UnitP0N13

Heh, take your time, Scouty, we aren't going anywhere anytime soon. Though I do hope your Internet connection gets better.

((So my sudden attack in my previous post will be done after negotiations go belly up? Just wondering. I know it was pretty sudden, but I was pretty much gunnin' for him during the time at the farmhouse and now that we know he really was behind all of this, Malik, and I as well, want to fill him dead with lead. ))

Malik stood up. He trotted slowly out halfway between his own group and Beanie and stopped, watching the crowd around him.

He spoke.

"To those who have sided with Beanie, and to Beanie, you unfathomable, unreasonable, stupid, fucking, prick..." He stomped his hooves into the ground, gears whirring as his legs seemingly locked into place.

"...you have all killed a loving father, the father of a filly and the husband of a very kind mare. An unforgiveable act."

Hissing, clanking, whirring. A minigun rose from his back, slowly speeding up to fire, aimed directly at Beanie.

"This will be your grave."

Malik's minigun let loose a deafening roar as bullets tore the air to shreds and sought to eviscerate Beanie Toe.

((And on that happy note, how will our skills come into play? That is, what are the mechanics they will drive or be driven by?))

Malik waves Alizarin and Raptor over. "You two, what have you found out so far?" The robot inquired, pacing about the room as he mulled over his thoughts.

Malik hoped he was right, because most of what he was about to hear he assumed had already figured, should that be the case, he would charge out of this room and after Beanie...perhaps. He wanted to at least, bit it'd be too risky.

Malik made an electronic whistle, rallying the rest of the group to the farmhouse and probably catching Premier's attention (oh boy).

"Well, I can tell you this. If Tempo didn't tell him what had actually happened, the only way he could have know about it is if he committed the crime himself...or he was an accomplice, which would be a more likely reason for Ruby to believe that the whole of the Rangers was to blame."

He thought a bit more...

"...and accomplices have 'friends'. Potbelly, do you know of anyone close to Beanie?"

Keep it separate. More players in one thread will only serve to slow us down. I mean, it's taken us quite a while just to get to this point, double the players and it'll take a week just to get everyone moved out of the farmhouse.

Me and my dad are planning on building a Linux Box, totes Ubuntu, for Steam. Viruses, lag? What are those? Though I'm going to be swamped this summer, better start making some headway into it.

As soon as we hit the combat phase, things should start to pick up quite a bit. Hopefully. The taste of battle should keep everyone compelled to power through the next few story bits in anticipation for the next battle. Or not, honestly, it's taken a while in the other FO:E I'm in.

Scout's in charge at the moment. But I think you're still welcome to post the app for your pony for approval.

1. As they walked in, he saw the back room with the coat that mare he ran over was now wearing. Meaning she was probably in the room awaiting some sort of meeting with Potbelly.

2. Potbelly was not actually concerned with the food than he probably was with the 'meeting'. Judging by the fact that he went through the kitchen, it was clear he meant to keep us thinking that he was stuffing his face and otherwise keep the meeting a secret, otherwise he would have said he needed to talk to the mare in the first place and would've been done with it.

3. Perhaps the most unsettling, Beanie Toe was the only one he knew for sure went outside, and since Silver had noticed somepony spying on them and they both found hoofprints by the window...

"Actually, if there's anyone I'm suspicious of, it's you...Beanie Toe," Malik began to circle around the Ranger, carefully scanning the Ranger's hooves out of the corner of his eyes (good thing he has no pupils). Potbelly's interrogation would have to come later. "What exactly were you doing outside? I certainly hope you weren't the one spying on us, were you?"

((Perception Roll to cross-reference his hooves with the size of the hoofprints outside, or an unusual amount of dust-buildup around the legs and hooves: 25))

Malik looks to Beanie Toe, then the partially/mostly destroyed wall and furniture. "S'pose you'd like wrestle me for the off button then, like I wrestled that?" He points to the said wall. "Cuz you might lose a spine." The bot practically growled electronically.

"Aside from that, one of my comrades thought we were being spied on. I followed the tracks to the door and I heard voices inside-...hey wait a minute." Malik just thought of something extremely crucial, looking to Pot Belly.

"You went into the the kitchen. Not outside.

(Intelligence Roll= 42...The answer to life, the universe, and everything.)

At this rate, I'm just ready to hang up the old Xbox towel. Too many CoD's and stupid add-ons, we didn't really even get to see the actual thing in action, live. I'm not terribly impressed. I guess I'll be pre-ordering Borderlands 3 for the PC.

Malik would have no hope of sneaking up to the window without alerting anypony inside the house: his armor plating was too loud. Instead, he decided to try a more direct approach, maybe teach a few ponies that a flimsy door won't mean a damn thing when you've got a Pegatron knocking at your door. Hopefully, this will also intimidate them into not making any sudden moves or making a run for it.

He stepped back a little, winding up for his ambush, and leapt at the door with all of his strength.

(Strength Roll to bust down the door: 44)

*hugs the Rainbow Dash* Eeeeeee, so soft!~ >u<

"Perhaps I can be of service then! I'll help look for a trail!" Malik declared in his usual sing-song voice, immediately eye the ground, practically scraping his eyes into the ground.

A good portion of scrapes and dust has collected on his eyes over the years, clouding his vision somewhat, but his eyesight was still decent. He really should get them replaced, though. However, he hasn't heard about any Pegatron mechanics out there in the Wasteland, or any unbroken TV sets, so any chance of replacements would be slim. Nonetheless, he searched for the eavesdropper's tracks.

(Perception roll to assist: 27)

I'm thinking about starting up a fanfic about the recent Amnesia game coming out. Most likely, I'll be following the plot of the game in a relatively canon fashion while taking a few, but necessary dives to explain a few things via memories. But for now, I'll just give everyone a quick preview.

***

Two men stood in a room only lit only by shadows, the air filled with the scent of burning wax. The first man took a seat in a fine leather chair, staring back down at the plans of this great 'machine' that the second man had spoken of, "capable of curing starvation for England" as he put it.

The first made a sigh.

"I admire your vision, Mandus, I truly do! But surely there are not enough pigs in the whole of London to feed the appetite of such a machine!"

The second man pushed his glasses up to the bridge of his nose again.

"That all rather depends, professor..." the second man known as Mandus pulled a rusted cage out from under the furniture, grinning a little, though his grin could not be seen in the light of such darkness.

A cage that contained a frightened, shivering filly, covered in bruises and clearly malnourished.

"...on what one considers to be a pig."

Um...can this robopony get a big hug from you? ^///^

Malik sighed. He hated it when he was right. Well, sometimes. Other than the times he wished he wasn't right, he was pretty stoked about being right 90.5% of the time. Er, that is, he would be if he wasn't fed up with the Rangers by now. Malik has stumbled upon better chapels before, where the only real fault was the Rangers being a bit too overprotective of their citizens and smothering everything in safety procedures.

His frustration, however, was replaced by curiosity as Silver Heart stepped out of the barn. What was she doing out there? Weren't they going to (gently) interrogate the Rangers? Malik slowly followed behind, wondering if maybe she felt sick and needed some fresh air.

"What 'chya doin'?" The inquisitive bot asked after a few moments of silence.

"Yes, actually. Do you know the whereabouts of a place called Haven?" Malik inquired.

The Steel Rangers are spread out far and wide, so the robot figured they may have picked up on a rumor or two. It was worth checking, even though he had a sneaking suspicion that Potbelly probably knew less then the rest of us here. And by the way he's been eyeing the kitchen...he probably cared less, too. Seriously, how can one even be that fat out in the Wasteland? Either you're well-fed and dying from radiation poisoning from the food, or starving to death.

Kept to himself for the most part. He really did not want to part with his harddrive with people he found...somewhat distasteful. One thing that was starting  to bother him was how most of the people they came across only seemed to notice Silver's Pipbuck, as if that was the only thing about her worth mentioning.

Malik looked towards Silver, wondering how people managed to overlook her prettiness. Then he looked away after a few moments when he realized he was staring, his eyes turning a bit pink from embarrassment.

He turned his attention back to the conversation at hand.

"Well, I can't actually part with mine since it's built into me, but thankfully I'm not hell-bent and pissing everyone off today. So it won't be a problem." The robot shot a stern look (or so it seemed) towards Beanie Toe to emphasize his point before walking through and following Beanie grudgingly.

While, yes, this would have been a pretty awesome, yet reasonable lie, it really was the truth. Malik's minigun has been with him ever since he booted up, and he's found no way of detaching it from his weapon's system due to the fact that he can't reach around his back and dismantle it (since it's actually inside his back). And he trusted /no one/ with task if tinkering around inside of him, so they were just going to have to put up with him. Either way, he was going to get the information he needed, even if he had to stare down the barrels of the Rangers.

It wasn't the first time, and it probably wasn't going to be the last.

Malik immediately assumed an voice of authority. He was damn well not about to waste time watching the two go at each other's throats.

"Lock it down, both of you," He appeared to leer at the both of them with his television-glass eyes. "Right now, we need to focus on finding the killer, and I'm not going to wait around just so you two can compare dicks all day long. If we're going to be let in, all of us are going to be in and we're all going to be nice to each other, and I'm going to tell you why. I am around three hundred pounds of steel and gun with little patience for your childishness, and if I have to stand here for another fifteen seconds while you threaten one another, I am going to be considerably less tolerant of it."

The whisper of his vents as they quietly circulated the air for his systems turned into to a dull roar as his frustration grew. He barely realized how much the ground had cracked where his hooves were from exerting so much force and weight onto it. Quite frankly, he didn't care. There was a filly with one less parent and only one friend to console her. He was not letting the killer get away over something as stupid as this.

This video changed my views a little. I kinda have to agree with a lot of what they say: Faith is not illogical, merely the people who chose to ignore everything else for it.

Honestly, I can't help but wonder what life would be like religious faith wasn't so flammable or preachy against other faiths, but rather just a means of making each other more connected, more motivated to do good and to help our neighbors. No bibles or any of that stuff. Just a small, little belief that somewhere out there, a powerful being is watching over us. The reason religious fervor and unreason still exists is because there is no moderation.

For a visual example, picture this: You have a bathtub. Say you want to take a light bath today, but you want it as quickly as possible and jerk the faucet head off to the side. Egads! Disaster has struck, and you are left with one less faucet head with a tub that is quickly filling up with really hot water! As you quickly go to get up, the water splatters your leg, you jump up in pain, land, slip, fall, hit your head on floor of the bathtub and are slowly boiled in your own bathtub, which has now begun to flood,

Bummer. But I believe that the quote "Too much of a good thing can be bad" goes perfectly with this. With out any religious restraint on part of preachers and worshipers, fervor begins to arise along with the need to isolate ourselves from any religion that does not agree with out own. In this scenario, the faucet head is the restraint, and the water is our religious faith. 'You', are...well, pretty much any religious minority with a chance of being slaughtered due to religious fervor (or too much of it, to be specific). It's okay to like warm water, but at some point, you've got to stop raising the heat or it'll get out of hand and someone will get hurt.

I have serious question for all of you, if christianity was proven to be correct, would you be a christian?

(theres a study about morality that i recently got into)

Absolutely not. I will not bow to a god that killed his own angels because they weren't perfect, tried to drown us because we are not perfect, and will not even humble himself to get off his plot, come downstairs, and talk with us every so often like normal joe's. Even then I'm not going to worship someone just because they tell me to. And the only people I have to repent to are the people I wronged.

"This job will go much faster if you don't call me 'it'. I'm a colt, even if I am a robot." He let out an electronic huff before turning around and heading for the barn.

Honestly, it's like people don't even don't even listen to his voice or even look at him. Then again, he is kinda featureless. But it made him mad whenever people called him 'it' just because he isn't made of those disgusting meat bags called organs, or flesh, or keratin.

He has feelings too.