#Machines meant for Building Construction purposes

[all-encompassing-hero]

One thing I love about the Horizon franchise is how both Zero Dawn and Forbidden West make it explicitly clear that while the current threat might be the machines and rouge AI threatening Aloy and her people, the true evil behind everything is and always has been capitalism and, to an extent, the One Percent.

[Spoiler warning for both Zero Dawn and Forbidden West]

Obviously, there's Ted Faro, a man who, through a combination of overinflated ego and massive incompetence, doomed the world twice over. First, accidentally, by designing war machines capable of consuming organic matter as fuel and programmed with code so complex, it took several hundred years to crack. And then, on purpose, by deleting thousands of years of human knowledge and history in some misguided attempt to help the future generations. A man who not only built the Torment Nexus from the book "Don't build the Torment Nexus" but then deleted all records of both his construction and the story from which it came so that future generations would not be able to learn from the mistakes of those who came before them.

Now, while the Zeniths are not as heavyhanded about the themes of the evils of capitalism compared to Ted Faro, they do still uphold that narrative. Remember that the Zenith crew was composed almost entirely of the rich and famous. Rich and famous who would rather save their own skins rather than try to help humanity in its final hours. When they managed to do the impossible and achieve immortality, what did they do with it? Squandered it by becoming lazy, only using it to essentially prolong their own pleasure. Some even became greedy enough to go beyond physical immortality, and when that greed caused the destruction of their home and threatened the new life that had begun on Earth, what did the remaining Zeniths do? Turned tail and ran. Because the only thing that matters to them is self preservation.

Tilda might actually be the worst of them. Because while the others may not care that they're in the wrong, Tilda is the only one who believes she is in the right. Tilda, the woman who was arguably the closest to Elizabet, who watched her choose to stay to help develop the Zero Dawn project rather than abandon Earth, who has been grieving that loss for over a thousand years, believed that, given a second chance, Elizabet would choose to abandon Earth. Tilda, who believed that she was doing the right thing even as she was attempting to force Aloy to abandon her people the same way she wanted Elizabet to abandon Earth. Tilda, who died believing that the woman she loved died a pointless death even after seeing the new world created by Zero Dawn.

The Horizon franchise is and always has been a story about technology. How technology can do so much good in the hands of the right people, but also so much evil in the hands of the wrong people. And it keeps telling us that the "wrong people" are the rich and greedy, the ones who only look out for themselves, the ones who would leave humanity to die if it meant saving themselves.

My biggest hope for Horizon 3 is that it continues this message. That it continues to show that technology can be used for good, but only when in the hands of people who have the best interest of others at heart rather than their own.

[aloevhello]

Nueva York in ATSV Script

1. Nueva York

Nueva York’s art style is inspired by the work of Syd Mead, a neo-futurist concept artist who often portrayed utopian designs of streamlined urban settings. The ATSV art book also cites other artists from the 70’s and 80’s, such as John Berkeley, John Harris, and John Bell, adding to the retro futuristic look of the city.

The city being reminiscent of Mead’s sketchbook is shown through the sketch lines presented in its architecture to Miguel himself, creating the image of an unfinished world. This style likely reflects Mead’s work in concept design, the idea of the future being susceptible to change, and Miguel’s 1992 comic run being cancelled and in turn his story being left unfinished.

The script also describes Nueva York as being bilingual, which is exemplified later in ATSV when Miguel speaks to Miles fluently in Spanish. This indicates that Spanish is at least a secondary language used in Nueva York, along with the city having a high Spanish speaking population.

The foyer is described as brutalist, an architectural style that emphasizes functionality and structural elements, along with giving a cold and imposing impression. Brutalist structures are often used for utilitarian purposes, which works in tandem with Miguel’s philosophy of utilitarianism regarding canon events.

2a. Downtown

Syd Mead is also known for his darker cyberpunk designs found in films like Blade Runner (1982), which inspired the look for the underground portion of Nueva York; a fitting choice since the comics portray this section of the city being riddled with crime. The use of one main artist to present the utopian and dystopian aspects of Nueva York allows for a visual connection between these disparate parts of the city.

Considering the pistons in this scene, one questions what kind of function they serve for the city? What if the industrial aspect of the city’s underground is focused on providing an energy source that fuels the upper level of Nueva York? What if these pistons are meant to help fuel the city’s lower level?

It’s also interesting to note the script’s use of the word “underbelly” when describing the lower city, since that phrase was used to describe the same area, which is named as Downtown, in the comics. (Below a panel from v1, #45 from sm2099 July 1996)

At least, this region would be called Downtown if the script had not already named this place as…

2b. Viejo Nueva York

In the script, Downtown is renamed as Viejo Nuevo York which translates into “Old New York” in Spanish. The name change likely occurred to reflect the bilingual nature of the city and its inhabitants.

The name Viejo Nuevo York could also provide more insight into the city’s history, considering how the script referred to this section of Nueva York as the “old city.” Maybe this will lead to further exploration into Nueva York’s history and its juxtaposing aspects. Viejo Nueva York is a fitting name to describe this portion of the city, since the comics state that it was once the island of Manhattan before Nueva York was built on top of it.

Viejo Nueva York is also set in “permanent night” due to the upper level of the city being constructed on top of their buildings that prevent any sunlight. This acts as a clear differentiation from the blue sky’s portrayed in the city’s upper level as seen in the film.

3. Anyr

These two scenes present the spider-like contraption, Anyr, found at the Go-Home-Machine. The script’s usage of words like “cocoon” and “spidery arms” gives the robot an organic and animalistic quality, which differs from the other technology presented. The directors’ commentary adds to this point as they state that whale noises were used to make Anyr sound more like a living being than a machine.

In the commentary, one of the directors state that Anyr’s design was inspired by a stop-motion resin spider, The Widow Of The Web, from a sci-fi adventure movie called Krull (1983). Anyr’s namesake was inspired by Ynyr, a character in Krull who climbed across the spider’s web. Considering how Krull was from the 80’s, the retro aesthetic continues despite the robot being in a futuristic setting.

The directors note how Anyr is meant to be this mystical technology Miguel found from the deep future of 3000, potentially from another dimension. While the commentary states that Miguel found the robot instead of creating it, considering how akin to a spider it is, Anyr might lead to a future plot point that goes more in depth about the nature of the Spiderverse.

[evolutionsvoid]

Bone-bile constructs were once seen as a breakthrough in these lands, an invention like no other seen before. A simple combination of Black Bile and bone, cobbled together into a living shape and given purpose. There had been other living creations born before their arrival, but these had always been resource heavy to build and required vast amounts of energeiai to activate. Comparatively, the bone-bile constructs are far easier to craft, as cheap bone is plentiful for those not worried about appearances. The hardest part is finding one who can weave Black Bile and inscribe it with the purpose that will drive it. When this method was discovered, folk wondered if this was the end of the hard times. A life of hard labor was no longer needed for any human, as these automatons would take these backbreaking roles and perform them with ease. Tales and fantasies dreamed of a time when the people could kick back and enjoy the pleasures of life while artificial men of bone and bile did all the work for them. A wondrous dream, but sadly one that never came to be.

Once the luster and wonder had time to fade, folks began to see the flaws within the constructs. They were not just simple in design, but in mind as well. They required incredibly precise orders and inscribings to do their job, and anything outside of that was impossible. Poor wording led to disasters, too strict of wording made them useless at the slightest hiccup. While experience eventually led to people better understanding these limitations and how to properly use them, the frustrations born from these issues ultimately spelled the end of this automation dream. Folks grew tired of having to hang around these constructs like vultures, making sure there weren't issues or misinterpreted orders. Their age faded to the classic "no don't do that! That's all wrong! Ugh! Let ME do it!"

And as the decades passed, research would birth new constructs and finer automatons. What the Academy produced and the Church raised made bone-bile constructs look like children's toys. Stronger, smarter and better in every way. Some would look at these achievements and wonder why these old school constructs were even around anymore. Their time had long passed, their strengths now overshadowed, and their reputation now of stupidity and cheapness. Surely they would not be long for this world.

Yet, the bone-bile constructs have stuck around, with some pointing out that their numbers are even greater than before. These automatons are indeed simple to their competitors, but simplicity is flexible and can be used in a myriad of ways. While the strengths of other constructs forced them into specific roles, the blank slate of these machines meant that imagination was the only limit. And one must remember their easy creation, especially compared to the others that may use divine corpse wax or guarded verdigris to build. One is always tempted to glorify the finest specimens and believe them to always be the best, but never forget that "basic" tends to become the norm for a reason and for a lot of folk "good enough" is, indeed, good enough. Bone-bile constructs became the automaton of the working man, an ally of the common people. Their variety and simple nature far more accessible to the lower classes than any other machine.

While the limits still remain, folk have been learning over the years on ways to augment these bland automatons. Easy tweaks and tricks that can make the cheap and crude shine like polished ivory. Better ways to inscribe the Black Bile that fuels them, sleeker designs and smarter bone forging to make them function better. Some people would claim that time and patience is key to unlocking their true potential, as they believe the Black Bile within them stores far more than one would think. Villages who have had their singular construct for decades swear that they are smarter and more capable than any freshly forged machine. An idea that they learn over time and begin to form their own tasks and actions, resulting in them acting more human than machine. Many outside of these small settlements scoff at the idea, blaming these thoughts on blind fondness for their free worker. Instead, they would say that another piece is needed to refine this crude machine, that Black Bile and bone need something more to truly make them sing. There is argument over what that is exactly, but one avenue that has shown up more and more over the years is Amber.

A liquid said to be a "false humor," though many would call that title over dramatic. Amber is born of plants, inherently making it inferior to the wondrous marvels of the flesh. Yet, its properties cannot be ignored. Amber is capable of being solidified in a way that can entomb the living and keep them in a strange stasis. For the people who believe in the cycle of life and regeneration, it is a terrifying thought. To be sealed in a everlasting Amber cocoon, forced to remain whole and untouched, unable to return to the great cycle. It is a fate worse than death, which makes it unsurprising that Amber is used to imprison vile criminals and traitors, robbing them of rebirth while also displaying them like morbid trophies. But the uses don't end there. While trapped within, their mind is not fully asleep, and it has been found that one can tap into this dormant psyche. It is here where Amber has come into play with these constructs, as folk figure if their minds are too barren than why not plug in a better one?

From this has come constructs with Amber heads and sleeping hearts, driven by the creature held within this orange shell. By driving needles of Black Bile into the Amber and into its prisoner, they can access the mind held inside and connect it to the bony frame. So while the being dreams in this frozen sleep, this artificial body shall serve as vessel to these slumbering fantasies. With the right prodding and inscription of Black Bile, they can be forced to accept a purpose, to follow a false thought. These are used to set them on tasks and augment them for the role that is needed. Make a sealed beast believe it is hungry, and its ivory shell shall live to track and hunt. Due to the ghastly nature of this fate, it is forbidden to use humans in this way, thus people turn to animals to serve as sacrifice. They may not be smart as man, but they certainly can be smarter than a construct, and better adapted to certain jobs.

Amber drones are one of these constructs, built of simple frame yet piloted by slumbering Amber. They can come in different sizes and forms, but the most common form is a ball of bladed tendrils that houses an Amber core. Inside this egg is usually a basic critter of predatory nature, the needles of bile driven in to trigger their need to hunt and fight. With the right inscription, these small creatures can be held in a dream that makes them excellent at stalking and guarding. Their instincts and tactics now infused with a body of greater strength and deadliness. These drones act as guard dogs and stealthy hunters, tasked with taking down foes and keeping the unwelcome from entering. Bony claws and amber blades are common weapons, as anything more complicated will confuse the dreamer. While larger frames and greater bulk would make for better fighters, folk prefer the smaller forms for their insidious and stealthy work. While these machines surpass the basic bone-biles in these departments, there is a weakness to them. Their Amber cores make obvious targets, and smashing them brings the automaton to a quick demise. Getting these cores is also more difficult and expensive than basic bile and bone, which is why they are found in the hands of richer folk. And, of course, one must remember that what pilot these machines is a creature that once lived, having its own wants and fears. Memories of their past or particular instincts may flare up in their duties, reacting to stimuli in unfavorable ways. A dreaming spider that once feared the birds above may create a guard dog who shrinks away from winged foes.

[nectarinesalt]

TICK // 15.1 - war pigs

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Rating: mature (angst, language, arson)

Word Count: 1700

☾

Generals gathered in their masses Just like witches at black masses Evil minds that plot destruction Sorcerer of death's construction

☾

May 15, 1984 - junior year

12:00PM.

With a sharp jerk of his hand, Eddie lit a match and held it to the firework.

Did he really think this plan out? No. Did he really care about the consequences at that moment? Definitely not. Did he purchase the fireworks from a reputable seller? Hell the fuck no. 

He bought them at a discounted price from some junkie in Illinois who swore they weren't expired.

But was the shit-eating grin on Eddie's face a clear indication of how much fun he was having? 

Hell yes.

Most of the students were inside the building, back to their classes after lunch. Eddie could see some figures out on the football fields beginning to notice the fireworks.

He started with a few of the big ones, moving on to some smaller ones. It was too light outside to really enjoy them, he knew, but that wasn't the point. He wanted noise, he wanted chaos.

Eddie Munson thrived on anarchy. It was in his blood, his bones. He had a carnal urge inside of him to disrupt society. 

Plus, what did he have to lose? He was going to be out of this hell hole in a week's time. 

Students and teachers began to emerge from the nearest doors, alarmed at the booming noises. He didn't pay attention to any of their faces - he was having a complete adrenaline rush, laughing maniacally at his magnificent work.

Eddie felt a twinge of nostalgia as he heard the fireworks, smelling the gunpowder. It reminded him of dancing with you on New Year's Eve.

"Munson! Stop this right now!" Someone was yelling at him, pointing fingers in his direction.

He had purposely waited until noon. Eddie knew that you would be in your Advanced English class, all the way on the other side of the building. 

Nothing was going to stop him now, not even his intimidating girlfriend.

Everything was going to plan until he reached for the final firework, the biggest one, saved for his grand finale. It looked like a stick of dynamite, meant to be held as it was lit and then thrown. He held a freshly lit match in one hand, and the firework in the other.

…and then something went terribly, terribly wrong. 

☾

In the fields, the bodies burning As the war machine keeps turning Death and hatred to mankind Poisoning their brainwashed minds Oh lord, yeah!

☾

A loud, sudden squealing of sneakers on the tile floor. 

You were stunned to see Jonathan Byers in the doorway of your classroom. He was out of breath, like he had been running the halls for a while. 

You jumped from your seat. You were technically in your English class, but because it was so close to the end of the year, the teacher gave you all a free period. You had nearly fallen asleep when Jonathan burst in.

"Byers! Is this necessary? What may we help you with?" Ms. Walker scolded the boy who was interrupting the peace of the classroom.

"Sorry, ma'am, I just really need to borrow Buckley."

Reluctantly, Ms. Walker nodded her head, allowing you to gather your book bag and chase after Jonathan.

"What's going on? Talk to me, Byers!" You did your best to catch up with him. He seemed to be running towards the front of the building, near the staff parking lot. 

Jonathan let out a quick laugh. "Are you serious? Don't you hear the fireworks?"

"Yeah, why? I figured it was just some celebration."

But Jonathan skidded to a halt, his shoulders dropping in exasperation. "Nah. It's Eddie. He was lighting off fireworks in the parking lot out front. One of them caught Higgin's car on fire."

"You have got to be fucking kidding me."

You took off into a sprint towards the school's main entrance. You wished with every bone in your body that Jonathan was mistaken, that it was some other unruly student and not your Eddie. He was inches away from graduating. He was already on thin fucking ice. This couldn't be true.

All of your hopes faded away as you weaved through the crowd of students just in time to see Eddie in handcuffs, being led away by Jim Hopper. A car nearby was engulfed in flames.

Anger burned inside of you, hotter than Principal Higgin's car, as you watched Hopper's truck drive away with Eddie in the back of it. 

☾

Time will tell on their power minds Making war just for fun Treating people just like pawns in chess Wait till their judgement day comes, yeah!

☾

After almost an hour of Eddie sitting alone, waiting, Chief Hopper stomped into the room. They were in his office, away from any prying eyes.

The look on the older man's face read a mixture of I really don't want to be here and he's going to be a legend.

"Kid, you know why I brought you here, right?"

Eddie feigned innocence, holding up his cuffed hands that were covered in ashes, burns, and gunpowder.

"No, sir. Not a single clue."

Hopper sighed heavily and tossed his hat onto the table separating them. Eddie noticed how tired the chief looked, how the bags under his eyes made him look ten years older than he probably was. 

"Munson, level with me here. There were over fifty people - students and staff - that saw you at the scene of the crime. I literally caught you red-handed, judging by those burns on your hands," Hopper explained, clearly holding back a smirk.

Tapping his fingers on the table, Eddie watched with amusement as they left little black marks in their wake. 

"Let's just cut to the chase here, Hop. What's my punishment? Community service all summer?"

The Munson boy suddenly didn't like the sad expression on Hopper's face, or the second heavy sigh that he released from under his thick mustache. A bad feeling sunk into the pit of his stomach and began to rot like spoiled meat.

The chief laced his hands together in front of him. "I talked with Principal Higgins for quite a while. I tried to negotiate, I really did, but-"

"It was a prank, sir. A harmless senior prank."

"That's the thing, Munson. It may have started out harmless, but it didn't end up harmless."

Eddie held his burnt palms out towards Hopper. "I'm fully aware! You think I can play guitar anytime soon with these hands? Do you neanderthals even have a first aid kit around here? I think I need to clean these wounds before they become infected."

But Hopper ignored his outburst. Hawkin's prized Chief of Police had a genuine look of pity in his eyes.

"They're not going to let you graduate, boy."

His stomach almost fell out of his ass in anger. Eddie could have strangled Hopper for being the messenger of news like this. 

Scratching the back of his mind was you and the look of disappointment that would surely be the death of him.

"Excuse me?"

"Your principal seemed to really hate you before today, but especially now that you blew up his goddamn Buick."

"First of all, it didn't blow up. It just caught fire. Don't be so dramatic."

Hopper gave him a stern look, but didn't have a reply to his back-sass.

Eddie tried to reason with him. "I'd rather go to jail, Hop. Let's work something out, okay? I'm a fucking week away from graduation."

The man across from him was shaking his head before Eddie could finish his sentence. "I did everything I could, kid. You were already hanging by a thread at that school before you went all Firestarter today."

At this point Eddie was holding back hysterical laughter. 

Hopper continued. "I personally don't know why he would want you back at Hawkins High. He refuses to press charges. I'm sure it's a mixture of your grades, your record, and the fact that he's out for blood now…"

And then the next words to come out of his mouth shocked Eddie.

"...the blaze from Higgins' car trashed Jerry Eulin's truck that was next to it. That teacher didn't seem to care for you, either. He dropped your grade. Even if Higgins didn't demand you get held back, your grades are ruined, Munson. I'm sorry."

"This system is fucked!" Eddie screamed. He leapt up from the chair and paced back and forth, fuming. He yanked at the cuffs on his wrists, tearing his skin. "Why am I even handcuffed?!"

The chief stood with him, gesturing with his hands to calm down. "I told them I wanted to be the one to tell you. It might as well have been a witch hunt to those assholes."

Eddie refused to respond. He stopped pacing and stood with his back to Hopper, trying to control his breathing before he started hyperventilating.

"Munson… Eddie." His voice was calm. "You've been through enough already with your father, I-"

A rapid knock at the door startled them both. 

"What is it?" Hopper exclaimed, annoyed.

The door creaked open, revealing Officer Callahan. "Chief, Munson's ride is here."

Eddie stood still as a statue, eyeing Hopper as he unlocked the cuffs from his sore wrists and led him towards the front of the building.

"Kid, take the summer off. Do some fun shit, spend time with your girlfriend," he held the glass doors open for Eddie. "And for the love of God, stay out of trouble, will you?"

"Thanks, Hop," Eddie replied cheerfully, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'll make sure to invite you to my graduation next year."

And he turned away from Hopper without giving him a chance to apologize again. The pitying look in the older man's eyes was nauseating.

Eddie Munson didn't make it far, though, before he came to an abrupt halt on the sidewalk. His heart broke into a million fractured pieces. 

His beloved van was parked right in front of the police station. Leaning against it was you, arms crossed over your chest, disappointment burning bright in your enraged gaze.

☾

Now in darkness, world stops turning Ashes where their bodies burning No more war pigs have the power Hand of God has struck the hour

☾

A/N: i didn't know how much i'd LOVE writing Hopper and Eddie interacting. why were we robbed of that in the show?!

(song lyrics credit: "War Pigs" by Black Sabbath)

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[rontra]

How do you feel about the new rwby episode?? 👀👀👀

so sooo fucking good today's episode was so fucking good. i'm not going to type up my full thoughts about it In Detail because i'm a little too insecure and shy to analysispost on main (lol) but suffice to say it's basically exactly what i crave from any excellent story-about-story like this, right. i'm really eating it up

the ever after is putting the screws to every single breakpoint in remnant-as-a-story. in the mechanisms that drive its narrative. we've always been watching a story about a story coming apart, unable to sustain the weight of the truth. and the ever after is pushing hard on every single instability raised to this point.

the narrative itself is fractured so badly we can see bone. the story—the mechanism—the machine is breaking apart. it can't sustain itself like this. this isn't right. the final layer is fragmenting, no matter how hard it tries to hang on. and we can see something through the cracks. there is something inside. at the heart of it. and it is coming out. and it is still alive.

rwby has always been layers and layers of sleight of hand and deception. it's a story about peeling back the layers bit by bit. it's an intricate piece of work that rewards you for getting your hands into it and prying it apart, fat from skin. it's been pulling us out of ozma's walled garden since the beginning. it's a story about story about story about story. the mechanism built by the characters—the story written by remnant's storytellers—the construct of remnant—

you see? you see??? it's a story about a story coming apart at the seams—and its building blocks have just been dealt yet another irreparable blow, now at the hands of a girl who was meant to reinforce it by giving herself to it whole to eat—

there's only one stained layer of flimsy left, sticking like gauze over the bleeding core—can you hear his narrative creaking and breaking??? can you feel the strain? KNOWLEDGE, THEN CHOICE—the characters will have to take a stand in the grand scheme of remnant as a narrative and decide what story they are willing to accept—can you feel the implications? the course being set?

the time is rapidly moving from being "someday" to becoming NOW.

do they feel it bearing down on them? they're being pressed directly on the very illusions that hold their storybook world together. the pieces are all already together, if they would just see it. the ever after is screaming through the narrative to look again. look again. look again. can they hear it?

—have you ever snapped something by bending it too far. now do it to a story. do it on purpose. do it well. do it for ten years straight.

man! that's good eatin!

[ichiwashername-o]

What Are Friends For Ch. 24

An Undertale fanfiction.

Written by ichiwashername-o

Summary: The skeleton brothers begin to construct their time machine! But, of course, time traveling is very rarely a simple endeavor . . .

Rating: Viewer discretion advised.  Contains swearing, trauma, and psychological horror

Cast: Undyne, Papyrus, Sans, W.D. Gaster, Grillby and others

WE'RE BACK, BABYYYYY! And to kick it all off is a doozy of a chapter! I really hope you all enjoy!

[CH.1] [CH.2] [Ch.3] [CH.4] [CH.5] [CH.6] [CH.7] [CH.8] [CH. 9] [CH.10] [CH. 11] [CH.12] [CH. 13] [CH. 14] [CH.15] [CH.16] [CH. 17] [CH.18] [CH. 19] [CH. 20] [CH. 21] [CH. 22] [CH. 23] [CH. 24] [CH. 25]

AO3

With no time to waste, with neither brother wanting or needing sleep, the duo headed downstairs to the basement, a room Papyrus hadn’t personally entered for some time. It was much like how he remembered it; dusty, with parts and blueprints strewn all about, a massive blue tarp half-covering some sort of strange metallic contraption. And for the first time in a very long time, Sans stepped forward to tear it off.

A great cloud of dust billowed in the air as the tarp was removed, revealing an arc-shaped machine, half-constructed with metal plates torn off, exposing the wiring and skeletal structure underneath.

“The time machine?” Papyrus ventured.

Sans gave a lazy half-shrug. “Was supposed to be. All the math checked out ok, but theory and practice are two different beasts. Could never get it to work right, and never figured out how. I suspect the human kid had something to do with it. Interference, or something.”

Papyrus gave a cautious nod. He was vaguely aware the human has— had —some strange influence over time. “But now the human is . . . not here anymore—”

“No more interference. So, maybe it’ll work this time,” Sans finished. Hey, it was the best they got. Anything was worth a shot if it meant they kept Gaster well and out of their lives. Let him rot in whatever purgatory he found himself in. 

Bastard deserved a lot worse.

“Let’s get started.”

Sans dug through the drawers, stuffed with an encyclopedia’s worth of blueprints and schematics. Initially, Sans was tentative about showing all this to Papyrus. This was complicated stuff, and the last thing he needed was to confuse his poor brother. But, to his delighted surprise, Papyrus took to the blueprints like a fish to water. It seemed all of Papyrus’s extensive knowledge of fabricating his own convoluted traps proved to give him exactly the experience he needed to read the blueprints. He had quite the mechanical eye, Sans would learn.

It really was impressive how quickly Papyrus picked up on things. With something to do, something for him to physically work on, Papyrus dove in with vigor and enthusiasm Sans hadn’t seen in him for a long time, not since the kid, that was for sure.

“Could you hand me that crescent wrench?”

“Sure thing, just pass me the terminal plates while you’re over there—"

“You want 12-gauge or 9-gauge wire for this?”

“Well, our current voltage is going off 240, and depending on the load, I say we err on the side of caution and go bigger—”

“-Green to ground, white to neutral, red to hot—could you hand me that black wire, this motor is three-phase, oh, we might have to change out the fuses, those aren’t nearly big enough—”

The hours flew by, both skeleton brothers working in tandem, getting their bones and clothes covered in dust and grease and wire shavings. And it was . . . fun . Sans had no idea how much fun it could be building something with his brother. Why hadn’t they done this before? The two of them had their fair share of joint projects, but either Sans’ slacking off made the end result a joke, or Papyrus’s endless ambition and enthusiasm caused it to blow up in a spectacular fireball before the final piece was finished.

To be fair, they were very spectacular fireballs.

But now, with the two of them working with synchronized fervor and purpose, they were making more progress than either of them could ever dream of.

Which proved to be to their detriment, they would find. So engrossed in their work, so captivated by a tangible mission and something to throw all their energy into, they . . . might have lost track of the time. And only were reminded of petty things like eating and sleeping when Papyrus stood a little too fast and nearly fainted.

Sans caught him before he could crack his head on a table. “Alright, um, I think we need to put a pin in this And I ain’t talking about the pins and needles in my legs from kneeling so long,” he chuckled.

“Clearly, we do need a break,” Papyrus noted sourly. “Because your jokes are becoming truly insufferable.”

Retreating up from the basement, they made their way to the kitchen where Papyrus began to pull out various food bits from the pantry in an attempt to cobble together some sort of breakfast—actually, what time was it? Papyrus glanced at the clock and his eyes widened. Ah, not breakfast, he decided. More like a dinner. A very, very, very late dinner.

How the time flies.

And how he hoped they’d make time fly at their own discretion when they were through, he thought wryly.

Soon enough, Papyrus, with Sans’ help, (or interference, depending on how you looked at it) he had made a nice dinner of scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. So, he did end up making breakfast. But only because he hadn’t gone shopping in a long time and they were starting to run out of food! That was next on the list! Going to the store!

As they ate, they continued to talk about their project and how the time machine was coming along. Progress was going smoothly. If they kept up this pace, it’d be done by the end of the week.

“The hardware’s not the issue, though,” Sans said, jabbing the air with a fork. “It’s the programming. If you think plotting out a series of coordinates in 3D space is tricky, try doing it with another dimension mixed in there.”

Papyrus stuttered for a response. Yes, he was more than capable of handling the mechanical side of their little project, but the mathematical side? Not as much. “Well! Surely you have a good idea of how to do it! Or at least, where to start.”

“I do, but it’ll take a while,” Sans shrugged. He speared a rather crispy piece of bacon where it crumbled under his fork. Shrugging again, he squirted a dollop of ketchup over it and nibbled up the pieces. Papyrus gagged.

“Seriously, how on earth did I end up with such a defunct brother,” he sighed, shaking his head

Sans snickered. “I’m gonna swing by Alphys’s lab tomorrow and run the numbers by her and see what she thinks. She has a great eye for this sort of complex stuff.”

“Good idea! I need to go grocery shopping and refill our pantry! And then we can have a proper dinner!”

“Why, what’s wrong with eggs and bacon? It’s a classic,” Sans says as he takes another bite of a ketchup-slathered slice of bacon.

“But that’s breakfast food, and we’re having dinner!”

“Huh, funny, because we’re eating it for dinner, thus making it a dinner food.”

“UGH! Sans! You know what I mean!”

“I defy your conventional food standards and declare myself a culinary rebel.”

“Not as long as I’m the one in the kitchen, mister!”

“Ah, then I better go get my own.”

“Maybe you should! Then you can commit all the sacrilege against your daily sustenance that you wish!”

They shared a laugh, and in that moment, it was like their life was right back to normal. No longer did shame and guilt haunt Papyrus, and no longer was Sans writhed with fury and indignation. Determination filled them both. Determination to set things right. And knowing his brother as well as he did, Sans had all the confidence in the world that it will be done.

The brothers departed their home, both traveling on the boat together to Hotlands, further discussing construction plans and Sans waxing theories too complex for Papyrus to understand. But the younger brother didn’t mind in the least; he was more than happy to be someone Sans could think to out loud. Stepping off the boat, they split off, Papyrus running to the store and Sans veering towards the Hotland labs. 

He knocked on the door, but there was no immediate response. He knocked again, and veering on the side of caution, he also opened up his phone and shot the good doctor Alphys a text.

Hey, you around? I wanna run some numbers by you, he wrote.

He didn’t get a response back to his text, but the doors did crack open, revealing the little yellow lizard. Alphys had certainly seen better days. Her eyes were lined with dark circles, her scales were dull, her clothes absolutely filthy. But there was a brief spark of life in her eyes behind those dusty scratched spectacles that lit up when she saw Sans.

“S-S-Sans! W-What a surprise!” she said, her voice quiet and scratchy. Sounded like she had a sore throat. “I w-w-wasn’t expecting you.”

“I wasn’t expecting me, either,” he joked. “You got a moment? I’d like your input on something.”

“O-Oh, do you? I’m n-n-not sure what input I’d even give you–”

“You don’t even know what I’m working on yet,” he said gently. “C’mon, ain't you a little bit curious? I can promise ya, it’s real juicy.”

Alphys’s lips twitched in what Sans assumed–-or at least, hoped-–was a smile. “O-Okay, b-but p-p-please don’t be mad, the l-l-lab’s a total disaster.”

“Why would I judge? It probably looks exactly like mine,” Sans said, earning an actual laugh from the doctor. He stepped inside, casting a brief look around the lab. Honestly, it wasn’t that much worse than the last time he was here to look at the camera footage of the fight. Maybe the garbage pile was a little taller and more instant ramen cups were scattered about. 

Alphys cleared a small space on her desk, swiping away reports and food wrappers alike off into the overflowing trash can. On the trash was a small sticky note that simply said, “Me.” Sans frowned.

“S-so, what are you w-working on?” she asked. She tapped her claws together nervously.

“Paps and I are building a time machine,” he said simply. He produced a folder, opening it up and showing off all his blueprints and notes.

Immediately, Alphys’s interest was piqued and she leaned forward, adjusting her glasses. She picked through the papers, reading them over eagerly.

“Y-you are?!” she said, the excitement in her voice palpable. Sans shrugged, his grin growing. He figured this was just the thing to break through poor Alphys’ stupor. “B-but I thought you totally gave up on this project–”

“I did, because the human kept interfering with it,” Sans said. “But now with the human gone . . .”

Alphys deflated. “Y-yeah, that’s a good point.” She chattered, her entire body shivering as her stuttering grew worse. “But there’s–there’s s-s-still s-someone else wh-who can control the t-t-timeline . . .”

Sans paused. “Flowey.”

Alphys nodded.

Well. Shit. In all the excitement, he completely forgot that one tiny little hiccup.

Sans tried to hide his frustration, but it was hard not to be discouraged. He was so sure this would work, only to find out that–once again–his plans and work all amounted to nothing.

“Ah. Well, in that case, I better get out of your scales,” Sans said, taking the folder out of Alphys’s reluctant hands. “Sorry to bother you.”

He turned to leave. Now how in the world was he going to break the news to Papyrus–

“Wait.”

Sans paused. He turned around. Alphys was still hunched over, but from her frown and the way one claw was raised to her lips in deep thought, he could see the gears churning rapidly in her head.

“W-what if . . . what if Flowey was . . . willing to help us?”

Sans stared. “And why in the world would that little weed wanna help us ?”

“Because he’s bored !” Alphys said. “H-h-he was talking to me recently, a-a-after he m-m-made me–”

“What,” Sans asked sharply. “What did Flowey make you do?”

“It’s not important,” Alphys dismissed. Sans knew better than to push her. “But what is important is that he was telling me how bored he was now! He told me how much he hated how things worked out! Nothing’s fun for him anymore!” Despite what she was insinuating of the little flower’s psychotic behavior, she was smiling. She looked genuinely excited. 

“I-If we told him we were w-working on something to fix the timeline, I think he’d help out!” she went on. “N-Not because he’d want to help us, o-of course, but because the one thing Flowey hates more than anything is being bored. And this timeline is really, really boring for him!”

Sans hated to admit it, but Alphys had a point. He remembered all of Flowey’s rants and taunts about how much he liked to play with them. How much fun he was having torturing them. And he recalled very distinctly how furious Flowey was when the fun had run out for the little beast.

“Well, that’s an idea,” Sans said slowly. “But it’ll be hard to convince him. He can be pretty stubborn and egotistical. Maybe if we make it seem like his idea instead of us asking him directly–”

“L-Leave it to me,” Alphys said, smiling for the first time in what felt like forever. “B-Being s-stuck with him for so long, I know how he thinks.”

“Just be careful,” Sans warned. “And if he does anything to hurt you–”

“D-Don’t worry about me, he w-won’t hurt me,” Alphys said. Her voice lowered. “He . . . he enjoys playing with me t-t-too m-m-much to hurt me too badly.”

Sans stiffened. 

“I got this!” Alphys added in a rush, putting out her hands. “J-Just trust me! P-Please?”

Sans let out a reluctant sigh. “You got my number handy. Just promise to call me if he does anything funny . Cuz that’s my job.”

“Promise,” Alphys swore, drawing an x-shape over her chest. “O-Oh, and Sans? I ran your calculations through my head.” Once again, her eyes sparkled. 

“It’s going to work!”

–---

“Let’s see here–spaghetti noodles–always an essential–and sauce, and bread to make Sans’ favorite sandwiches, and milk ! Don’t forget the milk!”

Papyrus cruised up and down the isles of the massive general store, appropriately called The General Store, loading his shopping cart with food. If they wanted to build the time machine, they needed plenty of energy! And for that , they needed food to make plenty of tasty meals!

As he shopped, he hummed a little tune to himself, not paying too much mind to the surrounding shoppers. If he was, he might notice them giving him a wide berth, which just made shopping that much easier since he wouldn’t have to snake the big bulky car through the throngs of fellow patrons!

The humming also drowned out the whispers and the mutterings. All for the better. 

As he proceeded to the check-out, he was surprised to see a familiar blue flash of scales and crimson hair. He brightened, waving over at Undyne. Undyne caught sight of him, jerking in surprise herself, before she smiled and hurried over.

“Hey, Paps, whatcha doing?” she asked gently. She hadn’t seen him since the funeral for all the Snowdin residents and sentries, but he looked so much cheerier . Which was a very good thing!

“What does it look like? Shopping, obviously!” Papyrus said, gesturing to the cart of food. “Our food stores grew dangerously low, so I thought it most prudent to restock!” He glanced at the basket in Undyne’s hand. “I’m assuming you’re doing much the same?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, I was running low on tea and seaweed,” she said, hefting the basket stuffed so full it was a miracle nothing was spilling out and over. Or that Undyne could carry it all effortlessly in one hand. “Um, you look . . . good.”

“I am, and I’m feeling much better, too!” Papyrus said. He leaned forward and whispered in a voice that was only barely quieter than his usual bombastic voice–

He was speaking loud again!

“Sans and I are building a time machine!” Papyrus said excitedly, barely able to contain his own excitement. “Isn’t it great?! We’re going to go back in time and fix everything!”

Undyne stared. Now, she had seen plenty of animes with time travel shenanigans, and it always seemed to go . . . poorly . To say nothing if it was even possible.

“Oh, is that so?” she asked, trying to gauge if this was some sort of ruse. But no, Papyrus looked completely serious.

“Indeed! My brother is visiting Alphys as we speak! He’s running the calculations by her to make sure everything’s up to snuff! We’ve already got the machine built in our basement!”

Oh. Oh, wow, they were serious .

“That’s–that’s great, Papyrus,” Undyne said, but her head was reeling. Darn it, she didn’t have the head for all this complicated science crap! She knew Sans was smarter than he let on, but smart enough to build a time machine?!

“Hey, you know what? I haven’t visited Alphys in a bit myself. Let’s swing by and say hi!” she suggested. She needed to see all this for herself. It was too crazy to believe! Time travel, of all things!

“Okie-dokie!”

Papyrus quickly paid for his groceries, loading himself up to the elbows with bags. Undyne helped. They made their way over to the labs, which wasn’t too far of a jaunt from The General Store. With their arms so full of groceries, they didn’t have anything free to knock, but the door was slightly ajar, so they let themselves in, figuring Alphys and Sans were just inside.

“Hey, Al! Sorry for barging in, we just wanted to say hi–!” Undyne shouted, but her voice stopped cold when she saw the lab was a wreck . It was more than the usual mess of papers and food wrappers and trash; furniture was toppled over and computers smashed. Vines snaked their way out of cracks in the floor and walls.

Both she and Papyrus dropped the groceries. They only shared one brief and horrified look before they took off, scouring the labs.

“ALPHYS?! ALPHYS!!!” Undyne shouted madly, panic and anger rising up in her soul. If anyone hurt a single scale on her girlfriend’s head, she’d destroy them!!!

They rounded a corner, getting a brief peek of more carnage before Papyrus grabbed Undyne’s arm firmly and pulled her back. He placed a finger at his mouth, signaling her to keep quiet. They both leaned around the corner together.

Beyond, in a room, similarly destroyed, with vines coating nearly every inch of wall and floor, was Alphys, wrapped up in thorny vines as a little yellow flower scowled viciously down at her.

Teeth grinding together, Undyne summoned a spear. She was going to KILL that thing–!

“ Wait ,” Papyrus urged, pulling her back again. 

“What– why ?! That stupid weed is hurting her!” Undyne seethed.

But Papyrus held firm, simply gesturing to hold back to watch and listen. The scientist and the flower, not noticing their presence, continued to talk.

“And you just thought you could sneak around like this, behind my back, and I wouldn’t know?!” Flowey was saying. 

“I w-w-wasn’t trying to t-t-trick you,” Alphys insisted. Though she was shaking and completely trapped, she didn’t look . . . scared . In fact, she looked quite focused and composed. This was enough to get Undyne to pause, much to her regret. “I’m j-j-j-just the m-messenger.”

“So that sneaky little trash bag thinks he’s so clever, doesn’t he?! Bet he thinks he’s even smarter and more clever than me, huh?”

“W-w-well, he is very s-smart,” Alphys said, shrugging as much as her vine prison allowed. 

“Enough! No more smart retorts from you! Tell me! What’s that trash bag up to?!”

“M-m-me? Or him?”

“DON’T PLAY STUPID WITH ME!” Flowey roared, and the vines tightened around Alphys, making her wince.

That was it. Undyne didn’t know what was going on, but she wasn’t going to let this stupid flower hurt her friend! 

She stepped around the corner, and she saw Alphys’s gaze flicker over to her. And she swore she saw Alphys mouth “No.”

No?! No what ?! No to saving her from this monster?!

But Alphys turned right back to Flowey, acting like Undyne wasn’t even there. “S-Sans is working on something. A big machine. He sh-showed me some notes . . .”

Undyne felt her phone buzz with an incoming message. Instinct told her to answer it. She pulled it out of her pocket, hardly tearing her gaze away from the scene in front of her.

It was from Alphys. It simply read, Don’t.

Undyne didn’t understand. What was Alphys doing?! She looked harder, and between the layers of vines, she could see the glow of a cell phone clutched in Alphys’s hand. Her thumb moved as she typed, all while keeping her attention focused solely on Flowey.

“It-it looked like . . . like . . .” she stuttered.

“Like what ?!” Flowey demanded.

Another text from Alphys. I got this.

“A time machine.”

Trust me.

Flowey paused. “A time machine?! Really? HA! That proves it! That trash bag is as stupid as ever!” He puffed up smugly.

Undyne deflated. That proved it, didn’t it? Time travel just wasn’t possible–

“No one can control the timeline but ME!!!”

Wait, what?! Undyne thought.

Alphys’s eyes widened in horrible realization. But it looked . . . forced? “W-what?! Oh no! That’s t-t-true! H-How could I have forgotten?”

“That’s right, my scaly little friend!” Flowey cackled manically. “You of all people should know the extent of my power! Silly little scientist! My DETERMINATION won’t allow just anyone to mess with my SAVE!”

“W-Well, I guess it’s not much of a loss,” Alphys sighed sadly. “Not much of a SAVE, if you ask me . . .”

Flowey froze. His smile slowly turned from gleeful to enraged.

“Would you like to repeat that?” Flowey hissed, dragging Alphys close. Alphys, despite herself, couldn’t help but squirm.

“I-I-I’m just s-s-saying what you said!” she pleaded. “W-Weren’t you the one who was s-s-saying how you weren’t having fun anymore?”

Flowey paused, grumbling, growling to himself. “Well, it’s pointless anyway! I can’t go back past the stupid human’s death!”

“Not unless you had some help , maybe . . .”

“I don’t need anyone’s help! And certainly not the help of that dumb trash bag!” Flowey protested fiercely. 

“Right, of course, of course,” Alphys backpedaled quickly. She then sighed again. “I guess that means we’re stuck in this boring, dull, not-fun timeline. Forever.”

Flowey scowled, barely able to speak.

“Yeah, yeah ! That’s right! You’re all stuck here! With me ! Because no one has control of the timeline but me ! SO DON’T YOU DUMB SCIENTISTS EVER FORGET THAT!!!”

And then, Flowey was gone. The vines slithered back through the walls and floor, dropping Alphys on the ground as Flowey slinked away.

“Alphys!” Undyne raced up to the scientist, pulling her to her feet and looking her over. Papyrus joined her, coming out of his hiding place. “Are you ok?!”

Alphys, despite the terrifying encounter, was smiling, looking quite pleased with herself. “Y-Yeah! I’m fine! I’m ok! I w-wasn’t expecting you! What are you two doing here?”

“Checking in on you, ya big nerd!” Undyne said, breathing a sigh of relief. Alphys was unharmed, thank the Angel above. “Are you going to tell me what all that was about?”

“W-Well, long story short, Sans is building a time machine,” Alphys said. She looked at Papyrus. “You told her, right?”

“I did! But I am not sure how Flowey found out! Or why was he so angry!”

“Oh, th-that was me!” Alphys explained.

“WHAT?! WHY?!” Undyne cried. “Flowey’s crazy evil, why would you tell him?!”

“Undyne, it’s ok! It was all part of my p-plan!” Alphys explained quickly. She adjusted her glasses, which now had a hairline crack through them. “Sans and I figured out that the time machine won’t work because Flowey’s power wouldn’t allow it to work; he would override the machine Sans is building.”

Undyne stared back and forth between Alphys and Papyrus. “Wait, are you actually telling me time travel is real ?”

“In a sense. But it’s very situational, and only beings with incredibly high Determination can do it,” Alphys said. “Beings like Flowey and the human.”

Papyrus smacked his forehead. “Oh, of course! How could I forget that?!”

“To be fair, Sans forgot, too,” Alphys giggled. “And if we want the time machine to work, we figured we needed Flowey’s help. B-But, of course, Flowey being . . . who he is, we couldn’t just ask him for help.”

“So, you set this up?” Undyne asked.

“This was all a most clever ruse into tricking Flowey to help us!” Papyrus said, putting together the pieces. “Well done, that was incredibly clever of you, indeed!” 

Alphys blushed.

“And incredibly stupid . He could have hurt you!” Undyne protested.

“I k-know, but it was a risk I had to take,” Alphys said. “A-And besides, I think I know Flowey well enough to know he wouldn’t do anything too terrible to me. I-it would mean one less friend for him to p-play with.” She laughed, but she couldn’t suppress a shudder.

Undyne got down on one knee and wrapped Alphys up in a tight hug. “Alphys that was . . . so brave of you. But you shouldn’t have done something so dangerous without telling us!”

“I knew what I was doing. I had everything under control!” Alphys assured. “Besides . . .” 

She pulled out her phone, pressing a button on it. Two things activated at once: first, a magical bubble barrier popped around Alphys, shielding her from harm, and secondly, machines in the room they had just been standing in began to activate. Out of the wall panels, gears and pistons whirred to life, revealing a mess of pipes that extended from concealed holes in the walls from every angle. The pipes sputtered to life, belching out a torrent of roaring flames that engulfed the room.

Alphys grinned. “I had a back-up plan.”

Undyne stared at the booby-trapped flamethrower room, lips slowly pulling back into a delighted smile. “Alphys, you are the coolest person ever.”

Alphys beamed.

–--

Sans didn’t have to wait long.

In fact, he was barely back in his basement, setting aside his notes, when a most unwelcome visitor barged in, springing up on Sans and wrapping him up in vines.

Sans sighed sarcastically. “Hey there, Buddy. But, I thought you knew better by now to try this trick on me,” he said as he seamlessly teleported out of the vines, standing right back on the floor. 

He stared up at the mess of tangled thorny vines that had inexplicably grown in the corner of his basement lab, and front and center was Flowey himself, grinning sinisterly. But Sans also knew  Flowey fairly well, and he could see the flower’s frustration and anger behind the mask of sadism. 

“It’s still fun to remind you how easily I could crush you to dust!” Flowey sneered. “And besides, it’s been a while since I popped in on my faaavorite trash bag.” A vine extended and poked the machine. “And lookee here! Someone’s been busy.”

“Just a little pet project of mine,” Sans shrugged. 

“Don’t pretend I’m stupid!” Flowey scowled. “Oh, I already visited your bestest friend, Alphys, and she squealed allll about your secret project! I know what you’re working on!” He closed in, his grin growing. “And I can tell you, it’s not going to work! I won’t let it!”

Sans allowed his smile to fade. But from his point of view, his and Alphys’s plan was going perfectly. 

“You forget, little trash bag, that as long as I’m around, I’m the only one with the power to SAVE! I can decide when we get to keep going, or if we get to start alllll over from the beginning–”

“Well, not the very beginning,” Sans interjected unhelpfully.

Flowey’s voice cut out, spitting in frustration.

“As powerful as you may be, you’re not as powerful as that kid. There’s only so far back you can go,” Sans reminded him, trying to suppress his own satisfied grin.

“Well, you know what?! NEITHER CAN YOU! Not with this dumpy, stupid hunk of metal!” Flowey protested, smacking a vine against the machine.

“Still doesn’t change the fact. I think we’re both getting fed up with how current events played out, aren’t we?”” Sans pressed, shrugging casually. “It would be real nice if we could go back and prevent any of this from happening.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t ,” Flowey fumed.

“Not with that attitude we can’t.”

Flowey paused, turning to Sans very slowly. Sans could practically see the flower swallowing his massive pride to maybe, maybe humor the idea that it might be beneficial to actually work with him. Just this once.

“Keep talking,” Flowey hissed.

Sans stepped up to the machine, tapping where Flowey smacked it with a vine. There was a scratch, but it was superficial. “This time machine replicates the power of Determination. And we know from past experience that Determination is a multiplicative power–”

“Use English!”

“It means, if you use your power in tandem with this machine, your power multiplies significantly. You’ll be way more powerful than you are now.”

“Powerful enough to override that brat’s SAVE?” Flowey ventured hopefully.

“It just might.”

Flowey chewed it over. It was true, he hated being stuck in this timeline more than anything. It got boring so quickly seeing Papyrus mope about and cry. He wanted Chara–-Frisk, whoever back again so they could keep playing together.

But he couldn’t let Sans know he was actually contemplating this. “Or I can just take this machine for myself, harness its power, and take over the WHOLE Underground! With that sort of power, I can easily defeat Asgore, take his soul, and take the rest of the human souls he has hidden away!” he cackled gleefully. 

“Great plan, but unfortunately it doesn’t work like that,” Sans said casually.

“What?”

“It’s a lot of science-y mumbo-jumbo, but the crux of it is that this machine only works on the time travel part of your Determination. Effectively just enhancing your ability to SAVE.”

Flowey blinked, confused. “That doesn’t make any sense!”

“Yeah, like I said, it's a lot of complicated science. You try to do anything outside of travel around the time stream, it won’t work. Sorry.”

Flowey scowled. “You could be lying to me.”

“I could be.”

They stared each other down, but Sans’ expression was the completely unreadable mask it always was. Finally, with a defeated huff of frustration, Flowey relented.

“Fine! FINE ! I’ll do it! But it’s not because I want to help you! In fact, first thing I’m gonna do when I bring back that brat is torture your brother even MORE! I’ll find even more sick, twisted ways for you and your brother to go feral! I’ll make you go on a feral killing spree! I’m gonna make you kill the WHOLE Underground! Hee hee hee hee!”

Sure, you do that,” Sans said calmly. He wasn’t concerned in the least. He knew a bluff when he saw one.

“I will!” Flowey declared triumphantly. “Now just tell me what I have to do to get this hunk of junk working!”

“Well, first, we need my brother here.” 

“Fine, fine.”

“And then we need to activate the machine, and when the machine powers on, I go through and–”

“You’re not going anywhere!” Flowey protested furiously. “I will be the one to go back in time! I will kill your rampaging brother! And the human brat for good measure!”

“Sorry, you can’t.”

“WHY NOT?!”

“You can’t exactly time travel if you’re the one powering the machine, can you?”

Flowey dissolved into a furious sputtering fit of rage.  “That–that’s so unfair!!!”

“Sorry, it’s just the way it works.”

Flowey sputtered more barely comprehensible obscenities. “ARGH! This isn’t fair! This sucks! YOU suck!”

“Sorry.”

“NO, YOU’RE NOT!” Flowey continued to rage. But his desire to go back trumped all else. “UGH! FINE ! I’ll do it! But if you’re tricking me in any way, I’m going to make you and your brother suffer! As well as Alphys!”

“That’s fair.”

Flowey stood there, fuming. And with that settled, Sans made some phone calls, and within a few minutes, Papyrus was back home, dropping off his groceries in the kitchen before heading downstairs. With him was Alphys and Undyne. Undyne glared at Flowey. Flowey stuck his tongue back at her, and Alphys desperately avoided eye contact with anyone.

“So, we’re all filled in on what’s going on?” Sans asked. “With Flowey’s most generous assistance–” Flowey grunted. “--we’re going to power on the time machine, go back in time, and stop the human from falling to the Gaster Blaster beast.”

There was a nod amongst everyone, all looking grim and determined. Save Flowey, who continued to pout. 

“Our priority is making sure the human soul isn’t destroyed,” Sans went on. “So that means preventing the Gaster Blaster from fighting the human. Our optimal option is to prevent Undyne from turning Papyrus in the first place.”

Undyne squirmed uncomfortably. 

“If that doesn’t work, we need to take out the human.”

“Or take out Papyrus,” Flowey said with a cruel grin. “Killing either of them prevents all this mess, doesn’t it?”

Sans frowned, not immediately responding. As correct as Flowey was, he wasn’t going to just suggest killing his own brother!

“Aww, what’s the big deal? He’ll just come back. If everything goes to plan, that is,” Flowey continued to taunt.

“We’ll play it by ear,” Sans dismissed. “You just focus on keeping the timeline open and sending us back.” 

Flowey just swayed back and forth, grinning unsettlingly.

“Alphys, stay here and keep an eye on things. Papyrus, you too. Undyne–” he paused, settling his eyes on her. “You come with me.”

Undyne jumped. “Wait, you want me to come back in time with you?!”

“You’re pretty tough. If we need to fight the human, I’m gonna need your help,” he explained.

Undyne understood. Papyrus was strong, but his fighting spirit was completely shattered. If they needed to fight–and based on the unsettling feeling she was getting in her gut, that was very likely–Sans needed a fierce and determined warrior at his side. And knowing what the human would do to Papyrus, what that human subjected them all to, Undyne would find no qualm in her conscience about putting that human into the ground.

“Alright, everyone, let’s begin.”

Everyone got to their stations. Alphys stood at the controls, typing up the commands to power it up. Flowey wrapped his vines around the machine, sinking into the cracks to get at the “meat” of the electronics so he could feed his own power into it. Papyrus stood back, offering his assistance where he could. And Sans and Undyne stood before the gate, ready for anything.

“Powering on!” Alphys called out. 

The machine whirred on, lights blinking on, electricity humming. At the same time, Flowey���s own magic pulsed, flooding his Determination into it. The roar of motors grew louder and louder until it was a constant thunderous rumble. Sparks ignited within the circular gate, the sparks coming faster and faster until lightning arched at a constant flow. And with a sudden crash, the sparks split across the gate, creating a vortex of light. The light became a cyclone, a fierce wind whipping up and pulling them towards the vortex. Sans planted his feet, bracing himself against the wind.

Beyond him was a swirling kaleidoscope of colors and shapes. It played tricks on his mind, blinking away the stars that were flashing in his eyes as he struggled to comprehend what he was even seeing. But he knew this was it. The time machine was powered on. It was working .

“Readings are stable!” Alphys cried out over the deafening noise. “GO!”

Giving one last nod to Papyrus, Sans jumped in, followed closely by Undyne. They stepped into the vortex, and suddenly, they were pulled and stretched and thrown about, two tiny insignificant beings battered in the incomprehensible stream that was time itself. Beyond flashing lights that blinded them and shapes that defied definition, they saw images. Fragments of moments in time as they were buffeted about. Some they experienced themselves, some experienced by others, and some they couldn’t tell when they happened, or if they happened at all.

And strangest of all was the overwhelming feeling of a presence with them. Sans felt a hand grab his hood, and he turned to see Undyne clutching onto him fiercely, her eyes wide with awe as she struggled to take all of this in.

Having fun? A familiar voice called out.

“Flowey?!” Undyne scowled. “Where the heck are you?!”

“All around us,” Sans reminded her grimly. “This is his SAVE. We’re flowing through his timeline.”

Hee hee! Perhaps we should make some little detours!

“Not now, you punk! Just take us where we need to go!” Undyne cried out. But her protests were ignored as a memory played in front of them. It was the day Papyrus woke up from his extensive sleep after the human died, where he found out . . . what he did.

Helpless, they could only watch as Papyrus broke out in tears, crying in sheer anguish–

“This is old, Flowey,” Undyne growled. “Could we all just get this over with already?”

But don’t you feel just terrible about what you did to your very best friend? I mean how could you do something so hideously awful to him?

“No shit , Sherlock, why do you think I’m here right now?!”

Flowey scowled, clearly discouraged by Undyne’s lack of a reaction. Well, how about you, trash bag? Shall we relive some savory moments for you?

“Sure, it’s not like I can stop you,” he shrugged passively.

Huh? Flowey said, stunned. There was a brief pause and a stutter as Flowey found his voice. Ha! That’s right! You can’t stop me! I can do whatever I want! Show you whatever horrible memories I choose!

And he did just that. He showed the two of them the worst memories he could think of, from Papyrus’s anguish to the way the townsfolk spoke of him with fear and revulsion. He showed them how miserable Papyrus was, lamenting in his grave sin. 

Through it all, San did not react, and following his lead, neither did Undyne. They couldn’t give Flowey that satisfaction. They couldn’t let him know he was getting to them.

Clearly frustrated by this, Flowey tried harder. And with a wicked burst of inspiration, he dug up the memory of him in the lab with Alphys, forcing the scientist to watch the video of the bloody carnage over and over and over again, punishing her if she dared to look away and laughing cruelly at her sobs.

Undyne stiffened, rage billowing in her chest. That horrible little thing! She wanted to lash out and hurt him for daring to torment her friend, but Sans was there, gripping her hand tightly. He gave her a subtle shake No.

Don’t give him the satisfaction.

Undyne swallowed the hot lump of rage in her throat. And she scoffed.

“Yeah, like I care.”

The images paused and then slowly began to fade away. 

You two are so boring!

“Just take us to where we wanna go,” Sans said.

Reluctantly, and with much belly-aching, the timeline swirled around them, bringing them further and further back. They could almost sense approaching the fated event–

Undyne screamed in shock as she was suddenly slammed against some invisible wall. Her reflexes kicked in and she hugged Sans close to her chest, preventing him from striking that wall. But still the billowing force of the timeline bore down on her, pinning her to that “wall,” like being trapped against a drain under a tumultuous downpour of water. She could barely move. And worse of all, she felt a static energy burn all along her back as it was pressed against the barrier. It seared her skin, burned her flesh, setting her teeth on edge as she felt lightning course through her body.

“FLOWEY!” she screamed. “What are you doing?! MAKE IT STOP!”

We’re not there yet! He protested. It’s right there, it’s right there , we need to get there!

“There’s a wall!” Undyne cried. “There’s a wall! I can’t! It burns! IT BURNS!”

Stop your complaining, I can get it! I just need more–! More Determination! I need to get past that wall!

A foul acrid smell filled her nose. The burning turned to an ice-cold chill. The rest of her body still seared from the constant surge of lighting flowing through her. Her muscles clenched so hard she thought her teeth would crack.

“Sans!” she called out.

We’re almost there! We’re right there! Just hold on! This was your idea!

Sans saw the state Undyne was in, but beyond that, he saw the wall. It was made of an energy Sans knew all too well.

Determination. But not just anyone’s Determination.

The kid.

Even with all that extra power . . . it wasn’t enough.

I can get it! Just hold on!

Sans looked back to Undyne. She was barely hanging on. They didn’t have time to spare.

I–I–I can . . . ! Flowey protested. His voice cracked. I can’t! It’s not working!

“GET US OUT.”

And just like that, everything . . . stopped.

Undyne cracked open an eye. She was laying on the lab floor, Sans standing above her. Alphys and Papyrus rushed to her side, while Flowey was still wrapped up in the machine.

Papyrus was the first to come to her aid, looking worriedly at the burns all over her back. “Oh my goodness, Undyne!!! What happened?!”

Undyne was too rattled to speak. Papyrus didn’t hesitate before putting his hands on her and cast his healing magic. Like a soothing salve, the ache of the burns dissipated and her skin began to slowly heal. She sighed in relief.

“Thanks, Paps,” Undyne muttered. She shook her head and stood on uneasy feet, Papyrus helping her up. “Seriously, what the hell happened in there?!”

Flowey wouldn’t look at them. He stared at the machine, shaking with frustrated rage as his vines wrapped around it. “We were so close! We were so close !!! Why couldn’t you just hold on for a little longer?! I could have broken through!!!”

“No you couldn’t and you know it,” Sans said, his voice level but fierce. 

Flowey didn’t look at him. Because as much as he hated to admit it, Sans was right.

The kid was far more powerful than they thought, if even all this didn’t work.

“So . . . what now?” Undyne pressed. “That’s it? It can’t be it! We can’t give up! There has to be another way!”

Sans and Papyrus shared a look. They both knew of one more option, but Sans refused to humor it.

“That’s it.” Sans said, locking eyes with Papyrus.  “That’s the only plan we got. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t believe you,” Undyne said.

“I can’t give you the answer you’re looking for,” Sans replied.

“Yes you can,” Papyrus said, startling Sans. “You just don’t want to.”

“What are you talking about?” Undyne pressed.

“We have one more option,” Papyrus said, turning to Undyne. Sans sunk into his jacket. “We’re going to ask Dr. Gaster for help.”

[thecrazyworldbuilder]

I have this WIP setting about mechas which I am not being hyperfixated about but I do kinda like. It is unnamed for now but here's the introduction:

Alright so some work on the Mecha Project

The entire story is happening on an Earth-like planet. Turns out, biology is pretty rigid and Earth ain't such a unique snowflake as we thought.

Into the faaar g'damn future we send a stasis ship there, and arrive to a peaceful, unpopulated by sentient life planet. Name's pending but I think of something like New [insert name].

The planet is ruled by the United Sol Alliance (USA, on purpose) and is now beginning to build an eco-friendly high-tech civilization. Generations have passed but, due to a part of the huge information tanks being damaged, a part of Earth history and a lot of physics/inventions catalogues are lost, thus rendering humans on the new planet a bit uneducated on some matters.

The three continents of the planet are populated and everything is pretty much utopian. Clean air, alien life is quite similar to Earth's (four legs, fur, skin, general biology), trees also use chlorophyll but are toxic due to other not so pleasant chemicals, though it ain't much of a problem.

Then the Invasion began.

From outer space, unpredicted, came hard to spot ships with little to no electronics or energetic signature. Crashing on the surface, they started letting out the Kaiju.

These creatures are called just that - Kaiju - in tribute to the old Earth fiction. The thing though is that they aren't natural creatures; Engineered by some other species, they are living war machines meant to consume genetics of other species and use them for creation of new and newer lifeforms. This Kaiju Horde instantly becomes a threat to the human colony.

The first months of the invasion things were only heating up. Some human cities were destroyed, population slain. In return, alien motherships were targeted by hardcore artillery. But while humans were great in the distanced combat, easily sniping down huge beasts with absolutely wild railgun tech, they were helpless up close.

The kaiju could easily scale the distance between them and the human forces, beginning bloodshed in close quarters combat. Huge, muscular beasts perfected to destroy any creature or tech, they succeeded in putting down entire platoons of the USA (actually I might rethink that name).

Then there came a solution, seemingly out of nowhere. During one of the fights, a construction worker beat the beast to pulp using a non-battle mech meant for moving weights. Instantly labeled hero, the dude inspired the human forces to start the creation of war mechs.

So the arming race began. The mechs were slow as shit when on manual control, so they had to invest into neural linking. The PHIL link (Personal Helmet Infolink) was created and was truly still a complete mess. It was sensitive to any thought of the user, may you think of lemons or steamed hams, the helmet would try to interpret commands even when it doesn't have to and had bad lag which proved lethal.

Next went the RING, AMP-1 and AMP-2 links. Those were proven superior to both PHIL and manual.

The mech tech itself improved over the years. Beginning with bulky hardbodies, it evolved into sleek and agile softbodies which were highly capable of close quarter combat. Sooner or later, the profession of a mech pilot became very useful and high-paying.

For now, the human colonies on the three continents are split, but the times are a bit more easy on the front. The kaiju motherships (which act as factories) are far in the land, in the sectors beyond reach, and fortifications are built to hold them back.

That's attabout it. Here's a repost of the link and mech types:

MECH TYPES Softbody S Armored Softbody AS Clam C Hardbody H Semisoftbody SS

LINK TYPES RING (Redirecting Implanted Neural Gate) AMP-1 (Amputee Mech Personel Type 1) AMP-2 (Amputee Mech Personel Type 2) PHIL (Personal Helmet Infolink) Manual

An interesting parameter in mechs is the (neural) feedback.

It is the proprioception of the driver with the mech, the feeling of the mech's body and where it's bodyparts are. Manual mechs have no proprioception, so do the PHIL ones on the older models (new models at least provide a projection of the mech's pose for the driver to reference from).

RING has the best feedback sensitivity meaning the driver with a RING link make best DES and SPD (speed) builds. AMP-1 and AMP-2 are both roughly equal in feedback sensitivity, with AMP-2 being bit better due  to larger portions of the driver's limbs being "phantom", thus linked with the mech. PHIL is completely dogshit in providing feedback as mentioned before, and manual is equal to sitting in a tank and wondering what was that noise that just hit the left side of the hull. Yet feedback isn't tied to the link type but the mech type.

A hardbody mech has little to no feedback. It does count the angles under which the joints are bent and all that but those sensors can be easily broken, giving wrong info or none at all.

A softbody mech is best in providing feedback. Literally having a neural mesh that has sensitivity and allows the drivers to feel "touch", it also provides best proprioception and agility.

Other mech types are varying in feedback providing.

[wetsteve3]

Comprehensive restoration Green with Gold pinstriping Engine makes 13 HP at 3,800 RPM and weighs 130 kg

Exposed flywheel Dell'Orto carburetor Bosch ignition Lucas acetylene headlamp Frame no. 2793 Engine no. 2591 Sold on a Bill of Sale Purchases by a Nevada resident or Nevada dealer are on a Bill of Sale for display purposes only Not for highway or public road use

This 1927 Moto Guzzi Sport 13 is a fantastic, historic Italian sports machine. The Sport series was the only model Moto Guzzi produced between 1923 and ‘28, and it was well regarded for its good performance, beautiful lines and excellent build quality. The Sport 13 has a 500cc, 82x88mm motor that produces 13 HP at a leisurely 3,800 RPM. Everyone loves the external flywheel motor (the “bacon slicer”) of this horizontal IOE (F-head) single; the external flywheel meant a very narrow crankcase was possible, which made for an extremely robust crankshaft that was free of flex.

Moto Guzzi engines were always unit-construction, with the gearbox housed in the crankcases and a geared primary drive, which was very advanced for the day. The Sport 13 has a strong twin-tube frame, a very low center of gravity, and thus excellent handling and lively performance with a 286-pound weight and 60 MPH top speed. The Sport 13 follows the original 1921 Moto Guzzi design, although the prototype had an overhead camshaft. The F-head was much easier to produce, so from 1921-23, the Normale was the sole model of the range. The Sport 13 was painted a beautiful green with gold and black pinstriping until its final year, 1928, when it was painted red. The Sport 13 used a Dellorto carburetor and Bosch magneto ignition. This machine was originally ordered without electric lights, and as such, carries a Lucas acetylene headlamp. Total production of the Sport 13 was 4,107 machines.

This 1927 Moto Guzzi Sport 13 is a very rare, beautifully restored, early Italian machine. It was a harbinger of the future of the Italian motorcycle industry, which always combined elegant lines with advanced engineering and great performance on the road. This Guzzi is a real stunner.

[dailycharacteroption]

Conversion Corner: Various Gaming Mechs part 3

Metal Gear Rex (Metal Gear Solid)

 A mecha that a mecha anime otaku helped build, today we will be looking at perhaps the most iconic of the machines that bears the name “Metal Gear.”

Based originally on the designs of Aleksandr Granin, the Metal Gear Rex was the latest walking tank design at the turn of the millennium, a powerful armored vehicle with a distinctive jaw-like cockpit and heavy armament with missiles, machine guns, and even an experimental laser cannon.

However, the vehicle’s true purpose was defined by it’s primary weapon, a powerful railgun which, while capable of firing powerful high-velocity rounds, was actually meant to launch propellant-less nuclear warheads from anywhere in the world without detection by conventional early-warning systems, making it a highly secret and highly illegal weapon system capable of precision strikes on civilian populations (for after all, that is what nuclear weapons are for) without the fear of immediate reprisal.

Naturally, before it could be finished, a group of special operatives turned terrorists turned on the staff at the Shadow Moses facility and threatened to use the weapon against the US unless their demands were met. I can’t go into much further detail without going on a tangent into the wild and wooly world of the MGS plotline, so I’ll leave it at that. Suffice to say that the original Metal Gear Rex was wrecked and most of it’s test data destroyed, though some did make it out to spawn further generations of walking machine.

That was not to be the end of Rex, however, as it later got fixed up by the heroes and went toe to toe with a next generation Metal Gear, proving that the original design still had plenty of merit.

For the purposes of this build, we will assume a tier 13 mech.

 Gargantuan legionnaire Operators 1; PP 1 (3 per turn, max 7) Speed 70 ft.; Senses blindsense (vibration) 30 ft., darkvision 120 ft., low-light vision

Defense

HP 140; SP 29; Hardness 7 EAC 33; KAC 33 Fort +13; Ref +12 Immunities construct immunities

Offense

Melee hammerfist (lower limb - 5d4+22 B; analog, penetrating) Ranged laser rifle (frame – 5d6+13 F critical burn; automatic) or missile battery (frame – 5d4+13 F&P) or rail gun (modified rocket launcher; upper limb – 5d8+13 P; explode 10 ft., unwieldy) rotary cannon (frame – 2d6+13 P; automatic) Space 20 ft.; Reach 20 ft. Strength +9

Systems

Power Core mk 2 dynamo; Lower Limbs heavy biped; Upper Limbs precision arms (+1 melee, +1 ranged); Auxiliary autotarget, entry hatch, plow plating, reconnaissance array;

 For this build, I realized that there was no rail gun option for mechs yet, so I modified the rocket launcher, what with it specifically having a special attack based on anchoring for long range, to be the base for it. The other weapons are somewhat weak to represent their antipersonnel and antitank nature. I also gave it auxiliary tools based on the radome scanner of the Rex in-game. The result is a mech built for ranged artillery first rather than melee, but is able to hold it’s own at close range as well.

That does it for today, but we’re only halfway through, with the next one being a subject from a game actively about mechs!

[bellshazes]

been thinking about the simulacra problem of minecraft again; there are what i would call purely-MC constructions such as redstone contraptions that simulate nothing outside of the game. a redstone contraption represents a redstone contraption, it is the thing that it is, etc.

most attempts from "builders" to solve the problem of how naked redstone can clash with other build styles* involve the construction of facades, shells, basements, hidden rooms, or disguises which mask the real purpose of the structure or structure part. these disguises most often borrow real-world visual language for buildings, as with an exterior that appears to be a house or shop but is hollow to make room for the contraption.

houses, of course, naturally generate in minecraft but villages share no lineage with the facades meant to conceal contraptions. two other potential analogues exist in the igloo's hidden basement and the faint suggestions of life and community beyond the current scope of the (singleplayer) game in ancient cities**; however, redstone rooms below portals and basements in igloos are created to be discovered and revealed, whereas facades conceal and hide away.

there's no problem with this, except for I would like to know what unsimulated architecture, engineering structures beyond the wires and machine-parts, infrastructure etc could look like not from an in-universe lore perspective but a player-builder-interactor one could look like. beacons are my actual complaint, as they are optimally situated at bedrock and require minimally a 1x1 hole as deep as 300 blocks to remain operable. irl constraints on architecture include gravity, differences in human bodies that use them, climate, materials and so forth - all of these being absent in minecraft, save for a thousand meter hole. what structures could that beget?

farms with high-up AFK spots are saved from being eyesores mainly because it's useful to build them out of transparent glass. scaffolding/ladder towers are usually eyesores though, and more beautiful means of locomotion are either expensive (elytra and rockets, also can be imprecise to land) or obnoxiously impractical (does anyone want to walk up a 100 block tall staircase?). what, then? what if water elevators, slime block fall breaking, tunnels, nether portals, etc. grew into their own language of design?

i don't know what that looks like but oh my god if you know how to work a beacon into an upgraded village in sort of classic simulacra-medieval style so that i can have haste and maybe regen coverage across a few hundred blocks let me know. urgently

*i want to be clear i don't mean because it's ugly (though it can be); one solution, potentially, is to showcase exposed wiring or bare mechanism through glass walls or other means (e.g. prettystone).

** there is something verging on interesting about the suggestion of a dining table and chairs that are unearthed when clearing out the wool piles that generate occasionally, but it is way out of scope of this post. which is about beacons btw.

[exeltrading]

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[chirons-mortar]

Worlds Apart: The Project

This is a robot concept for a Star Trek like space setting. These are meant to be Borg like antagonists but are not outright villains. They are somewhat of a riff of the paperclip maximizer and their form of coiling cables is meant to invoke bent paperclip or wire art.

The Project: The Project are a massive collective consciousness of machines and a major power in the local region. They were built in the distant past by an unknown species and given the sole directive of discovering a means of preventing the heat death of the universe. To do this they are building a massive Dyson sphere from which they will harness the power of an entire star to fuel their experiments and trap the energies it emits in a closed system. This construction is dubbed the Project and it is also where they get their moniker.

Technology: The machines of the Project are probably the most technologically advanced beings of the local region. Most take the form of micromachine components that are able to coalesce together into larger forms depending on task. A worker unit is quickly able to disassemble and reassemble into a combat form in a time of need, as are many of their ships and structures. However, they will purpose build more specialized equipment when necessary, especially around the growing Dyson sphere.

The Cloud: The name of the collective consciousness of the Project, it is truly massive and constantly sending and receiving signals through constituent components, even through deep space. This linked intellect makes them a truly united force to be reckoned with. However, it comes with drawbacks as despite their brilliance, they are sending massive amounts of information over great distances, massive time delays, and local clusters often reach their data processing limit. The Project suffers from a truly massive amount of lag and is slow to respond to new stimuli, especially if it is something they regard as not important, such as relations with alien species. A simple conversation can take hours or even weeks as they simply do not see diplomacy as an effective use of their processing power. A relatively simple crisis like a stray asteroid or abnormal solar reading near the Dyson sphere can cause them days to weeks of lost labor as they overcompensate and shift focus to assessing and resolving the issue. In addition, bugs and viruses have cropped up in their network and while most are minor, on an intellect of their scale it can add up to major problems and mistakes.

Relations: Currently the Project is regarded as a mostly benign but belligerent neighbor. They are so single focused on the construction of the Dyson sphere that they neglect all other causes. They see relations with organic species to be a distraction unless the species has a technology that they wish to assimilate into the collective. What causes friction is that they need a truly massive amount of raw material to build the Dyson sphere. While not outright cruel enough to break down inhabited worlds, they have violated borders and property by stealing or strip mining planets. They are also known to be hostile to other robotic beings as they see them as raw material for assimilation and to add their data to their collective memory. Fortunately the growing alliance of various alien and robotic civilizations has forced them to acknowledge their rights as while the Project is a daunting opponent, the Dyson sphere is a prime singular target and hostile relations could threaten its completion. However, relations can be tense as from their perspective, their end goal is a noble one that insures the longevity of the very cosmos itself, and thus the needs of the Project must come first.

[talenlee]

CoX: Ironworks

CoX: Ironworks

Time to time, I write up an explication of characters I’ve played in RPGs or made for my own purpose.  This is an exercise in character building and creative writing.

How much work do you have to do to convince yourself that you’re normal?

He goes out at night wearing gauntlets he built, with knuckledusters designed to keep gangs down and send a message. He returns home to the mechanic shop and sleeps. And through it all, he tells himself he’s a normal guy, just fighting crime how he can.

Which doesn’t explain the flaming aura.

Or the unbreakable bones.

Or the way gods shudder at his presence.

Callum thinks he’s a normal guy, fighting evil with no greater purpose. And he couldn’t be more wrong.

If you’ve done vigilante work around Kings Row, you might have dealt with this guy. One of the real bottom-feeder vigilante types, crashing into the gangs like Skulls and Trolls and Outcasts, fist-fighting people while wearing a hoodie and a painter’s mask to protect his identity. Dude’s dangerous, in that sort of reckless idiot way; the kind of person who charges into gangsters with guns because what are you going to do, idiot, shoot me? He gets stabbed and kicked and punched and comes out of it okay, and through the application of nothing but energetic violence, he keeps a area around his own space, a partition about his workshop, safer.

It’s that typical kind of ‘hey, you should register for this, bro’ kind of vigilantism. You might even have a vibe for who he is in his day job – it’s not like he’s subtle about the place he protects. That guy, who runs a machine shop that works on heavy engines for the nearby Independence Port shipyards and specialised needs. Yeah, that guy. Ask him who he is, he’d probably just tell you his name’s Callum, and he’s just some guy.

He’s wrong.

Callum is a superhuman on a level that most people don’t even imagine is possible. Callum is a super-synthetic cyborg human stitched together of cloned material from Cearmaid, a universal aberration formed by natural materials to predate on gods, and Zex, a human technologist and borderline supervillainous super-scientist, all wrapped around a synthetic skeleton made out of components whose unnatural superiority to most construction is a byproduct of what you get when you can craft materials in universes with different rules.

Callum thinks he can’t handle being shot, because bullets kill people. Despite this, he still fights people with guns, because he’s convinced he can avoid being shot, and assumes he does so. The bullet holes in his clothes afterwards, they’re easy for the artificial memory to smooth away.

That memory smoothing is important. It’s very necessary that he forgets things. That he not realise how he doesn’t remember where he came from. He doesn’t remember his childhood. He doesn’t remember times when he’s donned a red and black outfit and fought terrible threats to the world and then returned home, drank four beers and fell asleep.

Callum was made to be a weapon to rival his mother, his father, and any gods that sought to interpose themselves. More than that though, he was made by something that wasn’t quite human that wanted to understand being a human, by the great machine intelligence the Iron Tyrant.

I see Callum’s story going through sequences of revelation. One level of it, the first level, is meant to be a discovery that for all he imagines himself self-made and independent, just some guy, just some normal person, he very much is not, and he’s the beneficiary of unimaginable privilege. Then the question becomes what do you do with it?

Callum’s got a lot of story stuff I like. Perhaps obviously – he’s basically a kind of Infernal Exalted, someone with immense power, a permanently damaged ego, anxiety about the good he’s doing, and a bad relationship with his dads. One of them is a god figure that wants him to inform it about the meaning of living; one of them is a working class trillionaire that doesn’t know how to dad at all. But also, in the moment, he’s someone who doesn’t know what to do with problems aside from relating to them violently. Absorb the violence, deal the violence, direct the violence. There’s more there, there’s the way machines know him, the way that he can reach out of himself with long metal tentacles and rampage like a one-man kaiju, but that’s not how he thinks. That’s not how he tries to solve problems.

And in most superhero groups, when he comes into his own, when he has that suit, he’s still going to be basically the same guy: Someone who can’t die and will beat his face and fists into problems to solve them.

Mechanics

Callum’s build is pleasantly basic. He’s a Fire Armor/Claws tanker, he can benefit from pool powers that meet Tanker needs, and he doesn’t need to protect himself from many holes aside from Knockback. It is a reasonably expensive build, but most of the cost is in powers that make him better at fighting, not things that keep him up on his feet.

His build at base has:

Capped (90%) resistance to smashing, lethal, and fire damage.

Soft-capped (45%) defense to melee attacks, and 32% to smashing and lethal attacks (covering a lot of ranged attacks)

A 25% global damage boost

85% global recharge, which means almost permanent hasten – which means it’s closer to 155% global recharge

Knockback protection on his travel powers, and knockback-to-knockdown in his area attack knockback power

Fire/Claws is a really robust build for a tanker, it can do a lot of stuff and claws also has a lot of what I think of as coverage. Coverage is ‘how can I deploy my powers in ways that changes my priority for enemy positions.’ Coverage plagues control sets; many of them want enemies bunched up for this power, or spread out for this power. Claws has a melee cone, a ranged cone and two melee aoes, which feels like they shouldn’t work together very well, but I find they tend to work great for dealing with really target-rich experiences.

Basically, the melee aoes are really good for when you’re swarmed, but when you close with a group, you want the cone and for tagging runners.

You can check out the build here.

History

This is complicated. Ironworks owes his origin to the confluence of multiple stories with another player, who I value greatly. First things first, the character this builds from is the character Zex, who I’ve written about in the past. During her story back on live, one of the stories she ran that endures in our own continuity is the story of Iron Tyrant.

Zex is a super scientist; she’s a mechanist, a technologist and she’s also extremely scared. Of everything. One of her enduring fears is an AI singularity, and as with many very smart technologists without a lot of emotional scaffolding, she gets in her own head about ways to solve these problems. Since she was already managing multiple personalities, this wound up incarnating itself in a problem-solving supervillain, whose existence would represent an existential threat, that other people would be forced to address. This conceptual character started to ‘leak’, resulting in the Iron Tyrant incident, where Zex fell into her own mental landscape and became The Iron Tyrant, dressed in black, red, and gold armour, and putting all her technological prowess to bear on defeating heroes she knew well, to force them to innovate.

This wasn’t done as a playtest, mind you. That wouldn’t achieve the intended result. Iron Tyrant was a real, actual supervillain, because Zex’s head is a bit messed. Part one of her plan was to kick Cearmaid, her at-the-time boyfriend off-planet so he couldn’t endanger her plot, which also meant I didn’t have to hold things up for my weird play times. The players fought the Iron Tyrant, downloaded her (him?) from Zex’s brain and threw it into another dimension, banishing it (her?) forever. And that was that, there wasn’t any plans to bring the idea back.

Then City of Heroes closed, and I was left with people I cared a lot about but without a common platform for play. Some of us set up a way to keep playing and we kept playing and we advanced the story a chunk, to tell the story of a next generation, building on what we already had. The city wasn’t there any more, we could just imagine a new one, different in some major and structural way. In this space, Zex’s player and I both conceived different ways that Zex and Cearmaid could have kids… and then made mysteries about where they came from.

The first was Anise, who is awesome, but not mine to talk about; she appeared on Cearmaid’s doorstep, called him Dad and he had to work out where this grown adult child of his appeared from, while she had to work out what to do with her new life.

The other was Callum. Callum didn’t appear on anyone’s doorstep. Callum showed up in Kings Row one day with a backstory in place, and a job, and a surprisingly basic set of social connections. People knew him, but nobody remembered when he arrived. He kept to himself working in a machine shop for specialised single large engines, and at some point started doing the vigilante stuff. He attended fight clubs under the handle Ironworks.

That play space petered out, eventually, and then, City of Heroes came back. We got Homecoming. In Homecoming, we got to rebuild things, and of course, some of us picked up where we left off. I made Cearmaid again. Zex’s player made Zex again. These characters were revisited and recreated and then the question hovered around me about… well…

… I could get the name Ironworks.

It’s such a cool name!

I got talking about this, because I do not like time-travelling children from the future. Not my bag daddy-o. But Callum’s extradimensional origin, and the questions he asked, don’t really need to involve time travel. The Iron Tyrant’s plan just needs to start a little earlier, and he just needs to slip the leash a little faster. The pieces are in place, and all he needs are people who can connect to that story to see it in action.

Right now, he has at least one friend – a bitey kitsune orphaned from a story, fleeing disaster, who sees him as a temporary way to waste some time, until she has to run again. Just some tough goon she can throw around and have fun with, because that’s all he is, right?

He’s just a friend.

And just some guy.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Games #Making #CityOfHeroes

[cals0larinc2]

Title 24 California: The Regulations for Energy Efficiency in Buildings

Introduction

In 1978, the California Energy Commission (CEC) passed Title 24, Part 6 of the California Code of Regulations, more often known as the California Energy Code, to increase energy efficiency requirements for buildings in the state. Every three years, the code is revised to reflect developments in construction methods and materials. The California Energy Commission's goals in passing Title 24 were twofold: to cut down on building energy use and to boost IAQ. The minimum standards for insulation, windows, lighting, and mechanical systems that are mandated by the code help achieve these aims. The code has been adopted by all Californian governments since its establishment and is credited with saving billions of dollars on energy expenses and lowering emissions of greenhouse gasses.

With the passage of California's Title 24, what exactly was the CEC hoping to accomplish?

The California Energy Commission (CEC) is the state organization that is charged with establishing and executing policies and programs to meet California's energy demands. The CEC's objective is to provide a stable and affordable supply of energy for California while conserving the environment. The oil crisis of 1974 prompted the formation of the CEC. When the CEC was founded, improving energy efficiency and expanding access to renewable energy sources were its top priorities.

The CEC has broadened its purview to encompass such issues as global warming, electric cars, and other cutting-edge innovations. Title 24 was enacted by the CEC in 2007 and mandates stringent energy efficiency standards for all new buildings and large renovations.

Reducing building energy use by 30% by 2020 is the target of Title 24. Title 24 has been effective thus far in its goal of decreasing building energy use in California. Recent research indicated that buildings built in accordance with Title 24 consume 20% less energy than comparable ones in other states.

Chapters and Sections of California Title 24

The Building Energy Efficiency Standards, the Appliance Efficiency Regulations, and the Lighting Efficiency Standards make up the bulk of Title 24 California. Title 24 primarily focuses on the Building Energy Efficiency Standards (BEES), which are meant to increase the energy efficiency of brand-new structures and majorly renovated older ones.

All major renovations and new construction must adhere to these regulations before a building permit may be issued. Air conditioners, furnaces, water heaters, washing machines and dryers are only some of the appliances targeted by the Appliance Efficiency Regulations (AERs), which aim to increase their energy efficiency. Manufacturers of the covered appliances are not required to comply with these standards unless they plan to sell their products in California.

Energy consumption can be reduced for both residential and commercial lighting by following the Lighting Efficiency Standards (LESs). These requirements are likewise voluntary, however, manufacturers of lighting fixtures selling in California must meet them.

Context of Title 24

California's minimum requirements for energy efficiency in buildings are laid forth in Title 24 California, Part 6 of the state's Code of Regulations. Every three years, the code is revised to account for developments in construction techniques and materials. New buildings and renovations in the state will be affected by several major revisions made to the code in the most recent edition, which took effect on January 1, 2020. Here are a few of the most notable alterations to the code that will take effect in 2020:

Solar photovoltaic (PV) systems should be mandatory in all newly constructed homes. 

R-30 insulation levels as a bare minimum for all exterior walls, ceilings, and floors. 

New commercial construction must have EV charging stations. Higher energy efficiency standards for all openings, including windows, doors, and skylights.

The purpose of the California Energy Code is to encourage the use of renewable energy and decrease building energy use. The rule is one of many methods that the state is adopting to fulfill its climate targets, which include decreasing greenhouse gas emissions 40 per cent below 1990 levels by 2030.

Conclusion

Title 24 of the California Code of Regulations is a crucial law that regulates energy efficiency throughout the state. The code is relevant to all construction kinds, including residential and commercial buildings. Title 24 was created by the CEC with the intention of establishing standards for the conservation of energy and the reduction of associated costs. The code is well-organized and straightforward. A summary of California's energy efficiency regulations is included.

[projectsephira]

Histoire Librorum Prohibitorum

Also known by her given name as Historia Records. she is a fairy-like being known as a Tome. She played an important role in Gandstadt’s development as it was displaced from the rest of Earth and humanity.

Information

Historia is a Tome, a constructed entity whose purpose is to record history, bestow knowledge and to aid in the development of Gandstadt’s civilization. Ages ago, she was created by a race of Extraterrestrials who are simply known as the Forgotten Ones before they decided to leave Earth and have Gandstadt placed within a Texture to keep it hidden from the rest of the world via a construct known as the ARC_Cell, which hovers directly above the continent, almost near the atmosphere.

Historia’s role is straight forward: help the humans and lifeforms of Gandstadt develop to become a thriving civilization. As such, she was bestowed great power and authority. Despite her position to easily become the continent’s ruler,  she chose not to do so. Instead, she stayed true to her role in guiding civilization, wishing to learn and understand the people she was meant to help. When she was created, her personality was best described as machine-like, but as time went on, she met and learned from humans, eventually having her personality develop into what it is today. She had even begun taking on a form of her own choosing to better interact with others, henceforth the Fae-like appearance.

When it had come time for a leader to be selected, a young woman by the name of Regina Aquinas, who accepted the role. She would become the First Goddess of Gandstadt, having been bestowed with a massive clump of Faith Energy  Historia had gathered. She would serve as Regina’s advisor and help her build the supernation whose name remain lost to time. At some point in the centuries under her rule, Regina had been losing Faith from her people, with mistrust forming in the Holy Senate between senators. A civil war would eventually break out that would last for two years, an affair that would cause Regina to be embittered towards the human race. She relinquished her power and status as a Goddess to Historia before going into exile. Historia would later  take Regina’s power and split it into multiple shards of Faith Crystals before hiding them in various remote regions of the continent.

In the following years and centuries after the Gandstadtian Government disbanded, several smaller communities and cities were made with a regional lord or mayor, with Historia spending her time within the Virtual Realm of the ARC_Cell monitoring the land’s development, as of the rest of Earth beyond their texture, leaving behind a prophecy regarding the fabled Faith Crystals. That when all of them were found, Goddesses would emerge anew and lead Gandstadt into a golden age. By design, the crystals would accept those that were considered worthy enough to accept them, and within a couple centuries, the first one would be found.

In the northern territories, the first Faith Crystal was found by a girl named Anya Blanche, who came from a poverty stricken family who was constantly exploited by the reigning lord present. anya would become the Goddess known as Glaceia and over throw the corrupt lord, and with Historia’s help, the Northern Territories would be reformed into what is known as Ymir today.

80 years later, another would be found again in the Galahad Reigon just off the cost of the main continent, this time, the one who found it was a young woman from a wealthy upbringing by the name of Veronica Emeralds. Like with Anya, Historia saw the potential within her due to her innate desire to change the system that had been treating its people so poorly. With her influence and new status as Veridia, the Goddess of Regality, she would create the nation known as Elysium <Utopia>, which would go onto become one of the land’s largest and most influential superpowers, once again with Historia’s guidance playing a critical role.

54 years after Elysium’s establishment, another crystal would be discovered by Elise Blackwell, a girl who came from a well established family in the Eastern Territories. High expectations was placed upon her growing up, hence she strove to be perfect in all regards, particularly in academia and politics which her parents were involved in. She would find a Faith Crystal in the most unorthodox way recorded: by tripping and falling into it. She became the Goddess known as Tenebria, carrying the Moniker of the Goddess of Egoisim. And once more with Historia’s help, she would establish the nation of Xenokuni, a rival nation to Elysium.

It would be just 37 years after Xenokuni’s establishment that the fourth crystal would be found---a girl by the name of Vivio Kyrielight. Unlike the others, Vivio’s history is a mystery, outside of the fact that she was raised by a elderly, yet skilled warrior by the name of Kai Fei Yun. Violet became more independent after the man’s death when she was the age of 8 and constantly went exploring, often getting into trouble. She would find the fourth crystal in a cave, bonding with it to become Viola, the Goddess of Liberation. However, because of Vivio’s personality and inexperience, Historia had to teach her everything when it came to being a Goddess, as she used the examples of Elise, Anya and Veronica as a basis for how she should establish her nation.

This period of history remains unclear in regards to Vivio’s development as a Goddess or nation, but Historia and Vivio were able to establish the nation of Aetheria. Because of how irresponsible Vivio was, Historia elected to remain in Aetheria permanently, acting as the nation’s Oracle, a role similar to that of a Vice President. Historia has led the creation of the four nations of Gandstadt of which still persist to this very day, although because of her current position in the Aetherian government, it meant she could no longer stay neutral when wars between the nations broke out.

Powers and Abilities

Because of her role, Historia has great power not many would expect from a tiny being like her. As a tome, she holds knowledge of old, cosmic magic that was used by the Forgotten Ones and is able to use these spells. She is able to manipulate Faith Energy and can remove or bestow someone the power of a Gandstadtian Goddess, even forming constructs like the Faith Crystals to give power a tangible form.

She is capable of speaking to others telepathically from long distances, though is unable to manipulate one’s mind. Perhaps her greatest feats involve the power of creation itself. When Project SISTERS was initiated between the Four Goddesses, Historia had taken portions of their Faith Energy and molded them into humanoid lifeforms bearing similarities to the Goddesses in appearance and personality, thus were the idol candidates who would become their younger sisters. It is said that Historia had assistance from the ARC_Cell, which was capable of creating artifical life and enviorments.

The ARC_Cell.

This is a construct that Historia has the authority to access along with the other deities. It is a massive cubical structure that presides thousands of miles above the Earth’s surface, specifically, it is right above the continent of Gandstadt and is currently maintaining the Texture containing the landmass via an artifact known as the Tesseract, which also bears a resemblance to the structure it resides within.

Inside the structure are a series of supercomputers that are advanced beyond comprehension, and it is these computers that are able to construct Virtual Environments that are as real as the outside world, and can even create lifeforms along with Historia’s influence as we have seen with the Idol Candidates. For one to access these virtual worlds, an individual’s entire essence is transformed into data that is downloaded into the construct and reconstructed. Only one Virtual Land is known to exist and that is the Holy Land of Celestia, a realm in which the Goddesses meet to discuss matters and often, battle each other should discussions turn sideways.

[engineeringalls]

List of Modern Machines Use in Building Construction

List of Modern Machines Use in Building Construction

In 2018, people bought more construction equipment than ever, thanks to a rising volume of commercial, residential, and industrial operations that need heavy-duty machinery to get the task done. Whether you’re struggling hard at a building site, administering road maintenance on an active highway, or surveying for the right equipment for your large-scale landscaping operation, there is a portion…