The Collapse — Year 2768 — The Galactic Federation has collapsed. Seven centuries of expansion across the stars ended not with a war, but with silence. The central AI that governed interstellar trade routes went dark. Supply lines disintegrated overnight. Entire systems were cut off from civilization.

The Frontier — In the chaos, asteroid belts became the most valuable territory in the galaxy. Roids — rich in Gold, Crystal, and Plutonium — are the only currency that matters now. Warlords, rogue commanders, and desperate colonists race to claim them.

Your Mission — You are one of them. A commander of a single planet, armed with nothing but a shipyard and a dream. Build your fleet. Research forgotten technologies. Mine the roids. Form alliances — or betray them. The galaxy doesn't care about your morals. It only respects power.

The Rules — Every 30 seconds, a tick passes. Resources flow. Ships are built. Fleets arrive at their targets. Battles are resolved in cold, mathematical precision. There are no second chances. No save files. No mercy.

Now — The galaxy is open. The roids are waiting. The only question is: who will you become?

The Golden Era — Planetarion dominates the browser gaming scene. Three game modes battle for supremacy: Traditional (30-minute ticks for the patient strategist), Fast (2-minute ticks for the adrenaline junkie), and the legendary Hyperfast (10-second ticks — pure chaos, pure glory). Around 300 commanders per server, connected via IRC and MSN, refreshing pages between classes. No graphics needed — just numbers, spreadsheets, and betrayal.

Peak Addiction — The community hits its peak. School librarians across the Netherlands notice a suspicious trend: students flooding the media center during breaks and open periods, frantically clicking through what looks like "homework." Diplomas are endangered. Surprise backstabs during lunch breaks lead to revenge attacks (x3), which lead to counter-revenge, which lead to failing grades. In a pre-AI era, you couldn't even get ChatGPT to write your book report while you coordinated a 50-fleet assault on your friend Maik's planet. Dark times for education. Golden times for galactic warfare.

The Decline — Development stalls. Updates stop coming. The servers run on autopilot while the creators move on. By 2004 the galaxy goes dark — not with a bang, but with a 404. Veterans log in one last time, stare at their empty inboxes, and quietly close the tab. Some whisper that a few rogue servers survived in Eastern Europe, but nobody can confirm.

The Long Silence — Twenty years pass. The world gets smartphones, social media, and AI that can do your homework (finally). But in group chats and late-night conversations, the veterans still remember. The perfectly timed fleet landing at 3 AM. The alliance betrayal that cost you 200 roids. The friend whose planet you destroyed — who didn't talk to you for a week. Some wars never end.

RoidRacer Rises — Built from scratch by two friends who couldn't let go of the dream. Modern tech, classic soul. 30-second ticks. Research trees. Orbital cannons. Planetary shields. Fog of war. Everything that made the original great — rebuilt for a new generation. The homework excuse is back, but this time the AI can handle it. The galaxy is open again.