u/Unreal_Works_99

Hello Reddit!

I’m looking for a writing partner, or possibly a small group of writers, to help me develop a rather extensive fictional universe I’ve been working on for a very long time.

The setting is a modern-day world that blends science fiction, fantasy, horror, superheroes, kaiju, the supernatural, and a healthy amount of satire and occasional parody. Rather than being one enormous story with a single cast, I’ve been treating it as a collection of smaller projects that can stand on their own while still existing within the same universe.

I’ve actually been developing this for as long as I can remember, and would like to actually be able to do something with it in the near future.

Most of the material currently exists as notes, character information, setting details, story ideas, and lore in one enormous Word document that has grown to nearly 300 pages and around 100,000 words.

I actually like the fact that it’s organized this way. Instead of trying to develop the entire universe simultaneously, I can focus on one character, setting, faction, or story at a time and gradually build outward.

For example: Blue Ties — working title

This is the supernatural/horror side of the setting, following a character known as The Revenant, a man with some rather unusual and dark secrets of his own.

His stories can range from relatively grounded investigations involving criminals and serial killers to encounters with supernatural creatures, cryptids, monsters, cults, folklore, urban legends, and other strange phenomena.

The idea is to explore the darker and more mysterious corners of the world through his perspective, while still leaving room for the occasional bizarre or humorous situation.

I Kaiju -

This side of the universe focuses on giant monsters, kaiju, and human beings who have been forced to live in a world where things dozens and even hundreds feet tall actually exist.

One of the main characters is Mara Jensen, a genetically engineered giant super-soldier who has spent much of her life dealing with kaiju at very close range.

Another is Sven Friedheim, a descendant of the giant-killers found in medieval folklore. His story approaches the same part of the world from a very different perspective, focusing more on what it actually means for an ordinary human being to try to survive and make a difference in a world infested by giants.

Highrider -

This is the more action heavy and guns blazing side of the universe that focuses on a blend between vehicular warfare and military drama.

The main character is Caid Aarons, aka Highrider, a scorned and battered police officer who takes matters into his own hands when the justice system fails him.

His story becomes entangled with a bloodthirsty militia attempting to seize control of the country, while various otherworldly events unfold around him.

And those are only a few corners of the setting. There are superheroes, science-fiction elements, fantasy characters, strange civilizations, monsters, organizations, historical events, and plenty of other things that I haven’t even gotten into here.

The important thing is that none of this is meant to be one giant story that everyone has to work on at once.

I’d like different stories to feel like their own things while occasionally allowing them to overlap. A character from one story might eventually encounter someone from another, or some event might have consequences elsewhere in the setting, but I don’t want every character to constantly be meeting each other just for the sake of making everything connected.

I’m trying to make the idea of a crossover feel natural rather than forced. For example, if a killer car possessed by the soul of its last driver appears in a Blue Ties story, something like that could potentially show up in a Highrider story because it fits the world and the kind of things that happen in it. I want those connections to feel like they were always possible, rather than characters crossing over simply because I wanted to make a crossover.

What I’m looking for -

I’m still relatively new to writing. This has mostly been a hobby that I’ve worked on whenever I’ve had the time, and although I have a lot of ideas and worldbuilding material, I’m still learning how to actually turn those ideas into finished stories.

That’s where I’d like some help. I’m looking for people who enjoy writing and worldbuilding and would be interested in:

* bouncing ideas back and forth

* developing characters

* brainstorming stories

* pointing out problems or inconsistencies

* offering constructive criticism

* helping turn rough ideas into actual stories

* developing their own ideas within the setting

* and potentially collaborating on stories themselves

I’m not looking for someone to simply take my giant document and write it for me. I’d much rather find people who enjoy the creative process and want to build things together.

I’m very open to people who are interested in only one particular aspect of the universe.

You wouldn’t necessarily need to learn 100,000 words of lore before being able to contribute. If someone was primarily interested in the horror side, for example, we could focus on Blue Ties.

Someone else might be much more interested in the kaiju side, superheroes, science fiction, fantasy, or something else entirely.

Obviously I’m also not expecting anyone to just commit to this as like a second job or spend hours every week working on it, we all have our work schedules and personal lives that take priority. Even if you’re just interested in occasionally bouncing ideas around, helping develop a character, or critiquing a story when you have the time or feel up to it, I’d be interested in talking.

I’m still figuring out exactly what I’m doing, so I’m not expecting anyone interested to be immediately interested in this, but I would very much appreciate any help thrown my way.

I’m mostly hoping to find other creative people who enjoy throwing ideas around and seeing where they go.

Honestly, I'm not even sure if this is the right place to post this, but if this sounds interesting to you, I’d be happy to talk and show you more of what I’ve been working on.

I'm not the most knowledgeable about the 40k verse but from what I can understand the warp is essentially the in universe equivalent to hell.

I know about the War in Heaven story, but I'm aware that its title isn't referring to actual heaven.

So I'm curious if there is any kind of parallel to heaven in Warhammer?

Not just one green lantern, but the entire corps of I think 7000-ish members, and not just against the imperium of man, but the entirety of the 40k universe itself?

I’m not entirely certain.

That’s the worst part.

Have you ever had that feeling you sometimes get when you experience déjà vu. That strange, uncomfortable certainty that something happening in front of you has already happened before, even though you know perfectly well that it hasn’t.

Well, it’s happening to me now. 

Except this isn’t a place or a conversation.

It’s a person.

I think my new neighbor is the woman I’ve been seeing in my dreams.

I know how that sounds, and I’m sure there are going to be people reading this thinking something along the lines of, "So you moved next door to the woman of your dreams and you’re complaining about it?"

Believe me, that might be the case if they were actually dreams.

They’re not.

Not anymore.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

I should probably give you some context before I come across as completely insane.

I’ve always had unusually vivid dreams.

I think the correct term for them might be lucid dreams, although I’m honestly not sure. From what I’ve read, lucid dreaming usually means you’re aware that you’re dreaming and can control what happens.

That’s not exactly what I experience.

My dreams just feel real.

Sometimes they’re so convincing that I don’t realize I’m asleep until after I’ve woken up.

I once dreamed that I got out of bed, took a shower, got dressed, and went to work.

I worked an entire shift.

I ate lunch with a couple of coworkers.

I clocked out, went to see a movie, had dinner afterward, and drove home.

Then I went to sleep.

And that’s when I actually woke up.

The dream had been so detailed that I spent the next three days convinced my internal calendar was off.

I thought it was Thursday when it was actually Wednesday.

I showed up for an appointment twenty-four hours early.

I spent an entire afternoon wondering why everyone at work was talking about things I was absolutely convinced had happened yesterday.

They hadn’t.

At least, not in real life.

Eventually, I got used to it.

That’s the strange thing about something happening to you for long enough. No matter how bizarre it is, eventually it just becomes another part of your life.

I started thinking of the dreams as a second life.

Nobody else knew about them. Nobody else could remember the places I’d been or the people I’d met. But I could.

And, for the most part, I didn’t mind. Sometimes my dreams were better than my real life.

Sometimes they were worse.

The last few weeks have definitely been worse.

About two months ago, I started dreaming about some woman I’d never met.

At least, that’s what I thought at the time.

She was never the focus of the dreams at first.

That’s important.

I’d be dreaming about something completely normal. Walking through a park. Sitting in a restaurant. Standing on a crowded street.

Then I would get the feeling that she was nearby. The hairs on the back of my neck would stand up and id know she was there. 

Watching.

I never saw her clearly at first.

Not while I was dreaming, anyway.

I could see her perfectly when she was standing in front of me. Every detail of her face seemed obvious. The color of her eyes. The way she smiled. The way she moved.

But the moment I woke up, those details would disappear.

I knew what she looked like.

I just couldn’t remember.

Like trying to describe a face you’d seen in a photograph that someone had taken away from you. You only catch a glimpse of something and then it’s gone you know. 

I could remember that she was beautiful.

I could remember being afraid of her.

And I could remember that, for some reason, whenever she appeared, the dream would change.

It became harder to control.

Harder to wake up.

Harder to convince myself that none of it was real.

She was always there, somewhere in the background.

And over the last few weeks, it felt like she had been getting closer.

The dreams became longer.

More detailed.

And she appeared more often.

Then came last night.

It was the worst dream I’ve ever had.

It started normally.

That’s how they always start.

I was outside.

It was a beautiful day.

I could feel the warmth of the sun against my face and the wind moving across my skin. People passed me on the sidewalk, greeting me as they went.

I greeted them back.

I didn’t recognize any of them.

That wasn’t unusual.

There was nothing obviously strange about the place. It looked like an ordinary town. There were shops and cars and houses. People walking through the streets.

I remember thinking that I didn’t have a care in the world.

Then I felt it.

That feeling.

That nauseating dread that I had begun to associate with my nightmares. 

The one that had followed me through every dream for the last two months.

I was being watched.

I stopped walking.

Where was she?

The people around me were still moving.

Talking.

Laughing.

I looked around, expecting to see her somewhere nearby.

I didn’t.

Then someone screamed.

I hadn’t even looked up yet when the sky opened.

That’s the only way I can describe it.

It had to have been just after noon.

The sun was directly overhead.

Then the sky opened.

Everyone knew what that meant.

I didn’t understand, I couldn’t. 

Not at first.

But everyone else did.

People ran into buildings.

Others froze where they stood.

I saw a woman drop her groceries and fall to her knees.

Someone grabbed a child and pulled him into the nearest doorway.

Cars stopped in the middle of the street.

People screamed.

And then the darkness came.

A great shadow passed over us.

It eclipsed the sun.

I looked up.

And there she was.

A woman’s face.

Hovering above the world.

Filling the entire sky.

For a moment, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at.

My mind refused to process it.

Her face was impossibly large.

Miles wide.

Her eyes moved slowly across the world beneath her.

Across the buildings.

Across the streets.

Across the tiny people running for shelter.

Her expression was calm.

Almost bored.

Like she was looking down into something.

Something small.

Something contained.

I had never felt so insignificant in my life.

Not small.

Insignificant.

Like I wasn’t a person anymore.

Like I was an insect on the ground.

Then her eyes moved across the street.

Past me.

And stopped.

I felt relief for exactly one second.

She hadn’t seen me.

Her eyes had passed over me.

I could run.

I could find somewhere to hide.

Then her eyes moved back.

And stopped.

Looking directly at me.

I couldn’t breathe.

Everything around me became silent.

I could still see people running.

I could see them screaming.

But I couldn’t hear anything.

There was only her.

Her face.

Her eyes.

Looking down at me.

For the first time in my life, I understood what it felt like to be truly noticed.

Her expression changed.

She smiled.

Then I woke up.

I was sitting upright in my bed.

My sheets were soaked with sweat.

My heart was beating so hard that I thought something was wrong with me.

I didn’t go back to sleep.

I couldn’t.

I stayed awake until morning, trying to calm myself down, trying to tell myself that I was just stressed due to the move. 

And by the time the sun came up, I had convinced myself that the entire thing had been another nightmare.

Just another dream.

A particularly bad one.

Nothing more.

Then I started moving into my new apartment.

I’d signed the lease a few weeks earlier, but I hadn’t officially moved in yet. Most of my furniture was already there, and I spent the morning carrying boxes up the stairs.

Around noon, I was bringing another box inside when I heard a door open behind me.

“Need a hand?”

I froze.

The voice wasn’t familiar.

At least, not consciously.

But there was something about it made my stomach drop.

I turned around.

There was a woman standing in the doorway of the apartment next to mine.

She was smiling.

She was attractive.

Friendly.

Completely normal.

For several seconds, I just stared at her.

Then she tilted her head.

“Are you okay?”

I couldn’t answer.

Because I knew that gesture.

I’d seen it dozens of times before.

In my dreams.

Not her face.

Not clearly.

But that movement.

The slight tilt of her head.

The way she smiled afterward.

I had seen it I don’t know how many times.

I just couldn’t remember where.

“Sorry,” I finally said. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She laughed “Moving will do that to you.”

Then she held out her hand “My name’s Claire.”

I looked at it.

Her hand.

For some reason, that scared me more than anything else, but I shook it anyway. And the moment our hands touched, I remembered the dream.

Not all of it.

But enough. 

Her eyes.

Looking directly at me.

And that smile.

“Nice to meet you,” she said.

I let go of her hand.

“Yeah,” I said.

My mouth had gone completely dry.

“Nice to meet you too.”

Claire smiled again.

Then she went back inside her apartment, leaving me where I was. 

I stood in the hallway for a long time after her door closed.

After a while I got back to work, unloading and unpacking what I had brought with me, all while I could feel the familiar sensation of being watched. 

I tried convincing myself I was being ridiculous.

That I was connecting things that weren’t connected.

That my dreams had nothing to do with my new neighbor.

That people disappeared from cities all the time.

That the strange dreams I’d been having for the last two months were just dreams.

But I couldn’t stop thinking about the way everyone had run when the sky opened.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the woman’s face filling the sky.

And I definitely couldn’t stop thinking about what Claire had said.

Need a hand?

That simple unthreatening question stirred up so much that I couldn’t remember. 

Because in my dream, just before I woke up, I had seen something else.

Something I hadn’t remembered until I shook her hand.

Behind her face, far beyond the edge of the sky, there had been a room.

A small enclosed space that looked eerily similar to the layout of my new apartment.

I don’t know what that dream was.

I don’t know who Claire really is.

But I know one thing.

When I shook my new neighbor’s hand this morning, she smiled like she’d been waiting for me.

And tonight, when I go to sleep, I have a feeling I’m going to dream about her again.

Today I woke up with a bruise on my body.

 

And I live alone.

 

I know how that sounds, but hear me out.

 

When I woke up this morning, the first thing I noticed was the pain in my thigh. It wasn’t terrible, but it was enough to get my attention.

 

I pulled the blankets back and saw it.

 

There was a bruise on my left thigh.

 

But not just a regular bruise. This one was weirder than the ones I’ve had before. 

 

It was shaped like a hand.

 

Five distinct fingers wrapped around the outside of my thigh, with the palm pressed against the skin. There was even a darker spot where the thumb had dug into me.

 

I stared at it for probably a full minute before I got out of bed.

 

I tried to rationalize it. 

 

I tried to come up with an explanation.

 

Maybe I’d hit my leg against the bed frame.

 

Maybe I’d slept awkwardly.

 

Maybe I’d dreamed something and moved around more than usual.

 

The problem is that none of those explanations really made any sense to me.

 

I bruise easily.

 

Like really easily.

 

I have a weird type of hemophilia that causes me to develop bruises and welts from what most people would consider minor contact. If somebody pinches me, grabs me, or even hits me accidentally, I’ll usually have a visible mark within an hour.

 

The harder the contact, the darker the bruise.

 

So I know what a handprint looks like.

 

I know because it has happened before.

 

When I was in college, I nearly walked into traffic because I had my headphones in and wasn’t paying attention. A car came around the corner faster than I expected, and someone standing nearby grabbed me by the shoulder and yanked me backward.

 

They probably saved my life.

 

That night, I had a massive hand-shaped welt across my shoulder.

 

Five fingers.

 

A palm.

 

A thumb.

 

It looked almost exactly like the bruise on my thigh does now.

 

That’s how I know this is a man’s hand.

 

And this one looks the same.

 

Same size.

 

Same shape.

 

Same pressure marks.

 

Which would be strange enough if I lived with someone.

 

But I don’t.

 

I checked the locks on my front door as soon as I noticed the bruise.

 

Still locked.

 

Back door?

 

Locked.

 

Windows?

 

Locked.

 

I checked them twice.

 

Locked. 

 

I checked my doorbell camera.

 

Nothing.

 

No one came through the front door.

 

Nobody entered the house during the night.

 

At least, nobody I could see.

 

I spent the next few hours trying to convince myself that I was being ridiculous.

 

It was around noon that I finally managed to calm down enough to go on with my day. 

 

The thought of what could have caused it still lingered in the back of my mind throughout the day though. 

 

But I could still feel it. 

 

A handprint.

 

Larger than any man’s hand I’d ever seen before. 

 

I hadn’t felt anyone touch me.

 

I hadn’t bumped into anything.

 

And I definitely hadn’t been forcefully grabbed. I would have woken up if it was that bad. 

 

I was willing to forget all about this but something else happened that I need to share. 

 

It’s night again now and I think I can feel something touching me. 

 

I didn’t know how to explain it.

 

Someone’s fingers.

 

Or somethings. 

 

Right now.

 

Around my ankle.

 

My breath is catching in my throat right now. 

 

I can’t see anyone.

 

I’m sitting on my bed as I write this.

 

The bedroom door is open.

 

The house is completely silent.

 

But I can still feel pressure around my ankle.

 

Five points of pressure.

 

Like someone’s fingers are slowly closing around it.

 

I’m watching a bruise appear on my skin.

 

It’s forming right now.

 

And I don’t know what to do. 

I know how that sounds, but just hear me out.

 

I work for a certain transportation agency that caters to a lot of different people’s needs. A lot of times we transport people who can’t drive themselves, including the physically disabled and people with developmental disabilities who need assistance getting from one place to another.

 

That’s what the public sees at least, but it’s not all we do though.

 

I’ve personally been on more than a dozen cross-country trips, express-delivering everything from large, unmarked crates that take up the entire bed of a flatbed truck to brown paper bags with nothing but a number scribbled across one side, sitting in the passenger seat beside me.

 

I don’t ask what’s inside.

 

That’s one of the first things they teach you when you start working here.

 

Don’t ask questions.

 

That’s all to say, this is where my line of employment comes in.

 

Most people spend their entire lives in one particular place. It’s what they know. It’s where their friends and family are. It’s home.

 

But sometimes life doesn’t work out that way.

 

People move away. They relocate to be closer to their children or grandchildren. Sometimes they simply can’t take care of themselves anymore and have to move somewhere that can.

 

And sometimes, unfortunately, people die far away from what they once called home.

 

You see, every once in a while, someone will leave behind a final request in their will stating that they don’t want to be buried where they died. They want to be taken back home.

 

Back to the little slice of land they’ve lived on for most of their lives. 

 

Back to their family.

 

Back to the people they left behind.

 

That’s where my particular line of work comes in.

 

In cases like these, funeral homes don’t always handle the transportation themselves. Apparently, there are all kinds of licensing and insurance requirements involved with transporting human remains across state lines, especially over long distances.

 

So instead, the funeral home sends out a private bid to transportation companies willing to take the job.

 

The lowest bidder usually gets it, and most of the time that’s us.

 

We don’t win every contract, but I’d say we’ve gotten our fair share over the years. Usually, the job is simple enough. Pick up the deceased, drive them to their destination, and get them there within whatever timeframe the funeral home specified.

 

Normally it’s a few hundred miles, sometimes it’s even been a few thousand.

 

I’ve even done a couple that took me across multiple states.

 

I can’t speak for the rest of my coworkers. We don’t really know each other outside of talking on the radio. But I’m probably one of the few who has never missed a deadline.

 

Doesn’t matter what I’m hauling.

 

I’ve always gotten it where it needed to go.

 

I try not to think about the things I transport.

 

That’s another rule I’ve learned. 

 

Don’t get curious.

 

I’ll admit there have been times when I’ve wondered what’s inside the bags sitting beside me. I’ve wondered what’s inside those massive wooden crates that sometimes get loaded onto the back of my truck.

 

I’ve never looked.

 

I’ve never even tried.

 

Whatever is inside them isn’t my business.

 

And until tonight, I was perfectly happy keeping it that way.

 

Because about an hour ago, about three in the morning, I heard something that sounded like coughing coming from inside the casket in the back of my truck.

 

I pulled into an empty parking lot a few minutes ago and I don’t know what to do.

I just saw the new video for SPACE KING showing off the new board game and the next episode, and I couldn't believe what I saw at the one-minute mark!

We all saw that there was a Psycho Warrior fighting WITH the little blap blaps and I couldn't believe it!

I've had a theory about something like this for so long, and now that this short has shown it in full, I'm just gonna come out and say it.

If this truly is an Alien Psycho Warrior knockoff like Captain said and not a rogue or heretical Psycho Warrior turned from Space King, then here is my question.

Is the reason that there are no female Psycho Warriors and no girls allowed in the Psycho Warrior ranks because a female Psycho Warrior is literally just a step away from an Alien Psycho Warrior?

Think about it!

Globules are only meant to work on young human male hosts or the little boys, as far as we know, so what if making a female Psycho Warrior opened up the door to all sorts of other unorthodox Psycho Warriors!

A female Psycho Warrior would realistically only be possible if they changed the way a host can take in the globules, so what if the aliens managed to reverse-engineer what it took to make a female Psycho Warrior and applied it to their own race?

What if what we saw in the short really was an Alien Psycho Warrior and not a traitor to Space King! That would be so freaking cool to see! An alien race that we've only ever seen as small, pathetic, and weak suddenly gaining what it takes to fight the Psycho Warriors! SO AWESOME!!!

I'm not sure what this means for the series going forward, but I am all for it!

I think the man I’ve been driving around isn’t really dead.

 

I know how that sounds, but just hear me out.

 

I work for a certain transportation agency that caters to a lot of different people’s needs. A lot of times we transport people who can’t drive themselves, including the physically disabled and people with developmental disabilities who need assistance getting from one place to another.

 

That’s what the public sees at least, but it’s not all we do though.

 

I’ve personally been on more than a dozen cross-country trips, express-delivering everything from large, unmarked crates that take up the entire bed of a flatbed truck to brown paper bags with nothing but a number scribbled across one side, sitting in the passenger seat beside me.

 

I don’t ask what’s inside.

 

That’s one of the first things they teach you when you start working here.

 

Don’t ask questions.

 

That’s all to say, this is where my line of employment comes in.

 

Most people spend their entire lives in one particular place. It’s what they know. It’s where their friends and family are. It’s home.

 

But sometimes life doesn’t work out that way.

 

People move away. They relocate to be closer to their children or grandchildren. Sometimes they simply can’t take care of themselves anymore and have to move somewhere that can.

 

And sometimes, unfortunately, people die far away from what they once called home.

 

You see, every once in a while, someone will leave behind a final request in their will stating that they don’t want to be buried where they died. They want to be taken back home.

 

Back to the little slice of land they’ve lived on for most of their lives. 

 

Back to their family.

 

Back to the people they left behind.

 

That’s where I come in.

 

In cases like these, funeral homes don’t always handle the transportation themselves. Apparently, there are all kinds of licensing and insurance requirements involved with transporting human remains across state lines, especially over long distances.

 

So instead, the funeral home sends out a private bid to transportation companies willing to take the job.

 

The lowest bidder usually gets it, and most of the time that’s us.

 

We don’t win every contract, but I’d say we’ve gotten our fair share over the years. Usually, the job is simple enough. Pick up the deceased, drive them to their destination, and get them there within whatever timeframe the funeral home specified.

 

Normally it’s a few hundred miles, sometimes it’s even been a few thousand.

 

I’ve even done a couple that took me across multiple states.

 

I can’t speak for the rest of my coworkers. We don’t really know each other outside of talking on the radio. But I’m probably one of the few who has never missed a deadline.

 

Doesn’t matter what I’m hauling.

 

I’ve always gotten it where it needed to go.

 

I try not to think about the things I transport.

 

That’s another rule I’ve learned. 

 

Don’t get curious.

 

I’ll admit there have been times when I’ve wondered what’s inside the bags sitting beside me. I’ve wondered what’s inside those massive wooden crates that sometimes get loaded onto the back of my truck.

 

I’ve never looked.

 

I’ve never even tried.

 

Whatever is inside them isn’t my business.

 

And until tonight, I was perfectly happy keeping it that way.

 

Because about an hour ago, about three in the morning, I heard something that sounded like coughing coming from inside the casket in the back of my truck.

 

I pulled into an empty parking lot a few minutes ago and I don’t know what to do.

 

Theory : Hatemonger and the Hatemonger legion are all clones of each other.

I know it's a stretch, but just hear me out.

So far in the series it’s been a running gag that Hatemongers face has never been shown, even when the small grill mouthpiece on his armor is open we don’t even see a glimpse of what could be underneath. And in the B positive episode when Chestnut had to cut his globules out of the brood mother we see that the photo ID on his globules has been scratched off or even damaged by the internal workings of the alien. And as a bonus in Captains merch drop video after the first episode, we see three other Hatemongers in the background, to which Captain refers to as “other no fun allowed legions like Hatemongers”, which I believe means that the name of Hatemongers legion is THE Hatemonger legion and not just the legion Hatemonger belongs to. 

This combined with a comment made by Tom and Don, in an earlier creators react video on the second channel, that if one globule is damaged or destroyed then the remaining one could be essentially photocopied or cloned to create new secondary globule has me wondering. We have no idea if this is seen as heretical or not, but it leads me to think that maybe the cloning of globules as backups may already be a thing in the world of Space King, but this hasn’t yet been confirmed. 

We already know that other legions of Psycho Warriors aren’t clones one another because of Rudolphs appearance in episode four and his physic abilities being unique to him and him alone. The fact that nobody else in Captains Star Defender legion is like that, means everyone in the Star Defender legion is their own person and not a clone of someone else or someone else’s globules. 

All of this, along with a comment made by Tom and Don that there are multiple Hate Legions (but not Hatemonger legions), has led me to theorize that Hatemonger and everyone else in the Hatemonger legion are all clones of either the first ever Hatemonger, or a Hatemonger from early on in the legions creation, that was so hateful and embodied his legions beliefs so much the other Hatemongers used his globules as a template for the creation of other Hatemongers who are just as hateful as him. 

I have no idea if this is true or not but I think it would be funny and awesome if it were. Imagine if in one episode that the Hatemonger that has been with the squad dies and his globules are destroyed meaning that he can’t come back, only to be replaced by a different Hatemonger from the Hatemonger legion that is exactly like the one who died in every way. 

I know that this is all probably a stretch, and that the real reason why we don't see Hatemongers face is both because A. they want it to be a surprise if his face is ever revealed, and B. when the grills are up, and we can see the main characters' faces, it's easier, cheaper, and quicker to animate three faces instead of four. This obviously makes sense because no other Psycho Warrior that we see in the series has revealed their faces either, except for the Imaginator who created the female Psycho Warrior in the beginning of episode three. The only characters who do show their faces while inside their armor are Captain, Bryce, and Chestnut(and Rudolph, Hermy, Yukon, and War priest in episode four, but you know what I mean).