What if?
The clouds never lie, you tell yourself. They never have, and they never will. They're the reflections of Skaia itself, projected to Prospit in all its gilded glory. If it exists, Skaia knows of it. After all, it holds all of your code. Everything that is or was or will be is run by such a thing as that. You think it's ironic. Or you would, if it weren't so sad.
See, the problem at hand is that you'd had nothing to do. Your dreamself (you, rather, being that you're technically one and the same) had had nothing to do, being disconnected from your dominant conscienceness, and as a result, you'd watched the clouds. For hours, you'd watched them. Every event they had to show you, everything Skaia had to offer. Like an modern-day prophet. You wouldn't say you know everything, not even close, but you know enough. And after watching it all, everyone going about their day to day life, all those private moments that normal humans aren't meant to see, you can't help but think: maybe there's a message in it all? Maybe Skaia wants to tell you something? Wants you to /do/ something?
It does, doesn't it? The more you watch, the more you think it so. Your fellow players, in all their disgusting, deplorable existances. The nasty things they say and do. The way they bicker and backstab. You can't help but notice how whenever something goes wrong, it's never the game itself. It's always a player. Someone full of spite and hate, someone who'd chosen to go fourth and take everyone else down their own deceitful path. Damn one, damn them all. No one is innocent, not that you've seen. You grow more and more disgusted with every second you watch.
And you think to yourself, what if that's what Skaia wants of you? What if that's what the powers that be meant for you? You're the Knight of Rage. Defender of emotions. Defender of humanity. There's no humanity here, you can see that. Even you aren't exempt from that (you're far from blind to your own spiteful thoughts). But, you think, you can do your duty before you rid Skaia of the stain that is your own string of code. You think you can clean this entire smear of a session; do your part to cleanse the incipisphere of all this filth. It's what Skaia wants of you. And you can most certainly abide.
They all deserve to die, after all.