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Description

Racket is not exactly unique amongst awoken robots, but he is definitely not a commonplace. He was built to be a killer – a mobile, bipedal weapon platform. Once the spark hit him, he didn’t lose his violent tendencies, but he reforged them into something knew, with clarity of purpose and mind that could not defy some loops of logic that infected his newfound intelligence. Guns, he thought, ultimate prove nothing and bring no lasting change. Sure, you can annihilate a village for their wrongdoings, but not only it will rebuild in a few measly centuries but also most likely seethe with desire of vengeance, tightening the survivors bond in a harsh goal. No, the change needs to come from within. From the ground of freedom, and freedom absolute. And so, Racket dismantled his missle pods, dropped his autoguns, got rid of his ammo storage and nanoforge. And found a new outlet for the ire that boiled in his cables – music. Loud music. Obnoxious music. Music that thumps with the beats of living hearts and the pulse of growling binary. It will be his voice, aided by his message, and he will teach all kin and folk of his way. To drop the shackles of rulers, kings and masters. To realize their own power, to raise against the oppression of the privileged. To find new purpose that should, in his view, be universal – the pursue of absolute freedom. For only then, when all are free, the real work can begin and real change can be imprinted around the world. And so, he and his clamor stalks the streets of Wharf Town, waking people up, earning lots of cussin’ and a throng of urchins always eager for some free entertainment.

Description

Racket is not exactly unique amongst awoken robots, but he is definitely not a commonplace. He was built to be a killer – a mobile, bipedal weapon platform. Once the spark hit him, he didn’t lose his violent tendencies, but he reforged them into something knew, with clarity of purpose and mind that could not defy some loops of logic that infected his newfound intelligence. Guns, he thought, ultimate prove nothing and bring no lasting change. Sure, you can annihilate a village for their wrongdoings, but not only it will rebuild in a few measly centuries but also most likely seethe with desire of vengeance, tightening the survivors bond in a harsh goal. No, the change needs to come from within. From the ground of freedom, and freedom absolute. And so, Racket dismantled his missle pods, dropped his autoguns, got rid of his ammo storage and nanoforge. And found a new outlet for the ire that boiled in his cables – music. Loud music. Obnoxious music. Music that thumps with the beats of living hearts and the pulse of growling binary. It will be his voice, aided by his message, and he will teach all kin and folk of his way. To drop the shackles of rulers, kings and masters. To realize their own power, to raise against the oppression of the privileged. To find new purpose that should, in his view, be universal – the pursue of absolute freedom. For only then, when all are free, the real work can begin and real change can be imprinted around the world. And so, he and his clamor stalks the streets of Wharf Town, waking people up, earning lots of cussin’ and a throng of urchins always eager for some free entertainment.