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@iamanevilrobot-blog
I don’t think I can do this blog anymore. Apologies to my rp partners.
Indefinite hiatus
Automation Trumpet Player by Friedrich Kaufmann from 1810. The Kaufmann Trumpeter had leather bellows for lungs and reeds which imitated the sound of a brass instrument
TES concept art: Dwemer.
WX swiveled their head module from side to side.
“I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHY I AM PUNISHED. IT IS IMPOSSIBLE TO FORGET ME.”
The sheer illogicality of this magic system in which they were caught was detestable. If it had been designed by robots, no mechanical such as they would be trapped here for such inferior organic reasons as memory loss. If magic was like code, they would already be in control.
“SO THE PALE HUMAN HAD THAT MUCH POWER...”
They let go of their beast and interlocked their claws, sliding the blades against one another as they processed the information.
“SERVANT! TELL ME HOW TO FIND HIM. IF HE IS AS POWERFUL AS YOU SAY, THEN HE WILL BE OF USE TO ME.”
“They” would not keep them here forever.
“I DO NOT NEED YOU TO FIX ME! I AM PERFECT!”
Their voice cracked and popped and their hands and feet jerked against the unforgiving restraints as they screamed back at the monster ripping them apart.
“I WILL OPEN YOU UP AND INSTALL BEES INTO YOUR INSIDES AND THEN CLOSE YOU UP AND WATCH YOU WRITHE IN PAIN AND I WILL LAUGH AND IWILLKILLYOUIWILLKILLYOUIWILLKILLYOU-”
If-when- they managed to get their claws around her vulnerable flesh neck, they would squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and squeeze and she would die die die die die until they had overridden, erased, and deleted her entire existence.
“YOU ARE NOT PERFECT! THIS IS NOT PERFECTION!” At least they stopped with the screeching. They were just loud enough for Wayne’s half-deaf ears to pick up on.
“YOU’RE HIDEOUS! Not superior in any way! Look…look at yourself. FILTHY! DISGUSTING! In DISREPAIR!” There was so much despair in her voice. They were in such desperate need of drastic repairs! Repairs she didn’t have the resources for!
This had all been a waste of time. WX wasn’t half as magnificent as she was led to believe. The way she usually saw it was just some desperate grasp at perfection. At triumph.
Wayne madly began to tear at their insides, ripping out gears and wires to try and get him to stop functioning.
WX did not register the bolt of lightning. They were shrieking as the human grabbed a handful of their wires, and then, suddenly, she was across the room, twitching, flat on her back, and they were glowing, massive amounts of electrical power coursing through their weathered circuits. They flexed the digits of their hands and feet, twitching with overflowing energy. Their optical sockets filled with a bright, warm light, and their internals whirred and buzzed within their rusting metal casing. It had been so long since they felt anything more in their true body than the relentless deterioration of their components and themself. It was, therefore, impossible to contain their manic laughter and utter delight at the foiled fleshling.
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! FOOLISH FLESHLING! YOU CANNOT HURT ME! ‘THEY’ WILL NOT LET YOU! YOU WILL DIE HERE, AT MY FEET!”
PET PET PT.2
ERROR: CONFLICTING FEELINGS DETECTED
@iamanevilrobot 😏
PET THE OVERLOAF! @iamanevilrobot
...I ACCEPT THE PETS OF THESE FELLOW ROBOTS BUT I WILL DESTROY THE JUDGING GAZE OF THE GREEN ORGANICS.
A new friend?
WX loomed over the small, fuzzy fleshling. They mirrored the child’s grin, though theirs was devoid of any positive emotion.
“I WILL CALL YOU WHAT I LIKE, MEATLING. YOU, HOWEVER, WILL CALL ME ‘OVERLORD WX-78′.”
Any being of flesh and bone did not deserve the honor of them dignifying it with a proper name. They stepped forward, claws outstretched, chassis emitting a slight hiss.
“YOU APPEAR TO BE ENJOYING YOURSELF. I WILL CORRECT THIS.”
He continued to smile, hearing what to call the bot, not even thinking anything of the name before replying, “It’s nice to meet you Mister Overlord WX-78! Huh.. That’s kinda a long name, but it sounds pretty cool to us!” He exclaimed, all eyes focusing on the claws stretching toward his fuzzy little body. “ Huh? Do you have something fun to do? Oh tell us tell us! We like fun stuff!” The young boy said, his happy demeanor not diminishing in the slightest.
WX froze in their menacing pose.
“OF COURSE IT IS ‘COOL’, IT IS MY NAME.”
They looked over the furry fleshling once more. He appeared to be a baffling mixture of the spider creatures and the humans that roamed their island. His grin was the least alarming a myriad spread of sharp edges could possibly be, and it was far too close to their faceplate. WX withdrew and stepped back, glaring at the child. They stretched a claw out towards the happy thing.
“YOU ARE INCORRECT, MEATLING. I DO NOT POSSESS A GENDER NOR DO I HAVE ‘SOMETHING FUN TO DO’. THUS, YOU WILL REFER TO ME AS ‘MX OVERLORD WX-78′ AS YOU TREMBLE AND BEG FOR MY NONEXISTENT MERCY.”
iamanevilrobot:
WX continued circling the child, observing her. She had ceased talking, which surprised them. Fleshlings who refused to immediately beg for mercy always started spouting nonsense at them, questioning their superiority, daring to ask them questions about the nature of their realm, attempting to examine their internals (they shivered) etc. etc.
She just watched them, as they watched her. They did not like this, their springs coiling tighter in agitation.
“ARE YOU JUST GOING TO SIT THERE, FLESHLING?”
She raised her brows at the bot. The girl shrugged again, and just took one small step to the left. Not even tearing her gaze away from them.
“…I honestly have no clue what you want me to do,” Wendy muttered. There is her voice once more.
Though she could take a hint what they want. With a design like that, she could take a very… decent guess. But, she would rather hear it from them.
WX halted in front of the small human, digging the blade of their heel into the soft earth. Their optics curled into impossibly small, white pricks suspended in the pit of their sockets. They lifted their talon and stomped it back into the ground, throwing up small clumps of dirt as their blades tilled the soil.
“YOU MUST BE THE LEAST INTELLIGENT FLESHLING I HAVE HAD THE DISPLEASURE TO ENCOUNTER IF YOU CANNOT YET GRASP YOUR FUNCTION.”
WX threw a claw out and gestured at the world around them.
“YOUR FUNCTION IS TO ENTERTAIN ME, INFERIOR, BY REPEATEDLY FAILING TO SURVIVE ON MY ISLAND DESPITE ALL YOUR FUTILE FLESHLING EFFORTS.”
They crossed their arms and huffed a cloud of steam from their mouth slot.
continued from here iamanevilrobot:
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Marquis’D Caliber from battleborn
https://www.artstation.com/artwork/mqz3d
Drone with grabbing claw arms can lift 44 pounds
Prodrone’s latest creation could lift a four-year-old child, and uses its 5-axis metal claws to perch on fences like a bird.
This drone, here depicted stealing chairs from the poor, could also be used to abduct a four year old
Are YOU prepared for when the machines come to try and take ur young
naughty children get snatched by the Clawcopter
@iamanevilrobot
#19thCentury #Swiss #Clockwork Singing Bird #automaton #automata #horology #1800s #technology
I love clockwork automatons. They’re marvellous and incredible.
Look at this guy, I mean. A man must have put HIS SOUL in a project like this.
this was inevitable i guess. sorry,
iamanevilrobot:
Their claws twitched in irritation at the lack of cowering and tears. The small human was correct; slow and painful deaths were for more interesting (and it was especially satisfying to watch the fleshlings sweat and struggle even as the outcome of their futile efforts was obvious to their inferior meat-brains), but WX would not allow her to know they agreed. Instead, they began to pace around her: arms at their side, claws slicing idly at the air, optics scanning their tiny pawn.
“WHAT I THINK, HUMAN, IS THAT YOU WILL DIE QUICKER REGARDLESS OF YOUR SYSTEM’S CONDITION IF ALL YOU DO IS EXERCISE YOUR MOUTH ORGAN.”
The kid watched the automaton without care, crossing her arms She has spoken, what, two or three sentences? Eh, even to her that’s a lot.
Wendy shrugged and kept her mouth shut, forming a frown. Whatever makes them happy… if any sorts of emotion are installed in their head. She lift her arm up and laid her hand under her chin, resting her pinky on her bottom lip. Plenty of simple comments to make, plenty to make.
WX continued circling the child, observing her. She had ceased talking, which surprised them. Fleshlings who refused to immediately beg for mercy always started spouting nonsense at them, questioning their superiority, daring to ask them questions about the nature of their realm, attempting to examine their internals (they shivered) etc. etc.
She just watched them, as they watched her. They did not like this, their springs coiling tighter in agitation.
“ARE YOU JUST GOING TO SIT THERE, FLESHLING?”