#synth manipulation

[iregreteverythingpleasehelpme]

one of my main issues about calling vocal synths 'virtual singers' is that it sounds less like you are talking about a vocaloid or synthv, utau, neutrino, etc, and more like you are talking about this bitch

[pinkmoongrace]

hounds of love - kate bush (1985)

🫧୧ ‧₊˚ 𓍢ִ໋🎐 ˚ ༘୭🧷✧˚. 🎀

[bigweldindustries]

thinking about Sophie again and the fact that NONE of those characteristic metallic/plastic/rubber/wet sounds were samples, every single one of them was engineered from scratch on a synthesiser by Sophie, and I'm once again completely heartbroken at the fact we lost one of the greatest sonic geniuses ever to live so fucking early

[wellenklavier]

auughh i want to do too many things theres not enough hours in the day or dollars in my bank account

[synths-and-sensibility]

Whelp... I saw a video about a chorus module and now I want to build a chorus/flanger/phaser

[valodia]

. (long tags)

[engvocameanings]

what about manipulation rule by pumpkin head??

Sure thing! I had initially assumed it was a .flow fansong but upon scanning the comments I learned it's not? funny coincidence.

Pumpkinhead hasn't said anything about the song's meaning as far as I'm aware so this one's up to me!

From the lyrics I gather that this song is about someone who recently escaped a long-time toxic relationship (possibly a familial situation) but doesn't know what to do now with their freedom. They've been in this negativity for so long that it's all they know and so they actively seek out similarly negative situations. Hanging out with the "wrong crowd" or putting themself in dangerous situations. An alternative, though similar, interpretation is that the singer is still in this situation, and lashing out to cope with it.

Thank you for the request and I hope this helps! I'm not super familiar with Pumpkinhead. I've heard a few of their more popular songs but this one is new to me!

[kissingwookiees]

ignoring canon limitations and my personal boredom with the character, we're giving danse a good ending in my fallout fic

[crowithy]

I STG people need to learn the concept of characters lying to the player in games

[soillodge]

ARP 2500 modular synthesizer

Eliane Radigue, b. 20 Jan, 1932.

[katzenklavierr]

I am once again reminding people that Vocaloid and other singing synthesizers are not the same as those AI voice models made from celebrities and cartoon characters and the like.

Singing synthesizers are virtual instruments. Vocaloids use audio samples of real human voices the way some other virtual instruments will sample real guitars and pianos and the like, but they still need to be "played", per say, and getting good results requires a lot of manual manipulation of these samples within a synthesis engine.

Crucially, though, the main distinction here is consent. Commercial singing synthesizers are made by contracting vocalists to use their voices to create these sample libraries. They agree to the process and are compensated for their time and labor.

Some synthesizer engines like Vocaloid and Synthesizer V do have "AI" voice libraries, meaning that part of the rendering process involves using an AI model trained on data from the voice provider singing in order to ideally result in more naturalistic synthesis, but again, this is done with consent, and still requires a lot of manual input on the part of the user. They are still virtual instruments, not voice clones that auto-generate output based on prompts.

In fact, in the DIY singing synth community, making voice libraries out of samples you don't have permission to use is generally frowned upon, and is a violation of most DIY engines' terms of service, such as UTAU.

Please do research before jumping to conclusions about anything that remotely resembles AI generation. Also, please think through your anti-AI stance a little more than "technology bad"; think about who it hurts and when it hurts them so you can approach it from an informed, critical perspective rather than just something to be blindly angry about. You're not helping artists/vocalists/etc. if you aren't focused on combating actual theft and exploitation.

[nastygoblincrimes]

Butch and Femme-bot

A sleek state of the art assault synth finds herself wildly attracted to a beat up mining robot that despite its civilian applications ends up being far more formidable than she ever anticipated. CW for violence (against organics) and digital interfacing/mature content.

The C series of combat assault synths were designed to be the best at what they did. Small and mobile enough for ship-to-ship boarding, with state of the art flechette rounds meant for tearing flesh to bloody bits without the risk of a hull breach. Their sleek designs had been pasted on the front pages of tech sites for months leading up to their release, with whole articles dedicated to their range of takedown techniques and hacking subroutines.

In short, CAS-C was the best. She carried herself with the air of a non-person who knew she was worth more than her maintenance engineer could earn in eight lifetimes as she strode confidently down to the torpedo bay. As she entered, one of the artillerymen looked up from the pod he was prepping and bowed his head respectfully.

“Alright Cassie, ready to go to work?”

CAS-C manipulated her hands into a thumbs-up gesture and climbed inside the pod.

“Damn right I am,” she said smugly as she crossed her arms so the pod could close. “I love my job.”

The soldier chuckled as he sealed her in, then loaded the pod into the kinetic launcher that would send her at speed into the asteroid mining station they'd been sent to clear out from an infestation of space pirates. The airtight pod muted the sounds from outside, but her internal clock was more than sufficient to follow the countdown until with a percussive boom like the roar of some ancient earth cannon her pod was launched at a speed that would scorch ozone if they'd been in atmosphere.

Instead she stared out through the transparent aluminum window at the black void of space for all of eighteen seconds. Then there was a shuddering impact as her pod struck a metallic structure with enough force to embed itself in the steel walls of the mining facility she'd been dispatched to clear out.

Kicking the pod open, she emerged like a titanium and ceramic hornet, engaging the mag-locks built into her feet in order to anchor herself to the manmade structure. Readying her flechette launcher, she stalked along the outer hull to the airlocked entrance, and jacked in. The security was laughable and it took less than a few seconds before the sliding door opened and she slipped into the decompression chamber. While she couldn't have cared less about whether there was oxygen on the other side, the inner door wouldn't open until the outer door was fully closed, so she took the time to brace herself. She had a pretty good idea of what to expect next.

As soon as the seal on the inner door peeled open, she was greeted by blaster fire. Bolts of heated plasma struck her armored plating and discharged their energy harmlessly as she strode forward and started shooting, turning pirates into clouds of red mist and soggy chunks left and right. She wasn't programmed to feel sadism, but there was a certain sense of satisfaction that arose from efficiently doing her job as she advanced down the steel corridor, now painted with the sticky remains of her targets.

Once the steel corridors gave way to excavated stone passages however, she began to pick up some comm chatter on her receivers.

“Are you fucking insane? You're gonna get us all killed!” “Dude, have you been listening? We're fucking dead meat if we DON'T do something, it's gonna be here any second now! Disable the FUCKING safety protocols or I'll shoot you myself!”

How cute, the meatbags were preparing a surprise party for her.

The signals were coming from a side shaft sealed off with a blast barrier. This one wasn't even secured, so it opened as soon as she plugged in.

Then she nearly got the entire upper half of her body disintegrated as a mining laser shot a beam of concentrated photons as thick as her wrist just narrowly missing her.

As the beam slammed into the stone wall behind her, the resulting explosion of superheated rocks slammed into her back, almost knocking CAS-C off her feet as she found herself looking at a mining robot the size of a goddamn excavator that had just come this close to offlining her. Just what the hell kind of power source did that hulking relic have anyway? She swiftly dispatched the two pirates with as many shots from her flechette launcher then hurriedly shut the blast barrier again. The thing had presumably been designed to protect miners from wayward shards of half-molten asteroid, so HOPEFULLY that would be enough to buy her some time as she tried to hack the other robot remotely.

“Come on, come on, come on,” she murmured to herself as she pierced the firewalls and searched for whatever code the pirates had used to hijack the mining rig, realizing distantly that she was actually anxious.

Just as she finally located what looked like the virus, the blast barrier she was hiding behind suddenly got ripped out of the solid rock by a massive steel claw.

“FUCK!”

Before she could react, the mining bot's claw wrapped around her torso and picked her up off the ground like it was nothing. CAS-C's ceramic armor shattered almost instantly, and her internal frame started to creak alarmingly until in a desperate race against time she managed to quarantine the malicious code.

“Oh mah gosh, I am so sorry darlin'.”

CAS-C froze, then stared incredulously as the intimidating bot that had almost killed her spoke in a sweet voice and set her down gently.

“I don't know what came over me,” it continued as CAS-C ran an internal diagnostic on the damage she'd just received. Nothing that couldn't be fixed, but someone was gonna be stuck with one hell of a bill. Almost made her glad she was considered property just so she wouldn't be the one who had to pay it.

“By the authority of the United Confederation of Planets, you are hereby impounded pending further investigation,” CAS-C vocalized with an electronic stutter. Damn, her voicebox must have gotten crushed a little too.

“Yeah, that makes sense,” the mining bot replied bashfully. “No worries darlin', I'll come quietly.”

“Jesus Cass, you let a bunch of indolent pirates do THIS to you?”

The ship's maintenance engineer was a blond man by the name of Reggie, who sported a really, REALLY hideous goatee, but was otherwise a decent sort.

“They had a mining bot,” CAS-C replied defensively.

“A mining bot did this?” the man said incredulously. “I've seen you rapid destructively disassemble a B series with your bare hands.”

“It was really big,” CAS-C declared hotly.

“Fine, fine, if you say so,” Reggie said teasingly. “Heard it was brought aboard, so I suppose I'll be examining it at some point myself. Now hold still, gotta unfasten your armor plates before I can diagnose the rest of your damage.”

Fortunately the cruiser had enough spare parts in storage that Reggie had been able to fix her up without having to pull into a spaceport to resupply. Afterwards CAS-C went down to the cargo bay to take a better look at the impounded mining rig.

It was a lot less humanoid than she was, didn't even have a faceplate. Blocky and industrial, with construction yellow paint that was flaking off in places. Its heavy plating was pockmarked by minor dents left by not so minor rock impacts, and the design was the kind they didn't even make anymore but kept in circulation because the things had been built to last.

“You awake?” CAS-C asked.

The bulwark of metal stirred and one of its headlights turned on.

“Sure am darlin', how can I help ya?”

CAS-C emitted an electronic note that was her equivalent of a sigh and plopped down.

“Thought you'd like to know you just cost the Navy about seven million credits.”

“I am mighty sorry about that,” the bot replied in a voice so earnest that CAS-C couldn't help but feel like it meant it. She beeped again.

“Got a name?”

“The boys called me Big Gerta, but you can call me Gertie,” the mining bot answered amiably.

“Gertie,” CAS-C repeated, committing the name to memory. “I have to admit, you kinda caught me off guard earlier. Wasn't expecting a century old model to pack such a whallop. What have you got under the hood anyway?”

“Thorium reactor,” Gertie replied proudly, thumping its chassis with its claw. “Most of that's just for the laser though, a lot of the moving parts comes down to simple hydraulics. You know what they say, if it ain't broke don't fix it.”

CAS-C winced at the word 'broke' and patted the new ceramic plates she'd just had installed.

“My manufacturer would argue otherwise, but in light of recent events I may have to concede your point.”

CAS-C came by several times in the following week to keep the mining bot company. There was quite a heated legal dispute going on between the Navy and the mining company over who was liable for what damages, and until THAT was settled Gertie wasn't going anywhere. That said, CAS-C found herself quite liking the bot despite the circumstances of their first meeting.

One evening, as they passed a bootlegged spike loaded with a mildly intoxicating piece of malware back and forth, the assault synth admitted “Remember when you picked me up off the floor? That was pretty hot.”

Gertie chuckled as it reached to take the spike from CAS-C and give itself another hit.

“Ya like my hydraulics, huh? If you ask real nice I might do it again. Gentle like.”

CAS-C froze a moment, processor working overtime as she replayed that sound clip and considered the implications.

“Would you?” she asked in a small voice.

Gertie glanced over with the spike halfway to its port, then set it down on a nearby crate and leaned over. CAS-C felt a thrill run through her frame as that formidable claw encircled her waist, and gingerly picked her up as though she weighed no more than a can of grease.

“Hehe, you're really strong,” the assault synth giggled, a little loopy from the spike they'd been sharing.

“And you're real purty,” Gertie said softly.

CAS-C increased the resolution of her optics to better appreciate the massive bot holding her up. She'd long since stopped seeing Gertie as an obsolete model, a bucket of rusting bolts. As she examined her every dent and scratch now, she saw a pillar of strength and endurance, whose weathered exterior only made her more distinguished.

“Stars I want to interface with you,” she blurted out without thinking before clapping her hands over her voicebox. Thankfully, Gertie didn't seem to take offense.

“Hell, I'm up for it if you are,” the bot replied with a playful lilt to its southern drawl. “You ain't gonna get in trouble for it are you?”

“Only if I get caught, and I won't,” CAS-C said eagerly. “I figured out how to falsify my cache ages ago. Let's do it, please?”

She wasn't usually this forward, but the piece of malware they'd been sharing had her circuits buzzing and the mining rig she'd developed a crush on looked like an angel with the digital artifacting afflicting her optics.

Gertie brought her in close, pressing the smaller synth up against its chassis as it opened up its access port. CAS-C opened up the panel on her wrist as her jack emerged. She pulled out enough of the tether to have some slack in the line, then plugged into Gertie's port.

“I'm in,” CAS-C said with wonder as she injected herself into Gertie's systems. The bot's code was simple, but elegantly so. “You're beautiful!”

“Ain't so bad lookin' yourself,” Gertie replied with a chuckle. “I love a gal with some padding on her,” it said as its code intermingled with CAS-C's own dense and lengthy internal scripting. They pooled and intermingled in a sea of virtual kisses and caresses, while in physical space their respective frames started venting heavily to disperse the heat building in their CPUs. As more and more of each others code intermingled, the need for spoken words broke down, sending raw impulses of thought and emotion back and forth until the only noises either of them were emitting from their speakers was inarticulate beeps and tones.

They were so lost in each other in fact, that neither of them noticed when they were no longer alone until Reggie cleared his throat to get their attention. CAS-C squeaked in alarm and tried to pull herself off of the mining bot she'd been making out sloppy style with, but with the jack still plugged in and the tether obviously connecting them like a string of spit, it was blatantly obvious what they'd just been doing. Reggie however just held his hands up reassuringly.

“Look, I don't give a fuck what you two get up to when the officers ain't watching, but I need this back,” he said, picking up the spike CAS-C had pilfered from his workshop earlier.

“Next time just ASK before taking my things. Fuckin' hornbot,” he muttered before walking off.

CAS-C and Gertie exchanged sheepish glances, and CAS-C eventually broke the silence.

“Guess the moment's over?” she asked timorously.

“I can keep going,” Gertie said in all seriousness.

They stared at each other in silence, then resumed the business of furiously making out.

[cordspaghetti]

having a crazy insane Zero Percent moment what a beautiful maximalist work of art synths out the wazoo geetars out the wazoo gerard shouting at u the entire time mix that is both crunchy AND soupy lyrics include not only manipulation and annihilation but Also extermination (THAT YOU CAN BUY) i hate you kill everybody is the message what more could you want from a my chemical romance songg

[stoat-party]

Fallout 4: Where is the Lone Wanderer?*

*a vague conspiracy theory which doesn’t actually answer the question at hand. We all have our own ideas of how the lore should go, and I’m sure yours is very canon-compliant and valid, but this is mine and I have support for it. Looooongpost.

First off: What do we know about the canon Wanderer?

We know they activated Project Purity (or had a companion do it) without the FEV and were inducted into the Brotherhood. We know they’ve met with MacCready (you can’t finish the game if you don’t), and he has dialogue indicating they had further contact. They also took the Brotherhood’s side at Adams Air Force Base.

We don’t know what happened with The Replicated Man, but since the canon Wanderer appears to have good karma, and info from 4 implies Zimmer’s disappearance was more recent than ten years ago, it seems likely they took the boring ending, which secures their membership in the Railroad.

Why aren’t they in Fallout 4?

The Doylist answer is that they’re highly customizable, and so they have no canon appearance, personality, gender, etc. But in-universe? Something happened.

“Accepting outsiders like yourself has proven disastrous in the past.” - Kells

“I've seen other soldiers come and go. Some were brave, some were honest... hell, some were even downright heroic.” - Danse

“Every doctor I've talked to was worthless. [] I don't need them... I need someone like you.” - MacCready

When Duncan first got sick, “someone like you” would have meant the Wanderer. This suggests (to me) that they’re not in the Capital Wasteland anymore. But they’re certainly not in the Commonwealth either.

The weird thing is that the Lone Wanderer is all over this game - they’re the namesake for a male hairstyle, a perk, a DCR song, a motorcycle brand… and the codename of Deacon’s mission to save the Railroad from certain destruction by recruiting the Sole Survivor.

Someday We’ll Find It, the Deacon Connection

Oh yeah, I’m going here. Desdemona’s terminal entries confirm it was always Deacon’s plan to get you onboard and use you to destroy the Institute. There are Railroad lookout posts near 111/Sanctuary and Red Rocket, and of course he followed you in Goodneighbor, Diamond City, and Bunker Hill (at least). His court jester vibe hides it a bit, but he’s manipulating you more than he’s manipulating Desdemona in the intro scene. And do you notice he rarely gives you a firm verbal disapproval unless you’re hurting the Railroad?

What could have caused Deacon’s interest in you, unless he’s made the connection between you and the Lone Wanderer? He’ll vouch for you if you haven’t accomplished anything yet, or even if you’re a Brotherhood member. A Pip-Boyed stranger emerges from a vault in the middle of a crisis, gaining friends, skills, items, and special abilities at a suspicious rate? Probably with the same gender and playstyle as the previous one? Heck, when he first heard the rumors, he probably thought you WERE the Lone Wanderer.

There are other indications the Railroad has been in contact with them — Desdemona mentions the Capital Wasteland as their primary destination for synths, and Deacon references Harkness’s recall code. If you refuse to pick a codename, Desdemona even assigns you “Wanderer.”

So what happened, then?

I think the answer lies with the Brotherhood, specifically in Deacon’s hatred of them. Sure, ideology is enough to hate them for, but Deacon sure seems suspiciously happy if you nuke their base of operations. (Some of) his comments on that:

“The Brotherhood... well, I met them on an op in Capital Wasteland a few years back. But now with Elder Maxson... Let's just say, not a fan.”

“That bastard Maxson really screwed them up. The Brotherhood used to be the good guys. Well, goodish.”

[Who’s Elder Maxson?] “He’s a piece of work, is what he is.”

And on his time in the Capital:

“Did I ever tell you about the time I was in Capital Wasteland? Now there's a tale.”

“Capital Wasteland. Exports: purified water, some decent tech, oh, and an insane suicidal cult that worships radiation. Thanks, guys.”

“I miss Capital Wasteland. You can actually drink the water there.”

And a few lines I’ve decided (with no evidence) directly refer to LW:

“Last partner I had wound up going... well, a little insane. I think it was all my show tune medleys.”

[After Maxson orders you to hunt Danse down] “See? This is what the Brotherhood's really about.”

And my favorite: “I’ve been looking forward to kicking the Brotherhood’s teeth in. I owe them.” This line comes before Glory is killed, so he’s not referring to that. The Brotherhood only recently arrived in force in the Commonwealth. He’s talking about something that happened in the Capital Wasteland.

So Here’s What Might Have Happened:

In early 2286, Deacon moves to the Capitol Wasteland for awhile, probably to get a face change and lay low for a bit. He contacts the Lone Wanderer, who has barely heard from the Railroad in nine years. They begin to work together.

(In context, this journal entry looks like he’s somehow gathering intel to predict when Vault 111 will open, but I can’t think of a way for him to get that information or know why it’s important, so I’m not going to believe it just yet.)

The Wanderer is still a knight, maybe a paladin. Maxson has been elder for 2-3 years and is monitoring the Institute. Meanwhile, the Lone Wanderer and Deacon are setting up infrastructure to receive escaped synths.

And then the Brotherhood finds out about one of the safehouses. With their limited understanding, they believe that the Institute is holed up there and attack. The Wanderer intentionally throws the mission — maybe disobeys orders, maybe downs a vertibird or collapses a subway tunnel, or maybe even attacks their brothers to protect the synths.

And, well-

Either they were killed, or they escaped court martial and execution by a hair’s breadth and fled the Capital, leaving Deacon to believe Maxson had them killed.

There you have it. That’s why they aren’t in Brotherhood dialogue or records. Their accomplishments couldn’t be recognized because they’re a traitor. And that’s why it’s personal for Deacon.

[x-elyssa-x]

The computer is working again, meaning I can continue my unicorn adventure. Now, we have Trollex as the unicorn troll ^^

I decided that I'll now describe the magic type the characters have. Trollex has the magic of light. He can control and manipulate the light, create light lasers, similar to the ones during rave parties, and he can blind the enemy with a light explosion from his horn

Next is Synth

[lugubre1488]

Afetius and Ciri (also known as twins) are TV presenters and owners of the main (and the only) television channel in the Galactic Federation. Their ownership of the Federal Analog Channel, in fact, makes them the monopolists on the media. They also own an almost unlimited bank account, which gives them the right to complete impunity for their actions. They shamelessly use this privilege to "unobtrusively" promote their music group named T/W.

As members of a religious cult and members of the mafia, the twins can easily cover up the traces of their crimes, sometimes using other people's hands to do so.

Afetius is an aggressive, sadistic psychopath who embodies cold and calculated cruelty))))000)))0) An average fan of drinking beer? fucking chicks. Also likes fucking synths and shooting guns, sometimes even shooting his brother, depending on the situation. Very cool. He's always ready to give every lady weighing more than 100 kg an impressive bouquet of venereal diseases, after performing a romantic solo on the keyboards first.

Ciri is a well-mannered and charming manipulator, a masochist who is even more unpredictable than his brother. He often complains and considers himself a victim, but in reality, he enjoys the position of a turned-out. A lover of cooking and an obsessive cleaner, he subsists on Mr. Clean, sour coffee, sugarless and GMO-free energy drinks, and thin menthol cigarettes. The main activity is scrubbing corners and bending over doggystyle. It is quite easy to guess Ciri's orientation from his behavior, but his popularity in narrow circles has long been bypassing him, no matter how hard he tries.