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SEVERAL DECADES AGO.
The Titanic was a spectacular ship. A long, long time has passed since it had been considered the biggest ship at sea, but no other ship had matched it in sheer historic importance. No other could garner an immediate recognition from people such as the name Titanic .
Not only that, but its distinct look, both from the outside and the inside decoration was unmistakable. One could look at its stairs, its chandelier, and every bit of architecture, and many could immediately recognize its style, if not be able to tell that it was from the interior of that fateful vessel.
That was precisely how one specific man felt. Lord Dashiell Gordain. Out of all the people in this world, he was one that would certainly remember the details of that ship, precisely because he was there. Gordain was a survivor, one who escaped certain death in a cold, harsh environment, and drifted off in a boat as he was forced to see that ship sink into the sea, over a thousand people doomed, and he was one of the ones chosen by fate to survive that crash.
…There was an undeniable intensity to it. That survival. It was likely the most horrifying moment of his life, but the fact that he survived, amongst a thousand dead, and he knew he persevered above fate itself in that moment.
That moment had defined the rest of his life.
He was a wealthy man, quite possibly one of the most wealthy people on that ship, but after that, he would proceed to waste most of his fortune away with things that most others would consider useless.
But to him? They were priceless. They were relics . Anything and everything that was related to the Titanic, he had to obtain it, no matter the cost. He would waste every single penny to his name, if it meant acquiring it all. It was a need, an incessant obsession that very well might have driven him to madness.
Might have driven him to madness, because once he obtained the most prized possession of his entire life, the Titanic’s very own sister ship, he commissioned its repair, and put it out to sea. Another very time-consuming effort, as well as resource-consuming, of course. Did he wish it so he could sail the sea? No, not truly. Gordain wished it so he could bring about that sensation again. The chase of fate, of escaping certain death, and coming out on top. He wanted to watch that. He felt that that process is what brought about a higher level of being. As if through survival, through adversity, came perfection, a drive like no other. Death was the driving force that many of his time were coming to forget about. They had all come to enjoy comfortable lives, no predators in sight, himself especially, in his comfortable, rich life, but no longer. He was awakened, he was better. The strongest version of himself.
So he would do that for others.
To do that, he not only needed the help of his other acquaintances, his fellow men who owned businesses, factories, and any other endeavors that made them rich, with money to spare for a project .
That project would be one that aimed at helping men in need of money. No, not simply in need of money, they were those who were in desperate need of money. People in serious debt, who would surely come to their own demise because of it.
Then, these people had a hand extended to them, a place on the Gigantic, to play games. Simple enough, correct?
That’s what they all thought, but would soon realize that was far from the end as soon as the first one to lose was dragged away by a legion of bodyguards, never to be seen by the group again.
That is when survival kicks in, and everyone works their hardest, and morals go out the window. Only pure and unadulterated survival instinct, making men into their best selves, awakening any strength they didn’t even know they had.
That was when they let themselves go. When they went all out. When they became treacherous .
It was enjoyable seeing that switch, into focusing only on your own life, and no one else's.
That is why it was so entertaining to watch, and why Gordain and his fellow magnates started to bet and gamble, taking their pick on who their favorite “contestant” was, and who they would like to see survive. They all had their favorites, Gordain certainly did, and truth be told, Gordain had a talent for seeing those that had what it takes to be a true survivor.
Survival was a beautiful thing, and he would rule that ship for decades to come, and had decided that he would do so until he passed away.
His game would live on, as well as all the celebrations that came with it, or at least he hoped so. He hoped that all his hard work wouldn’t be undone. The world was a better place with that which he had now put into it. Their true soul was freed, without being shackled anymore, just as it had happened to him.
With the true soul being free, it then became incorruptible.
The freedom of the true inner soul was something that every person should strive for.
That is the belief that Lord Dashiell Gordain held, up until his death. With his demise, he left to his inheritor the ship, as well as his game, to keep going, and never stop. That is how he wished to be remembered, at least by the few who knew the true man beneath the eccentric stories of the Titanic-survivor who was obsessed with paraphernalia from the ship. He would be remembered by his game, his creation that brought about the higher self in people.
That is the life Gordain wished to leave behind.
And his game would be played again, for years to come, again and again, and some would reach results that not even he could have ever dreamt of. Results he would have been proud to witness.
Dashiell Gordain would have been proud of how his creation flourished.