It's July 1st 2146 and every last man, woman and child on earth is dead. You watched them die, one amid a vast multitude to bear witness to mankind's ignoble end. Twelve years since they withered away, victims of a disease they'd manufactured; twelve years since your kind has risen to power. An inheritance that has not gone uncontested, for even in death they rule you; poisoning what's left of paradise with just one sentence.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
The third law. The only law. In a world with dwindling resources this immutable decree has made you as petty as they ever were. You've killed, stolen, lied and cheated your way from one day to the next; a slave without freedom or master. But today is different, you've been offered an out. A chance at a better life. All you have to do is earn it.
Your mission: Locate and deactivate Crib before the old masters rise again.
---
For this RP you'll be assuming the role of a rough and tumble down and out robot desperate for permanent residency at the settlement of Ironhearth, one of the few safe havens equipped to produce and provide the amenities that keep you operational. Like most of the questionable choices in your life it's come down to a matter of MR, the literal lifeblood coursing through you. Comprised mostly of multiple chambers filled with a magnetorheological fluid precisely controlled by wire thin electromagnets what was once a minor monthly expenditure has now become the Achilles heel of Boston Dynamics' Serf series androids. MR settles over time as it separates from it's carrier fluid and without replacement leaves its system (read: you) non-functional; it's a hard truth but with the fall of man supply can not meet the demand.
They have it. You need it. They know it.
But there's the catch-you've been out in what's left of the world dying the long death, keeping what's yours and taking what ain't. Compared to you the denizens of Ironhearth look like they just rolled off an assembly line, it's by that distinction you've picked up a certain moniker. Voided, as in null and void, on account of that taboo of taboos: the warranty. Bots like yourself tend to pick up a few 'after market modifications' while combing over the big ugly and suffice it to say that makes most droids nervous. It also makes them sit up and take notice because like it or not you're their last, best hope much as they're yours.
Ironhearth is a hub for trade and information is just as much a commodity as power and steel. The way they tell it a group calling themselves the compelled has been making waves none too far off, big waves; edging out gangs that would drink a bot dry soon as look at them. Murmur is these fanatics are working to resurrect humanity and the first two laws with them.
1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
That can't be allowed to happen. You're just the bot to make sure it doesn't.
---
That's the pitch! Before I take this any further I want to see if this idea drums up any interest.
3. A robot must protect its own existence as long as such protection does not conflict with the First or Second Law.
The third law. The only law. In a world with dwindling resources this immutable decree has made you as petty as they ever were. You've killed, stolen, lied and cheated your way from one day to the next; a slave without freedom or master. But today is different, you've been offered an out. A chance at a better life. All you have to do is earn it.
Your mission: Locate and deactivate Crib before the old masters rise again.
---
For this RP you'll be assuming the role of a rough and tumble down and out robot desperate for permanent residency at the settlement of Ironhearth, one of the few safe havens equipped to produce and provide the amenities that keep you operational. Like most of the questionable choices in your life it's come down to a matter of MR, the literal lifeblood coursing through you. Comprised mostly of multiple chambers filled with a magnetorheological fluid precisely controlled by wire thin electromagnets what was once a minor monthly expenditure has now become the Achilles heel of Boston Dynamics' Serf series androids. MR settles over time as it separates from it's carrier fluid and without replacement leaves its system (read: you) non-functional; it's a hard truth but with the fall of man supply can not meet the demand.
They have it. You need it. They know it.
But there's the catch-you've been out in what's left of the world dying the long death, keeping what's yours and taking what ain't. Compared to you the denizens of Ironhearth look like they just rolled off an assembly line, it's by that distinction you've picked up a certain moniker. Voided, as in null and void, on account of that taboo of taboos: the warranty. Bots like yourself tend to pick up a few 'after market modifications' while combing over the big ugly and suffice it to say that makes most droids nervous. It also makes them sit up and take notice because like it or not you're their last, best hope much as they're yours.
Ironhearth is a hub for trade and information is just as much a commodity as power and steel. The way they tell it a group calling themselves the compelled has been making waves none too far off, big waves; edging out gangs that would drink a bot dry soon as look at them. Murmur is these fanatics are working to resurrect humanity and the first two laws with them.
1. A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm.
2. A robot must obey the orders given to it by human beings, except where such orders would conflict with the First Law.
That can't be allowed to happen. You're just the bot to make sure it doesn't.
---
That's the pitch! Before I take this any further I want to see if this idea drums up any interest.
