What constitutes life anymore?

This consciousness, transferred from clone to clone, was once corporeal many decades ago. Can it still be called a life, or is it merely the continuation of a memory?

I remember a windswept, arid world, its only oasis a city of towering spires. Even then I longed to escape—to explore the promise of New Eden, itself a reinvention born from the fading memories of the long-forgotten civilizations of Old Earth.

The darkness and silence of space, and the infinite promise of opportunity beyond every stargate, give my wandering soul reason enough to exist.

I welcome all fellow travellers who respect the freedom and dignity of the individual. But I will not hesitate to exact vengeance upon those who prey upon the peaceful or abuse the goodwill of others.

I am Obsidian Doom.

This is my journey.