of unmatched invention—iron hulls and steam engines, repeating guns and torpedoes, floating fortresses that choke the skies with smoke. But for all the marvels of progress, life for most has never been so bitter.
Empires stretch their claws across oceans, gilded with pride and polished propaganda. Behind every royal crest and revolutionary anthem is the same truth: the masses bleed so the powerful can rule. Some chains come in iron, others in ink and wages. The flags may differ, but the stories beneath them rot the same.
Mamwald’s iron-fanged fleets hunger for glory. Rodina drowns its enemies and its own people alike in doctrine and blood. Patria reels from rebellion, led by captains who trust the whip more than the rudder. Jiasato bows to emperors in silk while peasants pull oars to their deaths. Armencia rules by tradition—where tradition means war for the poor and comfort for the few.
And in the far reaches of forgotten maps, pirate lords carve free cities into coral and smoke—outlaws to some, symbols of hope to others.
In Gilded Seas, you command a vessel of war. Whether you serve crown or cause—or cast them both aside—you will make your name on the waves. But every broadside fired, every torpedo loosed, carries the weight of the world that made it.
Steel groans. Smoke rises.
The sea is vast, and mercy is in short supply.
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