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What's the policy on progressing/upgrading characters and their abilities via story elements within the multiverse? I've got some ideas for Arty that could come into play down the road a ways, probably during his respawn after his first death. Whenever that may be.
Impressive. It seems Arty's new ally is not only a good fighter, but a technopath as well. It made him grateful that his armor ran entirely on signals from his own nervous system. You know, just in case. The moment spent observing had cost him, however, and a blast from a second weapons platform struck him full in the back, driving him forward and onto the ground in what had to be a fairly humorous face-plant. So much for looking badass. Arty groaned as he pushed himself up, and even though his armor remained (relatively) unscathed, the flesh beneath had not reacted well to so much force being slammed into him. What pain there was had all but faded by the time he got to his feet, however, and as he turned to face his new opponent he narrowly avoided a second well-aimed blast to his face.
"Hey now, that just ain't nice. At least give a guy a chance to recover first." No such luck. A third blast was evaded with a roll to his left, and a fourth as he leapt up and forward to land on the chassis of the behemoth. The static charge that permeated the air grew in intensity as he slid one sword back into its sheath and swept the other through the twin sensor stalks of the metal beast. Small arcs of electricity began to jump between the fingers of his now empty hand as the charge grew even further, until he finally slammed his hand down onto the metal plating he was standing on and sent out a surge of bio-electric energy strong enough to fry every wire inside the hideous thing. It crashed to the ground in a smoking heap. Good thing magical alien robots still use wiring.
He sheared another smaller robot in two without even looking (gotta get at least a few badass points back after that faceplant), then headed back toward the ship to confer with his ally. "So how much longer till this thing's ready?"
"Hey now, that just ain't nice. At least give a guy a chance to recover first." No such luck. A third blast was evaded with a roll to his left, and a fourth as he leapt up and forward to land on the chassis of the behemoth. The static charge that permeated the air grew in intensity as he slid one sword back into its sheath and swept the other through the twin sensor stalks of the metal beast. Small arcs of electricity began to jump between the fingers of his now empty hand as the charge grew even further, until he finally slammed his hand down onto the metal plating he was standing on and sent out a surge of bio-electric energy strong enough to fry every wire inside the hideous thing. It crashed to the ground in a smoking heap. Good thing magical alien robots still use wiring.
He sheared another smaller robot in two without even looking (gotta get at least a few badass points back after that faceplant), then headed back toward the ship to confer with his ally. "So how much longer till this thing's ready?"
"I guess we should go say hi." Arty dropped off the ship alongside Mr. Clockwork, noting with some amount of respect the speed of his draw. The urge to show the other man up might have prompted someone else to try and imitate the action at a greater speed, but Arty was not someone else. He felt no such impulse to prove he was better, as he already knew it was a simple fact. He had seen this man move at a speed that would have blurred in the eyes of normal men, yet to his eyes every detail of the motion was clear as crystal. Well... not quite clear as crystal, owing to the deepening darkness, but close enough. Regardless, he casually drew his pair of swords and awaited the arrival of the eerie robot hordes. No point in wasting bullets when you have a very limited supply and swords will do just as well.
A static charge began to permeate the air as he readied himself for the coming onslaught, his swords growing far sharper and more durable than they had any right to, and when the first robot leapt for him, he simply rushed beneath it and cleaved it in two, his blade shearing through the metal as easily as it would through paper. The second, third, and fourth attacks shared predictably similar results, and it wasn't long before a rythm developed. It was almost a dance as Arty moved throughout the field of scrap, evading and attacking and planning all at once, his mind moving faster than his body was able, and his body moving faster than most eyes could track. This was truly his element, right smack dab in the middle of the chaos where the world all but stood still around him as he danced through the sea of enemies that was rapidly being turned to scrap.
It wasn't his efforts alone that stemmed the tide of robot brutality, however, and whenever his ally came into view he couldn't help but admire the brutal efficiency of his work. They were artists, these two, and the sea of metal was their canvas. Or something like that. Maybe Arty just had an unnatural liking for killing stuff. Except... could robots even die? Were they even alive in the first place? What about an afterlife? Is there a robot heaven that they go to when it's all over? If so, was there a population limit? If there was, it had to be getting pretty close to overcrowded by now, such was the effectiveness of Arty and his ally. Those questions and many others would remain unanswered, however, as Arty kept up his relentless application of the swish-swish-stab technique on the hordes of broken robot soldiers. It was, after all, a very effective technique against opponents with little understanding of combat.
A static charge began to permeate the air as he readied himself for the coming onslaught, his swords growing far sharper and more durable than they had any right to, and when the first robot leapt for him, he simply rushed beneath it and cleaved it in two, his blade shearing through the metal as easily as it would through paper. The second, third, and fourth attacks shared predictably similar results, and it wasn't long before a rythm developed. It was almost a dance as Arty moved throughout the field of scrap, evading and attacking and planning all at once, his mind moving faster than his body was able, and his body moving faster than most eyes could track. This was truly his element, right smack dab in the middle of the chaos where the world all but stood still around him as he danced through the sea of enemies that was rapidly being turned to scrap.
It wasn't his efforts alone that stemmed the tide of robot brutality, however, and whenever his ally came into view he couldn't help but admire the brutal efficiency of his work. They were artists, these two, and the sea of metal was their canvas. Or something like that. Maybe Arty just had an unnatural liking for killing stuff. Except... could robots even die? Were they even alive in the first place? What about an afterlife? Is there a robot heaven that they go to when it's all over? If so, was there a population limit? If there was, it had to be getting pretty close to overcrowded by now, such was the effectiveness of Arty and his ally. Those questions and many others would remain unanswered, however, as Arty kept up his relentless application of the swish-swish-stab technique on the hordes of broken robot soldiers. It was, after all, a very effective technique against opponents with little understanding of combat.
Maybe me and Melon could show up and do something about it. Though I'm not sure where he was planning to go exactly...
Maybe it prefers to be spoken of in hushed and reverent tones.
Arty's lips spread in a smile beneath his mask when the other man mentioned combat. Killing things, proving himself their better, seemed to be about as close as he could get to feeling true happiness, the kind that you see in movies and read about in books. That state of perfect harmony with yourself regardless of your circumstances. Then again, he'd never been the type to reject who or what he was. He just was, and that was all he could be. So maybe he'd been happy all along and just never realized it... Regardless, he liked fighting stuff, and he was about to get the opportunity to do just that.
"I don't know, robots aren't really my thing. No offense. I'm more of a people person when it comes to killing. They get all emotionally hyper-active." He didn't try and explain why that part appealed to him though. "Robots? Not so much. Just a clanking bunch of metal one minute and a pile of scrap the next. But for you, my friend, I'm willing to make an exception. Count me in."
"I don't know, robots aren't really my thing. No offense. I'm more of a people person when it comes to killing. They get all emotionally hyper-active." He didn't try and explain why that part appealed to him though. "Robots? Not so much. Just a clanking bunch of metal one minute and a pile of scrap the next. But for you, my friend, I'm willing to make an exception. Count me in."
Why would Snek acquiesce to being bound by our tier system? It's more likely that it wouldn't have a tier at all, simply because it can get away with it.
250 feet? Should be relatively easy...
"Dangerous, you say?" Arty made a show of weighing his options as he sat there next to the robot. That is, he sat in silence for a moment before continuing. "Sounds like my kind of detour, Tin-man. How long until we get going?" His city could wait. This fellow next to him was pretty much promising epic adventure, and the metas back home were getting kind of boring anyway. Not that he was an adrenaline junky or anything. It was kinda hard to be one of those when you had absolute control over your nervous system and autonomic functions. It was curiosity, more than anything else, that drove Arty to accept the other man's offer, or rather to project an offer into that thinly veiled warning not to come with. Sometimes you just had to take a chance.
Yup. Both can't feel normal emotions, both use high-tech pseudo-muscles, and both can self repair.
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