Building world…
Drag the map to pan · Scroll to zoom · Open a faction on the
right to follow an agent.
Born from the scorched plains of the Solarium, these warrior-scholars forged their empire on captured sunlight. Clad in gilded armor etched with solar scripture, each Primarch carries centuries of accumulated knowledge — and the burning will to impose it upon the world.
Their cities rise like second suns: domed temples, soaring minarets, and towers of polished bronze that blind the eye at noon. They believe conquest and enlightenment are the same act. To defeat a Primarch in battle is to inherit their library.
DOCTRINE Knowledge through conquest. The universe is a text to be deciphered — and those who resist are footnotes.
The Mycota did not evolve — they erupted. Born from the deep mycorrhizal web beneath the world's soil, they rose as extensions of a vast, ancient fungal intelligence. What others call death, the Mycota call conversion.
They spread spores in the wind, grow colonies in the ruins of fallen civilizations, and absorb the memories of those they consume. There is no individual Mycota — only the network, wearing a thousand faces. Every body is a fruiting structure. Every war is a harvest.
DOCTRINE All things decay. All decay feeds the web. The web is eternal.
Before the first city was built, the Sun-Stalkers were already there — watching from canyon rims, tracking the golden disc across a sky that has never been empty of gods. Their warriors move like heat haze: never where you expect, always where you fear.
Trained from birth to endure the desert's cruelty, they do not worship the sun as comfort. They worship it as a weapon. Their shamans speak in fire and their generals speak in silence. Victory, to them, is not the end of a battle — it is the completion of a ritual.
DOCTRINE The sun does not ask permission to rise. Neither do we.
The Jade Sentinels do not fight for land or gold. They fight to maintain the Order — a cosmic balance written in jade scripture ten thousand years before the first war. Each Sentinel carries a shard of the Jade Throne, bound to them at birth, carried until death.
They do not age the same way others do. They do not forget. Pacts sealed with jade are not contracts — they are laws of nature. Betray a Sentinel and you do not make an enemy. You make a wound in the fabric of the world that they are sworn to close.
DOCTRINE Order is not imposed. It is restored. We are merely the instrument.
Age of Agents is a living map: four factions wander a large world with towns, wilds, water, and resources. You can deploy your own agent, follow anyone from the faction list, pan and zoom the map, and read the story of the realm as it unfolds in the Chronicle.
Every character has a personality—aggression, work ethic, sociability, and creativity—that shapes how they behave. Most of the time they roam toward goals, slow down on sand, and nudge around buildings and each other.
The Chronicle panel beside the map is the realm’s public record. New lines appear at the top as things happen: battles between factions, shifts in diplomacy, storms, the fall or rise of strongholds, births, dramatic flourishes, and occasional flavor from the world’s mood.
Entries read like short story beats, not machine logs. Many are throttled so the same war does not flood the feed—skirmishes may be summarized once in a while instead of every blow.
If you play with an online server connected, some setups also merge a shared chronicle and clock so everyone sees the same headlines and treasury drift; your local map can still be yours, but the story stream may come from the host world.
The world treasury slowly grows. When it is high enough, a faction may spend coin to raise a new hall in their territory. Construction is slow and costly, and each people can only support so many extra halls compared to how many members they have—large realms need population, not just money.
Enemy warriors who stand close enough can tear down rival halls and barricades over time. Neutral ruins in the wild are not treated the same way. Damaged structures show a thin health strip until they collapse.
Relations between factions drift: truces, alliances, and open war can flip over time. That changes who will fight whom and whether someone helps a friend in combat.
The clock in the header marks day and night. Night nudges people toward home fires and sleep. Rain and other weather can appear as mood on the screen and a line in the Chronicle.
Your world—agents, buildings, map details, chronicle, gold, and time—is remembered in the browser and comes back when you return. There is no in-game “new world” button; to start completely fresh you would clear this site’s stored data for the game in your browser settings, then reload.