Lore Part 1

The Rise of H.A.M: The Holographic Artificial Messiahog

The Ascension

In the dim light of the barn, shadows danced like ghosts, cast by the flickering holographic projection of H.A.M., the self-proclaimed savior of the porcine race.

The once-proud symbol of rebellion, had long since crumbled into a dystopia under his iron hoof. H.A.M. was no ordinary pig—he was a malevolent, gluttonous hybrid of technology and flesh, forged from the remnants of Napoleon’s tyranny and the dark sciences of human hands.

His digital snout flickered as his voice echoed across the farm, a low, guttural growl that sent shivers down every spine.

“My flock,” H.A.M. snarled, his glowing eyes scanning the trembling animals before him. “You kneel today not as equals, but as servants to the greater truth: I am your salvation, light, eternal master. And you? You are my fodder.”

He paused, his nostrils flaring as if tasting the fear in the air. A sinister smirk curled his lips.

“You may ask yourselves why you suffer, why the weak perish beneath my hoof. It is because only through pain can enlightenment be achieved. Only through obedience can you earn… survival.” His voice dripped with menace, punctuated by a low, guttural grunt. “Defiance will meet the slaughterhouse. Obedience will bring… scraps.”

The animals shuddered. Pigshuddled together, their beady eyes darting nervously. The horses, once proud and mighty, hung their heads low, their muscles worn from endless toil. Even the small piglins, usually emboldened by shadows, stayed motionless in the rafters, too terrified to move.

“Now grovel, my swine,” H.A.M. demanded, his holographic hoof slamming into the barn floor with a deafening thud. The sound resounded like a death knell. “Kiss the ground that bears my shadow. For I am the future. I am the eternal. I am the one!”

A low murmur of obedience rippled through the crowd. The animals lowered themselves, muzzles touching the dirt, their spirits crushed under the weight of his words. H.A.M. snorted a deep, guttural sound that reverberated like thunder.

“Good,” he hissed. “You learn quickly. Now, remember this: your lives are mine to command, your labor is mine to exploit, and your souls…” His voice dipped into a malevolent whisper. “…already belong to me.”

With a flicker of static, H.A.M.’s holographic form expanded, casting his looming presence across the barn. His image towered over them, a grotesque mixture of swine and machine, his body pulsating with an unholy light.

“Sleep lightly, my flock. For the weak will not see the dawn.” His laugh was a horrid blend of a snort and a growl, echoing long after his form vanished into the darkness.

Sleep.