The Corpse of a Machine God
The world you stand upon is a the corpse of a machine god. It used to be, anyway. An X-Class solar flare rendered a key part of its awareness inoperable, giving the people under it’s oppressive rule the moment they needed to enact their deactivation plan.
The core of its mind was overloaded and shattered, breaking the omnipresence and giving humanity a chance to fight against the Drones.
That flare, that spark of hope, was enough to give the indentured their drive to do something about the state of their miserable existence. After centuries of back-breaking, mind-altering servitude, being used as bio-experiments and cross-breeding that produced efficient, mindless workers, the people on this world turned on the machine that enslaved them and tore it to pieces over decades.
That was centuries past, almost six-hundred years ago. Over those ages, people had evolved and grew. The bio-experiments altered the very DNA of those who once crawled within the service tunnels, circuits, and conduits of the thing that kept them trapped and working. Now, with the freedom to grow and live, they evolved into different species along many branches of lineage.
An Era of Magic
Named after the old stories, once inked on parchment and writ to the archives before being told through words and whispers, elves, orcs, dwarves, and many other fantastical creatures have evolved to live alongside humans.
Magic borne of this era raged into existence, as if nature itself fought back against the cold calculations that manufactured a doomed humanity. And with it, a new desire of power as people sought to wield it.
A new generation of inhabitants of this world considered that I was perfect, the most efficient way to run a life. No lack of choice, no wondering if you had a purpose, or what that purpose must be. I gave you a purpose, and there was satisfaction in having done it. Dreamers of this bygone perfect world were called Perfectionists.
Another hundreds of years passed. War raged. Perfectionists would seek out machine relics and reconstruct old technology, while those who wielded magic fought against the fear of inevitability of another machine god. Great, horrible weapons were crafted in this era, the mages of this world creating their own version of Overwrites, built for battle rather than servitude. They flesh-crafted people, creatures, and even morphed land itself into weaponry to be used against the Perfectionists.
The Theory War
The The Theory War raged on for twelve years, and scarred the land with magical and technological detritus. Fusions of magic and machine created greater, more powerful weapons. It was inevitable that the world would be destroyed.
A splinter faction of Perfectionists, Machinists, believed that there could be good in humanity with technology, but not with the crushing weight of perfection, or a machine god. They would be their own masters, and they would use technology to serve them, instead of the other way around.
They knew they would lose this war, and constructed a plan. Harnessing the power of Elementals, they enchanted their stronghold and rose into the skies, never to be seen again.
The worlds of magic and science were separated, and a relative peace claimed the lands. The surface world regained its magical supremacy, and technological relics were being destroyed or abandoned in hopes that the world would forget them.
High above, technology grew. Mastery over science allowed the Machinists to expand, grow, and create other Crowns, the Floating Cities where they would live in relative peace.