Mobius
Pet Name: Mobius
Owner: nine
Theme / Type: Tropical Belragoth
Gender: Male
MisticPal Name: Ouroboros
MisticPal Age: 5129 Days
Battle Portal Stats
Hit Points: 5 / 5
Strength: 3
Defense: 2
Speed: 3
Intellect: 4
Misticpower: 4
Battles Won: 0
Battles Lost: 0
| Attached Weapons | |
Books Read
Books Read: None
Exotic Foods Eaten
Foods Eaten: 0/1254 [ View Foods ]
[. C I R C U I T .]
-Born to Serve-
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[Simple || Defensive || Childish || Stubborn || Naive]
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Name: MOBIUS-1
Alias: Mobius
Nickname: MO
Age: MY MODEL NUMBER IS QVG685893 PROTOTYPE B
Gender: I HAVE NO GENDER, THOUGH YOU MAY REFER TO ME AS "MALE"
Occupation: I AM UNEMPLOYED AT CURRENT.
Orientation: WHAT IS THIS?
Love/Crush: I LOVE ONLY MASTER.
Close With: None
Dislikes: None
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MY SPEECH PRODUCTION UNIT IS RATHER BROKEN. I HAVE A TENDENCY TO YELL REPLIES, I AM SORRY.
(But from now on Nine will type normally because huge all-caps replies are jarring and large. Let's just assume that he's yelling, k? K.)
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"ZZZT. MY NAME ISZZT MOBIUS-1.
PLEAZZT... ZZZT... ISSZUUE... A C-C-COM. COM. COM.
ERRORRRR. ERR-RO-ROR. DAMAGZTT. DEKTZZTED.
FSSSshhhhht."
Broken circuits, rusted joints, lost screws, loose bolts, stripped wires... even machines built to be durable will eventually fall apart if they are not properly maintained.
Humanity is lazy. They say that if they could get away with having someone else do the inane chores and mindless tasks, humanity would be happy. These automatons were built with humanity's happiness in mind - collectively dubbed "Soul Caskets", they came to life ready to serve people. They did everything humanity did not want to bother with. They cleaned houses, they cooked meals, they even fought wars. They were happiest when they had a master to serve, but they needed something too. Slowly, people took their services for granted. Slowly, people forgot about performing maintenance, and when one expired or became an eyesore, it was promptly thrown away like junk. Slowly, people forgot why they created them in the first place, and when they finally looked at them and saw them for what they became after generations of neglect- hunks of pathetic, barely moving scraps, struggling to do their duty, they destroyed them.
What they were for and the techniques used to create them were lost forever in time. Fewer and fewer functional Soul Caskets remained, the number decreasing by the year. Forgotten was how precious these things once were. How each one was crafted with extreme care, and how each one's personality was meticulously programmed to be unconditionally loving toward the one they recognized as their master - so much so, they would be willing to sacrifice themselves for their master's safety. Most importantly, what was forgotten was that each craftsman only made at most three in their entire lifetimes - pouring heart and soul and an unimaginable amount of love into each one.
But they did not forget. Even abandoned, they wait for a master to serve. MOBIUS-1 is one of these Soul Caskets. Since his master died however many years ago, he was left in the basement of the now-abandoned house.
He was a different kind of automaton than the others. Most were optimized for practical use, such as cooking or cleaning, but MO-1 was a soldier automaton. Though he could perform basic cleaning tasks, his forte lay in close and long-range combat. His previous master bought him from a dealer of old automatons simply for his personality, which was a bit fierier than most. He was an older gentleman - a widower with no children of his own. All he wanted was a companion so that he may spend the rest of his days with some company. Though MO-1 had some internal damage from his fighting days which caused him to talk rather strangely (and loudly, as his ability to control his volume was also damaged), the older man did not mind.
Strange, childish, and a bit on the stubborn side, Mobius performed his duty and lived rather comfortably. When the man died, Mobius performed as instructed and buried him, but beyond that, he was at a loss for what to do. So he did the only thing he knew to do by himself. He went to sleep - and still is; waiting for the day someone will come to give him orders.
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Poppeted Belragoth November 13, 2010!
Renamed December 6, 2010!
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