old man mcgucket, local kook (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
gobblewonked) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
silph_co2018-02-02 09:33 am
gobblewonked) wrote in silph_co2018-02-02 09:33 am
Open!
Who: Fiddleford McGucket, a giant robot, and you -- if you're in Team Rocket, that is.
Where: A large workroom deep underground in the Goldenrod base
When: February 1st-February 13!
Summary: The wages of sin is an improved workspace. The Rocket higher-ups have given McGucket an official directive to build them more robots and the tools and materials to do it. Come see this dirty toothless shoeless genius at work! He's always delighted to have company.
Rating: PG, probably? Is Gravity Falls really ever PG?
McGucket's never had a lab like this.
He's used to piecing his creations together with whatever's available. Even the Gideonbot, with Li'l Gideon's Tent of Telepathy profits backing him, had been made out in the open, and more parts had been scrounged from the junkyard than Li'l Gideon knew.
This is -- this is cavernous. Part warehouse, part lab, part garage, and full of tools the likes of which McGucket's never seen. He's been told in no in certain terms that if there's anything else he needs, all he has to do is ask, and Team Rocket will acquire it.
He picks up a blowtorch. He's a simple man of simple needs.
Anyone wandering around the lower levels of the base will hear loud hammering, the shriek of metal, the grinding of colossal gears, and banjo music. Follow it to the source, and you will find an open door leading to a huge underground room, riddled with cables and catwalks and hydraulic lifts. On the far end of the room, suspended and colossal, is the slowly-growing frame of a metal sea-beast. If you look closely and you're a good guesser, you might recognize the silhouette of a Tentacruel.
If you look even closer, you'll see a spindly man clinging to its underside, his welding mask lit up by the blowtorch in his hands. Come close enough, and he'll notice you, switching the tool off and lifting the mask up off his face with a facesplitting grin.
"Gyeh heh! Been workin' on this robutt so long I almost didn't see I had a visitor! Just a sec."
And, unless you stop him, McGucket shimmies down one of the long cables that dangle from the Tentacruel's frame. If you haven't met him before, brace yourself: he is very old, very smelly, and very friendly.
[OOC note: prose and action are both fine!]
Where: A large workroom deep underground in the Goldenrod base
When: February 1st-February 13!
Summary: The wages of sin is an improved workspace. The Rocket higher-ups have given McGucket an official directive to build them more robots and the tools and materials to do it. Come see this dirty toothless shoeless genius at work! He's always delighted to have company.
Rating: PG, probably? Is Gravity Falls really ever PG?
McGucket's never had a lab like this.
He's used to piecing his creations together with whatever's available. Even the Gideonbot, with Li'l Gideon's Tent of Telepathy profits backing him, had been made out in the open, and more parts had been scrounged from the junkyard than Li'l Gideon knew.
This is -- this is cavernous. Part warehouse, part lab, part garage, and full of tools the likes of which McGucket's never seen. He's been told in no in certain terms that if there's anything else he needs, all he has to do is ask, and Team Rocket will acquire it.
He picks up a blowtorch. He's a simple man of simple needs.
Anyone wandering around the lower levels of the base will hear loud hammering, the shriek of metal, the grinding of colossal gears, and banjo music. Follow it to the source, and you will find an open door leading to a huge underground room, riddled with cables and catwalks and hydraulic lifts. On the far end of the room, suspended and colossal, is the slowly-growing frame of a metal sea-beast. If you look closely and you're a good guesser, you might recognize the silhouette of a Tentacruel.
If you look even closer, you'll see a spindly man clinging to its underside, his welding mask lit up by the blowtorch in his hands. Come close enough, and he'll notice you, switching the tool off and lifting the mask up off his face with a facesplitting grin.
"Gyeh heh! Been workin' on this robutt so long I almost didn't see I had a visitor! Just a sec."
And, unless you stop him, McGucket shimmies down one of the long cables that dangle from the Tentacruel's frame. If you haven't met him before, brace yourself: he is very old, very smelly, and very friendly.
[OOC note: prose and action are both fine!]
If only Yurio could see THIS one.
Fushimi found the Rocket Base itself to be devoid of anything interesting. At least, on the surface, it was people milling about between the so called 'training'. The training was easy enough. And the devices here were simplistic. Fushimi was able to crack the gear programming early on. What he would do with it was yet to be seen.
Today though he was interested in the distant noise. Beside him was Misaki the Scraggy, one of the creatures he was expected to take on. It was, most, unfortunately, quite like a different Misaki...
The cavern was found to be the source of the noise and what a glorious find it was. A mechanical marvel of engineering that someone was clearly putting thought and effort into and Fushimi decided it was the most interesting thing he'd seen so far.
Misaki was chattering and pointing at his side and he reaches down to push it's head away as he heads down to the ground floor. This was fascinating. He could hear someone working on it too. He desperately wanted to see who it was and when he did, well..
Well. .. He.. This is not what he expected. An old man, maybe. Skilled engineers were often older. The friendliness.? Okay. The smell. The look. The everything else...?
"You're the one building this."
Misaki pulls his skin up over his nose, scowling at McGucket. What the hell, man, take a shower!!
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The old man's energy is manic, wild, twitchy. He's clearly eccentric at best and out of his mind at worst. He doesn't seem to take offense at the Misaki's disgust; either he's used to it, or he doesn't notice.
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Misaki was just.. appalled. He motions with his other hand, staring up at Fushimi. Let's go!! It's not worth--
Fushimi planted his hand on the Scraggy's face to push him aside. This was still too interesting to walk away.
"Fushimi. Is this piloted by a person or is it computerized?"
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"Ain't no remote-controllin' this 'bot! She's got a cockpit right up there in the middle!" He points to a compartment right above a cavernous space at the center of the tentacles. "This machine runs on pure man-power!" McGucket crows. "...and radioactive nuclear waste!" he adds, as an afterthought.
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"It would be safer." A flat tone, but clearly this person didn't care about that part.
"Why nuclear waste? There are Pokemon here that could provide electrical power to store, or you could utilize solar power."
His hands were tucked behind his back as he walks around the machine. He wasn't against radioactive waste, it just seemed.. needlessly dangerous.
"Considering there are Pokemon that can condense solar power into a beam it could be quite easy to refill power reserves rather than having to gather hazerdous materials."
Just like one of my troll animes...
It's at least proven a bit more entertaining than he originally assumed! However, there's not quite enough flashiness to it, and it seems a lot like lower class thieving, than the far more glorious pillaging and plundering he did back on Alternia—where everyone knew him and feared him, as they should! Ah~ the good times.
One can't say it's all too surprising that nostalgia of the good ol' glory days blinds Eridan completely as he stumbles, trips, and falls rather unceremoniously on his face in the lab. It's a miracle his glasses aren't broken, honestly. If you think you heard a humiliating squawk as he met his fate with the hard floor... well, you heard correctly.
Cursing as he rolls over onto his backside to see what DARED to trip him, he stops before he can even mutter a curse to gawk at the impressive looking shape of a robot he somehow missed moments ago while wearing his glasses. Looking side to side, he grabs the pair that clattered away from him during his fall, and putting them on. His jaw hangs open in stunned silence as he continues to sit on the floor, leaning on his hands and arms to support his sitting position, while his legs are sprawled out in front of him.
With notable awe:]
Holy fuck... why the bloody shit didn't they tell me about these fuckin' deathmachines?
[Of course, he doesn't even register that McGucket probably isn't too far off from him...]
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[McGucket ambles into Eridan’s field of vision, grinning. He crouches down and extends a filthy, bandaged hand.]
Here! Let me help you!
[His hand is really dirty. Luckily, a lot of it is grease and oil right now…? But he smells.]
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“A Poke-powered robomajig,” he murmurs, wide-eyed. “Sweet sasparilla, that—that just might work!” One of his knees begins to bounce; he gives it a hearty slap, which subdues it. “Aw, Fiddleford, you’re getting predictable in your old age! You’re forgettin’ how to think outside the box! I gotta change up this robomajig! Give it some power cells!” He waves a hand. “I’ll save the radioactive stuff for its auxiliary system. With a flyin’ robomajig, you always want to have a backup! Don’t want that sucker running out of power on you! Heeheehee!” He slaps his leg again, this time in mirth.
Congratulations, Fushimi, you’ve changed his life.
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The Scraggy groans and reaches into his loose skin to draw out the notepad. Fushimi takes it to jot down a few notes as he continues to survey the machine.
"Will this machine be made to go below the surface of water as well?" Considering the Pokemon choice...
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[Sure, this guy is clearly out of his pan, but if he has this kind of talent...]
Don't worry about it, I can help myself.
[He swats McGucket's hand away before rising to his feet, dusting himself off. McGucket may have the cred to make deathmachines, but he doesn't have the right to touch Eridan with his greasy mits. Hell no.]
So—when are these things gonna be up and runnin'?
[he says with the barely restrained excitement of a child asking when he can open his presents on Christmas day.]
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"What are you using to protect the power cells? There are enough natural resources in this world you could utilize."
It really was a fascinating piece of machinery, well made as it was already.
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He leans in, shielding his mouth with his hand, and whispers loudly: "The secret ingredient is apricorns!"
For a secret ingredient, that sure is a noisy whisper -- and he sure is willing to tell people about it.
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I guess it's cause they didn't think an old feller like me could build a giant doombot! I know I ain't exactly a spring chicken, but that don't mean my roboconstructifyin' days are already over!
[Brightly, as he passes on this helpful advice:]
The secret is to keep in practice!
[McGucket gestures to the skeletal Tentacruel.]
I fig're this one's gonna be ready for some test drivin' come Marchtember!
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"Have you tested it in water yet? Do you know how much pressure it can handle?"
He wondered if this thing even had gauges. Sometimes common sense things fell to the wayside of.. ... genius.
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Test driwin'? I'm interested.
[Hell yes, he never really got to mess with the deathmachines back home... but here? Hell yes.
Except there was one thing...]
Wait—what the fuck is a Marchtember?
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[Why did he think that was going to answer a single thing? Asking this old coot anything was about as productive as asking a yellow blood who gorged themselves on mindhoney.]
I don't know the names of your human perigees anyways, so whatewer. What's important is that you keep me updated on this shit. Usin' these sorts of machines are in my royal and kickass blood, and to keep me out of the loop is a grawe insult.
[PLEASE LET HIM USE THIS MACHINE, PLEASE OH PLEASE OH PLEASE!!]
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