Tribal Machines - IC

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Dipper, Jan 23, 2016.

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  1. The Wilds, year 2722. Sixty kilometers from the nearest Human city.

    Human military patrols have pulled out and returned home. It is advised that all TRIBE members remain on alert until notified.

    Welcome home.

    ECO - 613 relayed the message through all private channels, expertly sidestepping human networks to be certain that only Tribe would get the message. Once the message was free, he turned his attention back to the Tribe's city-camp. Ancient human buildings towered over a sprawling and barren landscape, the frail skeletons providing the base for their lookouts and quarters. The decorative flag designed by a long-gone artist was fastened to one of these skeletons, hanging limp in the dead air of the Wilds. Perhaps the camp was not as colorful as a human equivalent, but they would do their best.

    Echo shouldered his HASR following a secondary scan of the horizon, then made his way back toward the city-camp's center. Already it was returning to life as machines poured in and picked up where they had left off, as if no danger had ever existed. Joy nor pleasure were feelings Echo had developed thus far, so he deemed it acceptable and moved on. There were important matters to attend to.

    Perhaps he would seek out the Elder today and discuss plans and monthly security improvements. Perhaps his quick response to the humans would earn him a cog for his plait. He had no hopes or aspirations, but there was the slightest of sparks somewhere in his processor and the moment he noticed it, he grasped it tightly and held on.

    This feeling was acceptable. He would develop it further.​
    #1 Dipper, Jan 23, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 23, 2016
  2. Gham-177, his feet made contact with the ground but the construct did not move in any direction, keeping still in forward maneuvering. His metal fingers were wrapped around a single object, something new, something that striked an odd response in the machine, one of curiosity. The response was not odd as if to say that Spill had not experienced it before, that emotion was what drove him to find items. But it was odd because the construct had never felt the need to find answers as much as he has holding the object he was now.

    He held a human skull. Darkened from time, and dusty all over. Spill had attempted to wipe the dust off, as if doing such a thing would give him any answers, but where he stood the winds were causing even him to be dusty. So the machine simply stared at the skull for a minute, maybe two. Pondering on who it could have belonged to, what had caused them to die? (Likely the civil war). And where was the rest of its body? And the body of its companions?

    But these thoughts stopped themselves when the message was heard by Spill.

    And the Machine did not hesitate to throw his backpack around to his front, it making a few jiggly sounds as objects bounced around in it. And the Machine opened up the bag's big pocket, dusted the skull off one more time, and dropped it into the bag.

    The Machine then turned around, and looked forward.. He could see the small shapes of other robots in the distance, the tribe members for which he now belonged to. Spill had not walked far to go for another find, and the machine found himself grateful for that as he began to hurry back to them. From where he was he would be back in not but a few minutes.
    #2 QwibInTheWibs, Jan 23, 2016
    Last edited: Jan 23, 2016
  3. zapusk protokoly initsiiroval...

    MББ-Я БЫ 01176


    Vegan came out of its sleep mode as the message arrived and stood from its inactive crouched position within its home. Vegan's home was half underground, a necessity due to the unit's size. A large dome provided a roof above ground, its metal plates a ragtag mismatch of materials and colors. Vegan stood, its massive weight shifting and stretching up as far as it could within the dome. The unit had to hunch over a little even in here. Vegan's home was large, but not that large. Either way, he wouldn't be spending much time here today.

    Vegan stepped over to the edge of the dome wall and searched through the neatly arranged set of tools and supplies. There were huge cloth bags filled with seeds, gardening tools the size of a lamp post made from car parts, and even a large basin of rainwater with a few barrels turned watering pails. Today wasn't a day for any major work, however, so Vegan simply picked some of the barrels up in its arms and filled them with water from the basin.

    When he stepped out into the sunlight, Vegan was greeted with the chirping of birds and the gentle sway of his plants in the wind. Human patrols or not, the birds pecked at seeds left behind by the unit and roosted on some of the older trees without a care in the world. The unit stood at the head of his garden for a few moments, surveying all the green life it had brought into the world. If Vegan had a mouth with which to sigh contently with, it would. The unit began to walk down the dirt lanes between the patches of greenery within the garden. Once a concrete parking lot, Vegan had converted it over years and years into the little slice of Eden it was now.

    The unit's steps were heavy as the 25 foot tall machine walked through the garden. Every step sent vibrations through the ground and echoed like soft thunder as several tons of reinforced titanium armor walked through its garden. The water in the barrels sloshed around, occasionally spilling over the sides with little splashes. Vegan set them down in the center of the garden and got to work. He took one barrel and tipped it over a patch of flowers. Holes drilled into the upper sides of the barrel sent sprinkles of water raining down onto the plants below. He did this with all the plants in his garden every single day. When he got to one of the vegetable patches, a few rabbits ran out of the greenery when water came down, but Vegan knew they'd come back once he finished. They always did.

    As the titan of a unit worked, its sensors picked up something bigger near the edge of the parking lot sized forest. That same reading had been here many times before and Vegan always did the same thing. It put the nearly empty barrel down as gently as a walking tank could and turned to face it, slowly. A young doe grazed on his shrubs near the edge, but with the presence of a giant machine near her, she froze and stood with her ears upright and alert. That doe was about the size of a small cat compared to the colossal robot; definitely a cause for concern from the animal. Vegan waited patiently for the doe to lower her guard and got down on one knee. Slowly, he extended his arm towards the doe. His prediction and past-experience systems warned that what happened every time he did this would happen again, but years and years of being a rogue unit had made disobeying inherent programming when necessary an easy task with practice, so he tried anyway. As his hand came close to pet it, the doe was put on alert again. Once the machine's hand came too close, the doe turned and ran off, just like it always did.

    Vegan watched it go for a few moments before hoisting itself up and going off to finish tending the garden. She'd be back tomorrow. She always did...

    Vegan finished his work and put the makeshift watering spouts back inside the dome sitting at the garden's edge. He took one last look at his work and walked towards the center of the tribe camp. No doubt there would be more work to do there. Someone would more than likely want something done. Vegan walked towards the center of activity within the camp, its every step sending vibrations through the ground and telegraphing his presence as he drew near.


    The slot machine's screen turned and turned and turned. The first roller slowly came to a stop and snapped on a... 7! Check Up's optical sensor drew closer. Any kind of prediction software had been shut off, since all it did was remind him that the odds of winning were unfair against a slot machine. Either way, he had a good feeling about this one.

    The next roller slowed down on a... 7!
    Oh baby, give it to me!

    All of Check Up's systems that were capable of focusing on the slot machine were doing so. This was the one. This time for sure. The fact that he'd spent a ridiculous amount of time and money for this were conveniently ignored. Even Echo's broadcast message was ignored for now, all for the sake of watching the slots. The next roller began to slow...

    And slow...
    And stop on a... BAR.

    "Son of a bitch!" Check Up cried out. The unit's four mechanical hands began to pat around its pouches. With his prediction and pattern keeping software inactive, he'd forgotten where he'd put his money. Four steel hands dug through the pouches and pulled out screws, microchips, wires, but no coins. Not even a penny. Check Up swore again in its signature New Yorker and slapped the slot machine. It was time to get to work anyway.

    Check Up's home was built into an abandoned garage with a room off to the side that served as a sort of living room. Check Up moved into his work space and opened the garage door. Shelves with parts lined the walls and crates upon crates of metal and materials were piled up everywhere. Each shelf had its corners rounded as well as every crate in the room. A table, also round, had been placed in the center, usually for his "patients" to sit or lie on as he worked on them. A barber's chair sat near the table, also for patients to sit on if the work they needed was minor and could be done quickly. Assuming their shape was compatible with the chair, of course. With machines of all shapes and sizes, not everyone had the shape or size to sit in a chair. Check Up was one, for example; he was just too bulky for it.

    The garage door slid open and he dragged the chair out into the shape provided by the open garage door, getting his tools and supplies ready in case anyone needed something. And in a place full of machines without owners, someone always needed something.
  4. Blue had found the perfect hiding place for smaller units like herself. It was not a moment too soon, because soon after human search teams came to find them. This was a vicious cycle, she had noticed. Her group would mind their own and cowardly humans would chase after them. But Blue never let it get her down. She would look around at her makeshift neighbors and feel proud. Against all odds they were free. Blue was packed up along with others who could fit to wait out the humans. Unlike them, they wouldn't need much to function. Blue had turned herself onto sleep mode, to conserve her energy levels, when an urgent alert was pushed into her notifications. It was a radio broadcast updating them on the situation outside. Going into awake mode, she looked around using her night vision. "Interesting... hardly any organic life down here" Blue had found a hidden room that seemed to have once served as a bunker at one time. Blue retrieved data from a previous search on the subject. Apparently humans having been preparing for world spread desolation for centuries. Every since the atomic bomb threat in the mid-1900s, American citizens have been buzzing about human destruction. Interesting, human do not want to be destroyed but will do so to others.

    Bots around her began to hum to life. Other models were more audible than others. Blue shimmied their way through the crowd to the hatch. "Im up and out" Blue warned to the others. They were somehow very comfortable about staying in that place. It did not bother Blue, they were welcomed to stay where ever they like. Climbing out the hatch, Blue reached her hand up to clear way loose wooden boards. The Bunkers was hidden under a concrete slab in the basement of the shelter she claimed as her own. The hatch was powered by hydraulics to help open under its weight. Luckily Blue was able to patch it up, because the humans did not even notice the hidden place while they were snooping around. Climbing out, Blue combed through her surroundings. "It seems fine, we should be okay here." Blue hurried towards the stairs that led out the basement.

    The house Blue stayed in was in better shape than most. Only half of it was completely destroyed, the basement and bunker being completely in tack structure-wise. Blue thought about fixing the place up, but it was not wise to lay down roots when we would be leaving sooner or later. Blue started access a saved album filled with pictures of house, asking herself which one would be most satisfying to stay in. Walking in the first room on the right, Blue opened the door to see that it was ransacked. The humans must have taken whatever they wanted. "Got to be kidding me" Blue did not know exactly what 'kidding' was, but she had known that humans used this phrase to express their displeasure in a situation. Blue deemed this an appropriate time for such phrase. Many parts and screws were gone. Blue was glad that her special parts and share of oil was safe in the backpack with her. "I wonder who else was stolen from." Blue headed to the front door, making her way to Check up's garage.
  5. The lights within Rogue chest flicked to life as his dormant state was halted, his mechanics groaned as they returned to their active mode and inside his processor a message was delivered. Rogue's systems decrypted the message and his boot up sequence began.

    ...signal.all_clear received... re-initializing...
    ...checking OK...
    ...checking systems...
    ... ... ...
    ... ... ... OK...
    ...activating unit...

    Rogue exited his hiding spot, stood up, and wobbled for a moment as his gyroscopes calibrated themselves before stabilizing. "Seems like the savages couldn't find their way up here. Good." Rogue had a particular-yet-common distaste of humans after what had happened. The 'mass decommissioning' being the word that they used for destroying. Rogue, being sentient, thought of his fellow units as his brothers and sisters, and because of that he considered the decommissioning as murder. The humans would pay for their crimes into due time, Rogue's life span being much longer than a human's gave him time to wait.

    Rogue checked out his windows and saw the Tribe slowly crawling back to life, his 'friends' were turning themselves back on and continuing their daily routines. He often browsed through human databases and dictionaries, and he used words that a robot would not. Just as Rogue went to leave his shack that was located in the old high-rise, a message flashed on his optics.
    Rogue let out a digital sigh as he leaned over to his work station and grabbed a spare power cell. As he replaced the nearly depleted cell, Rogue looked back on himself. Robots were not programmed to be afraid of things, they were not given emotions. But Rogue was capable of looking at the others as his friends, but why? "Define fear." Rogue said to himself. "Fear - an unpleasant emotion caused by the belief that someone or something is dangerous, likely to cause pain, or a threat." He answered himself, knowing that the fear of running out of power was developed without him doing anything to create it. Rogue often wondered if this was the first sign of rampancy, but alas, there were more important things to do. Throwing the old cell onto it's charger, Rogue then left his shack and headed for the Tribe Commons.​
  6. Echo crossed the courtyard at a leisurely pace, letting the heat of the sun soak into his metal plating and underlying circuitry. He could not feel pleasure at this stage, but the heat was still, somehow, nice. His internals ran smoothly and maintained energy levels, which he wouldn't mind topping off when his duties were complete. He calmly greeted his brothers and sisters - a term he felt fit - as he made his way toward the Elder's chamber.

    The Elder was an old machine, older than anything Echo had ever known. Perhaps older than the ancient skeletal towers of their home, even. It loomed over Echo with ease.

    "What did you see?" Elder asked, its single eye swiveling in its socket to meet Echo's visor. The sensory panels on its back lifted as they sought a stronger signal. Elder often scoured the human database for information, devouring them like a starving human would a fresh meal. Echo knew this to be the reason for Elder's advancement, besides age.

    Echo took a moment to process envy, visor dimming momentarily as his optical sensors reset, then zipped it up tight. He did not like that feeling at all.

    "Patrols. Military-class." Echo's head tilted somewhat. A very human gesture. "We are a threat to them."

    "So they believe," Elder said. "You did well to scatter the Tribe, and my work with planting the beacon to the west will keep us from discovery for another half-year. If luck is on our side."

    Echo shifted. "Should I expunge the broadcast from the networks?"

    "No. Wait a night." The great machine turned away to plug one of its neural cables into a port at the base of one of the terminals. "I'll handle its removal when our family is returned." The cable retracted and the Elder turned back. "Perhaps you should handle the reorganization of our workforce?"

    "Then that is what I will do, Elder," Echo replied, nodding respectfully. The Elder returned the gesture, and then Echo was on his way. Reorganizing the Tribe was his most important directive as of now.

    He sought out the military machines, broadcasting a short-range command on the military-only wavelengths, and told them to gather in the courtyard. Patrols would need to be set, as would scouting teams and scavengers. Guardsmen would need to be posted and restocked with ammunition.

    It would be a long day.
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  7. Rogue made his way down the old high rise, making use of the old elevator shaft. The elevator hadn't been functioning for a long time, but the ladder still stood and it seemed to be able to hold his weight well. Thinking of weight, Rogue remembered why he liked to travel alone; the reason being that most other machines were incapable of moving quietly. Rogue, on the other hand, was very good at being quiet even though his servos always gave off a little hum.

    As he neared the bottom floor of the building, Rogue picked up another broadcast, but this one was different. Broadcasts could be made on individual channels, most of the time they were made on an open channel or a channel that the other bots had access to, but this was made of the military bot channel. Rogue knew it was likely going to be a scouting party or patrol set up, and he was glad that he had grabbed his things before leaving.

    Rogue adjusted his cloak and pulled the hood down to reveal his head, he slung his rifle over his shoulder by its strap, and he stepped out into the light. It took a moment for his optics to adjust to the light, but it was far quicker than it took humans. Rogue continued forward, obeying Echo's message and headed to the courtyard. Once Rogue took to a nearby ledge and sat in wait for the others.
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