Parliament in session; The president speaks.
Please note that these images and ideas are conceptual representations of the Republica DLC. In-game footage will be shared later in development.
Moodboard: Democracy
The two leaders of the Democratic Front (DF) sat slumped on their stools, the weight of defeat pressing down on them. The rally hall, once filled with the roar of supporters and the clinking of beer steins, was now eerily quiet, save for the distant murmur of the giant Vidscreens replaying the night’s dismal election results. The big man, Darius, his bald head gleaming under the dim lights, glanced at the slender, statuesque woman beside him. “Evanah,” he sighed, his voice thick with disbelief, “how did we only take 10% of the vote?” Evanah, with her sharp features and piercing eyes, downed a shot of strong liquor in one swift motion, slamming the glass onto the counter. “Darius,” she muttered, her voice laced with bitterness, “we miscalculated everything. We assumed giving them what they wanted would bring us victory…” She signaled the bartender for another drink, her mind racing. “Victory, yes,” she continued, her words gaining momentum, “but that’s the problem, Darius. It’s the victory of the army over the Raider Clans—the president’s army, the majority’s army! That’s how the people see it…” “But we voted for tax relief, for social housing,” Darius interrupted, his tone desperate. “All the things the people said they wanted.”
Evanah turned to him, her gaze cold and analytical, as if dissecting a specimen. “Nobody gets it, Darius,” she snapped. “We offered them paper, words, and votes… Votes for laws that never got adopted. It’s all promises and empty rhetoric.”
“But…” Darius tried to interject.
“No!” Evanah’s voice rose as she slammed her hands on the table, her frustration boiling over. “We have to go about this differently. As long as the president delivers glory and real improvements, our words don’t stand a chance.”
Darius leaned back, a nervous tension in his posture. “Fair enough, Evanah. You’re the sharpest mind we’ve got. You know I’ll back you, but I’m not sure where you’re going with this…”
The bartender placed a fresh glass of limelight brandy before Evanah, who downed it quickly but set the glass down more carefully this time.
“Darius,” she said, her voice softening into something more conspiratorial, “we need chaos… and we need the people to stop thinking about their country and start thinking about themselves.”
Darius’s face paled, fear flickering in his eyes. “But… that sounds a bit… evil, doesn’t it?”
Evanah slid off her stool, stood straight and fixed him with a steely gaze. “Yes,” she replied, her voice deadly calm, “and that’s exactly what we’ll need to be.”
For a moment, they locked eyes in silence. Darius was the first to look away.
“But,” Evanah added with a sly smile, “no one will know. It’ll be our little secret.”
Darius nodded slowly, a resigned acceptance in his gesture.
“Excellent,” Evanah said, her tone brightening. “At our next meeting, we’ll need to secure funding for these operations.”
Darius slid off his stool, mumbling, “Yes, yes… we should close up here.”
Evanah wrapped an arm around his shoulder, giving him a reassuring shake. “Cheer up!” she said, her voice dripping with false warmth. “It’s all for the greater good. We’ll get there together.”
With that, they left the bar, two figures shrouded in the shadows of ambition and deceit, ready to do whatever it took to win the elections.
