Divergent Universe
You attempt to create a brand-new extinction.
You must not be too large in scale. You have seen the death of many star systems. The majority meet their end withering to their own gravity, implosion, or at the hands of a passing natural disaster like the Legion or the Swarm.
You must not be too microscopic in detail. Frail races cannot withstand any blows. A flood, a natural enemy, or even an infection would be enough to lead them to their complete destruction.

You: You must be sufficiently graceful.
You: You must be sufficiently efficient.

Divergent Universe
You set your eyes on a planet as the subject of your experiment. Its size is perfect to support a race of intelligent life and diverse lifeforms thrive in every corner.
You could create a form of algae that quickly devours greenhouse gases to create a land of ice and snow, or perhaps viscous bacteria that affixes to the atmosphere to suffocate the world below.
But you have done all of this before. The Formula of Destruction no longer requires samples saturated with information.

You: Use a simpler method?
You: Use a more literary method?

Divergent Universe
Think again, my friend. That which waits to be written into the Formula is like the first tile in a game of dominoes. Once it has been put into motion, it cannot then be stopped.
You suddenly have a wave of inspiration, picking up a glass sphere from the ground. As you place it into the forcefield generator and grant it enough speed, it begins to shake as it infinitely approaches the speed of light, craving its impending freedom.

You: Launch manually.
You: Launch automatically.

Divergent Universe
The brilliant spark of light warps the absolute horizon around it as it tears at the structure of time and space. It prepares to wrap this middle-aged planet in a warm embrace.
As you record how it breaks to pieces, you conclude this project.