So I did what I'd done for the first seven levels; I approached someone on the sidewalk.
"What do the words beast, trash, plunder, lout and rex have in common?" I asked the man in the grey suit.
"Once," he said sadly, "I was the Chorus of Greek tragedy. The Chorus was omnipotent. I could topple nations with a word, bring men to life or death, reunite lost loved ones, or slay heroes with no hope of recourse. I could make ten years pass in a single couplet."
I got the feeling that he wasn't going to give me my answer, but I didn't want to be rude.
"Today, the chorus has a humiliating role. The chorus is expected to echo the words of the lead singer. The protagonist is without a world to give challenge, just a sycophantic team of yes-men. What is left for a hero in a world already conquered?"
I snarled a reply, "I can spare no pity for those who complain that their hold on omnipotence is obsolete. Water will always erode stone, and I spare the stone no tears."