[Tech] Anon in Roboquestria (hiatus)


                                            So I posted this secretly in the Tech thread under the game of RobotAnon.


                                            >"Pinkie P[13], the radio signal came from over here, I'm sure of it!"

                                            >A strange, plastic-ey whirring noise fills your ears.

                                            >You've only ever heard that noise in certain Youtube videos - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cNZPRsrwumQ [Embed] - those Dog robots.

                                            >"I have heat signatures! Not isolated around a power source - it's spread throughout the entire body."

                                            >>"O-oh, no! I-is it malfunctioning, Twilight? I-I d-don't know if I have enough p-parts to care for it..."

                                            >>>"Heck, Flutterpi, if'fin this here 'bot is leakin' as bad as Twi says she be, then it'll be up ter us tuh shut it down."

                                            >"APP-Jack! I'm sure it won't come to that."

                                            >>>>"Ooh! What if it's one of those big ol' nasty productions from the Everfree factory? It's been awhile since I broke out the ol' hydraulic hooves!"

                                            >"Rainbow D.a.S.H, that's enough. It could be lost and getting error messages, so don't set your default danger response to violence. I - Oh! There it is!"

                                            >Six four-legged creatures crest over the hill with jerky, unnatural movements.

                                            >They're all made of metal - the sun glinting off of their chassi makes this obvious -, and thick metal tubes criss-cross over them like a crash cage.

                                            >Apart from what appears to be a head on top of a neck, you can't make out any other details; they're too far away.

                                            >"Hello!"

                                            >Oh Christ, they speak.

                                            >"Please stay right there!"

                                            >...or rather, the people CONTROLLING them can speak, and you're being a stupid idiot-moron.

                                            >Jesus, what did you DO last night?

                                            >Awkwardly trotting down the hill (several of them nearly tripping), the six machines meander over to your location.

                                            >Now that they're close to you, you're able to make out a few more details.

                                            >The biggest and most obvious detail are their colours.

                                            >One is a dark purple; another is bright blue; one is pink; one is yellow; one is a nice shade of orange; and the final one is either white, or her chassis has been bleached in the sun.

                                            >The second most obvious detail are their heads and necks.

                                            >The neck looks like it would be more at home on a crane. It's long and has only three joints.

                                            >Their long necks have wires draping around them loosely, making you wonder if these things are starting to break down.

                                            >...but they could just as easily be so that there's a bit of slack for when they move their heads around.

                                            >What do you know? You don't into robotics.


                                            >This is alarming development, to say the least.

                                            >You aren't particularly happy with a bunch of cutting-edge robots advancing on your position, so you do what you do best: fuck up.

                                            >You try to take a few steps back, but you panic, trip, and then fall onto your back.

                                            >Two points of purple light (right where its eyes should be) blink in time with its speech.

                                            >When it talks, its jaw doesn't move - there's a short line of LEDs in place of a mouth.

                                            >"Wait! Please do not be alarmed! We are the six elements of the Harmony[bot] array! We are not here to hurt you."

                                            >Bullshit lies.

                                            >But you'll play along for now.

                                            >The purple one's eyes flash three times, and something on its body emits a loud tone that hurts your ears.

                                            >The other five robots stop shifting and trotting in place - they freeze.

                                            >The pink one still had two legs in the air and, with painful slowness, falls over sideways.

                                            >None of the creatures respond to the loud clatter.

                                            >The purple one walks forward, giving you a better look at it.

                                            >Where its eyes would normally be on an organic creature, there are two cameras with the lenses tinted a pleasant shade of purple.

                                            >Each of these robot's heads have what appears to be glass-fibre cables hanging down to form a weird, floppy mohawk.

                                            >The colour scheme of their... hair.... matches their paint-job... for the most part.

                                            >Purple-robot has a darker-purple mohawk with lighter purple highlights. Each fibre is just about the same length, giving you the impression that they're purely cosmetic.

                                            >Whoever built these things must have had a lot of time on their hands if they reached the point where all they had left to do was to make their robots look pretty.

                                            >A loud click startles you out of your observations - a small hole appears to have opened in the middle of the purple robot's forehead.

                                            >An antenna, rusty and slightly bent, emerges from the tiny hole....

                                            >...but it gets stuck half way through and starts making unpleasant whirrs and clicks.

                                            >"Oh, damn!"

                                            >Without a jaw to open or close,

                                            >The purple robot rotates the closest ear a few times until the stiff appendage smacks into the uncooperative antenna.

                                            >A few awkward impacts are all it takes for the antenna to un-stick and continue its journey out of the robot's skull


                                            BTW sorry for the ">>>>"s.  I could fix them, but I don't want to.


                                            >Whoever designed these things is fucking weird.

                                            >"SCANNING IN PROCESS" it announces, its voice (decidedly female before now) taking on a dry and mechanical tone.

                                            >You guess it's female?

                                            >Or something?

                                            >Whatever; you'll settle for that.

                                            >The purple robot makes "eye" contact with you and freezes in place.

                                            >The two cameras in her skull focus and defocus as the head (which is the only moving part on her right now) pivots up and down to get a full-body scan of you.

                                            >"SCAN COMPLETE. RESULTS: INCONCLUSIVE."

                                            >With a hydraulic hiss, the purple robot relaxes her joints and trots in place.

                                            >"Ooh... I hate doing scans.... my servos lock up like you wouldn't believe!"

                                            >The robot blinks at you, a contemplative look on her face - or, as contemplative as its body-language can convey.

                                            >"Excuse me, but what are you? The only metals I can see in you are in trace amounts, suspended in fluid. Who is your manufacturer?"

                                            >This has gone on for long enough.

                                            "Alright, alright," you sigh, crossing your arms and doing your best to look bemused.

                                            "Joke's over. You guys can come out now."

                                            >The robot tilts her head like a curious puppy.

                                            >"Girls? Come take a look at this."

                                            >The other five robots unfreeze and walk over to you.

                                            >...well, FOUR of them walk over; the pink one on the ground kicks her widdle legs a bunch until she can shifts her weight enough to roll over.

                                            >THEN she walks over to you.

                                            >"I repeat: who is your manufacturer."

                                            >The pink one trots up to you and "sniffs" at your leg.

                                            >Feeling a little nervous, you take another step backward.

                                            "I don't know; my parents?"

                                            >You start looking around the trees for hidden cameras.

                                            >If you're part of a "Just For Laughs: Gags" skit, you're going to flip your shit.

                                            "Seriously though, you can come out now. These things are really neat, but you're starting to creep me out."

                                            >>>>>"What's THAT supposed to mean?!"

                                            >The blue one flies - FLIES?!

                                            "Holy shit!"

                                            >You stumble backwards and fall down, desperately pushing yourself away as the FLYING ROBOT gets all up in your grill.

                                            >Her eyes - tinted a deep red - do that focus/unfocus scanning thing that the purple one just finished dong.

                                            >>>>>"I don't like this bot, Twi!"

                                            >Her head whips around (independant of her body, you note) to face the purple one, giving you a face-full of rainbow-coloured glass-fibre cables.

                                            >Stings like a bitch, yo.

                                            >The blue robot's head completes its 360 degree spin and eyes you up menacingly.

                                            >>>>>"I'm not picking up any kind radio frequencies from it. Are you sure your horn is still any good?"

                                            >The purple one stomps over to the blue one and pokes her in her caged chest.

                                            >"Yes, Rainbow D.a.S.H. My scanning is accurate to within 0.025 millimeters!"

                                            >In the time it takes for the two robots to argue, the yellow one has taken it upon herself to try and approach you.

                                            >Her hair made of light-pink cables. They look like they were once a darker colour, but they've been bleached in the sun.

                                            >Her body paint seems a bit washed out too; whoever built this thing must leave it outside a lot.

                                            >>"H-hello, little one. Are you malfunctioning?"

                                            >You respond in the most eloquent way you know how.

                                            "Wh-what?"

                                            >Nailed it.

                                            >The yellow robot reaches out and pats you on the knee with surprising gentleness.

                                            >>"My personal informal designation is Flutterpi. What's yours?"

                                            "It's.... it's Anon."

                                            >Flutterpi's mouth-area has an array of LEDs - 5 by 9.

                                            >A bunch of them light up to form a U shape... or a smile, you suppose.

                                            >>"I-it's nice to m-meet you, Anon."

                                            >With a jolt, her voice takes on the same awful mechanical tone that the purple one did.

                                            >>"REPEATING QUERY"

                                            >And then it's back to normal.

                                            >>"A-are you malfunctioning, Anon? I know a l-lot about ponybots, a-and I might b-be able to help..."

                                            >She looks back and her friends and shrinks in on herself.

                                            >>"I-if you'll l-let me, that is..."


                                            "S-sure. Why not?"

                                            >You shuffle uneasily to your feet.

                                            "Why not... uh... introduce me to the gang?"

                                            >You wave a hand over at the arguing robots and immediately regret that decision.

                                            >Five heads snap over to you and track the movement of your flipping hand.

                                            >"W-well... I, uhm.... Y-you know that m-my designation is F-Flutterpi, and.... and.... oh..."

                                            >Flutterpi brings up a mechanical limb and roughly drags some of her "hair" wires in front of her face-cameras.

                                            >"Hi!"

                                            >With a burst of light and a rumble of displaced air, the bright pink one appears in front of you.

                                            >"My name is Pinkie P[13]! Did I hear that you want a party?!"

                                            >You take a step back and behind Flutterpi for protection.

                                            "What? No. I asked what your names were."

                                            >The pink robot stands before you in complete silence.

                                            >The still neon tubes that make up her "hair" flash pink rhythmically.

                                            >"You... asked what our parties were?"

                                            "Name."

                                            >"Party."

                                            "Name!"

                                            >"Par-"

                                            >"E-excuse me, b-but I'm afraid y-you'll have to excuse P-Pinkie P[13]." says Flutterpi, moving in between you and the irritable pink robot, "H-her verbal processing software is really very outdated a-and she r-refuses to upgrade..."

                                            "Okay, sure," you agree, wanting to get down to business, "So how about those names we talked about?"

                                            >You were going to have a talk with whichever techie freak made Pinkie P[13] move so quickly back there.

                                            >thatboyain'tright.png

                                            >"W-well, the blue robot over th-there is Rainbow D.a.S.H..."

                                            >The robot in question sat on its haunches and raised its forelegs with a hydraulic hiss.

                                            >"...the orange robot is APP-Jack..."

                                            >The robot with the nice orange coat of paint waves cheerily at you... or, as best as a quad-legged robot can, you suppose.

                                            >Its hair appears to be straw.

                                            >Like, actual straw. The stuff you put into a scarecrow.

                                            >The cowboy hat perched on its head falls off from all the jostling.

                                            >She moves to catch it, but her reflexes are a full second too slow.

                                            >Jesus christ, take me now.

                                            >"...the white robot is .RAR-t..."

                                            >The alabaster robot whips her head around so violently that you're momentarily afraid that she's about to send it flying off of her neck.

                                            >After a second, you're drawn to the graceful flip her "hair" is making.

                                            >Her hair is made up of a dark purple ribbon wire - the shit you saw in your dad's computer.

                                            >The ends are frayed to the point where they form a curl, which appears to be what the designer was going for.

                                            >It ends up looking surprisingly eloquent.

                                            >Smack-dab in the centre of her forehead is an old-fashioned radio antenna; just like on the purple one.

                                            >"Darling~"

                                            "Fu-"

                                            >You don't know why the fact that she could talk took you by surprise.

                                            >"A-and finally, the p-purple robot is Twilight Sparkle."

                                            >THAT isn't a pun.

                                            >What the hell, guy controlling the purple robot?

                                            "Is that your real name, Twilight Sparkle?"

                                            >The purple robot scuffs a hoof into the dirt with a loud, mechanical whir.

                                            >"Well, not exactly. My official designation is ALI-KERNALex000fTWi887g4-98SPR-"

                                            >You wave a hand to interrupt her and, as you expected, she (and the rest of the robots) stop to stare at you appendage.

                                            >The yellow one gets your attention again.

                                            >"S-so, I don't think I've ev-ev-ev-ev.... excuse m-me... M-my voice synthesizer is a little r-r-r-rusty..."

                                            >Taking a deep "breath", Flutterpi starts again.

                                            >"Wh-what are you, exactly? I haven't s-seen any robot l-like you before..."

                                            >Are these people really going to take things this far?

                                            >Alright.

                                            >I'll play your game, you clever rogue.

                                            "That's because I'm not a robot," you say proudly, "I'm organic."

                                            >Silence and blank stares meet you.

                                            >Seriously?


                                            >"Organic?"

                                            >Flutterpie paws at the ground with a foreleg and scuffs up some grass.

                                            >"Y-you mean like g-grass and trees?"

                                            >She walks over to you and tries scanning you with her camera eyes (whose lenses were tinted a nice sea-green).

                                            >"B-because you aren't m-made of grass and t-trees, Anon."

                                            >You reach out to give her a pat on the head, but stop yourself.

                                            >This thing costs more than you make in six months; you REALLY don't want the owner freaking out and yelling that you broke his stupid robot.

                                            "That's because I'm made of meat."

                                            >"M-meat?!"

                                            >Flutterpi scuffles backwards, nearly tripping over the uneven dirt beneath her feet.

                                            >"A-as in, organic m-muscle fibres?"

                                            >The purple one, Twilight, jumps in front of you.

                                            >"Did you say, organic?! Are you truly? Really?!"

                                            >These excitable robots are starting to creep you out.

                                            "Yes! Yes, organic. I am made entirely of meat."

                                            >Do bones count as meat?

                                            "Mostly meat. Bones; ligaments; tendons; and I'm pretty sure there's a nervous system or two tucked away somewhere in there."

                                            >Twilight does a little robotic dance, leaping from her left-most legs to her right-most.

                                            >"Oh, hooray! We've finally found one! That explains why you only had a little bit of metal in your system and why you had so much fluid inside of you!"

                                            >Twilight leered over at Rainbow D.a.S.H and gave her what you best understand to be a smug look.

                                            >"And you communicated over to me on a secure channel that you thought he was leaking cooling fluid."

                                            >The cyan robot shoves the purple one away, but Twilight catches herself in a disturbingly fluid and non-mechanical manner.

                                            >Eaugh, they're just like BigDog robots.

                                            >"Well, what did you expect me to believe? The Everfree factory churns out TONNES of broken robots every month! What about COBOLtrice last month, or the Hexadra we had to beat the bolts out of?"

                                            >Rainbow D.a.S.H makes a few punching gesture with her hooves, which jut forward much faster than you would expect them to.

                                            >"Cutie Mark Manufacturer-Error Hunters!"

                                            >With a shout and a flash of movement at the corners of your vision, you find yourself suddenly forced to the ground.

                                            >"Yay!"

                                            >You think you broke something.

                                            >"We got him! Did'ja see it, AJ?!"

                                            >"Oh, wow! He's even more poorly constructed than he looked from 300 metres away... Ew."

                                            >"We knocked him over almost as fast as Rainbow D.a.S.H could!"

                                            >Oww...

                                            "Hnng~"

                                            >You groan in pain and clutch your wrist to your chest, doing your best to block out the pain.

                                            >Fuck you, you REALLY hope you didn't break anything!

                                            >"Girls!" comes a distinctly southern-sounding voice, "Get offa him! This here critter ain't no manufacturer error that 'scaped from no factory, 'hear?!"

                                            >Three heavy weights quickly remove themselves from your person, allowing you to roll onto your back.

                                            >"Well... what IS he then?" asked the decidedly younger voice.

                                            >"That thar be an organic. And y'all might just done BROKE him!"

                                            >"An organic?!" squealed the young one again, "Here?! You mean, like the Creator?!"

                                            >You open your eyes through the pain and squint at your assailants.

                                            >All you can see are three small forms; smaller than the six robots you were talking to.

                                            >Each of them had a brightly-glowing... THING in the centre of their body-mass.

                                            >Pain overwhelms you; you pass out.


                                            >You wake up to the smell of oil and the sight of bright, florescent lights.

                                            >"I'm detecting beta waves. Is that bad?"

                                            >A quick glance around confirms that you are on a bed in a hospital room, surrounded by nine robots.

                                            >Twilight perks up excitedly when she sees you moving.

                                            >"Oh! Oh, look!"

                                            >The other eight robots all turn their disturbing heads around to face you.

                                            >Simultaneously.

                                            >It's really creepy.

                                            >Twilight trots over to you on unsteady legs.

                                            >"Anon, are you alright? What happened to you?"

                                            >Rainbow D.a.S.H hovers over to you on tiny jets protruding from her back.

                                            >"Yeah. You shut down and didn't boot up again."

                                            >She gets all up in your business, and you can feel the heat coming from her jets.

                                            >"What gives, Anon?"

                                            >You've had enough.

                                            >A bunch of assholes with their fancy fucking robots have PUT YOU IN THE HOSPITAL.

                                            >Possibly with a broken wrist.

                                            >As a matter of fact....

                                            >You inspect your injured wrist, expecting to find it red and swollen (and in pain, for that matter), but what you find puts your mind to rest.

                                            >A bunch of metal struts have been taped onto your wrist and hand, immobilizing it.

                                            >Okay, so they patched you up and brought you to the hospital.

                                            >Why are they keeping this "we're a bunch of robots beep boop" facade up?

                                            >"Anon?"

                                            >That's a voice you haven't heard before.

                                            >Three small robots jump up onto your bed with ease and grace that the original six could never accomplish.

                                            >They're also looking a lot more advanced than the other six.

                                            >Instead of looking like a terrifying military robot, they look almost like domestic robots.

                                            >Plastic plates cover all parts of them except for their joints; one of them is white (sort of .RAR-t), one of them is yellow, and the final one is orange.

                                            >Their hair looks much better than the original six robots - it's synthetic and looks like a manufactured wig instead of odd bits of wiring.

                                            >Not only that, but their heads and neck are a lot less clumsy and basic.

                                            >Honestly, they look decades ahead the original six.

                                            >But the most eye-catching feature is their chests.

                                            >Smack-dab in the middle of each one of these tiny robots is a glowing glass dome.

                                            >Behind it you can see a kind of coil with something spinning inside of it very quickly.

                                            >Looks like a generator.

                                            >"My name is Sweetie Bot!" says the first one, trotting up to you silently, "and these are my friends!"

                                            >She points to the yellow one.

                                            >"That's Apple Bool."

                                            >She points to the orange one.

                                            >"And that's Scoota-Lau! And we're...!"

                                            >The three of them pose together, neatly navigating the folds of your bed's sheets.

                                            >"The Cutie Mark Concatenaters!"


                                            >You put your uninjured hand to your chin and observe the tiny baby robots in front of you.

                                            >Holy shit, these things are advanced.

                                            >How are they walking?

                                            >You mean, you GET how they're walking, but how are they walking so easily on your sheets without falling over?

                                            >Who's controlling them and why the fuck are they gaslighting you?!

                                            >You take a good, long look at the three of them.

                                            >Plastic exterior...

                                            >TWO cameras in each eye-socket...

                                            >What looks like rubber over the exposed joints...

                                            >Their "hair" looks way more natural...

                                            >Microphones at the base of each ear...

                                            >Is that a tongue?

                                            >Why the fuck would a robot need a tongue?

                                            >.......

                                            >....Oh, ew!

                                            >Goddammit, why'd you have to get knocked out and captured by a bunch of fucking weirdos?

                                            >Of all the people to have access to amazing-looking robotics, it had to be a bunch of robot-fuckers.

                                            >Perfect.

                                            >Fucking A+ situation.

                                            >10/10 Would break wrist and be hospitalized again.

                                            "So, uh... is the nurse going to be in here soon?" you ask, cradling your wrist to your body and turning away from the "Cutie Mark Concatenaters".

                                            >Twilight walks a tiny bit closer to you and speaks up.

                                            >You notice that the LEDs she has for a mouth act like vertical sound bars.

                                            >"Yep! Nurse Redheart will be here in just a moment."

                                            >Finally.

                                            >Dicking around with robots was fun and everything, but you crossed the line when you maybe probably broke your wrist.

                                            >"Speaking of..."

                                            >The door opens with a WHOOSH, and another FUCKING ROBOT clumsily trots in, the tray in her... back-arm... jumping around and spilling all kinds of shit everywhere.

                                            >You think you saw a wrench and a soldering iron spin across the room and into a distant corner.

                                            >Of course she's a robot.

                                            >God FUCKING dammit.

                                            >"Oh, shoot!"

                                            >Redheart's voice is surprisingly pleasant, sounding only a little bit digital.

                                            >"Sorry, sweetheart; my stabilizers aren't what they used to be."

                                            >Twilight speaks up when it's clear that you aren't going to say anything.

                                            >"Thank you for coming, Nurse Redheart. None of us have anything more than basic diagnostic and repair software, and an organic like -"

                                            >Twilight rears up on her hind legs and her sound bars max out.

                                            >"SUBJECT NAME HERE"

                                            >Twilight hops back down onto all fours and continues on as if nothing ever happened.

                                            >A quick look around confirms that none of the other robots seem to have noticed anything out of the ordinary.

                                            >Fucking robots.

                                            >" - so we thought we should see a repair-specialist like you or Doctor Hotswap."

                                            >Nurse Redheart trots over to you, her unsettling back-arm still gripping her empty tray.

                                            >Her appearance is similar to the first six robots you met, but there are a few distinct differences.

                                            >The robotic space-arm on her back being the biggest.

                                            >Her hair is actually composed of dozens and dozens of cords with male and female ends on each one.

                                            >You can see USB, firewire, an audio jack, and an incredible amount that you can't even recognize.

                                            >She also has the Red Cross symbol all over her chassis, and they light up.

                                            >That's pretty neat, you guess.

                                            >"What seems to be the problem, dear?"

                                            >Twilight interrupts you before you can say anything.

                                            >"He had an unexpected shutdown after he sustained probable physical damage to his left fore-hoof. I tried connecting to him wirelessly, but something must be SERIOUSLY wrong with him - I didn't even sense any kind of transceiver!"

                                            >The nurse tuts robotically and several of her hair-ports extend, prodding at your skin.

                                            >"Be a dear and present your most convenient port, would you?

                                            >Christ.

                                            >No.

                                            "Um..."

                                            >Twilight speaks up again.

                                            >Why are all the other robots so quiet?

                                            >And why are three tiny robots still sitting on your lap?!

                                            >"That's the thing, Nurse. He claims to be an organic. See?"

                                            >A multi-jointed snake protrudes from Twilight's crotch and starts poking your soft, human skin.

                                            >You try to move away from her robotic futa-penis, but to no avail.

                                            >Those three fucking robots are on your lap and they're heavy enough to hold you down.

                                            >Plastic casings be damned.

                                            >"See? We think he might have an endoskeleton and everything!"

                                            >Nurse Redheart grips your arm and brings it up to her face, lining it up with her two eyes.

                                            >FLASH

                                            >CLICK

                                            >"Ahh, I see. Interesting..."

                                            >She lets go of your arm as the sound of a dot-matrix printer starts up.

                                            >A sheet of plastic pops out of a slot in the nurse's side, displaying a black-and-white image of your hand and bones.

                                            >She grabs it with her back-arm and holds it out in front of her so that she can see it.

                                            >"Very interesting."

                                            >Did these assholes just x-ray you?

                                            >Who even builds that into a robot?!

                                            >What is WRONG with these people?!

                                            >Oh, christ, are you sterile now?

                                            >Is that how that works?

                                            >You don't actually know how radiation works.

                                            >You're pretty sure you're dying now.

                                            >"Yes, it seems that your claims of being an organic might just hold charge, SUBJECT NAME HERE."

                                            >Fuck this.

                                            >Fuck these robots and fuck the assholes who built a radiation machine into one of them.

                                            >You shove the three robots off of your lap and swing your legs off of the edge of the bed.

                                            >"W-wait! Don't go, organic!"

                                            >Twilight tries to stop you, but you shove her away.

                                            >She does that dance that the Big Dog robots do when they try to regain their balance.

                                            >She doesn't have time to stop you, and her other five friends don't move an inch.

                                            >You grab the knob, but hesitate.

                                            >You smell smoke.

                                            >Perfect.

                                            >Not only did you get zapped by a broken microwave, but now you're trapped in a burning building.

                                            >Hoping to escape, you wrench the door open.

                                            >Being your stupid self, you realize too late the consequences of your actions, and you get a face full of black, acrid smoke.

                                            >You take a few steps back and cough, rubbing your eyes to make the sting go away.

                                            >That's when a new voice enters the fray.


                                            >"H-h-hello Tw-Twilight. I g-got your email. Is it - is it - is it true you've found an org-guh-guh-ganic?"

                                            >Before you stands a robotic monstrosity of brass and copper.

                                            >It looks like somebody took ceremonial horse-armour from hundreds of years ago, glued gears and tubes to it, and then put a robot inside of it.

                                            >The creature is tall - taller than any of the robots in the room.

                                            >Her face has a permanent grin etched in the bronze faceplate, and her eyes are two enormous telescopic tubes that extend and retract constantly.

                                            >Instead of ears, she has what look like phonograph horns, only smaller.

                                            >Her entire rear-half looks like an old boiler like the one you used to have in the basement of your old house.

                                            >A huge open-ended pipe with frayed edges extends from a box below her boiler, belching black smoke into the air.

                                            >Tubes sprout out from her boiler-half and run all along her body, leading to places like her legs and her head.

                                            >A gyroscope is visible on her back inside of a vacuum-sealed glass pipe.

                                            >The most shocking feature is her hair - instead of wires, she has a series of copper tubes.

                                            >They're all oxidizing, giving them the colours of an oily rainbow.

                                            >She shakes visibly every time the gearbox in her chest goes through a cycle of turning gears and spinning cogs.

                                            >Twilight, however, looks delighted.

                                            >Or, as delighted as a robot can be.

                                            >"Princess-Host Clinker! You came!"**


                                            **Princess name subject to change


                                            New Princess name: Princess C++