((Double Drats))

C.L.I.N.K.
C.L.I.N.K.'s robots defend with Anti-Matter Laser Turrets and Anti-Matter Lightsabers. Cyrus dies to death.
Cyrus Evil Incorporated
Billidan kicks into the base.
"You fiend! Now prepare to get Ballgownified due to my Ballgowninator Gauntlet!" Billidan shouts at Cyrus using the same voice as Marvin The Martian.
Billidan Ballgownifies Cyrus.
Cyrus falls into a cotillion founded by Marvin The Martian.
THE END

Excuse me, but you have no sense of comedy. (Marvin the Martian evolves Matikclocker into a slave)

(pulls out Evolution Gauntlet)
(evolves Crazee's character into a futuristic slave)
I need food now.

((Just ignore him Matik.

I have no idea why I'm doing this when nobody is really playing anyway.

Annihilating the arc, destroying main characters

Basically just powerplaying.

suddenly surprising the characters

I don't see anything wrong with this, unless it's just someone making one post that basically just says "EVERYONE IS DEAD AND STUFF" in which case we usually ignore them.

intentionally kidnapping

How does one accidentally kidnap someone?

It will be marked as semi-original

"Semi-original" means that it's an original character based on a preexisting universe (basically fan characters like my totally awesome and existing Sonic OC that I just made up, "Slonic the Hedgehog" (HE'S NOT JUST SONIC WITH A GREEN COAT OF PAINT, TRAST MEH GUIS, DU NUT STEEL)). Nonoriginal characters are perfectly ok.

Why I even track originality I do not know.))

New topic or keep going, do you think?

Make characters?

Imma be Teddy Zeke again. You know, Level 3 Baker.
Same everything. Including a Level 1 Random Dog called Dog!

Someone continue the arc because I have no idea what's happening and I can't be bothered to read everything.
I guess I just happen to stumble into wherever we're supposed to be ok sure let's go with that.

((Guess who's back.
I have plans on reviving this with my arc that I was sorta planning for quite a while. Might do it today or tomorrow.))

((Been a while since I played Matikclocker, also I went up in terms of maturity since my last arrival, just so you know.

Also, I managed to develop some more story which in the end went out all messy, so I will redo the story, while trying something new out. Also, I cooked up a new arc with an entirely different story.))

== Polygon System, Clink ==

System online...
Readying the Clock Drive...
Checking damage levels...
Finalizing...

Matikclocker's prismatic red eyes lightened up, with a sort of sleepy look. He looked around him, noticing that something is different. The reactor was missing, everything was gray. No clockonium could be found either. He went upstairs and what he saw was beyond his initial thoughts. The entire OVC Industries base turned into some gray factory. Even the Clocker Respawn System wasn't present. Several workers were standing there, talking. There was no other solution for Matikclocker other than sneak past and take a look at what happened to Clink. While he was sneaking, he could hesr the conversation...

"Do you remember that day when Mr. Carbon posted that help wanted announcement? Ahhh, good times!"
"Yeah, finally some people get to work instead of those pricky wannabe xenobuilds."
"And those robot blueprints! Now they aren't a mystery anymore!"
"Blueprints? Ah, yeah, those worthless robot things. Interesting."

Clocker has left the facility and spotted a horrible truth: Clink, which used to be lush green and earthlike, has turned into a barren wasteland, while his base is now part of some sort of a colony. Things are going deeper than thought.

== Fellezin Prime ==

Fellezin Prime was known for having several stations nearby, visited by traders wuite often to catch a break. The planet is earthlike, supporting human life and generally having water.

Meanwhile...
CRASH!

A drop pod has crashed. Inside of it, a cyborglike unit was stored inside. The pod disintegrated after the landing, revealing the said cyborg in its inactive state, with the "MkII Protonium-Zero" model number emblazoned on its leg. The cyborg itself looks quite menacing and strong.

== Fellezin Prime ==

The cyborg responded to the "hello" by turning on. It could be noticed by the fact that his legs' electroplating started glowing blue and some various sounds could be heard. After the bootup sequence, he looks around him, then at Gull. "Hello." he said. "I guess you are interested in how I got here, or something?"

== Clink ==

The spaceship crash was spotted by the colonial spaceship control tower. The incident was recorded and wardens were sent out to check on the object. Matikclocker decided to tour around the colony. He has found a map and upon checking it, it appeared that it's the 'legitimate' OVC colony, with the base being dubbed as 'Sector 9096A' or shortly saying, 'Fabricator Array'. He thought for a while. What happened during those few years of inactivity? Why is the OVC Industries base now a segment of a colony? Who was Mr. Carbon and why did he take control? What happened to Clink over those past years? He looks on the colony map for the archives and the boss office, then goes towards the said archives to find out the secrets all by himself.

The Wardens are headed in the direction of the spaceship crash.

((I took a look st some of the threads I posted in during 2015/2016 and oh boy, never looking at my past again))

== Clink, Crashlanding ==

None of the wardens could understand the alien garble of the mole alien. One of them stepped forward and asked, "We've seen that you crashed down here. What caused you to crash here?"

== Fellezin Prime ==

"Allow me to introduce myself." the cyborg said. "I am the Mark II Protonium-Zero, but you can call me P-Zero, Zero or Proto. I was built to replace the rogue Mark I Robomatic, which had the personality bug making him aggressive and obsessive. He has been ultimately demolished during his attack on a swordsman. But enough of my origin story. I was being delivered to assist the battle on Mars, but the transporter has been terminally damaged by an unknown force. During the last few minutes before total obliteration the ship crew packed me into this capsule masked as a supply crate and turned me off. They probably sent me here, and well...that's how I got here." The said cyborg looked around his surroundings.

((The reason why he can be called Proto: Prot-0, pronounced Prot-oh))

((Yes, I know it's been a few days, but life goes in the way.))

== Fellezin Prime ==

"Hello, Gull!" Proto shook his hand. "I could probably get used to the surroundings and some shelter. And perhaps some repairs, my auto-balance mechanism feels sort of busted after the crash..." He looks around, checking if there is a place where he could go and live in for the time being.

== Clink ==

"You want us to provide you with an asylum? Sure, why not. Just don't kill us like the last rogue robot that we had to dismantle." The Wardens showed the way to the colony and started marching towards it.

Matikclocker has been reading through the archives. He has discovered that several years ago, the CRS (Clocker Respawn System) has been shut down, along with the power supply of the robots that kept themselves alive with it. There were two robots as well which utilised the CRS, but their whereabouts were unknown. On another piece of paper, he discovered that Mr. Carbon was the person who 'liberated the workers from endless service to the egoistic robots and brought the end of Overclocked Industries' robotic tyranny.' Then, he noticed that the two robots who used the CRS were reprogrammed using a special hacking tool and they are serving in the new colony. The bulkier one is a guard, while the swifter, female-like robot works as Mr. Carbon's assistant.

Suddenly, one of the wardens came and spotted Clocker browsing the archives. "You there! Freeze!" said the said warden. It could probably mean his end, but who knows...

== Clink ==

Matikclocker stayed silent, although he nodded to the human's offer. The wardens were confused, wondering what even happened with the said wind.

Meanwhile, in the same facility, just about outside of it...the said ex-CRS guard robot was standing there, unaware of the commotion going on in the archives, since he responds whenever he notices an intruder or an alarm is raised, neither of which happened, meaning he is still guarding the outside of the area. Occassionally he would answer calls from the ex-CRS assistant robot and Mr. Carbon himself. He has just now received a call from the assistant.

"Outskirt shift is over, Charge. Go inside and patrol the area."

He moved inside and started walking around the place. Given his slow speed, it will take a while until he reaches the main area of conflict.

As for the assistant, she spent most of the time travelling to various facilities and checking if everything works nicely, occassionally transmitting messages from Mr. Carbon to the rest of the colony. Nothing much is happening for her, so sometimes she just walks around aimlessly until Carbon gives her a message to transmit.

== Fellezin Prime ==

"About a few hundreds of crednets, thousand fifty-one (1051) of robits, 5 golden coins...I guess, do you have any currency exchange somewhere if you don't accept any of those?" Proto went and followed Gull to his store. He was looking st the landscape of the planet, which looked quite nice for his eyes.

== Fellezin Prime, EVERYTHING BUT CAKE Shop ==

"I see. Anyways..."

Proto is assessing damage to the chassis and all components and starts listing out the parts. "Lemme see...I'm going to need the following: Auto-Stabilizer Module for Colossus-class legs, strengthened hardpoints for bionic arms, 5 PowaCo batteries, Zettawarp Blink Module, Shield Module, "Jupiter" Hyper-EMP Module with built-in Paralyzer, four "Erazer" Railguns, power-adapting wires, electroplate armor, and some alloy plating."

Proto looked at Gull for a second. "I know it's a lot of stuff, but I have thought that I could use a little upgrade. If you don't have any of those then it's okay, the auto-stabilizer, power-adapting wires, hardpoints and alloy plating are the essentials that I need."

== Fellezin Prime, Salmon Flight Spaceport ==

A spaceship landed on the airport. It was registered as a Planetrion cargo ship, although the content come from a different corporation. Two robots step out of the ship. One of them is partially round, very heavily armored and has synthetic yellow hair, equipped with a male AI. There were screws and bolts visible on his face. The other robot had small metal wings coupled with a jetpack on the back and overall the build was more feminine and fit than the first one. The robot was also equipped with a female AI. She has green holographic hair.

"I think...this is the...place." the first one said.

"Salmon Flight is a weird name for a spaceport. But anyways...! Where are we supposed to head to, Duster?"

The other robot, which is known as Duster OriX-500B, responds, "There is a nearby electronics...convention. We could show...our possibilities. Right, Delitana?"

The Ori-200L "Dawnbringer", known as Delitana, looks over at Duster. "Sure! You lead the way or I do?"

"Just grab me, lift us up and I'm going to show you the direction."

They headed off to the convention.

== Clink ==

"Feel free to explore the area. We will deal with this piece of CRS scum." the warden spoke to the mole, centipede and the human.

"As for the runaway M-OVC-2002 model...mister Carbon would be very pleased to decomission and then brainwash you into--"

Matikclocker suddenly interrupted the warden. "I would be very pleased to talk with Carbon Six about what has he done to Overclocked Industries."

The wardens stood in shock, but then regained their cool. "You're getting brainwashed anyway." they said. "Let me talk with Carbon, we can talk about me joining you later." The warden nodded and then a TV screen came up in front of the robot.

"Well, well, well...ain't it the little M-OVC-2002, the battle tyrant of the company?" Mr. Carbon spoke up.

"I'm not a tyrant, what made you think of that?" Matikclocker responded.

"You always kept the OVC Pro and OVC Legend robots hidden to everyone. Now that I am the CEO, I managed to decomission every single existing Pro-class and reprogram two of Legend-classes into my servants." Carbon paused for a moment, trying to remember the names of the decomissioned Pro-class robots. "I'm being honest right here...Powerflash, Piercer and Starburst are just pieces of junk. Who would even want a racing-type or hell, a magic-type OVC Pro robot? And how do you stuff magitech into those robots?"

Matikclocker stared at Carbon for a split second. "It's not how do you stuff magic components, it's how is it going to work. The point of the company is to provide people with top of the line hyperadvanced technology. How is the Market standing?"

Carbon looked away for a while. "I can assume that YOU drove the industry to the ground by now. Where is the top corporation?" Matikclocker glared at him.

"RoboCorp?" Carbon responded. "I don't know how did it go down, the Pro models were available for--"
"HA! You don't even know how to run a corporation, especially when it was leading the market for several years!" Matikclocker interrupted again.

"RoboCorp was pretty close to the top, you would've lost against them either way. Also--"

The assistant robot came. "Mister Carbon, at exactly 6 days, 23 hours and 30 minutes ago, the Galactic Market asked you to pay 4 million crednets to them so they can issue a refund to anyone who returned the OVC Pro robots that you decided to downgrade and overprice them for no reason. If you don't comply within the next 30 minutes, the Market is going to repossess the entire colony and exile OVC from the network, forcing us to sell stuff into the Protritanium greyzone." She looks over st the TV screen. "Also, what errands are you currently running?"

Matikclocker gazed in shock. He remembers the robot as Energyload, the scout-class OVC Legend robot. Carbon responds to Clocker, "Oh, yeah, better pay those debts before they close us down, haha--" He looked pretty nervous, which made the battle robot curious.

"So you actually hit rock bottom. Well then, good luck with selling your stuff to the Protritanium Bazaar." Matikclocker responded

"You're telling me goodbye? Sure. Also don't worry, I know how to handle all of this--"
"28 minutes, sir."
"I got it, got it! Now...Wardens, BRAINWASH HIM!"

The wardens started cornering Clocker, when out of sudden, the assistant robot, Energyload, spoke up. "Wait...isn't that the Matikclocker M-OVC-2002 battle robot? I thought the C-OVC-2018 Clocker model was created, but I guess I was wrong. Can I check on him for a while?" she asked.

"Sure, but not for long, we got to pay those market fools!" Carbon responded.

Energyload started walking down the corridors, headed to the archive. Unlike her previous design, this one has been modified to look 'better'. While she looks like a businesswoman robot, it might be different than expected.

Of ill fate, none so bad as gentle negligence. To be forgotten is one thing. An existence reduced to that of common dust that if left alone may in time form a bunny. Truly a fate to be proud of. But of course, that which is forgotten does not change physically. Though spiritually one may feel as dust the body may yet remain. To be forgotten by humanity is something small. But what if the world wished for dust to stay dust?

At the world's behest, it's all gone. Your id stagnates, your superego grows mute, your ego stills itself. Is this sensation that of being ripped from reality itself. A violent timbre, vibrations of rejection, rend, raze, and rip away the shallow ideal of you. Such a fate, cruel by all definitions. As conscious slows to a stall, what last thoughts cross the mind of one deemed absolutely irrelevant. Why? By what force has this judgment come to pass? Have your actions crossed a God? Have your words angered the terrafirma below your feet? Or have you been made the butt of a cruel cosmic joke?

No. You were just forgotten.

=Obscura=
The seafoam is brilliant today. Carrying up and onto the shores many objects. Those that shine, and those that sparkle. Round, square, square round, and thin. All manner of objects without any reason or rhyme. The waves wash them ashore, as the waves often do, littering the beach. If nothing else, the trip hazard sand makes for a fantastic scene to paint. And that's exactly what one young lad finds himself doing. Painting the beach in its irrelevant splendor. Taking note of all the new things to wash up as time goes on. Not the least of which, being a body. At least, it seems to be so.

Seafoam. Salt air. These are the first sensations to return to the young man washed ashore upon the beach. coming further into consciousness, he notices the land around him, the junk littering the beach, the painter in the distance. After laying in the sand for some time, slowly regaining control of his faculties, the man sits up and begins to rummage around in the beachside junk.

Junk! trash, knickknacks, whatever you call it, he had always had a soft spot for it. As the saying goes, one man's trash... Rummaging around in the sand, the man pockets the shinier baubles and bits that are found there, hoping for future use. Grabbing a longer metal rod and deeming it suitable as a walking stick, the man approaches the painter-

"Say, what are you putting to canvas there? Looks like quite the vision. Speaking of, you wouldn't happen to know where we are, would you?"

((Nice to be back at this RP after so long. Hopefully I'm not ruining the mood you have set up here.))

--Obscura--

The woman just watched from where she stood as somebody else approached the painter. She sees the pair begin to talk and as the pair begins to talk she begins to listen to what they have to say. Was she hearing them right? From the painter's description he made this place sound like... some sort of afterlife? No, that couldn't be right. How could that possibly be right?

"Hey!" she suddenly shouts towards the pair, "What are ya two talking about?"

=Obscura=

As soon as the young man starts talking the painter turns back to his canvas, now torn. He considers the value of a broken painting as the young man talks about the hole being an improvement. And maybe under a certain light, it could look less intolerable. Or... maybe not. The painter continues to look at his painting, completely disinterested in everything the young man has to say, at least until he says the name Sonus. There's a notable reaction from the painter upon hearing the name, a subtle twitch, followed by a not so subtle twitch.

"It's nice to meet you, Magnus." The painter extends a limp hand "My name is Sebastian. Sonus is my family name." And by the time introductions are out of the way, Sebastion takes notice of another. A female who seems just as inquisitive with a dash of nosey. It was that special blend of curious that only those who wash ashore experience. Sebastian knew the signs at this point. His hands had painted them countless times.

"You are welcome to follow." Sebastian starts talking to the woman. "But my home is not a safe place for someone like you. You'll want a pipe, or something equally blunt. Nothing sharp though. Unless it's small." Sebastian holds up a paintbrush, a small one hardly half a foot long. "Like this. In fact." He hands the brush to the woman, upon closer inspection it's not hard to see the butt end finally pointed, the wood discolored as it gets closer to the fine tip.

"Nothing useful here. Let's move. We can continue talking about the intri-" Sebastian stops himself short. He opens his mouth, speaking sounds but not saying words. Struggling. "Oh, I don't think I've learned that word yet... whatever you said Magnus, we can talk about it." Without grabbing his tools, or canvas, or even easel, Sebastion starts walking, he walks slow. Whether that's because he wanted to wait up for them or because of the limp is anyone's guess.

-------------------------------
(Not at all mate, you're not ruining anything!)

Insufferable. Beyond insufferable. Whatever punishment awaited in the ninth hell, whatever iron, cast from pain, that made up the mortal coil mush have been designed as nothing more than a prelude to what Sebastion is dealing with now. At least the woman stayed quiet. If nothing else, Sebastion could admire the stranger's craftiness. To take a useless object, let alone two, and make use of it. It was a talent nothing short of being able to be considered a divine ability. And as the divine should be revered, Sebastion revered this man in silence. Choosing to continue walking.

Sebastian did not care if the others followed. Slow step after limping step, he moved away from the low bluff and rocky beach, moving inland, through the woods, dense with trees that made for shade sublime. A forest path that interested with many others, these woods were well-traveled. Signs of human life quite literally littered the woods. Knickknacks and trash left to rust both on and off the trail, place haphazardly, left in a rush. Despite hearing Magna's questions, Besation did not answer right away. Choosing to wait for minutes at a time before saying a word. "A name for a useless thing is nothing more than a mechanism to separate the trash. You may call me whatever you please."

Then silence took place. A few minutes later, he spoke up without provocation. "The limp is my punishment. Or rather, it is the mark of revenge taken against me. Regardless, I earned it." And he said nothing more on the matter.

As the group of three breaks through the treeline, what greets them on a cloudless day is the sight of rolling hills, plains of grass that rolls like waves along the fertile ground. In the distance, marked by black smokey pillars, is a small town. Hardly a town, a hamlet. Of small stone wall houses with rooves of shale and sometimes straw. Homes that could call to mind only one word: old. But there was one home, far, far away from the hamlet, and far, far closer to the group of three. A small home, more of a giant ramshackle shack, that sat close to the treeline. A relic of old, a watering mill that stood next to a dried river. Of rotten wood and decaying door, Sensation moved closer to the door, he put his hand to rest on the knob before stopping short.

"My brother has more patience, he will answer your questions. My day ends here. Brandish your weapons." That was his only warning as he opened the door to the shadow lit house, swinging outwards with a loud creaking sound. And from with darkness, without hesitation, something pounced upon the woman that followed. Upon touching sunlight, the assailant was revealed to be an older man, short black hair, tall in build, and sharing many features with Sebastion. His lips were puckered as his sights set on placing them firmly on the female member's face. Somewhere.

"Ignore him or stab him, I don't care." Sebastian enters the house.

does anyone still roleplay here?