Hello my fellow D&D nerds! This is my attempt at deciding which Transformer is what in the D&D universe. I’m not really using one specific version of the character, I’m just trying to get general vibes. I gave each bot two races/classes, so if someone wants to play their character you’ve got options. And no, I’m not just going to chuck them all in the “Warforged” category and move on
Optimus Prime
Typically the leader, portrayed as just/noble and skilled in combat
Class(es): Paladin or Fighter
Race: Human or Aasimar
Bumblebee
Typically regarded as a smaller/younger bot, fights usually from a distance but can and will engage in close quarters. Speaks (sometimes) through his radio
Class(es): Ranger or Bard
Race: Kenku or Halfling
Ratchet
A doctor with a gruff exterior, but at the end of the day always show up for those he cares about. Definitely battle-hardened to a certain degree
Class(es): Cleric or Artificer (if you wanna put everyone as Warforged)
Race(s): Dwarf or Half-Orc
Megatron
A leader with a powerful presence, skilled in combat but typically not as “refined” as Optimus. Most versions clock him as evil from a mile away
Race(s): Dragonborn or Human
Class(es): Warlock or Barbarian
Shockwave
Logical and methodical, he typically values precision and facts above all else
Race(s): High Elf or Warforged
Class(es): Artificer or Wizard (could also be a Cleric but to me he seems more “scientist” than “healer”)
Soundwave
A reliable stealth and reconnaissance agent, who works typically with his Cassettes
It's a weird experience taking a transformers OC and making them more fleshed out to be able to run a Transformers DND session with.
If anyone has any good androgynous/nonbinary/etc voice claim ideas, please throw them my way.
Crash Cart has a Scottish/Gaelic accent, and I literally can't find anything besides the Lindworm from Hilda and possibly Blue Diamond from Steven Universe.
Hey folks! My spouse and I have been playing a Transformers D&D campaign recently and it's been soooo much fun! I thought I would do a little written account/fic of the story as we went along. It started with me just making notes of what had happened in the sessions, and then I thought I might use it as a bit of a writing exercise, and well... I made a sideblog, and here it is! I do not claim that this is any good, and while I'm proud of myself for even writing this much (I haven't done so in a loooong time), it still feels off and I may do another draft or two. I do intend to post more chapters (and have bits and pieces already finished), so if you find it interesting, there will hopefully be more to come!
SYNOPSIS: A newly forged Cybertronian comes online for the first time and finds themselves in for a rocky start to their new life.
WARNINGS: sleep paralysis (no shadow demons tho), anxiety/panic attacks, loss/lack of senses
Forgive me if I don’t tag something correctly! I’m new to this. Just shoot me a message and I’ll tag it/put it in the warnings!
Story (and a notes section just as long lmao) below the cut.
CHAPTER ONE -- you are here!
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER ONE.
At first, there was nothing. A vague existence floating somewhere, devoid of light, devoid of sound, devoid of cognizance.
And then, something.
"Hello?"
It was a funny thing, processing consciousness for the first time. To become something out of nothing... to perceive. Senses were new, but somehow already familiar -- everything was, actually. They had never existed before, and yet, in a way, they already had. They knew things despite never having learned them. They understood language but had never communicated. They had never heard-
"Hello?" it echoed. "Can you hear me?"
Wait, no, they had heard! Someone had been trying to talk to them. They tried to respond, but something was wrong; awareness was rapidly filling them, but control was not. They put all of their willpower into doing something, anything, any kind of movement or sound or something they could do to show that they were here, they were trying. But their efforts seemed to go to waste as they strained against whatever unseen force was keeping them from-
"-coming online," the voice said. "Their vitals are steady, the scans show activity in the brain module, but they're not responding. Maybe..."
They felt something, heard noises -- shifting metal... someone was opening their chest panel! Something important was in there, something that needed protecting. Processors kicked up and their fans whirred as their panic began to intensify. If they could just move they could-
"Hey Wing? I think we should take them to an examination room."
And then they were moving, or being moved, rather; they still could not access their frame, though they could sense that whatever it was they were laying on was being propelled forward. Their ride pulled to a stop and they heard the voice again, and then a few different ones. One of them was louder than the rest -- they must have been right next to them. "Hmm. You're right about it being strange, Lightbright. It is not supposed to be that color, but otherwise, I can't identify anything wrong with it." They felt pressure on their neck, and an uncomfortable sensation as if someone were fiddling around inside of it. Another unfamiliar voice said, "Their voice-box seems to be in working condition as well. There's nothing physically stopping them from speaking."
At this, their distress grew. If it wasn't physical, then what was wrong with them? Was it all in their head? And why was it so damn loud... The noise in the room had picked up significantly: the last two speakers began bouncing ideas off of each other, things were whoosh-ing and click-ing and clang-ing around them, and the sound of their own systems going into overdrive had mingled with the anxiety of being unable to communicate, and it sent them reeling.
Then something grabbed their hand. It startled them at first, to have another sensation join the fray, but what held them was warm and... and solid. The world slowed down some as their mind focused in on the touch, and for the first time it felt like they were grounded by something -- a small tether wrapped around their finger. Their fans quieted a smidge.
>Can you hear me?<
This time they felt it. It was the voice -- the one that had first spoken to them -- but rather than hearing it projected through the void with all of the other noise, it seemed to come through the tether. It was strong and direct, yet somehow still soft and unabrasive.
A thought struck them. Maybe, if they followed the link to its source... They concentrated on their fingers, sending a short, simple message: >Yes.<
For a moment, they thought they had failed to get through. But after a brief pause, they received a reply. >Are you in any pain?<
They hesitated. They were scared, and everything had gotten pretty overwhelming for a bit, but they were in no physical pain, so they decided to answer: >No.<
>Do you have a name?<
This one tripped them up. They scoured their data banks, searching for answer, but found none that were theirs. There was a nagging feeling that they should have one, but if they did, it was inaccessible at the moment... just like everything else.
Alarm shot through them as the tether moved, and they were afraid that it was going to disconnect and leave them alone again. It was still there, just slightly more distant, and they reluctantly let their focus drift further from their anchoring hand to see what might be going on. Had someone else entered? There seemed to be more voices now, though it was difficult to make out what they were saying. It was like everything was slowly becoming a wall of static, but a voice once again asked, barely audible -
"What is your name?"
Did... that come through the tether? It sure didn't feel like it, but it also didn't sound like it was coming from through their audial receptors. It wasn't the one who had linked with them, nor did it seem to be any of the other voices they had heard prior; perhaps it was one of the new arrivals? That didn't seem right either. Did it even matter? They didn't know how to respond anyway. Their processor ached -- so many things were happening around them, yet they still had no answers. By this point, they were running on empty and all they wanted to do was rest. Instead, the static only grew louder.
"Do you have a name?"
The question thundered around them, jolting them awake with a force that threatened to shatter their whole being. The breath had been knocked out of them -- or had they screamed? Their frame throbbed and strained against itself, and their head felt like it would burst at any moment. "Do you have a name?" echoed around the void until an answer was forced out of them, and they roared-
"NO!"
And then, there was nothing again. No sounds, no feelings, no tether, no thoughts. Just... nothing.
"Good."
The only thing in that existed in that moment was that voice.
"Then I shall grant you one," it said. "Are you ready to receive your name?”
“...Yes," they replied. They were barely aware that they had.
"Then from now on, you will be Requiem Fall... of Grand Mal."
Something finally clicked inside them. An identity was being etched into their spark, and it fluttered.
"Now... open your eyes."
With a sharp intake through their vents, they felt their frame fall to hit the berth beneath them. Requiem's optics were open, and they realized that someone was standing over them -- a white mech with red accenting -- peering down with concern. Aside from a couple of beeping monitors, everything was quiet. They held the gaze of the nearby bot for a moment, then let it dart around the room. Several others were standing to off to the sides, and they were all staring at Requiem. After a moment, the first mech took Requiem's hands in his and asked-
>Are you in any pain?<
>No.< they replied.
>Can you sit up?<
They pushed themselves up off the slab with little effort, turning their head to face the other bot. Another bot -- more slender than the first with a teal blue frame -- stepped forward, holding her left hand in her right. Her voice was comforting and familiar, and he recognized it as the first one he had heard -- and the one that first spoke hand with them. "Can you tell us anything? Do you have a name?"
Through their hands, Requiem replied, >Requiem Fall of Grand Mal.< The white mech's brow furrowed and they took a step back, releasing Requiem's hands for a moment to document something in the datapad. His optics flickered a few times between the pad and Requiem, as if he was unsure what to make of their answer. Their fingers interlaced once more and the bot asked, >Can... can you tell me what Grand Mal is?<
Requiem blinked, confused. They had just told them, hadn't they? >It is part of the name that was given to me.< they stated flatly. The bot studied Requiem's optics with a quiet intensity before they vented softly, disconnected, and reached for the datapad to make another note. Passing it to the teal bot -- Lightbright, was it? -- they gestured toward the door to the room and asked, "Would you like to go for a walk?"
--
NOTES:
Sooo! I know this isn't written very well, but I'm rusty and I was never very good to begin with, lol. (-w-; ) Anyway, this is based on a campaign my spouse is running, set in a version of the Transformers universe. It's heavily inspired by IDW1, with dashes of Prime and other continuities here and there. I started writing this as a way of having a record of our sessions, and we thought we might as well post it here! We do not claim to be any good, but by golly are we having fun with it. I'm running a party of four on my own, and of course my spouse is doing the rest as the DM. I'm the only reliable player he's got, lol, and I also couldn't decide on what kind of character I wanted to be, so we just went for this! As we played, Requiem was actually last in the line-up, but in the timeline they wake first. Plus, they've basically become the main character -- this is partially due to the fact that they're a warlock, and the act of establishing a connection with their patron has just given them more to do in the story so far. And I just think they're neat!! The circumstances of said connection, and really the character themselves, wound up changing course right out the gate. Though the DM started the "coming online" sequence pretty much the same as the others, something about the way it happened made me hesitate, and then it just kind of snowballed from there into a different direction that I found really interesting and wanted to explore.
Some notes regarding the writing style:
- I'm a big fan of punctuation, given that my ADHD brain always has a million notes about everything mid-thought, but I'm never quite sure if I over- or mis-use it and make it obnoxious to read; there were times where I had a bunch of commas and/or dashes and/or semi-colons in one sentence, and it just felt clunky, but after breaking them down into shorter sentences it still feels weird? I do think the flow could be improved significantly, though I'm not quite sure how, and I went back and forth between things on pretty well every line.
- I've never written Transformers or robots in general before, so some of the language used regarding anatomy and functions may be repetitive or more human-leaning as I figure out what works for me and what feels too clunky for my tastes.
- I couldn't quite decide how to fit both my/my character's perspectives and those of the DM's/other characters' into one narrative, so it's missing a few things and may be kind of sloppy. I don't know if I'm quite happy with it... it was quite a challenge to attempt to write from the perspective of a character who is essentially a newborn adult, and who's processing the concept of identity while dealing with "sleep" paralysis and sensory issues, leading to/on top of an existential crisis. A few things were changed or fabricated a bit as I transitioned from play session > notes made afterward > prose story, either by the aforementioned point-of-view choices, being unable to remember certain details, or things just not quite lining up right. I may come back to this and re-write it, or at least write a different version of it, or maybe not. ¯*(ツ)*/¯
- Kind of piggy-backing off the last point, I think technically Requiem wouldn't shorten their name, even in their head, and would refer to themselves as Requiem Fall -- actually, probably the full Requiem Fall of Grand Mal -- but it felt really clunky to write and hard to remember to do, considering I as the player refer to them just as Requiem. Technically it's still written in third-person, but it's from Requiem's perspective, so I debated on going back to change it... but eh.
- Similarly, despite Requiem not knowing the other bots' pronouns, I went ahead and used them for ease of reference. I'll touch on gender a bit down below. May go back and change that, may not.
As I said, a few things wound up missing from the narrative. Here are a few things that came up during play that didn’t here:
- Most of the other bots' reactions, particularly Lightbright's, wound up getting cut. I think originally, Requiem opened their eyes earlier, then got overwhelmed and closed them again, and then opens them back up when the voice instructs them to, so they saw a few more things than I wound up writing in. I couldn't remember exactly how things went down to get to this point, so I fudged it with a bit of a ret-con -- this is definitely one of the things I'm still trying to figure out how to incorporate back in for a potential new draft.
- Anyway, Lightbright gets visibly excited when she finds a successful method of communication (which is chirolinguistics, aka "speaking hand", from IDW1's MTMTE -- I figured that the words 'yes' and 'no' were the easiest messages to get across, even through paralysis, and especially since extremities tend to be some of the first things to wake up).
- Lightbright is also holding Requiem's hand when they hear the voice 'yell' at them (it wasn't actually yell, but more the idea that this voice came through clear as day amidst all of the rabble and static, but that it was so startling and overwhelming that it felt like an attack -- p sure I had rolled a nat 1), and when that happens their body seizes up, meaning that Lightbright's hand is in the line of fire, and the others help pry her out (and that's why she's holding her hand when she speaks later). Requiem's scream and their "NO" in response was also vocalized out loud, and probably scared the bejeebus out of everyone!
- Lightbright is Requiem's blacksmith, also a concept from IDW1 (and also IDW2, I think? though I haven't read it yet). Basically, they're like a midwife that serves as a guide during the forging process. TFWiki's got a great article about it.
- Kaput is the doctor that checks out Requiem's spark in the examination room, and the one that confirms their voice-box is working is Electroprobe. We'll find out the white and red mech's identity in the next chapter, but these two probably won't come up again, at least not for a while.
- Speaking of Electroprobe, who is an OC NPC my spouse created, they're named so after the tool used in the game Operation... by Hasbro. ;) He thought of how Lightbright had their name taken from the Lite-Brite product, also by Hasbro, and thought it would be fun to toss in a few more references with some of the NPCs. You'll meet a few more in the next chapter or so!
- Newly forged Cybertronians (and presumably cold-constructed bots as well, though the practice isn't really used anymore, I would assume) are fed a 'starter package' of information during the forging process. It is directly uploaded to their brain module before they come online, and includes all of the basics one would need to get up to speed, or at least get close. Things like body functions, languages, cultural facts, history, etc., though some of the context may be missing -- basically, they have access to the Cybertronian version of the Internet right out the gate, and the means to comprehend the world around them. In play, the ease with which they are able to access this information (like if somebody starts talking about the war, or some other historical event or person) is usually decided by something like a History check.
- In this version of Cybertronian culture, the default when referring to someone you don't know is 'they/them', though bots may adopt different pronouns and refer to/introduce themselves as such. The concept of gender wasn't hard-wired into Cybertronians originally, and really only came into play once they began interacting with other planets/cultures; some folks decided they liked it and rolled with it, until it spread and became common. These concepts are now included in forging 'starter package', and I imagine that bots kind of just use their preference(s) instinctually, though of course it may change over time.
I am welcome to critique, both technical and... narrative(? I don't know if that's quite the word or not), though keep in mind that some of these things may not change given that it's a retelling of a collaborative and building narrative and it is tuned primarily for our enjoyment. On the flip side, some of it is likely to change, as I discover more about the world that I'm not privy to at the moment. Also we forget things a lot, so even during the actual session a decent amount of accidental retcons happen.
I will admit, particularly during the next part, it feels like it treads into Mary Sue territory... and that's another reason why I'm a little nervous to share all this. But like I said, we never said it was good, just fun and perfect for us. If all this turns out to be is a writing exercise/chronicling of our campaign, that's totally fine and all it was really meant to be! But if someone else has fun with it along the way, well that's great, too! :))
And finally, just 'cause I want to note it for myself, the bots introduced in this chapter are:
Lightbright (canon character, she/her?) A blacksmith -- the one who helped forge Requiem.
Wing (canon, he/him?) Also a blacksmith? I would assume so, though technically I don't think the DM has confirmed it, and also Requiem wouldn't really know anyway. Went to get the unnamed doctor(?) after helping Lightbright move Requiem.
Kaput (canon, ???/???) Spark specialist.
Electroprobe (OC, they/them) Anatomy specialist?
????? (?????, ???/???) Doctor? I mean, they're white and red and in a medical facility, so something of the sort at least.
Requiem Fall (of Grand Mal) (player character, they/them) Newly forged. Has had a bit of a rough morning.
:: I don’t know if anyone can hear this, but things have gone from bad to worse! The Decepticons are laying traps out left and right, and Optimus himself has been captured! I can’t do this by myself, so if you’re out there, if you’re listening to this... I’m afraid that, as of right now, you are the Autobots’ only hope of surviving this Primus forsaken war...::
As promised, here’s Chapter 4! I actually wrote this part like two months ago, I just had to wait to publish it in order.
SYNOPSIS: Requiem Fall is up next to test out their alt-mode, but nobody quite expects what happens when they do — least of all Requiem.
WARNINGS: mechanical body horror(?), (unintentional) self-harm, ask to tag
Chapter 4 beneath the cut!
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR -- you are here!
CHAPTER FOUR.
“You’re up next, kid.” The medic prodded Requiem gently toward Mirage and Rewind as Stela moved back to her seat.
“Let’s see here…” Mirage said, looking Requiem over head to toe and front to back. “I’m not seeing anything that would suggest any particular alt-mode. Maybe another weapons platform of some sort? I’m not sure. Probably best to just go for it and see what you’ve got going on.”
“Would you like us to raise the privacy wall?” asked Rewind.
Requiem shrugged.
“Alright then, go ahead when you’re ready.”
The first time they tried was a bit of a wash. They simply followed the instructions, thought to themselves: “transform”, and assumed their body would follow suit. Given their earlier experience, though, perhaps they should have known things might not be that easy. Once again — though it felt slightly different from before — their body convulsed and tightened, and Requiem felt a strain run throughout body and mind. It passed quickly, however, and they blinked… still in robot mode.
“Huh,” Mirage clicked his tongue, hands on his hips. “Maybe try the mantra, like Windshield did. Just focus in on yourself, calm your mind, and think, ‘I am transformed.’”
Requiem shut their optics and vented long and slow, attempting to purge any lingering tension or stray thoughts, and then focused on those three words: I am transformed.
And like that, they were back in the void. Their senses were gone, replaced instead by a wave of panic rising once more. No, please. I don’t want to be stuck here again! They tried to fight their way back, but there was nothing to struggle against; somehow, that made it worse. Then, that familiar voice rang out again, and Requiem clung to it tightly — as if they had a choice.
Are you ready?
“For what?”
To transform.
“Yes?”
Be warned… once you transform, who you are now… will cease to be.
They would… what? They’d disappear?
You have not existed long. There is not much to you as it stands, but any… potential that this version of yourself possesses will be lost once you have transformed. There will be no going back. I ask again: are you ready?
What a question to have to answer… They had only just begun their life, yet the decision they made here and now was sure to have repercussions for the rest of it to come. Was it worth changing themselves? Losing themselves? They weren’t sure what that meant. Yet somehow, an answer rose up easier than they would have thought.
“…Yes.”
As Requiem’s consciousness returned to their body, they realized they were screaming.
Their circuits felt like they were on fire. Their senses had come back to them, yes, but they almost wished they hadn’t. The only thing they could hear was the sound of their strangled outcry, and their vision simply changed from emptiness to all-encompassing blinding light. Their body was rigid with tension, leaving them unable to move… just to feel as their plating split open to make room for more.
Finally, mercifully, they were still. For a moment Requiem thought they were back in the void, but no — something was different. Nobody was speaking, or even moving for that matter, and yet they could hear them all. Requiem could hear the smallest sounds of their bodies’ inner-workings — the soft whirrs of fans, the hum of processors, even the sound of energon pulsing through their fuel lines. They could see, too… sort of. Everyone was facing them, and they felt that if they could just focus, they could see every detail in perfect clarity; but all of this was a lot to process, and instead of precision they were met with such vividness and intensity that it had practically become abstracted. A sea of emotions spilled out from the crowd, and that was the hardest to wade through.
It didn’t hurt, though. That was good.
When someone finally spoke, it sounded as if they had spoken right next to them, so close they wondered if it came from inside of them… but no, that was not the case this time.
“Primus…!” It was Rewind. “Is that- is that even possible?!”
Requiem didn’t sense anything change in the room; what were they talking about? They tried to tilt their head, but found it fixed in place. Lifting a hand proved similarly impossible. They thought hard for a moment, then recalled from somewhere another method of communication. The entire room was filled with red, bathed in light as Requiem’s optics flashed a message, the equivalent of a question mark.
“Do you know what you are?” Rewind said, after a few beats.
(( Me? )) What else would they be?
“Do you know what you’ve transformed into?”
((… Myself? )) Requiem didn’t understand what had prompted these questions. They could see it for themselves, surely? Requiem was the one without a line of sight on themselves.
“Can you transform back?”
Yes, they did indeed feel like they could. They were about to signal as much when they realized that perhaps it was a request, rather than a simple inquiry. With some hesitance — though they weren’t sure why, exactly — they asked:
(( Do you want me to? ))
“I… think that would be best.”
Requiem did as recommended. The transformation back was… not pleasant per se, but not painful either. It felt different this time in other ways, too. Parts chafed against each other, as if they were suddenly needing to account for more limited space, but eventually everything unfolded and Requiem landed on their feet.
Unfortunately for them, however, it seemed they were not done just yet.
It started almost like an itch on their arm-plating, but before they could even process it, the feeling grew in intensity; it drew another agonized scream from Requiem as they felt it full force, no void to slip into. It was concentrated in their right arm. Their armor ruptured and peeled away to make room for something larger, and they clawed at it with their other hand in some vain attempt to… stop it? help it? It didn’t matter, so long as it was over already, please!
And then it was, sort of. At least, that’s the last thing they remembered before their knees hit the floor and all was dark.
A hand on their shoulder roused them. The medic’s optics met their own as they came back on, another scowl present below them. The mech took Requiem’s hand in his and asked:
< Are you in pain? >
Hmm. Were they? Everything was still waking up, and they felt exhausted. Requiem’s body, in particular that right arm, was tingly and numb, but at the moment seemed to be free from pain… It was hard to tell, to separate and assess everything right now. They were still in a bit of a daze. They answered with the hand-speak equivalent of a shrug.
The medic’s brow twitched and he leaned back and gestured to somebody else, though Requiem didn’t see as they closed their optics for a nano-klik or two. They fluttered open again when more hands supported their limbs, lifting them into the air and onto the examination table. The medic began checking Requiem over, stern-faced and silent, when Rewind finally spoke up.
“Ratchet, did you see what that was?” He sounded like he had been holding it in for some time.
“Yeah,” Ratchet said, gruffly. “It was a head. They're a Headmaster, which is bizarre at their size.
“What? I mean, yeah, the Headmaster thing is strange — but you saw what they looked like!”
“Why would any of that matter?” Ratchet’s irritation was growing steadily.
“For that to be their natural alt-mode… you know what that face is. We all do!”
Ratchet had not stopped working throughout the conversation, but at this he whipped around to face Rewind.
“Rewind, you of all people should know that it doesn’t matter. You said it yourself just moments ago — the alt-mode you’re born with doesn’t have any bearing on what you are or who you’re meant to be. You decide what it’s ‘for’, and how to use it. There’s nothing more to it than that.”
With that last line he turned back to Requiem’s frame, the scowl on his face even more pronounced (which didn’t seem possible, but there had been many surprises today). He met Requiem’s stare for the briefest of moments before beginning to fiddle with his tools again. He had just started to let his expression soften (just a smidge) when Rewind continued on.
“Yeah, but this could be an omen, a turning point in history, a… a cosmic prank—”
“OR—” Ratchet snapped, hands slamming the tools down on the table next to Requiem. They flinched. “—it could be a bot that’s just come online, is undergoing rapid and painful growth, and could do with a lot more compassion and a lot less speculation.” His blue optics blazed now, meeting Rewind’s with a look that left no room for rebuttal.
After a moment, he broke his gaze from Rewind and swiveled his head, letting his glare fix somewhere on the floor as he continued.
“A protoform should be finished growing before they come online, but they are spontaneously sprouting kibble and armaments. For their anatomy to be altered this much without even scanning an alt-mode is exceedingly rare. This is…”
Ratchet trailed off, leaving the others to watch him work out what was next. Finally, he sighed and closed his optics before turning to Requiem, then back to the others.
“I need to go make some calls. I’ll be back in a moment.”
Requiem watched him go. As soon as the door clicked shut, the two instructors launched into excited whispers.
“You saw that, right?”
“Are you kidding? I was recording it!”
“That’s just… uncanny! What could it mean?”
They went on like that for a little while. Requiem lay there for a few more moments, head tilted to face the rest of them, before rising to a seated position and letting their legs dangle over the edge of the slab.
Windshield looked from bot to bot, unsure of what had just happened — the whole ordeal was scary to watch, but he didn’t really get what was so notable about the alt-mode’s appearance. He scanned his databanks, and ultimately found something close — an insignia, used in a war by a group called the Decepticons. He didn’t know much about the realm of possibilities when it came to alt-modes, but he supposed it would be odd for them to turn into a symbol of a war they never took part in, especially without scanning it.
Meanwhile, Stela had been running a search of her own. She, too, came across the insignia, but it wasn’t a one-to-one match. She dug deeper. She cocked an eyebrow in surprise when she found what seemed to her a perfect fit, and looked back to Requiem. While no longer transformed, it was difficult to forget what they turned into, and eyeing the new kibble only helped to solidify it. She didn’t have the full context, but Stela was nonetheless intrigued.
Helirazer didn’t bother doing any research, instead simply waited for one of them to present an explanation. When nobody did, he chimed in (rather loudly):
"Would everyone just come out and say it already? I mean, I know what's up, but for the dimmer bulbs in the back… y'know."
Rewind and Mirage exchanged looks, still quite hesitant and unsure of how to respond.
"He looks like Megatronus," said Stela.
Hot Shot flinched at her words.
"Oh yeah, that guy! Of course, of course." Helirazer crossed his arms and nodded in a knowing manner. (He did not know.)
"You mean, one of the Thirteen Primes?" said Windshield after doing another quick search, whipping his head from Stela back to Requiem with awe-filled optics.
"Yes," said Hot Shot, quietly. "Though I ask you respectfully to not use that name." He indicated Stela as he spoke. Most of them had been too pre-occupied to notice, but Requiem had seen him cowering there prior. He was still quaking as he rose from his spot in the corner.
"My humblest apologies," Stela replied. "I hope you'll forgive me. I'm still figuring out the... cultural intricacies."
"You're fine," Hot Shot assured her, though it came out strained. The chipper attitude of a few kliks ago was gone, replaced with a noticeably colder demeanor and lack of eye contact — particularly in a certain direction. He still sounded uneasy as he addressed the group.
“In Camien religion, the Thirteen are worshipped as the first children of Primus. Each Prime is regarded for their contributions to Cybertronian history. However…"
He paused, searching for his words carefully.
“One of the Thirteen betrayed the others, and for this he was banished. Camiens have stricken his name from all records of the Primes, and he is known only as ‘The Fallen'. The depiction of, and of course worship of The Fallen is, well..." Hot Shot trailed off as his gaze drifted toward Requiem, though it did not linger. He could not bring himself to meet those scorching red optics.
Requiem had been staring intently at Hot Shot as he spoke, but after taking in his words, they shifted their focus inward. They weren’t sure how best to attempt it, but they tried to speak to the voice from earlier from somewhere deep inside — their spark, perhaps? Is that who you are? … Is that who I am?
There was no response.
As Requiem returned their thoughts to the room, they were greeted with the now familiar sight of Ratchet frowning in the doorway. This time, however, his gaze was not turned to Requiem, but to the yellow-and-red mech across the room.
"Hot Shot," he snapped as he approached, gripping the younger bot's shoulder.
"I know you Camiens have rigid beliefs about the Thirteen. But working in this facility means assisting new bots as they come online and come into their own, and giving them the respect they all deserve, no matter what — or who — they look like.”
"I-I'm..." he stammered. "You're right. I'm... sorry.”
He lifted his head and put on potentially the most forced smile these bots had ever seen, and continued. "Alright, let's get going to the next section!" As Hot Shot made a point to look Requiem in the optics, his smile only faltered ever-so-slightly.
Requiem blinked.
Before Hot Shot could hesitate much longer, Rewind piped up. "Well, if everyone's finished here, have a great rest of class! If anyone has any questions before you leave, just ask and we'll do what we can to help."
Requiem's eyes lit up at that, signaling to Rewind that they wished to ask him something after the others left. Rewind flashed a brief affirmation back.
Hot Shot wheeled around on his heels. "Oookay, onward!" He walked toward the door opposite from where they entered, the others following suit. Stela Nova glanced over her shoulder, noticing that Requiem and Ratchet held back, but continued on without hesitation.
"So, what's up?" asked Rewind. A couple of beats passed without a word, and Ratchet cleared his throat, trying unsuccessfully to hide his impatience. Then Requiem asked.
(( Can I see it? ))
Rewind glanced between the two and nodded. He turned back toward the computer and transformed neatly into a sleek, black data slug, then plugged himself into the port on the side. The screen flashed awake, displaying a recording from the small bot's perspective.
A few moments passed on-screen before anything happened. Requiem hadn't had a chance to see what they looked like, what with all of the hubbub during their coming online. The bot in front of him was an unremarkable gray, with smooth, flat features that didn't seem to suggest much about them or what they were capable of.
It was odd, watching them. This was Requiem, surely. There was no reason that Rewind would have shown them anyone else. But there was a... disconnect. That person and this one, they were one and the same, right? They remembered standing in this spot, waiting for instruction, and then following through — but the bot who came out on the other end was somehow not the bot that went in.
The figure in the video began moving. They seized up for a few nanokliks before releasing somewhat; this part was a little hazy in Requiem's data banks. They remembered a struggle, and sounds — lots of them, loud — and... a voice. Then the darkness lifted, and a different voice told him to try something, and he did. The bot in the video relaxed a little more, and their optics darkened.
Then, a scream.
The bot on-screen had moved again, tension spreading in an instant throughout their body until it looked like their limbs might pop out of their sockets. Off-screen, Ratchet’s head swiveled toward Requiem, whose frame had stiffened at the sound of their voice ripping through the air. Requiem's optics never left the recording, but the medic stayed alert for any further reaction.
They watched as the bot — as they — shuddered and convulsed, falling to their hands and knees.
Requiem's chest felt tight, as if someone had wrapped their hands around their spark and squeezed. It was a light touch at first, but the pressure had increased steadily until it was almost unbearable. On-screen, the groans and screeches of metal against metal filled the air as new growth tore through their plating, changing their shape into something unrecognizable. Requiem's gaze remained glued to the screen, but their fists unfurled and they began to scratch at their limbs, fingers gliding around the purple spikes that now adorned them. They scratched lightly at the seams — slower, absent-mindedly at first — but it wasn't long before they were threatening to score gouges deep enough that they wouldn't buff out. Ratchet reached for their hands, grasping the tops of each and squeezing gently, but firmly — just enough to say, stop.
Experiencing it from this perspective was not quite like re-living it. It wasn't feeling what they felt at the time (which was a bit of a blur anyway — there wasn't time to really process it), but rather... quite vivid sympathy pains.
The soundscape didn't help matters. As the cacophony reached its peak, Requiem felt as if they would burst or pass out. The points of their fingers dug into their plating.
And then, with one last push, things began to die down. The recording showed Requiem's new body tuck and fold and click into place, just as the others had done. And before them was a head. It was angular, a deep, rich purple, with burning crimson optics that seemed to bore into their soul. Gasps and shocked cries erupted among the recorded bots, and then there was silence. The video froze, and all was still.
Requiem stared at the screen for a long while. Bit by bit the hands that had gripped their spark so tightly began to let go, and with this, their frame eased back into a more relaxed state. Their arms remained in place, folded across their chest with fingers wrapped around the bottoms of their elbows, though their grip was no longer as strained. Ratchet let go.
Rewind ejected from the monitor and transformed back. Requiem's optics held on the darkened screen for a moment longer before turning to Rewind.
(( Thank you. ))
"Any time,” the smaller bot replied.
A moment of silence passed before Mirage piped up. "Well, best of luck with the rest of your training!" He and Rewind gave friendly waves and parting pleasantries as Ratchet nudged Requiem toward the door.
———
NOTES:
Requiem’s day hasn’t really been great so far, and unfortunately, it’s not about to get much better. But I swear all is not doom and gloom forever! Just… for a little while, lol. Then it’s a bit an on-again off-again relationship. :)
I know I said this last time, but I hope to have some artwork of the crew out in the next day or so! It’ll just be some… concept work, I guess? Designs haven’t been fully ironed out yet, but we’re getting there!
Characters introduced in this chapter:
Ratchet (canon character, he/him) Described in Chapter 1, but named in this one. Has a bit of a strange case on his hands. Size: Deluxe Class.
The Voice? (?????, ?????) I suppose they actually debuted in Chapter 1 as well, but I forgot to include them. A mysterious voice that has been communicating with Requiem since coming online.
Lol, remember when I said there should be a shorter turnaround for the next chapter? Whoops. But I’ve got two chapters to post this time! Chapter 4 will be included in a separate post.
SYNOPSIS: Windshield and Stela Nova, two newly-minted bots, have just come online. It’s time for them to figure out their alt-modes, with a couple of special guests!
WARNINGS: None that I can think of, but if you need me to tag anything, just ask!
Chapter 3 below the cut! :)
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE -- you are here!
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER THREE.
Cabbage Patch led Helirazer through a few short halls until they reached a wider corridor that led to a large door. A different exit about halfway down the hall opened, and Hot Shot stepped out, followed by Windshield, Stela Nova, and the blacksmiths. Hot Shot spied Cabbage Patch and his charge coming through as well, and nodded to them.
“Just in time.” He flashed a smile, then turned to lead the now gathered group to the next room. Two bots stood in the center, greeting them with smiles, but allowed Hot Shot to get them settled first.
The room was spacious, but rather sparse. A couple of medical slabs were located along one of the walls, and a viewing platform of sorts was set into another. On the side opposite that were some stools, and Hot Shot invited them all to have a seat.
Helirazer immediately made to pounce on one, but Cabbage Patch caught them by the leg with impressive speed. “You’re coming over here with me, Helirazer.” He led the way toward the examination table. Helirazer groaned dramatically, but eventually followed suit.
As Stela Nova and Windshield found their spots, Hot Shot and the blacksmiths went to touch base with the bots that were here when they entered. They fiddled with their data pads for a moment, and then Anode and Humblebumper nodded and turned to leave. They bade farewell to their patients and slipped out the door, and as the bots left made moves to get started, Hot Shot raised a finger and Stela heard him say, “One more.”
It wasn’t long before their final group member was ushered in, accompanied by a red and white mech of roughly the same size. He sent the other to have a seat while he very briefly shared with the three bots in the center, then sat down beside them.
With everyone settled, Hot Shot turned his attention to the seated sparklings.
“Welcome online, everyone! This facility is called the Forge Pyramid, and it’s where you’ll be staying for the next few weeks. You’ll get the chance to learn about yourselves and about our planet, Cybertron, before you go out there on your own. While we have some full-time staff, many of our instructors are volunteers. We also have some instructors who are here as a part of their community service, so we… uh, we have a wide variety of bots for you to learn from. While I don’t see it being an issue with any of your instructors today, if you find that any of our staff are being disrespectful or dangerous in any way, please let us know. We’re here to help you, and the last thing we want is for you to feel uncomfortable in our care. Anyway, with all that out of the way, the first thing we’ll be doing today is figuring out your alt-modes.” Hot Shot took several paces back and raised an arm towards the others. “Alright, you two have the floor!”
The larger bot was about the same size as Hot Shot if you looked solely at their base frames, but he sported what looked like his weight’s worth in kibble, most of it attached to his hips and reaching far above his head. He spoke first, casually raising up a hand with two fingers outstretched into a V-shape near one optic.
“Hey everyone, my name is Mirage — but call me Sailor Mirage. There’s another Mirage, and most people know that one, so…” He shrugged and rolled his optics. “I’m the Chief Kibbleoligist.” He finished with a wide, toothy grin.
“Pffft.” The smaller bot — not much larger than Stela Nova — had a faceplate covering where his mouth would be, though he seemed to be smiling as well. “And I’m Rewind, a lover of information in every shape and size.”
Mirage jumped back in. “We got scans of your internal systems from the medical staff, and I’ll be using that and my own examination of your kibble to determine what your alt-mode will likely be. Normally, it’s not a big deal — most Cybertronians just transform on their own without any problem — but sometimes there can be complications with the first time. In the case of potential mass-displacement or some kind of naturally-aggressive alt-mode or something, we try to get an idea of what you’re going to turn into before we get started.”
“I’ll be recording it for posterity,” Rewind continued, tapping the camera mounted to the side of his head. “And then after that we’ll do a bit of research to figure out a more specific version of your alt-mode. Your proto-alt-mode will be fairly simple, but you can scan something of a similar shape or function and use that as the basis for your transformation. I’ve got an extensive catalogue of options of all different kinds, and we should be able to find something that works for you, no problem. Sound good?”
Stela, Windshield, and Requiem all nodded, and Mirage clapped his hands together. “Alright, let’s get started, then. Who came online first?”
“This one,” the red-and-white medic replied, indicating Requiem. “But they’re gonna need a minute.”
“You were next to wake, Windshield, how about you go first?” Hot Shot smiled and gestured encouragingly toward the two instructors.
“O-oh, yeah- okay, sure!” He rose to his feet so quickly that he about knocked himself over again. Stiff-legged, he crossed the room to stand before Mirage, trying (and failing) to loosen up. He was just so nervous! What if he did it wrong, or had some weird, embarrassing alt-mode?
Mirage looked Windshield over thoughtfully, making comments aloud, but seemingly to himself. He took particular notice of his shoulders (though it was hard not to — they were huge), as well as the kibble on his back.
“Hmm. No tires or thrusters or anything like that, so not a vehicle or a flier. It looks to me like you’ve got the build of a weapons platform of sorts. These bad boys here,” — he tapped his own shoulders — “could provide some decent cover for a smaller bot, and allow them to attack from a higher vantage point. And it looks like these pieces back here can slot together for defensive capabilities. Looks removable in your current form as well, so I guess you’ve got yourself a shield! I suppose it is in your name, huh?”
Wait-wait-wait. Weapons? Attacking? A shield… for what? Candyland had said that he wasn’t built for fighting, so why was Mirage so focused on combat capabilities? Windshield had been doing a decent job of holding back the shaking from his nerves (though it wasn’t as if standing stiff as a board was hiding much of that, anyway), but now some trembles began slipping through. Distracted by his thoughts, he almost jumped when Mirage suggested he go ahead and try his transformation.
“Uh, y-yeah, okay…” He stepped forward to where Mirage had gestured, and shifted uncomfortably in place.
Rewind’s voice called out from the observation deck. “If you’re hesitant about transforming in front of everybody, we have a partition we can raise. I’ll still be here to observe, but you’ll have some privacy.”
“Um, yeah, that sounds good. Thank you…” Oh, Primus, he was so embarrassed! But he’d be even more embarrassed if he managed to mangle his transformation sequence, so he was grateful for the wall as it rose up from the ground and obscured their view. He tried to prepare himself, but was getting distracted by his worries. When he still hadn’t made a move after a few moments, Mirage raised his voice and spoke to him through the wall:
“Everything alright over there? If you’re still nervous, you might try using a mantra or something… For most bots, transforming’s a simple process and comes pretty naturally, but the first time can be intimidating for some. There’s a phrase some of the old-age spiritualist-types use; it’s ah… kinda cheesy — not really my thing — but if it works for them, who am I to judge? Just try focusing on your… spark, I guess? Say the words, ‘I am transformed,’ a couple of times if you need to. I dunno, maybe it won’t do much, but…” His shrug was palpable through the wall.
Windshield was willing to give anything a shot. Well, not anything, but this seemed simple enough. He closed his optics, vented in and out a few times, and tried to keep still. I am transformed. I am transformed. I am…
Transforming! It was a bit slow and awkward, but he got there in the end.
“Huh,” Rewind mused. “Interesting. Go ahead and transform back, and we’ll have Mirage take a look at you over by the examination area.”
Windshield did so, and practically squealed upon returning to his original form. “I-I did it!!!” He was beaming, excited and a bit incredulous. He shouldn’t have been so hard on himself earlier, everything went fine! He followed Mirage to the other side of the room, and still distracted by his little high, wound up fairly close to the exam table. He started to move back and give himself room when movement caught his eye. Windshield looked up to see another bot, the one that had met their group in the hall, lurching toward him with a fist outstretched.
“Heyyy, nice job, buddy! Cool alt—”
The bot was jerked back into place by the one that was working on him.
“I need you to stay still!” they growled. “You’ve just ruptured a lubrication line, and now I have to fix it before you start leaking everywhere. Don’t. Move.”
“Sorry, Doc, I just wanted to congratulate him!”
Windshield had backed up quickly at the sight of the hand coming at him, but realized afterward that it was likely a friendly gesture. He thought, at least — it was coming at him a little fast… He left the two to bicker and moved into place, and transformed once more; this time it went much smoother, his body knowing exactly where and how to move.
“Yeah, alright! So it looks likes you turn into a wall — that shield on your back comes around to provide extra defense in front, and like I said, these towers could come in handy.”
Windshield’s excitement started to shift into unease again. “Um, Candyland said that I, uh… that my build is—”
“—Kinda fragile? Yeah, I did see that in the report. You probably won’t last long in a fight…” Mirage frowned and rubbed his chin in thought. “Well, it may very well be that your alt-mode’ll be kinda useless. I mean, without the strength or durability to back it up, a defensive wall’s kind of a bum deal. It’s a real shame, too, given your size — coulda been another Broadside or Lugnut — but I guess your name kind of says it all, and wind’ll be about the only thing you can —”
“Whoa-whoa-whoa, hold up—” Rewind interjected. “First of all, stop making everything about combat. We’re past that, or at least I hope we are.” The tone of his voice grew a little softer, but no less serious as he addressed the others. “Listen. It doesn’t matter what you’re ‘built’ for or how ‘useful’ it is. A Cybertronian’s alt-mode does not dictate what they are meant to do, and it definitely doesn’t indicate the value of a Cybertronian. You decide what your alt-mode is for and how to use it, and you decide what that means to you, if anything.” He paused for a moment to let it sink in before adding, “That said, generally speaking, it’s a good idea not to use it to hurt people. It may be necessary sometimes, but Cybertron could do with a lot less violence.”
Mirage, who had been rubbing the back of his neck as Rewind gave his speech, put both hands up in surrender as he finished. “Yeah, you’re right. Sorry, old habits, y’know…”
By this time Windshield had transformed back and retreated toward the wall next to the exam table, so as not to block anyone’s view during Rewind’s speech.
“Aww, a little rough-housing never hurt anybody!” said Helirazer, taking this opportunity to go for another playful jab at Windshield, though all he could reach was his knee. Windshield winced as one joint hit the other in just the wrong way, sending a discordant ripple throughout their frame. Helirazer was once again yanked back into place by an increasingly frustrated Cabbage Patch, who scolded his charge. Again.
While Windshield finished up with Rewind, Sailor Mirage gave them some space and called Stela Nova over. She kept still as the larger bot circled her, his balance impressive considering how just much kibble loomed above him and how far he had to bend over to examine her much smaller frame. He didn’t have to look long, however, for her features were more suggestive of her form than Windshield’s.
“Yeah, I’d definitely say you’ve got the proto-kibble for some kind of beast-mode. Probably quadrupedal, kinda long in the body, I’d bet? You’ve got a lot of extra kibble in the back, so you’re a bit of a shell-former like me.” He leaned back and put his hands on his hips.
“A shelf-warmer?” Stela asked.
“Yeah, a shell-former.” Sailor Mirage turned a bit and ran a finger along his hip attachments. “When I transform, these things form the bottom of my alt-mode — a boat — and the rest of my body just kinda… piles inside the ‘shell’. With you, it looks like your cape-thingy will wrap around your body and hold it all in place.” He glanced up from her to check on the others, then nodded. “Looks like Rewind’s done. Why don’t you give it a spin?”
Sailor Mirage took a step back, and Stela obliged. It was far less clunky of a transformation than Windshield’s first go, but as she settled into her new form, she couldn’t help but feel… off. There was nothing wrong with the transformation sequence itself — it felt as natural as could be — but as she looked in the reflective surface on the wall she scowled. Well, as much as she could scowl with a mouth like that.
It was as Mirage said: a long, worm-like creature stood on four squat legs. The plates laid flat, leaving the surface smooth. Her mouth… well, it was huge, taking up the majority of her face and filled with pointed teeth. Again, technically there was nothing wrong with it; Mirage had mentioned a beast-mode, and this certainly seemed to fit the bill; however, she was far from satisfied with it.
“Seems I was right on the money!” His smile faltered a tad as he caught Stela’s expression, and he let out a soft chuckle as he continued. “Why don’t you head on over to Rewind and check out his database? I’m sure you’ll find something in there that’s a little more to your liking.”
She transformed back and dipped her head to Mirage before heading that way. As she did so, she heard Helirazer make a comment to someone else about her alt-mode’s appearance. Her optics snapped up to theirs, though their head was turned away. Stela bit back a retort. There was no reason to be embarrassed — as they explained earlier, proto-alt-modes were usually quite simple and hers was no different — but she couldn’t help but feel frustrated. It was ugly and she didn’t like it, and she didn’t appreciate comments from the wingnut gallery. At least she managed to keep her plating from outwardly bristling as she pulled up beside Rewind.
Rewind was already pulling up images of creatures, some mechanical and some organic. She considered a few different options, but was ultimately drawn to some small mammals from the planet Earth. These animals were of a similar build, but with more charming features, in her opinion. At Stela’s indication, Rewind pulled up a projection model of one of these “mustelids”, as they were listed in the database, and she scanned it. Immediately upon transforming, she felt more at home. Stela checked her reflection, and sure enough found it acceptable, too. The shape of her body followed the model, though the segmentation throughout was still visible.
“I think this will do nicely.”
———
NOTES:
They also pick colors, but I didn’t feel like stretching that bit out any further. It’s also a bit of a retcon that I’ll have to go fix in Chapter 2, but it wasn’t fully decided at the time if they had their colors right out the gate, or if they chose them when looking through the database. Windshield picks baby blue and pink, with a white/light gray protoform. Stela’s protoform is a medium gray, and the outer bits are a deep, purple-y blue with white accents that evoke stars in space. Helirazer… I still haven’t completely decided on their colors yet lmao, and though I now have a way to get around having to nail down a palette, it won’t come into play for a while. So I’ll say he’s like, a lime green for the most part — though he also has what looks like yellow caution tape striping his body.
Windshield’s alt-mode is based on a castle wall, the kind with crenellated towers on either side. In the center, where a set of doors or a drawbridge might be located, his shield locks into place to provide extra defense. When activated, it shifts to a more rounded out shield-shape — but when it is not in use, it is shaped like a butterfly (he scanned one of those murals you can stand in front of that makes you look like you have wings) and they rest on his back, giving him big ol’ fairy wings, basically. The castle wall/towers were my spouse’s idea (who now has a tumblr account — go follow them at @burnertrust !), and then I wanted the wings. He also has horns that are formed by twisting cables that kind of give a faun/satyr vibe, so he’s kind of a mismash of different fantasy elements! Also he’s trans flag colors, which wasn’t intentional as far as narrative goes… I just like them, lol (but who knows what could happen down the line? ;) does this count as queerbaiting? lmao)
Stela, as was made rather clear, is based on the mustelidae family — specifically stoats/ermines/polecats/ferrets/minks/etc., the smaller, shorter-legged ones. I also considered something bigger, like a wolverine, but decided to start small and I could work it into the story as an upgrade if I wanted to go bigger. Her armor is made up of layers of spiky plates that can flare out, and I figured that those thoughts could tie in together. -shrug-
Helirazer doesn’t get to transform for a while, but if it isn’t obvious by their name, they’re a helicopter.
Speaking of names! They were very fun to come up with. I think Helirazer is my favorite: it uses ‘raze’ as in ‘raze to the ground’ (referring to their destructive nature), evokes ‘razor’ as in ‘razor blade’ (referring to their weapons of choice, their helicopter blades), and sounds like ‘hellraiser’ (which is meant to refer more to their habit of raising hell than the horror movie, lol).
Stela Nova was a happy coincidence. I had wanted to use a galaxy theme for someone, and had decided on a stoat alt-mode for her already, when the phrase ‘stella nova’ came to mind. Given the spelling of ‘mustelid’, the name for the family that stoats and the like are a part of, I just dropped an ‘l’ and there we had it!
Windshield’s explanation is pretty much just what it said in the chapter. I had worked out most of his character during the rolls, and once I decided that he could be blown away by a strong gust of wind… well.
I think I said this on the last one, but Requiem Fall’s name was decided by Burner. If you know about TF lore it’s obvious who’s involved somehow… but only real ones know about Grand Mal (jk I didn’t know until I stumbled upon the TFWiki article), and while I don’t know the circumstances surrounding it in this world, the reference is pretty clear.
Aaaand speaking of where they’re from, Helirazer’s spark was found in/near the Toxic Sludge Swamps. Also pretty sure I mentioned last time that it’s Stela Nova of Sansaw Sanserre and Windshield of Ibex. None of this really matters, I just wanted throw it out there.
Characters introduced in this chapter:
(Sailor) Mirage (canon character, he/him) Self-proclaimed “Chief Kibble-ologist”, and for obvious reason. Size: technically Deluxe Class, though the kibble pushes him into Leader Class
Rewind (canon character, he/him) Records everything — it’s kind of his thing. Size: Micro Class
