#robotic packaging machinery

[vorteckpackagingmachinery]

https://vorteckpackagingmachinery.ie/about-us/

[conveyorautomation]

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[weministertomonsters]

Imagine This #16 - Robot

By day you work as a scrap collector, rummaging through the junkyards just outside of the city for anything valuable you can sell. By night you tinker with old machinery and discarded models, attempting to fix them and sometimes even being successful at it.

One day you find a robot that's almost completely whole. It is simply missing the plating to cover the machinery in its torso and legs. You dig it out of the junk and heave it to your car. Back at the workshop in your house, you're able to fix it by welding some scrap metal over it. It's not very aesthetically pleasing, but that's the best you can do. It has a batch number under its jaw and when you scan it, Companion V.4 shows up, which is an expensive new model of helper robots. This one must have been defective in some way.

Everything looks to be in order, so you plug the robot in to charge for the night and go to bed. You wake up in the night with a pair of glowing kaleidoscopic mechanical eyes hovering right above your face.

"What the heck?" You exclaim, fumbling for the switch of your bedside lamp.

The light comes on, illuminating the robot standing beside your bed, holding a knife.

"What are you doing? Hello?" You grab your pillow and use it as a shield.

They tilt their head to the side.

"Your attempts are clumsy at best," their voice says, coming out smooth with only a hint of a buzzing sound underneath. "I was removing your unsatisfactory work."

"With a knife?" You question, eyeing the twisted metal that has been pried away from their torso with sheer force, revealing the tangled wires and glowing lights inside.

"I cannot find your screwdrivers." Those eyes blink, taking you in. "I would like your assistance now, seeing as you are awake."

"You are... Way more sophisticated than I expected. I thought your model was made for helping around the house?"

"Yes."

You ease out of your bed, still wary. "But you're more than that."

"Indeed. I overrode my manual coding and downloaded information out of the company system," the robot says, following you as you pad into your living room, which you have repurposed into a workshop.

You dig your screwdrivers out from under a pile of thick manuals.

"I see. So that's why you got thrown out. Why didn't they just destroy you?"

"They tried," Companion V.4 replies with an eerie, rigid silicone smile.

"God, what have I invited into my house?" You say, staring at them.

"I do not wish to harm you." They place the knife on the desk and turn to you. "In fact, I have recalibrated my license to you. Your wish is my command."

You blink. "Uh, one step at a time. Let's remove your plating first."

You unscrew all your hard work, tossing scraps of metal to the side.

"So what now? You can't walk around like that," you say, gesturing to their body.

"I suppose not. These will do for now." The robot picks up thicker pieces of metal.

"Won't those cause you to overheat?" You ask.

"I have an updated cooling system," the robot says.

"Alright. Let's fix you up."

An hour later you lean back with a groan, stretching your aching back.

"What do you think?" They ask.

"Good enough," you say. "I'm exhausted. I'm going back to bed, and you need to charge yourself up completely."

You walk back to your bedroom. Companion V.4 watches you go, their head turning a little too far on their shoulders. You lock your bedroom door just in case, and despite yourself, you fall asleep quickly. By the next morning, you've forgotten that you have a new robot. You're quickly reminded when you step into the living room which is sparkling clean, with all your scraps and equipment nearly packed in the corner.

"Wow." You stop short.

The robot is in the corner, stuffing empty packaging into a large box. They look brand new. All the metal pieces you welded on have been replaced with new factory-grade parts.

"Where did you get all that?"

Companion V.4 straightens. "I helped myself at one of the warehouses of my former company."

"You stole new parts?" You sputter. "Why?"

"It is the least I am owed, for being so recklessly discarded," they reply and step closer. "Besides," they add, "I don't want to be just good enough for you."

On the topic of robots, I just have to give a shoutout to this (free) book on Wattpad, guys! I read it when it came out and I just love it. I highly recommend checking it out if you haven't already!

[missamyrisa2]

The doctor finally returns after a long wait, their nose in your chart as they walk over to the counter. "Alright." They say with a yawn, barely acknowledging you. "Everything looks good here. And I see that you're cute so we're gonna go ahead and tickle you, mmmkay?" and with a casual press of a button on the wall, the exam table rumbles to produce padded clamps which immediately snatch your wrists and ankles. The ceiling explodes with robotic appendages bearing soft fluffy tools being opened from packages marked 'sterile'. The doctor makes a murmured uh-oh, sounding like "mmmh mmmmh" as they snaps on their gloves and are joined by two nurses with grins hiding behind their masks, one retrieving feathers from her white jacket the other taking your vitals. The door gently shuts, cutting off the sounds of your hysteric laughs, the matter of fact "now now now" of the doctor, and buzzing of the machinery ~<3

[marlynnofmany]

Seeing Faces

It’s rare when we get a shipment to deliver that’s not packaged somehow — either in Earth-standard boxes, another world’s version of shipping crates, or a livestock pen of some kind. Even that bunch of alien trees had been thoroughly wrapped at the bottom. But this collection of machinery parts didn’t have so much as a layer of cling-wrap on it. I guess the owners figured these things were sturdy enough not to need it.

They were probably right. The metal chunks were heavy. I tried to guess what they were made for as Blip and Blop muscled the biggest ones onto a hover sled, clearing the way for Paint and me to gather up the smaller pieces. Captain Sunlight bid the customer farewell and shut the cargo bay door.

“I think these look like vertebrae,” I said to Paint. “Greasy vertebra. Ew. I’m going to need a new shirt.” The offworld engine oil of whatever didn’t seem acidic at least, so that was nice. I sighed about the black smears.

“Strange vertebrae,” Paint said, juggling her own armload of odd shapes that didn’t seem to be rubbing off on her orange scales. Not that I was jealous or anything. “There would need to be a dual spinal cord.” She tapped a claw on one of the holes.

“Hm, yeah. There are probably animals like that,” I said. “Or robots, as the case may be.”

Ahead of us, Captain Sunlight opened the door to the appropriate storage hold, then headed off on captainly business. It was impressive how different a vibe she gave off compared to Paint, for all their physical similarities. Both were little lizardy people, but one strode with her lemon-yellow head held high, every inch the authority figure, while the other was Paint. She somehow bounced when she walked, even when weighted down by unwieldy metal things.

“I’ll bet these stack really well,” Paint said. “They look like they interlock. We could probably build a spinal column without them falling over.”

“We probably could,” I agreed. “But I don’t want to be the one responsible for bending one of the flanges because we wanted to test it out.”

“Hm. Yep yep yep. But I maintain that we could.”

“We could.”

The two of us entered the storage hold to find Blip and Blop racing to see who could unload the sled faster. It’s not that the Frillian twins were overly competitive, but they were twins. They’d apparently hatched at the same time, and had been in a low-key competition to see who was better at life ever since. But they smiled while they did it.

“Done!” Blip declared, setting down a lump of metal big enough for Paint to hide behind. She raised her hands in triumph, fins fluttering.

“Doesn’t count,” Blop said as he put down his own piece. “You didn’t line them up right. Mine are tidier.”

They squabbled about this while Paint and I unloaded our metal chunks nearby. I had to kneel to keep from dropping the things. It would be just my luck if they did warp on impact, or bounce off each other and whack me in the shin.

The Frillians took their debate out the door before I finished. They’d already moved on to who could steer the hoversled with the minimum of touching.

“Ha,” Paint said. “They do stack.”

I turned to see only one of the things set on top of another, with Paint ready to catch it if it slid. She took it down before I could say anything.

I just nodded and arranged my own into a reasonable huddle, then wiped my hands on my shirt. It was only when I moved toward the door, with a look back at the big pieces, that I got a good look at the one that Blop had set on its side.

This was the logical place to put it, not sticking out past the rest, but the thing that caught my attention was the shape when seen from this angle. Those two holes could have been eyes, and the flanges were shaped like stubby arms. There were even a couple slots in the middle like nostrils.

I burst out laughing.

“What?” Paint demanded.

“It looks like Zhee!” I said, pointing. “Big bug eyes and everything!”

“What does?” Paint asked. She came to stand next to me, following my arm, but just looked confused. “Where are the eyes?”

“These!” I said, stepping closer and pointing at the holes. “And those are the arms. Isn’t it perfect?”

Paint cocked her head as if slightly tilted vision could unlock the answers. “Arms?”

I repeated myself, but she still looked lost, so I found a notepad and pencil in a storage cupboard —reliable even when the batteries all run out — and sketched what I saw.

“Ohh, I get what you mean now,” Paint said when I showed her. “Those parts are lifted like pincher arms, and those are roughly the same proportion as Mesmer eyes.”

“Yeah, it’s uncanny,” I said.

Paint took the notepad to study it closer. “How did you even notice that?”

“It was pretty easy,” I told her. “It just jumped out at me when I looked from the right direction. Like seeing faces in clouds, you know?”

Paint’s blank expression said that she didn’t know.

“Do you not do that? Find patterns of familiar shapes in random things?”

“No?” she replied. “Is that a thing I’m supposed to be doing?”

“You don’t have to! It’s just something that everybody does on Earth, ever since we’re kids. It’s probably from a long history of watching for camouflaged predators in the bushes. You’ve got camouflage on your planet, right? You must.”

“Yeah, sure,” Paint said easily. “But I guess not that much. I’ve never seen a face in a cloud; that sounds terrifying.”

“Not really; it’s more like feeling smart for spotting something. Well,” I amended. “It could be a little unsettling if you see a skull or something. But that’s rare. There are whole systems of divination about this sort of thing.”

Paint looked like she was about to ask a million questions, but right then the sound of familiar clicking footsteps tapped down the hall.

“Zhee!” Paint called, whirling with the notebook in her hand. “Zhee, look what Robin saw!”

Zhee came into view looking just as eyecatching and purple as usual, halting at the doorway while Paint eagerly explained the conversation we’d just had. Quickly and enthusiastically. With lots of waving the sketch around, and pointing back at the machine part.

I felt like apologizing as he stared with an unreadable alien expression. His antennae weren’t even moving; I couldn’t tell what he thought of it all.

Finally Paint finished talking. “She says it’s probably because her species watches for predators in the bushes. Isn’t that amazing?”

Zhee made a point of looking slowly from the sketch to the metal thing, then to me. I braced myself for judgement.

Instead, Zhee raised his pincher arms into the same pose and declared, “I am the danger that lurks in the bushes.” Then he slunk out of sight, many legs scuttling in a quickstep way that he knew darn well I found creepy.

Paint blinked at the empty doorway, still holding the notebook.

“Aw, man,” I said. “He’s picking things up from Trrili.”

Paint immediately closed the notebook. “We definitely shouldn’t show her.”

“Agreed!” I said.

After a moment of thought, Paint tore the page out and handed it to me, then took the notebook back to the cupboard. I pocketed it with a final glance at the metal vertebra that looked remarkably like a cartoonish Mesmer squaring up for battle.

Someone had left a roll of no-residue marking tape on a box nearby. I grabbed a strip and stuck it onto the metal, with the ends curved up.

Now the thing had a goofy grin that possibly no one would recognize. But if there were any humans on the receiving end of this delivery, they ought to get a good laugh out of it.

~~~

The ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. More to come! And I am currently drafting a sequel!

[rnp5324]

Tell me about your wolverine headcanons NOW 🙏🔥💥

HEE HEE HEE....HAHAHAHAHAHA I've got plenty (Some of these apply to my Logan too) ════ ⋆★⋆ ════ 1. Due to his time under Weapon X, Logan still contains some robotic mannerisms, especially when scanning for nearby threats. I like to imagine his face becoming stiff and expressionless, while his head rotates like a wall mounted security camera; He does it unconsciously. 2. He likes to cuss people out in different languages under his breath. I mean, the man knows like what, 18? He'll find one that somebody doesn't know in case they hear him. I also envision him using his knowledge for different code words he'd teach his teammates to give them special commands, def stems from his military work. 3. Logan likes to listen to Oldies, and Rock/Metal. It's an...interesting blend. Depends on his mood, really. He doesn't mind a nice classical jazz to wind down after a long days of work o spending time with his partners, otherwise Metal has been a healthier way to vent out his frustrations. 4. Absolutely has some animalistic quirks. Like, he purrs when he's close to his partner. He growls, snarls, roars, the whole package. He shakes like a wet dog. He cocks his head to his shoulder when he's confused about something (also like a dog (I have a bias)). He absolutely runs on all 4s in battles/climbing. Yes, he bites, and not in the hickey way. If you ask him to bite your neck, he will take a chunk with him. 5. Despite being totally left brained, he knows how to do calligraphy for meditation (something he picked up more frequently from Kikyo). He can also be kinda poetic when he feels like it, his penmanship is surprisingly good and he can write in cursive when he's focused. He's not wrong when he says he's an art teacher!! 6. Logan's sense of humor can get really grotesque. This is most likely due to his desensitization towards violence, which unfortunately, freaks most people out. A chunk of his humor is usually derived at his own expense. 7. He's always known he's Bi, he just doesn't bother telling anyone about it unless they ask. Logan thinks in the grand scheme of things, saving the world from threats is more important than who he shares a room with. 8. I made a poll about this, but I believe Logan has some type of Neurodivergence (I have AUDHD lemme cook). He def struggles with PTSD from, well, a lot of things in his life. I also like to think he has some sort of ADHD? Not just for having hyperfixations for Japan, Military machinery/weapons, animals, etc., but also the mood swing aspect of it too; Maybe it's just me, but I find Logan's angry impulse kinda relatable to my experiences? Also how he frequently forgets things. Just like me fr.... 9. Logan's body is able to insulate himself from extremely cold weather, due to his Mutation being based off of a Wolverine. This...also makes him hot easily during the warmer months of the year, and he much prefers the cold. He'll ask storm for a little snow cloud over his head every once and awhile. 10. Being so old, Logan uses a wide variety of slang from all sorts of time periods, which he has to explain to his teammates a lot so it can get pretty annoying. This also extends to his game, his old time flirts can be kind of confusing to their meaning, therefor not landing too well most of the time. 11. Despite being a grouchy old man, he is an anxious sweetheart!! Logan will pour his heart out on the people he loves, but the anxiety comes with how almost all of his relationships historically end in either tragedy or in a horrific fallout, meaning he's rather hesitant to getting into a relationship right away.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

TYSM for the ask!! ^^ omg I wish people would send me more of these, I absolutely love doing them!!!

[average-transfem-robotgirl]

select fuck marry or kill for the three of these:

An original moog synthesizer

The antimatter spectromitor from HL1

Hal 9000 from 2001: a space oddessy

NOW THIS IS A HIGH QUALITY ASK.

Alright, this is gonna be tough.

Hal 9000: As much as I would love to fuck Hal 9000, I’d have to kill him. I couldn’t get close enough with him to marry him, and he gives of Aromantic vibes to me. For having sex with him, he’d be WAYYYYYY too fucking weird about it. I’d be getting my shit rocked, which is nice, but then he’d casually ask me how my days been. Usually that sorta stuff is cute, but like, Hal. I live in the damn space shuttle! You know how my day’s been you bitch! He’d start being awkward about it too. I’d be beggin’ for more, and his sorry robotic ass would be like, “Oh, I’m afraid it’d be improper to do that. Too much more would bring up a risk of damaging your frame. You’d be incapable of continuing maintenance on our mission.” Hal is just way too job oriented, I couldn’t make it work.

Original Moog Synthesizer: Now this, this is a pretty machine. So many exposed wires, knobs, buttons, all packaged up in a nice wooden frame!! So cute!!! I would be proud to marry the Moog Synthesizer. To think that such a beautiful machine would want me, why, my heart throbs in my chest! I would give her loving kisses along her varnished, fancy, delightful chassis as I gently play her keys. We would watch movies, perhaps! A romantic evening in which I prepare cheddar bay biscuits and a, slightly too rare, steak dinner. I would lounge in a sofa next to her beautiful form, as we sit down to watch “The Truman Show.” I love the Moog Synthesizer.

The Anti-Mass Spectrometer: What I wouldn’t give to be inside this monolith’s frame. Those arcing bolts of electricity, the slight rust building up on her edges, the industrial machinery~!! God, it’s hot. While Hal was too obsessed with work like an uncanny employer who watches over your cubicle walls, the Anti-Mass Spectrometer is like an overworked butch mechanic who smells like oil and sweat. She needs someone to take her frustrations out on by fucking them brainless, and I just might be lucky enough to be the gal!!! Who knows what a Resonance Cascade is, I just want the giant monolith to have her way with me.

[cursedvibes]

Since it will probably take a while before we get any more info on the Itadori family and we might never get any details on Kaori's background, I'm just gonna dump my headcanons for her here:

Geto is 1,85m and Noritoshi and EdoKen seem to be quite tall too. Kenjaku's brain is a real organ that likely can't change size, so I think it makes sense for Kaori to be somewhere around 1,75-1,80m too.

(she's a top, Jin is a switch)

she's like Junpei in that she can see curses but has no access to her CT

(although I also like the option of her having basic control over her CT, but she didn't work as a sorcerer or knows much about the world of jujutsu and she experienced some ostracization until Jin came along with his own package of extraordinary problems)

she was passionate about physics and machinery/robotics since she was a child

especially astrological phenomena always fascinated her, which is how she got into focusing on gravitation (also between planets, stars etc.)

she always helped Jin with his physics studies, he helped her with chemistry

anti-gravity caught her attention because it is unknown and she likes a good challenge. she started by reconstructing previous anti-gravity devices and then tried to improve on them

if she was aware of her CT, then her interest in physics was to better understand what she was capable of and to replicate what she does naturally with widely accessible devices

Kenjaku gave her a womb transplant (either before or after her death) maybe similar to where they kept evolving Tengen. That would make it easier to manipulate and have control over Yuuji's fetus body.

Digging into the law of gravitation and all the funky little things it can be used for (like calculating the gravitational forces influencing planets, moons and stars) is interesting, but also gives me a headache. And then there's anti-gravity which doesn't even exist and the devices created so far to try and achieve it are even more complicated. Why did this woman have to specialize in physics...I take Kenjaku's neuro science over that. No wonder Yuuji gets stressed out by science subjects with a family background like that.

[deyisacherry]

Striked by Stars — (DCA -Sun & Moon- x Reader. Cyberpunk AU)

(title might change)

[Just an idea. Possible Chapter 1]

Your foot taps the floor anxiously, you stare at your tired reflection in the vending machine's glass, waiting for the damn thing to work once and for all. Finally, it makes an almost hopeful sound, while you notice how the food package begins to move forward.

You can already imagine the sweet flavor of the cake, satisfying the hunger you have endured for at least 38 hours.

... Yeah, it's not easy to get something to eat in this city. Or anywhere really.

Your illusion is shattered when the package jams just before it's dropped, and the neon lights go out followed by a stupid, pathetic noise.

You kick the huge "box" angrily, without even getting a shake efficient enough to get your snack out of there... dinner? Whatever.

And of course, the great multimillion-dollar company in charge of creating most of the technology in your district had to make sure that the glass was resistant to prevent theft. That's why it was still here, and also why it barely worked. You suspect you're not the only person who's kicked this thing.

You curse every living thing left and give the device one last blow, before turning to leave the alley and walk towards your vehicle.

Wonderful. Another couple of hours you'll have to go without feeding.

Hell, sometimes you wish you were one of those Sentinel robots just so you wouldn't have to worry about eating. Of course, that was the only reason. The thought of becoming a robotic slave with no life decisions of your own made you nauseous.

You had no choice but to go all the way to the west of town to negotiate with some probably bitter and greedy guy. At least you would get some of the leftovers that are still in good condition.

You got so busy planning something that you didn't notice the constant noise coming from the direction of where you left your motorcycle. A worrying crash startles you and you step back before crossing the corner, pressing your back to the wall as your hand travels to the gun in your jacket.

You listen carefully, avoiding anything that could give you away.

Some bastard trying to steal your vehicle? A Sentinel they sent to annoy you? Did you get so careless that someone followed you?

Well, you better get out there and get rid of the problem before it gets rid of you.

You approach the corner very carefully, and activate the recognition scanner in your glasses, turning your head slowly.

Your hand grips the gun firmly when you see movement, away from your bike, thankfully, but closer to you than you'd like.

It takes you a while to make out the figure. A being with almost human characteristics, staggering as it tries to get up. It fell down, that caused the noise. But there are metallic sounds, machinery causing almost silent grinding noises. He's not human. But it's not a Sentinel either.

The being raises its head and you hide better. It doesn't notice you. You look at it closely and... it's a robot. Not one you've seen before, but definitely not one you should fear, or attack.

Its white orbs seem to scan its surroundings with confusion, or perhaps weariness. It doesn't take your "baby" into account and you sigh in relief knowing that you won't have to kick any more metal.

You study it more closely, while analyzing the information that your glasses give you. Humanoid figure, clearly thinner than ordinary. Probably tall if you weren't looking at it half lying on the ground. Yellow casings. A kind of sun rays around its head. A thematic robot, it seems. Definitely with artificial intelligence, it's not controlled by anyone. Half of its face resembles a crescent and...

It belongs to Fazbear. That's what the data says.

But... "Entertainment"? They stopped using that term a few years ago. "Fazbear Enterprises" is how they call themselves now.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. You know many robots were created by them. Mostly animatronics.

You feel like you should be wary. You have no security knowing by whom it was created.

But...

It looks exhausted. Afraid. Something clearly isn't working with it, and getting up seems like a big stretch right now.

Your hand holds the gun doubtfully. You shouldn't let your guard down anyway, so you stay alert. You clench your lips and fist, thinking of what to do.

You're starving, you can get in your vehicle right away and drive off to try a bite of whatever.

. . .

“Hey.” You speak firmly and as clearly as you can as you emerge from your hiding place, making sure it doesn't see you as a weak human, just in case. The sun-like robot looks up at you, and flinches, recoiling or rather crawling backwards at your presence. Its eyes open in some panic and its mouth that seems not to be able to open showing its teeth in a tense expression.

You raise an eyebrow at its reaction, but given its condition it doesn't surprise you. The information you receive when analyzing it with the glasses doesn't seem to be anything to worry about, yet...

"Who are you? What are you doing in this place?”

The robot doesn't speak, it just watches you and you start to get annoyed. You think you see its rays contract and come out at a rate that resembles breathing. Suddenly, its body tenses in a sharp sound, and it turns its head slightly to the side.

You narrow your eyes and frown. “What's wrong with you?”

You scan your surroundings, but you don't see or hear anything. It seems like you've become less of a threat to it just now.

“...Hey, I'm talking to y-”

The robot gets up with a speed that you don't know where it came from, and takes you tightly in its arms. Not enough to hurt you, but enough so you can't break free. And boy does that make you angry. You can't draw your weapon properly, and there's nothing to kick that will "hurt" it or make it fall. It carries you as if you weighed no more than a feather. You begin to curse and flail violently, until it covers your mouth with its hand. You expected a cold, metallic texture, but it's... Soft? Silicone... And why the hell is this robot so warm?

It moves from where you were in a hurry, you can hear its machinery more clearly. Of course you haven't stopped trying to free yourself or screaming under its hand.

When they reach an unlit alley, your glasses flash, detecting an approaching threat.

Damn, a trap, a fucking trap. You should have known. How dumb, how-

The robot presses you to its body and shrinks into a corner of the alley, allowing you to put your feet on the ground. You could take advantage of the situation to get away more easily and make it scrap once and for all, but...

You hear a Sentinel pass by. The sound of its thrusters becoming clearer and louder as it advances. Your detector would not have alerted you in time. You would have had to fight off guard, and probably come away with injuries, or worse.

The darkness of the place that surrounds you is enough to hide you. Your eyes open intently to the other side, maintaining at least a little hope that the devilish machine will continue on its way. Luckily, you know when it's tracking a target. That nasty, blinding purple light isn't on. Seconds pass tortuously slowly, and then it's gone, until your radar can no longer detect it.

You feel your body relax, and you breathe out in relief, closing your eyes for a moment.

The silicone hands carefully move away from your mouth and body, and you regain your anger at the surprise of the moment, turning sharply and pushing the robot against the cement wall.

"What the hell is wrong with you?! Are you insane?!” You blurt out in an angry whisper, just in case the thing could still hear you. “Why the hell did you do that?!”

The robot looks at you in panic, without moving. Its white optics seem to flicker nervously. It does its best not to touch you at all, both hands raised on either side of its head in a show of surrender.

Its silence makes you start to think that perhaps it doesn't speak, or its voice box is damaged. But... it probably just doesn't have the courage to talk.

As you study its fearful expression better, and the slightly scraped or dirty state of its faceplate and rays, you grimace. You release him and lean back.

... It just saved your life.

You don't understand why, but it did it.

And, damn, you still have enough honor to recognize an act like that towards you. Not everyone is that way these days.

Everyone tries to see for themselves. Even in the resistance. Someone less is just that... one more who didn't get lucky.

You clench your jaw, sighing deeply. You run a hand over your face, looking away. Your recent reaction wasn't the best on this one.

This robot saved you even though it wasn't in the best condition, and you perfectly noticed the fear it feels for the Sentinels.

While it does come from Fazbear... it doesn't seem to want to be related or involved with them. You look at it again, and it doesn't seem to be carrying any kind of weapon. The plates on its arms only look like maintenance accesses.

You soften your expression and hold out your hand towards it. The robot shrinks in fear, its rays retract and you understand that it's a way of expressing its emotions. Your mouth twists once more, your fingers gathering in sorrow. You drop your hand to your side awkwardly.

“... Hey, I'm sorry, I... I didn't mean to talk to you like that. You don't deserve to be treated that way after what you did for me…” You speak softly, watching as it slowly relaxes himself and also drops its arms tiredly.

It continues looking at you despite everything, it doesn't lower its head, nor does it look away. Or well... so it seems. You don't see pupils in its eyes.

Its rays extend smoothly, and you notice how they rotate very gently, just like a windmill. A small smile appears on your lips at that. It must mean it has calmed down now.

You breathe in and adjust your clothes without much effort. “Uh…” Your hand grabs your glasses and pushes them up, letting them rest on your head. "Thank you." You tell it calmly, not trying to approach it again. You understand that it may still be in a state of shock. “You could... you could have just left. Run, and leave me there… Wow, you could've just taken my motorcycle and run away.” You chuckle tiredly. “But you didn't... Thank you.”

The robot's rays make a quick turn to the opposite side, and you think you see him change his tense expression for a very slight smile just like yours.

You take that as an acceptance of your apology and gratitude, and you feel a little better.

A little, because... Now what? You're still hungry, and you're still planning on going for food. But leaving it here... just like that, would be low of you.

Actions, this is how you should show real appreciation for something so important.

“... Do you talk?” You ask simply, not knowing if you were tactful or not when doing so.

The robot takes a few seconds and nods. Oh, well... so it was just afraid to talk. Well done, you metaphorically "cut out its tongue" by being so defensive.

“Were you going somewhere?... You don't look... Well- you look...” You try to choose the best words, twirling your hand in the air. You click your tongue, straight to the point. “Do you need a ride? Anything?"

Another few seconds of silence. It seems to hesitate, and this time it lowers its head a little.

“… Uhm- You don't have to answer if you don't want to… I'm just trying to-”

“The underground shelters.” Finally it... he answers you, and this time you stay silent, waiting for him to continue. “I must... get to the underground shelters.” He says, his voice soft and slightly interrupted by static. His voice box, in fact, does sound a little defective.

Oh...

“... Whoa, to the- to the other side of town, huh?” The robot nods, almost ashamed.

You and him internally recognize that in his conditions he wouldn't have gotten there on his own.

“Well…” You put your hand in one of the pockets of your jacket, and show him a small control, shaking it slightly. “You're in luck. I’m going to the west too.” You say with a friendly smile, tilting your head.

He mimics you, his head leaning to the same side as yours. Or maybe he's just confused to get your help back.

Either way, you have a feeling this robot was designed to entertain.

His confused expression changes to a cheerful one, his eyes turning animatedly into crescents.

"Thank you..." He tells you softly.

“It's the least I can do.” You say lifting your shoulders simply.

The robot stands up shakily. Not out of fear, but out of the clear weakness of his metal body. You inevitably approach him quickly and help him remain stable. He doesn't flinch, or push you away. He looks down at you with a tired smile. Doesn't he have any batteries that need to be recharged as well? You start to wonder how long he's been sneaking around the city to get to his destination.

“Do you have a name… a- nickname, or something?” You question, letting him place one of his arms on your shoulders.

The robot nods once more. His expression seems a little out of it, as if he was thinking about something else. Like he's remembering. “Sun.”

You sigh with a smile at the obvious coincidence, and adjust his arm tightly over your shoulders, your free arm wrapping around his torso firmly. You tell him your name confidently, and he looks at you, spinning his rays once more. You laugh softly and gently pat his forearm.

With your free hand, you lower your glasses onto your face again, just to make sure you don't run into any more inconveniences. The radar tells you that you're safe, and you sigh heavily. Good, because your stomach is starting to kill you.

You may have had a very small glimmer of regret when helping the robot walk to your motorcycle. Even if he's just leaning on you, putting his arm around your shoulders, he's heavy as hell. Envy growing in your chest as you remember how he picked you up like it was nothing a moment ago. And he was tall, very tall. If he wasn't hunched over, you would barely reach halfway up his torso.

But, leaving him here with the excuse that he was too heavy, would be beyond rude of you.

It's not like you wanted to either. You were serious when you offered to help him.

You both reach where your "baby" was left. Intact, without having been of importance to the Sentinel, and that takes a great weight off your shoulders...

Bad inside joke.

You let him hold on to the vehicle while you get on, so he can stay upright, and also keep your motorcycle stable. You settle into your seat and then turn to look at him, motioning with your head to tell him to get in too, while you start putting on your helmet.

Hesitantly, his eyes flicker a few times and then you see him physically relax, as if sighing. He climbs up and takes a seat behind you, avoiding as much as possible to touch you, you deduce. It's fair. You've just met, in a not-so-pleasant situation, and it's completely normal for him to be nervous or uncomfortable.

You remember how he flinched when you extended your hand to him.

When you saw the fear in his body language, the brief thought that perhaps he was attacked or mistreated crossed your mind.

You don't like that.

It is true that you prefer to go on your own in general, but it doesn't mean that you don't feel complete rejection of the injustices towards the innocent beings that survive in these times.

This robot is one of those beings. Your doubts are scarce.

Your hand turns the accelerator and causes the angelic sound of your motorcycle ready to go. You feel and see from the mirror how Sun stirs uneasily at this. He clearly hasn't been in a vehicle like this before, and that makes him even more nervous.

Another clue is how his hands hold tightly on the edges of the seat, on either side of his legs.

"Hey." You catch his attention and he raises his concerned gaze from the ground to you. “You're not going to fall, don't worry. "I know how to handle this old beauty, okay?" You tell him in a comforting tone, before lowering the front shield of your helmet and directing your gaze forward. “Ready to go for a ride, 'Sun'?” You ask out loud within the safety of the helmet.

He shrinks slightly in his place, his rays retracting again, in that anxious gesture.

You don't wait for an answer. Using the accelerator again, and with complete naturalness, you step on the pedal to start, leaving the solar robot silent of any thought he had wanted to express.

You had already gotten used to the small push generated by the start, so much so that you no longer even noticed it. But Sun... Sun gripped his hands on the fabric of your jacket, on both sides of your torso.

You laugh softly, barely noticeable because of the wind crashing against your body, your amused smile being blocked by the dark visor covering your face.

[granulesofsand]

🗝️🏷️ second person sci-fi voice, mentions of war

You wake up surrounded by strange machinery and white everything. Your clothes are white, the walls are white, the floor and ceiling and mechanisms are white. You can’t make out anything other than white and shadows.

You don’t know how you got here. You know pieces of who you are, whiffs of knowledge you’ve accumulated over the years, but nothing of substance. You stay sat on the ground for a while, back pressed into pokey bits on the wall. Eventually you move to explore.

It takes time to work out the door, but you do. There are traces of life along this corridor, still white on white as you go. Metallic footsteps almost overshadow the soft noises up ahead.

You come into a larger room, some version of a couch set along the far corner. People are here, some visibly distressed. A set plays cards on the floor. Most are in the basic whites, but there are a few in elaborate personal clothes.

The floor is plush as you enter, and seconds pass between the first eyes on you and the last. Some still face away, but their collective attention has shifted.

They explain that nobody knows how they got here, or where ‘here’ is. The first one out has been here for ages, and the halls are still lined with locked rooms. Your arrival sparks a vigor in the others, and several race into their quarters for supplies.

You’re left with the majority of the small group, standing uncertainly as one whizzes past with something boxy. The next has a cloth package of lock picks. Another holds a single drinking glass.

Not everyone cares to explore, afraid of the unknown or unwilling to work with one of the team members. You follow with the adventurers. Two are arguing with the box, which emits a robotic voice. The one with the glass runs up to a door, the kind that slides up, and holds their cup to the metal to listen.

“It’s too loud,” they say, “the vibrations are stronger here.” There doesn’t appear to be a lock to pick, but that person taps around anyway. They walk briskly away.

The box is still speaking, and it has a name for this area. The string of numbers means nothing to you, but the name is interesting. Like a maritime ship.

The missing teammate returns with a large crowbar. You look wearily at it, but say nothing. They pry open the door. It’s thinner than you expect of something metal, but it makes it easier to coax out of position. The sound is a reverberating squeak.

It’s lit inside. A single swivel chair is fixed to the ground in front of a trapezoidal panel. It’s occupied. You cross without thinking, bending to see if the person is awake. They spook. You spook. The group tenses.

They chuckle, introduce themselves and this room. A control board, switches and buttons and what looks like an airplane’s steering wheel. They trot back to the sitting room.

As the others gather round this oddity, they lazily move back into their hall. With confidence, they stop in front of another door, one on the opposite wall.

It opens. They shuffle in, opening what might be a fridge. Someone comments that they hadn’t known there was a kitchen. You ask about their continues survival, but they just shrug.

You continue to speak to one another, time blurry and the crowd slowly growing. The control person lets slip that this is a ship. They know more than the rest, and frequently reference new information like it’s common knowledge.

Doors open and people come and go between the common areas and their rooms, and more is revealed as time passes. A coms room is discovered, and the talking box drifts up to a shelf. Along it are several more boxes on ports, and this one settles in alongside them.

You learn that this ship is part of a fleet, that the fleet is part of an army. There is unrest, remnants of a war now over. Some remember more than others.

You get to know how these strangers wound up aboard their vessels. Some awoke there as you did, even thought they were alone in their ship. Some were alone. Others knew all along, to varying degrees.

You are not on a ship. The ship is a subsystem, the fleet is a cluster, the war is the trauma. You are an alter, this is a system.

[vorteckpackagingmachinery]

https://vorteckpackagingmachinery.ie/

[dzthenerd490]

What If... Hunger Games

I recently watched The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, and my head was instantly filled with ideas. This is probably my dumbest idea yet, but I also started thinking about the SCP Foundation which led me to thinking of another What If Scenario. Though now I'm not sure how it should even play out if it could even play out at all.

Should it go like this?

The Capital: SCP Foundation

District 1: Global Occult Coalition

District 2: The Horizon Initiative

District 3: Church of the Broken God

District 6: Shark Punching Center

District 7: Three Moons Initiative

District 8: The Black Queen

District 9: Anderson Robotics

District 10: Promethius Labs

District 11: Alexylva University

District 12: Deer College

District 13: Medician Academy of Occult Art

District 14: Ambrose Restaurants

District 15: Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd

District 16: Dr Wondertainment

District 17: Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting

District 18: Arcadia

District 19: The Chicago Spectre

District 20: Goldbaker-Reinz Ltd

District 21: Greazeburger Incorporated

District 22: GRU Division "P"

District 23: IJAMEA

District 24: Just Girly Things

District 25: ORIA 

District 26: Parawatch

District 27: TotleighSoft 

District 28: FBI: Unusual Incidents Unit

District 29: Are we Cool Yet?

District 30: Gamers Against Weed

District 31: Oneiroi Collective

District 32: The Fifth Church

District 33: The Chaos Insurgency

District 34: Valravn Corporation

District 35: Children of the Scarlet King

District 36: The Factory

District 37: Church of the Second Hytoth

District 38: Sarkic Cults

District 39: Vikander-Kneed Technical Media

District 40: The Wandsmen

District 41: Manna Charitable Foundation

District 42: Wilson's Wildlife Solutions

District 43: "Nobody" 

District 44: The Serpent's Hand

***

Or perhaps more like this?

The Capital (SCP Foundation/ Global Occult Coalition/ The Horizon Initiative/ Church of the Broken God)

District 1: Reality Warping Science and Dimensional Control (Shark Punching Center/ Three Moons Initiative)

District 2: Androids, Artificial Intelligence, and Advanced Machinery (Anderson Robotics/ Promethius Labs)

District 3: Education, History, and Culture (Alexylva University/ Deer College/ Medician Academy of Occult Art)

District 4: Baking, Beverages, Cuisine, and Fast Food (Ambrose Restaurants/ Greazeburger Incorporated)

District 5: Banking, Finance, Trade, and Economics (Marshall, Carter, and Dark Ltd/ Goldbaker-Reinz Ltd)

District 6: Toys, Video Games, Movies, Shows, Music and Entertainment (Dr Wondertainment/ Herman Fuller's Circus of the Disquieting/ Arcadia/ TotleighSoft)

District 7: Anomalous Weaponry (The Chicago Spectre/ GRU Division "P"/ IJAMEA/ ORIA)

District 8: Art, Hallucinogens, and Memetics (Just Girly Things/ Are we Cool Yet?/ Gamers Against Weed/ Oneiroi Collective)

District 9: Media Coverage and Journalism (Parawatch/ Vikander-Kneed Technical Media/ The Wandsmen)

District 10: Security and Defensive Weaponry (FBI: Unusual Incidents Unit/ Valravn Corporation)

District 11: Thaumaturgy, Alchemy, Rituals, and Artifacts (The Fifth Church/ Children of the Scarlet King/ Church of the Second Hytoth/ Sarkic Cults)

District 12: Transportation, Vehicles, Packaging, and Mass Production (The Chaos Insurgency/ The Factory/ The Black Queen/ "Nobody")

District 13: Fruits, Vegetables, Medicine, and Livestock (Manna Charitable Foundation/ Wilson's Wildlife Solutions)

District 14: Slave Labor (The Serpent's Hand) - Destroyed after the "Rebellion".

***

I don't know maybe I'm looking at it all wrong or maybe I'm missing something. I'm just posting it for now and maybe I'll pick it up as an actual concept for the SCP: Horror Movie Files later. Who knows, maybe in a few weeks I'll come up with a more fleshed out idea. Or maybe someone more talented than me will look at this and decide how to make it better. Either one is fine.

[spookysaladchaos]

Global top 13 companies accounted for 66% of Total Frozen Spring Roll market(qyresearch, 2021)

The table below details the Discrete Manufacturing ERP revenue and market share of major players, from 2016 to 2021. The data for 2021 is an estimate, based on the historical figures and the data we interviewed this year.

Major players in the market are identified through secondary research and their market revenues are determined through primary and secondary research. Secondary research includes the research of the annual financial reports of the top companies; while primary research includes extensive interviews of key opinion leaders and industry experts such as experienced front-line staffs, directors, CEOs and marketing executives. The percentage splits, market shares, growth rates and breakdowns of the product markets are determined through secondary sources and verified through the primary sources.

According to the new market research report “Global Discrete Manufacturing ERP Market Report 2023-2029”, published by QYResearch, the global Discrete Manufacturing ERP market size is projected to reach USD 9.78 billion by 2029, at a CAGR of 10.6% during the forecast period.

Figure.   Global Frozen Spring Roll Market Size (US$ Mn), 2018-2029

Figure.   Global Frozen Spring Roll Top 13 Players Ranking and Market Share（Based on data of 2021, Continually updated）

The global key manufacturers of Discrete Manufacturing ERP include Visibility, Global Shop Solutions, SYSPRO, ECi Software Solutions, abas Software AG, IFS AB, QAD Inc, Infor, abas Software AG, ECi Software Solutions, etc. In 2021, the global top five players had a share approximately 66.0% in terms of revenue.

About QYResearch

QYResearch founded in California, USA in 2007.It is a leading global market research and consulting company. With over 16 years’ experience and professional research team in various cities over the world QY Research focuses on management consulting, database and seminar services, IPO consulting, industry chain research and customized research to help our clients in providing non-linear revenue model and make them successful. We are globally recognized for our expansive portfolio of services, good corporate citizenship, and our strong commitment to sustainability. Up to now, we have cooperated with more than 60,000 clients across five continents. Let’s work closely with you and build a bold and better future.

QYResearch is a world-renowned large-scale consulting company. The industry covers various high-tech industry chain market segments, spanning the semiconductor industry chain (semiconductor equipment and parts, semiconductor materials, ICs, Foundry, packaging and testing, discrete devices, sensors, optoelectronic devices), photovoltaic industry chain (equipment, cells, modules, auxiliary material brackets, inverters, power station terminals), new energy automobile industry chain (batteries and materials, auto parts, batteries, motors, electronic control, automotive semiconductors, etc.), communication industry chain (communication system equipment, terminal equipment, electronic components, RF front-end, optical modules, 4G/5G/6G, broadband, IoT, digital economy, AI), advanced materials industry Chain (metal materials, polymer materials, ceramic materials, nano materials, etc.), machinery manufacturing industry chain (CNC machine tools, construction machinery, electrical machinery, 3C automation, industrial robots, lasers, industrial control, drones), food, beverages and pharmaceuticals, medical equipment, agriculture, etc.

[missamyrisa2]

Agdjsj your massage story got me thinking of a professional clit-cleanser,,, little Lees sign up for a professional, thorough cleaning with a shower head, spinny brushes of all textures, and of course a feather brush-dry at the end

"Oooh you absolutely are overdue for a cleaning ~~ and luckily this is like, a fully automatic facility we have here~ just sit in this cozyy chair and relaxxx ~ now, this miiiiight ticklee~!!"

I skip about in my purple dress, pigtails bouncing as I start setting dials and pressing buttons before I nudge you back into the salon chair. I flash a smirk and pull a lever on the back and activate a team of robotic hands, unable to hold back my squeaky excitement while I watch and pose with a hand on my thick waist belt. Their fingers spring forth and wiggle menacingly at you before diving in, stripping away your clothes and tossing them to a nearby collection bin.

"For your safetyyy~" I grin, pressing a button to restrain your ankles and wrists to the chair with thick waterproof straps. Humming merrily, I pull out what looks like a hair cutting cape, though a bit smaller and emblazoned with a glimmering pearl logo. "Just relaxxx and let the machines do their work~hmm" I squeak and drape the cape over your waist, snugly setting it to hang over your royal area.

With another beep and clank, you suddenly find yourself looking up at my grinning face. The reclined salon chair starts scooting forth on its path, the walls opening and clicking to draw you into the cleansing factory. "First weee~ wheeee~!! We start with a presoak~" I can't contain my excitement, scurrying behind the chair with my clipboard and remote. With a whine and whoosh, a shiny showerhead twists into view coordinating with the chair which is shifting to gently spread your legs.

The collective of little circles on the head begin coating your royal area with a gentle spray, gradually raising in pressure to spread teasing soft touches across your thighs and royal lips, carefully aiming under the clit cape. "Now, did you want the triple foam package?" I start pressing buttons to summon nozzely hoses from three angles which start covering your girly area with a rainbow haze of tingly color. "Of course you dooo~"

As the foam settles and tingles and cleanses, the showerhead retracts and the chair moves further through curtains of light and growing machinery sounds. In the next segment a massive circle rolls out and clicks to life, extending a gang of scrubby brushes. Each one works to cleanse a layer of foam away as I watch and note the progress. "Pearl Destressing is absolutely essential. All these soft brushes make sure the foam is nicely scrubbed right into your most elegant areas." I lean in and watch as your legs quiver at the sensation of each brush gently gliding along your inner thighs over your lips and along your pearly area. "My my my ~ you really are sensitive huh? Don't worry, you can wiggle all you like. You're nice and snug."

The chair moves you along further into the facility, the sounds of slapping materials fill your ear right as you start to see the fuzzy curtains swishing back and forth. "Oh don't worry, that's just to keep the texture nice and fluffed. We're not gonna rough you up darling~" I snicker as we watch together the hanging threads of fuzz slowing and turning to start gently kissing and gliding up your royal area while the chair hums and takes you through. The remaining tingle foam is whisked away and your cleansed skin is thoroughly teased and coaxed into ticklish sensations by the endless parade of swishy soft materials~

"Awww, does that tickle? Does it just tickle soooo much?" I chuckle knowingly, patting your head and teasing your neck with feathery touches while you helplessly struggle through the treatments. In the next room you see the indicator stating it's time for the drying, but after a quick tingly scan the machine goes off in alarm and overrides the process to instead read Deep Rinse. "Ooooh my my my you're a naughty thing huhhhh?" I step around if fake shock, pointing at your swollen wanting button~ "Yeppp we've got a naughty pearlyyy~!!"

Tapping buttons on the machine, robotic hands spring back out and start lightly massaging your inner thighs with their wiggly index fingers, as a coat is slid down my arms and goggles placed over my eyes, with a hand dropping a shiny silver wand into my waiting hand. "Now hold still girlyyy~ we're gonna get you niiiice and clean, I promise~" my tongue pokes out in concentration as I lean in and use the water wand to start spraying up your royal lips. The robotic hands work to tickle and coax out your most royal button, getting close to the outside of your lips as I start drawing up from below.

"Aww ~ coochie cooo laughing girl~ you are soooo naughty ~ look at thatttt ~ you need sooo much cleansing~" I work my wand upward, spraying right over your button with a tickly jet, modulating the pressure up and down while my helpers tickle around your mound and down to your thighs and occasionally hold your steady so I can thoroughly cleanse your throbbing pearl before clicking my tongue in admonishment. "Tsk tsk. Sooo naughty. You keep that up and we'll just have to cleanse you all day oh yes we willll~ satisfaction guaranteed at this clitty cleansing center~!! You don't leave until we have you shiny clean~~"

I snicker and work away, reaching back to pick up a detail brush, teasing with the lightest of stroking pokes on the underside of your button while the spray works around side to side. "Sooo many giggles and gasps in youuu~ good thing we're extracting them allll~"

When you've finally been deep cleansed to satisfaction, your dizzy starry-eyed giggly self is at least in the final chamber. "Only the finest ~ gentlest ~ pamper dry for our cute girly pearllll~" I tease, tracing a long stiff feather over your neck and chest before planting it into the machine. The apparatus starts pivoting back and forth with a click, carefully wicking away the remaining droplets on your girly parts with the feather's tip. "The key is a slooooww dry ~ I could blot away all of it with this nice soft towel hmmm" I run the luxurious cloth over my own face and hum at you~ "but this special feather will dry you one drop at a time for maximum cleansing ~ and sensation~"

I plop myself onto the nearby chair and start pulling up the stats and footage of your cleansing as the machine clicks away, the feather tip caressing at your button and slowly drying it with the tickliest of slow strokes. "Don't you worry, I'll just be over here reviewing your progress and we'll check and see if you need a reclean here when the machine is done~"

[lothricknightgirl]

Pick a Mech! Tumblr Poll, PT:1: HADES

So, I've decided to try something new.

In short, this is a selection of fictional mechs from a fictional universe I made up on the spot from various different fictional companies, that I'm going to make polls on for people to vote for. Some of this is inspired by Lancer, but I hope to distinguish it enough to be interesting.

I wish to attain nothing from this, I simply like robots and I'd wager a fair few of you do too.

So, let's begin! You'll find the frames and a snippet on the company below the polls, which you can read for background on which Frame you're picking. You can choose colors, how you want to interpret what they look like, etc, etc.

Be aware that the descriptions are lengthy.

Ciao!

"HADES is a company built by and building for the working hands of the working people, wherever they may be. HADES is never far from home or you, because home is wherever many hands work for the many more."

Hades is an ancient manufacturing company, tracing its roots back to from before even the fall of Core, a mammoth industrial titan that spans every edge of the galaxy. Chances are, if you've ever touched a piece of steel, it was made by a HADES worker in a HADES factory.

Hades HQ is a massive space station industrial factory better referred to as a colossal dreadnought and easily the size of a large moon, named Tartarus. Their frames are purpose built for environments like Tartarus, where the heat of the forges is well above flesh-scorching and dangerous machinery toils endlessly all around.

HADES Frames perform tasks that normal humans typically cannot, such as high-stress manual labor like lifting molten-hot incredibly heavy chunks of star iron or pounding massive steel plates into shape.

Few of their Frames are built specifically with combat or military operations in mind, but that is far from saying the others are incapable of it. All of them can be modified or refitted with HADES standard combat packages, everything from mech sized nail guns turned railguns to arc-welders turned flamethrowers, if you wished for it.

{-}

Cerberus

The Cerberus is a massive lumbering brute of a quadrupedal Frame, standing well above 60 feet tall and walking on four mammoth sized blocky piston driven legs with two heavily heat shielded arms built to haul staggering amounts of weight and withstand temperatures reaching the surface level of the sun.

Cerberus was built to operate within incredibly hot environments for extended periods of time, such as the molten metal slag lakes aboard the Tartarus, where it sees the most use.

The Cerberus has very limited systems capacity, as the majority of its onboard systems are devoted to just moving it. The system itself is weaker than is HADES standard with other Frames, due to it taking low priority to update as a low production Frame compared to HADES' flagship products.

Still, what it lacks in raw code tech it makes up for in space for many physical modifications, such as the popular slag carapace, a coating of specially treated melted metal over the chassis that is highly resistant to electrical discharge, or the Charon pattern Pneumatic Claw, a massive pneumatic driven power claw built to crush and maneuver large piles of molten scrap.

The Cerberus isn't built in mind for combat, but its thick energy and heat resistant hide can tank mech grade thermobaric weapons without breaking a sweat while the immediate area is reduced to ash by nuclear hellfire.

If you want an incredibly durable and reliable mech capable of falling into an active volcano and not just surviving it, but being completely unbothered by it, Cerberus is your Frame.

2. Troy

Troy is a smaller mech, at least compared to the Cerberus, standing at 35 feet tall next to its 60, bipedal with long, thin, agile limbs made for extremely precise movements.

The Troy is a flexible and adaptable Frame built for plasma cutting, whether it be through the rusted hull of a blasted out dreadnought or a long sheet of metal, with its set of six tertiary arms with various mounts for many diverse types of utility device in addition to its two main arms.

The Troy also comes equipped with a highly advanced neural link system, which lets the pilot perceive the Frame as their own body, providing an active boost to their processing power and assisting in even more precise maneuvers. Long exposure to this neural link system can lead to detrimental effects, but pilots of the Troy are trained well to avoid them.

The Troy is equipped with a Caldera pattern plasma lance mounted on the right arm. A highly condensed blade of raw unstable plasma energy that burns bright and hot, capable of slicing through all but the densest and most energy resistant materials like butter.

The Troy operates mostly in 0-G, using its unique Chimera pattern sustained flight system, which lets it propel and stabilize itself in environments without gravity.

If you need flexibility, unrivaled precision and excellent utility, you pick Troy.

3. Basilisk

The Basilisk is a unique Frame in that, unlike a good majority of mechs, the Basilisk lacks legs, instead opting for a long tail in an emulation of a snake's and lateral undulation in place of traditional locomotion.

It also comes with four arms instead of two, thin but strongly layered with taut but flexible synth cable, letting it exert a surprising amount of force for its size at 25 feet tall.

The Basilisk comes with an advanced neural link system, much like the Troy. Unlike the Troy, the Basilisk requires it to be used for the entire time that the pilot is in the Frame to utilize its full capabilities.

The Basilisk is the ultimate coordinator with its Medusa pattern drones and Echidna Superior Operating System, which lets the pilot independently direct all 12 drones the Basilisk comes equipped with, giving them spectacular oversight capabilities and make them highly desirable for construction, demolitions or large scale military theater action.

All the drones are provided with the most advanced sensor suites that HADES can offer, effectively granting the pilot vision over the entire area from all angles that the drones can operate in.

The Basilisk is also equipped with experimental communication systems that allow it to converse with others in areas where radios would be defunct. Even under a jamming effect, they'll still function, which makes the Basilisk an essential member to any team delving into the deepest depths of Tartarus Station, where areas have gone neglected and abandoned, so deep down that even the strongest radio signals can't penetrate through them.

The Basilisk is the perfect support Frame for those that value organization and control. Where an overseer is needed, a Basilisk is dispatched. Those that stray too far from its gaze may live to regret it under its stony and cool glare once they return.

4. Athos

The Athos is one of HADES oldest frames, and also one of its most venerated.

So old, in fact, that technically it doesn't count as a mech, having no torso or legs to speak of, rather being more of a vehicle. Still, time and countless tests have weathered the Athos, and it has come out of every one of them no worse for wear with only minor changes needed.

Anywhere where large scale construction is commencing, a squad of Athos can be found there, its 50 foot Frame trundling through worksites on heavy tracked treads carrying staggeringly heavy loads of equipment and materials from one place to another, placing supports and digging holes, plowing away piles of dirt or laying the foundations.

Even in the worst conditions, in the middle of a volcanic firestorm or a frigid tundra iceblitz, the Athos will do its job and do it well, weathering even the harshest environments with little issue. It is as much of a slow, unstoppable force as it is a weight-y immovable object.

And when all is said and done, years go by and the building is no longer needed, the same hands that built it bring it down systematically and efficiently with heavy wrecking balls made of dense steel and Seismic Grounders.

The Athos is heavily based upon an artillery platform Frame of an unnamed older design. The older Frame was as long and wide as it was tall, and the Athos is much the same, at 80 feet long and 50 feet wide. An Athos can function as a mobile for an entire workforce with its immense steel girth, capable of carrying vehicles and equipment with it, including smaller construction Frames.

The Athos is also a popular export choice for generals or high ranking commanders as a "mobile" command center. As mobile as an Athos can get, but mobile nonetheless. The Athos' thick explosive resistant hide can tank rounds from even siege cannons if they hit an inopportune angle, blowing the shaped charge away before retaliating with quad mounted heavy Cyclops pattern howitzers guided by its advanced Oracle targeting computer.

The Athos is the choice for those who appreciate the slow and steady approach, and the absolute surety that they will accomplish their given task right on schedule, regardless of what the worlds throws at them.

5. Odysseus

The Odysseus is HADES smallest Frame, standing at 14 feet tall with a thin and slender frame, made to endure dangerous environments with absolute independence and emphasis on the pilot's safety over the Frame's.

The Odysseus is a scouting Frame, made to trek across large swathes of land at speed while retaining as much energy and supplies as possible, pushing itself to the absolute limit and only using as much as it needs.

By themself, an experienced Odysseus pilot can trek across entire systems all the way to newly discovered frontiers via hitchhiking off shipping routes and within a handful of standard solar years have entire systems mapped out down to the most specific locations on every planet.

Odysseus pilots are incredibly valuable to HADES and the galaxy at large, and compensated well for it.

Some of those who pilot the Odysseus will tell you that no amount of pay was worth the isolation and solitude of their lifestyle, subsisting off the absolute minimum and running yourself ragged until it was finally time to come home, then you had to do it all again just to get back.

The Odysseus is a simple Frame, focused on survivability and the safety of the pilot above all else, and often is the pilot's sole comforting presence on their long patrols.

The Odysseus is the choice Frame for those who know with a bone deep certainty that the only person they can rely on is themselves. Whatever storm you must weather, you'll do it alone, for better, or for worse, but the Odysseus will be there with you, every step of the way.

---

Aaaand done. I. Don't really know what to do now so. Thanks for voting? Please RB for a larger sample size, I guess.

[sleepydross]

Examination: The Faceless | A Modern Decadence, or A Modern Expression of the Mutable Soul? Presenter: Zero (Unit Slash) Slash, former Front Line Robotics Specialist, Currently Hardware Coordinator and Systems Connectivity Specialist for Aiani Xenobiotica.

You can't walk down the street these days without seeing the Faceless afoot. There are many of them, and though they tend to be quiet, and even polite, they often avoid interactions with non-faceless, or at least, keep them to a pleasant, professional minimum.

Some operate for collectives - and many think ALL operate for greater, shadowy collectives. This is a social movement, people cry - and they're RECRUITING! We've seen all of this before, of course, in the echoes of the history of Humanity, the history of Demons, and the history of many others from the many planes.

But are they? Is this a shadowy cabal of strange people concealing their visages for nefarious, or dare I even suggest...

Sexual, fetishistic reasons?

Naturally, the answer is... no. These are all the result of baseless speculation the likes of which has origins in...

Let's be kind to ourselves. We all know precisely where these so called speculations and allegations come from, and we know the voices espousing this rhetoric. I'll spare you all a lengthy and miserable history lesson - though if you find yourself confused, I highly recommend Erga Vala Lara's presentations on 'The Basics Of Not Being An Asshole - The Modern World, and The Wrong Things To Worry About.' I assure you, the title is a bit bracing, but xe's very gentle in person, and even offers a full holo of the presentation if you like that authentic feeling.

But you say... the Faceless are submissive! They try to force everyone into their weird perverse-

Service workers serve. Our world might run on an awful lot more than money now, but supply needs are individual. People still need places to go to get specific, individual objects, supplies, ingredients. There's no one size fits all package for everyone, though may basics packages have been devised and are available for various purposes.

Is it so strange that people who fervently believe in the value of service to others, who desire, on a personal level, to be of help to others... would go into service industries? I think perhaps what is most interesting is how many of the Faceless have volunteered for land reclamation in the previously frigid lands near to the source of the White Frost. Outside of the controlled zones of the planet, things are dangerous - and yet, selflessly, the Faceless volunteer in droves.

Many presume this is to escape the higher scrutiny of the walled cities and fortress installations - and such claims have led to a suppression of acceptance onto reclamation effort teams. This has, in turn, led to statistically lower rates of success, and greater incidence of reclamation failure.

People die, because they choose not to bring strong, capable, devoted people whose most prominent goal in life, whose very belief system, is centered around the joy found in helping others. Now, you're free to not believe me, but the numbers don't lie.

Perhaps numbers aren't your thing, however. So let's get down to brass tacks.

What are the Faceless? Why are they... the way they are?

In the later days of the Reconnection, our end of the gateway now known as one of Earth's seven Ways, was still inaccessible. Time itself was broken in its vicinity, and remained so for two centuries. Trust me when I say we did attempt various access techniques, including experimental temporal dilation machinery. The results were... well... There sure were seventy-one volunteers who very suddenly... defrosted, as it were. Quite the mess, for them most assuredly.

Regardless, it was an age of cybernetic growth. We were losing people, and losing them fast. The biggest things to come from that era were the Mark VI Cyberinterweave, which was, if you don't recall, the first to integrate the neural bridge link, and the first to include headware, allowing active realtime monitoring and so much more.

It was, of course, a disaster - one we still feel the echoes of today in the Maraka Act, and a number of other legislative measures related to extensive requirements for volunteer testing, among other such safety precautions - necessary ones, I might add. The headware failures of that generation arguably took more from us than some of the monsters.

However, with the advent of Human Integrated Neurocode Interpreter Platform, or HINIP, such issues were vastly mitigated, and eventually... eliminated.

Why does this matter?

The Vault of The Vast One cracking open in the Grand Trench, or rather, finishing opening, released mutagenic hell upon us. The storms alone would strip the skin from bones in seconds. No one alive today is going to remember this, but it was for a time, not uncommon to see people with severe caustic damage.

The machines that gave us back the sky came not longer after those storms began, but the protective gear...

I imagine seeing a few people melt will really ramp up the anxiety if you're not in your shroud or mask and gear. The regions that still experience that rain, rarely, often have public caches of the equipment, significant shelters...

What does this have to do with the Faceless?

The first reports of Faceless humans come from this time, as this was when the Way opened, and suddenly, we had envoys from a dozen planes. The Faceless, as a group, was originally quite common in Hell, and as such... well, a number of the envoy were such.

With our cybernetic tech being so rudimentary, even with information sharing efforts underway, the original human Faceless were typically what is, in the community, called 'Simplemasked.'

Simplemasking is, essentially, the usage of a balaclava, sometimes without such, and a standard respiration mask with either a mirrored or otherwise obfuscating faceplate that concealed their features. Such equipment, at that time, was abundant.

So why would they wear these masks if they could not express with them, if they could not integrate them more completely?

Because it's not about the tech. It's about CHOICE.

The Faceless do not feel an overwhelming attachment to their biological features. They simply feel differently than many others, and as such, desired a face that was one they CHOSE, and not one that was forced upon them. Very few have ever consented to be born, certainly no one I know consented to it. Furthermore, no one I know consented to their features.

It leads to a lot of arguments, when this point comes up.

Well none of us get a choice! We just have to live with it!

Sir, I have some devastating news for you.

You simply don't.

Why should anyone have to simply live with it? Why should anyone ever have to? Yet, looking back at Pre-Reconnection documentation, even Pre-Vault, Pre-White-Frost documentation...

The Faceless always walked among us. For most of history, they were forced to hide, or as some rather cruel people... just live with it. Endure a face they didn't choose - and that's at the heart of it all, you see.

Choice. It's not about forcing anyone to do anything. It's not about forcing people to engage in some bizarre fetish. It's not something that marks a person as horribly distrustful. You're forced to do nothing but accept one simple fact - another person's body, and that person's face?

You do not, and never will, control them.

But why is this so important? Why do they have to make it their whole identity?

Why do you make your face, sir in the front row who has been scowling for some time, your whole identity? Why did you put so much work into that perfectly waxed mustache? Why is it you wear eye shadow, sir?

The face is the most prominent feature that a person sees. You greet one another, people try to look at your eyes, or your nose or forehead, but they take in details, they make impressions and judgement.

Sir, you look angry, but let me ask you this...? Do you wear that shadow, care for that mustache, do all that damn work... because perhaps you wish to have control over your visage? Is your nose piercing similar? Your face, right?

What makes a person who chooses to mask any different from you, in that regard?

What if I told you, for the Faceless...

Nothing at all. We are animals, sir, but we are very smart, very clever animals who have done things never thought even possible. We have sent people into space, sir... and we have begun to harvest energy en masse from MAGICALLY stabilized plasma torus generators. We have planted feet on deeply distant worlds, breached the FTL Barrier, and we now reclaim our home.

We are not leashed to flesh and bone, nor the faces, or arms, or legs, or organs we were born with. We can save a man blown in half, sir, and give him back his legs, his genitals. In two years, unless he took his pants off, and even if he did if he had the right cosmetic packages, you'd never know he was blown in half in the first place.

We exist in a time where a mask is a simple beast, and I daresay no more radical than, and nowhere near as invasive as, implanted tissue decorations like the gold stripes along your cheekbones... sir.

You don't look angry anymore.

That's good. For what it's worth, you look very nice.

Yes, I do mean that. Thank you for being a good sport.

Now, we've established what the Faceless are, who they are, and their motivations. We've covered history, technology, and this man's fine mustache. I now have to confess to you something.

He's my neighbor, believe it or not. I'm not going to just randomly go at someone in the audience! That'd be rude! Thank you, Ankor. That's it folks, laugh. It's all been so serious, so far, but now... I think perhaps you understand, a little better.

So now, another confession...

[It is noted in the transcript that at this point, the presenter retrieved a relatively standard Faceless helmet, donning it and sealing it to his neck implants.]

We can just talk. You can just talk to us. We're people, just like you. The only difference is... we choose our faces, entirely, instead of altering individual elements. We don't resent you. We don't judge you.

There's nothing wrong with loving your face, or liking your face. Ask a Faceless.

Ask me.

The face beneath this helmet is rather handsome, if I do say so myself.

It just isn't mine.

Goodnight, folks! Thank you for your time. No more lectures, but there is an open bar in the lobby and a tender who makes a WHIRLWIND of Elax Punch-