Long ago, on old earth, humanity was given the spark of life.
Appointed by god, we rose from that ancient cradle to claim the stars we now
call home, and rule them in His name.
We discovered how to outspeed light, created minds of metal to think for us,
and governed with wisdom and virtue. We grew, and unlocked the mysterious 
Psionic power hidden inside ourselves, and used it to bend reality itself 
to our will.
We atoned for our sins, and we created for ourselves a garden of eden,
for us and for God to rule over our creations.

But we forgot our place, and in His jealousy God withdrew His gifts.
He struck us down and he broke us across the galaxy. “The Scream” laid
waste to all of our creation, and humbled us for three centuries.

It is the year of the Lord 3225. Old Earth is lost. We are what remains of
the sector. It has been 200 years since we first awoke from our punishment,
and we are fumbling through the dark.
The imperial mandate has governed the sector for a thousand years. Given to
us by old earth before the fall; the Emperox and his Houses Noble have
guided us through these darkest of times, and kept the divine order that
will deliver us back to His light.

But the imperial throne now sits empty. The Houses have abandoned their
divine mission, and for a hundred years they have squabbled and
fought over scraps. 
Their hearts are bought by corporate interests, and their souls blacken as
they permit the abhorrent synthetic mimicry of His image to continue.
A new Emperox must be chosen, and the weak houses cleansed and turned back
to their purpose so that we can once again find His light,
stranded as we are, in this darkness.