SteamNES

[germanicus12]

Octavian groaned when he heard a knock on his door, he had just started on another robot and did not like interruptions. He put down what appeared to be a leg and opened the door. Julius stood there letting out small puffs of steam from various locations, "Someone at door." Octavian was glad he put in a small vocabulary in his throat, if his eyes see a person outside, his voice box says, 'Someone at door.' Octavian followed Julius out of the small hallway into a big room where Octavian told Julius to stay.

Once at the door Octavian could see a man wearing an official uniform of the Pjolaka Police Department.
"Hello Detective, please come in. I apologise for the mess I have been working on Julius."
"It is no problem, I am just here to inform you that the investigation into your parents death is closed."
"Did you figure out who killed them?" Octavian said with sadness.
"No, there were not enough evidence to determine cause of death, much less who did it. I am extremely sorry, we did our best."
"I am sure you did, and thank you Detective."
"If you have more questions or any problems be sure to give me a call."
"I will, again thank you for your time, I realize that it probably took alot of your time."
The men shook hands and the Detective left.

Octavian sighed, "Finally, they ended the invesigation, I am free to build more robots without the authorities finding out. Julius!" A loud clanking noise could be heard in the other room. Octavian headed back downstairs where his new prototype was under work. Julius was upstairs keeping an eye on things.

 

[das]

The Khuri court defies simple classification; note that this is not meant to dispute the notion that Khur is a typical Oriental despoty, but rather to put forward the question of what, exactly, is an Oriental despoty. Is the court luxurious? decadent? Yes, but there is also place in it for Mahomethan ascetism and wise frugality. Is it backwards and primitive? It most certainly lacks many of the finer points of European civilisation, but its complicated system of ranks and titles and sophisticated ettiquette have been developed since the times when most of Europe was itself dark and barbaric; in its complexity it outmatches anything seen in the civilised world. Is it exotic and isolated? Oh, in a way; but then again, the Shah and the Princes always make sure to acquiantance themselves with all and any news and fads from Europe, and European diplomats are always welcome at the court. The Shah himself collects modern European poetry and philosophy books, and is in a way much more European than most Europeans I have known. Does the court leech off the people? Yes; but it is not at all detached, and every day the lowliest commoners are allowed to meet the Shah himself and state their grievances, and none leave unsatisfied. So, therefore, is the monarchy detached and alienated from the people? It cannot be denied that it is separated by a vast chasm material and spiritual, cultural and economic - but at the same time it is much more popular, in the sense of being close to the people, than the enlightened monarchies of Europe. And is it rife with Romanine intrigue? Well, that much cannot be denied; but from what I have observed so far, this court is much more survivable than that of modern Europe or ancient Magnatae, though this, I suppose, may be a calm before the storm - or, at any rate, after the storm of the last civil war, whether it will be repeated or not.

At any rate, being an European ("Northerner" - al-Shamdli), a well-travelled one, and an inventor at that, I had little trouble attracting the court's attention. Intrigued by the rumours, the Shah, Abbas Shah, invited me to the palace; and after a demonstration of my "Mamluk" prototype (during which, I admit, I was somewhat nervous - though I thought I had shaken off such worries, the austere splendour of the court, not to mention the large numbers of officuous-looking courtiers and guards, had an unnerving effect I hope to imitate one day), the duly-impressed monarch took an even greater interest, and invited me to a private audience on the next day. He asked me of Europe; without disclosing too much about my former life, I told him of some of the things I have read of back at the Academie, and of some of the things I have observed myself. Once more he was intrigued, and from then on I became an advisor; previously I lived in a rich merchant's house, now the Vazir-e Azam, the chief minister, granted me lodgings in one of his palaces. I was allowed to work on my inventions at leisure, and eventually granted the access to both the Shah's extensive library and a considerable workforce at my beck and call. The former, it must be admitted, was mostly for the sake of my own amusement and curiosity (although there were some useful manuscripts there as well); the latter was obviously useful.

My days, thus, settled into a routine of reading, resting, sometimes wandering across the city when the heat was more bearable, and, ofcourse, perfecting my designs, robotic and otherwise. Every now and then the Shah summoned me; I came, ofcourse, and we talked about matters various and diverse, though sometimes he consulted me more specifically about Europe and European matters. In the European matters there was a definite lull, although from what news I was able to gather from the bazaar and the diplomats people with my gift seemed to be increasingly common; a somewhat disconcerting development, but in any case I was keen on waiting things out, both there and at the court, for as long as possible. I knew history well enough to know that it is important not to make the first move in any situation. Plans and ambitions could wait; visions should be kept a secret, a one that is not to be shared even here just yet...

On the other hand: it is very important to not miss the right time and the right opportunity. So it may be good to try and keep myself more appraised of the situation in Europe, and to be more present in the court; I think I understand the basics, but, as said, the court is complex and sophisticated, and I would not want to be pre-empted by it...

And having said that, I definitely should not draw too much attention to myself yet, I should not overstep any bounds... at least, not without some more precautions. Hmm, precautions... [sentence scribbled over] Yes, something of this kind will probably suffice... Or perhaps another pseudonym, identity. Anyway, the court is probably full of hidden schemes, intrigues and alliances that I do not yet know; might want should find some way to learn about these, and then interfere, somehow, to my advantage. Or would that be too rash this early on? Depends on the exact situation, I suppose.

...

Perhaps I should destroy this journal? No, no, it is rambling, nobody would be able to learn anything useful from it. And it is useful to me, I think. Or is it just a waste of time? Everything is a waste of time. No! No matter at all, all is fine, all is going according to plan. Patience. Should probably stop writing until thoughts clear. Right.

 

[Crezth]

If there were one word to describe Ryan Amedeus it would be ambition. Oh, sure, there could be the regular 'brilliant' or 'innovative' which could be applied to anyone of the same scientific persuasion, but it was his defining characteristic. So far, though, his dreams of ambition were hampered by the practical application of society. He had every intention of finding a use for each of his inventions in the modern world, but at the moment his attention was drawn to the idea of "sparks" like a child's eye to a butterfly.

It had been in school wherein he had first given attention to the curious subject. Amidst the relative crowding of the new, liberal, ‘public’ school, he had given a paper to his teacher on why the sun shines. Everyone expected from everyone else a lot of talk about god, but Ryan’s was entirely hypothesis. Save, of course, for one line which ran “I suppose the Almighty may have had a hand in this, but…”

The teacher was appalled, but not being the kind to shirk the honest efforts of stupid students, wished to talk to Ryan about his paper.

Now do not feel sympathy, dear reader, for Ryan, because he didn’t. The hypothesis was in and of itself ridiculous anyway, and the general idea so intangible that it quick became known that his strong point was not in writing. Ryan knew this, and he didn’t care. Frankly he could care less about the sun, too. At that point in time his greatest interest was in something called steam power, which turned up in conversation that day.

The teacher demanded an explanation for the poor report, and why exactly he was so sure that the sun wasn’t just the friction of snapping figures of God’s (the ‘educated’ response – leastways to that backwater tutor). Ryan was pretty much neutral. To be frank, he didn’t care about the sun or why it shined. He cared about much more earthly things, and upon relaying this knowledge, the teacher sighed.

“You know,” he said, “There are other nuts like you who have a jolly good time undermining the work of the rest of us.”

Ryan was startled at the precedent this simple phrase sent. Others? There are others like him? Well, not quite like him, but others… Ryan did not yet have any inkling that he was a spark, and would not have any inkling until after the Ryanbot was built, but the idea stuck with him all through his life to the present day.

When he opened the bar doors and took his usual seat (usual being defined as a different seat every time) at the bar, nobody looked up.

This had become a regular occurrence for him and he had entered the same bar almost every day for the past six months. There was something about the smoky air, the drunken shouts, and the general commotion which created a much more pleasant atmosphere than the dull stuffiness of the library. Instead of earning money to apply to a prestigious university, he decided that higher education was not necessary, and so was self-taught in many subjects. The bar was his new library.

He had brought with him the week’s newspaper and sat down, opening it up.

“What’ll it be, Ryan?” said the bartender.

“Same as usual,” replied Ryan, “An Allemany beer. Whichever’s fine.”

This was not the usual and was something the bartender and everyone had become accustomed to. For Ryan, it was not an issue of habit, but an issue of focus. He didn’t have the time to have a usual in anything, at least as far as he was concerned, and so a quirk was never to do anything the same way twice. He could be pressed into repeating something maybe one time over, but a change was always necessary or he would become hopelessly bored. The bar was an exception because he usually relied on the conversations to spice things up. Despite his intellect, he communicated quite well with all the humdrum thugs and general drunks. He liked to think himself a man of the people.

“You know,” said Ryan, taking a quick swig, “I think I’ve finally found one.”

“Whazzat? One of those ‘sparks?’” responded the bartender with genuine incredulosity.

“It’s really quite curious, a ‘Peter Williams’ located right on the mouth of the Thames,” mumbled Ryan, “I never thought I’d see the day.”

“I know, Peter Williams,” intejected one of the barflies, “That bum owes me money.”

Ryan and the bartender paid him no nevermind.

Ryan’s expression quickly turned sour, however.

“I don’t know about his ambitions, but they can’t be good. The article here is on his pride and joy, the Steamhulk, and mentions ‘other like inventions.’”

“What, you think he’s making weapons of war?”

“Could be. At any rate, the article finishes by referring to stories of other geniuses across the world…” Ryan goes silent.

He’s silent for a good while and the bartender shrugs and goes off to tend the bar, while the barfly, in a typical drunken state (which it should be stated is curious because the time is not yet 11 in the AM), is intently focused on Ryan.

Ryan scratches his chin. “Around the world, eh?” He looks over to the barfly. “Simon, do you want a job?”

 

[flyingchicken]

Dr. Akira Light/flyingchicken

Nationality: Nihojon

Bio: Akira was born into a culturally confused border-town lost and regained long by Nihojon to Rossovy now under Lord Yamamoto Ichiro. There was a local tendency towards imitating northern Rossovy's forward-moving mentality, partly because of the aforementioned neighbor and the ambitions of Lord Yamamoto, and he adopted it since childhood.

He lived a normal, healthy life for the most, learning as an apprentice when he was young and working as a small-time factory wage-earner as a young adult. He had quite a few close friends, and quite a few tragic romances. During his free time, ever since he was young, he would draw or sketch up crazy plans or constructed a few of those crazy and pointless chain-event contraptions (OTL Goldberg machines), usually for self-entertainement.

However, Akira always wanted it "one step up." Why make a small, page-by-page printing machine if you can make one that makes a hundred copies of a book per second, automatically? In fact, his first big break was his "fast book-printer" he invented when he was 24, something which greatly stimulated the town's industry and really pleased Lord Yamamoto.

As he grew older (and richer) he had forged a close relationship with the aging Yamamoto and his son, Seichiro. The young boy was apprenticed to him and the father was a political ally. The lord and the inventor had a shared belief that machines would some day change Nihojon forever.

Now, at the age of 37, he is advisor to the ambitious Lord Seichiro Yamamoto. He has been assigned a sacred duty by his friend and lord: to bring the region to the modern era so that the whole of Nihojon would rise from a backwater society to a true imperial power.

Technology: His current "big project" is a machine that can soften land and harvest and sow rice at a rate no-one has ever before seen. This is his "front project," something he is really working on with his students, for in reality he is developing steam-powered suits of armor to enhance the already considerable skills of the individual Nihojon warrior. The battlesuits would have arm-mounted cannons, movement-enhancing and energy-saving capabilities, and of considerable protective value.

Forces: 4 apprentices ("Akane Toyota, Shojo Keitaro, Taro Meiji and Goemon Meiji")

OOC: Is this valid? Because I wouldn't want to ruin your nice thread with an invalidated story.

 

[Kal'thzar]

William Weir/Kal'thzar
Nationality: Scota
Bio: Born the wealthy son of a former Scota Chief, with the evictions of the clans and the gradual transformations of the Clansman lands into rich Grazing lands, the Weir family became rich and bought a home in the capital. William has lots of space with which to experiment in for his new found love, steam power. William alternatves between the capital of Anglia and his estates.
Technology: Generic, steampowered and armoured walkers, several concept designs have been built.
Forces: 1 Walker

Picture of the walker:

 

[Fuschia]

Jeremy/Fuschia
Colour: Your choice
Location: Capital of the orange state on the southern tip of the Southeastern States
Nationality: Durian
Bio: Although obviously of Durian ancestry, he was raised in the southern-most of the Southeastern states as the adopted son of a famous clockmaker, also named Jeremy.

Jeremy's two natural sons showed an aptitude for making clocks; Jeremy did not. He worked hard, but showed little promise. His clocks were shoddy, always resigned to the scrap-heap when finished. His father continued to allow him to work in the hopes that he might one day learn to become a great clock maker.

Eventually, Jeremy's natural sons left him to establish their own businesses. Jeremy, almost ten years their younger, stayed with his adopted father. Jeremy became obsessed with learning the art of clock making so as to impress his father.

He developed designs for magnetic ball-bearings to replace gears, as this is where is real ineptness lay. He built his clock, and his father helped him to establish his own business, which quickly boomed when he advertised his new "tick-less" clocks.

His obsession ended after his success with clocks, although his greatest passion is still the production of small, mechanical things. Recently, he developed a man-sized flying machine that is capable of flying itself. He calls it the dragonfly, an insect which it closely resembles.

Technology: Generic, with gears almost always replaced by magnetic ball-bearings.
Forces: 1 dragonfly

 

[Kozmos]

Lord Gabriel Blacktyde / Cleric
Color: Blacker than the blackest black. Times infinity. (Failing that, orange is a nice color as well.)
Nationality: Anglia
Bio: Gabriel inherited his lordly title from his father Thomas Blacktyde. His father instilled in him a deep feeling of arrogance and superiority over the common folk, helped perhaps by the gift he passed down to him. The Spark as the peasants would call it. Blacktyde family made it's fortune from mostly naval ventures, various expeditions as well as owning a trading dock and a drydock, which the royal family used many times to order capital ships of superior construction and power. Gabriel visits the drydock often to personally oversee the construction of a new kind of ship, one that is thought to revolutionize naval travel and of course warfare.

The Lords current place of residence is a large mansion of an unusual mechanical architectural design in the countryside, surrounded by three very rural villages. Rumor has it that Gabriel uses the remoteness of the place to preform various gruesome experiments. Indeed, cows and sheep have been found mutilated in the fields, notably with their brains missing. Not to mention just recently a group of children were found dead not far from the mansion, their bodies charred and burned...as if they were exposed to some kind of steam. Only clues are two large footprint, made by something very heavy. The footprints lead back to the mansion, but the peasants dare not to accuse him in fear of incurring his wrath.

Technology: Generic steam robots, application of steam technology on ships.
Forces: 1 steamjack (steamthrower and chainsaw armed), 1 prototype ship (in construction)

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Dr. Akira Light/flyingchicken

Nationality: Nihojon

Bio: Akira was born into a culturally confused border-town lost and regained long by Nihojon to Rossovy now under Lord Yamamoto Ichiro. There was a local tendency towards imitating northern Rossovy's forward-moving mentality, partly because of the aforementioned neighbor and the ambitions of Lord Yamamoto, and he adopted it since childhood.

He lived a normal, healthy life for the most, learning as an apprentice when he was young and working as a small-time factory wage-earner as a young adult. He had quite a few close friends, and quite a few tragic romances. During his free time, ever since he was young, he would draw or sketch up crazy plans or constructed a few of those crazy and pointless chain-event contraptions (OTL Goldberg machines), usually for self-entertainement.

However, Akira always wanted it "one step up." Why make a small, page-by-page printing machine if you can make one that makes a hundred copies of a book per second, automatically? In fact, his first big break was his "fast book-printer" he invented when he was 24, something which greatly stimulated the town's industry and really pleased Lord Yamamoto.

As he grew older (and richer) he had forged a close relationship with the aging Yamamoto and his son, Seichiro. The young boy was apprenticed to him and the father was a political ally. The lord and the inventor had a shared belief that machines would some day change Nihojon forever.

Now, at the age of 37, he is advisor to the ambitious Lord Seichiro Yamamoto. He has been assigned a sacred duty by his friend and lord: to bring the region to the modern era so that the whole of Nihojon would rise from a backwater society to a true imperial power.

Technology: His current "big project" is a machine that can soften land and harvest and sow rice at a rate no-one has ever before seen. This is his "front project," something he is really working on with his students, for in reality he is developing steam-powered suits of armor to enhance the already considerable skills of the individual Nihojon warrior. The battlesuits would have arm-mounted cannons, movement-enhancing and energy-saving capabilities, and of considerable protective value.

Forces: 4 apprentices ("Akane Toyota, Shojo Keitaro, Taro Meiji and Goemon Meiji")

OOC: Is this valid? Because I wouldn't want to ruin your nice thread with an invalidated story.

It's valid. However, forces are the machines made by your character, not your character's followers.

Jeremy/Fuschia
Colour: Your choice
Location: Capital of the orange state on the southern tip of the Southeastern States
Nationality: Durian
Bio: Although obviously of Durian ancestry, he was raised in the southern-most of the Southeastern states as the adopted son of a famous clockmaker, also named Jeremy.

Jeremy's two natural sons showed an aptitude for making clocks; Jeremy did not. He worked hard, but showed little promise. His clocks were shoddy, always resigned to the scrap-heap when finished. His father continued to allow him to work in the hopes that he might one day learn to become a great clock maker.

Eventually, Jeremy's natural sons left him to establish their own businesses. Jeremy, almost ten years their younger, stayed with his adopted father. Jeremy became obsessed with learning the art of clock making so as to impress his father.

He developed designs for magnetic ball-bearings to replace gears, as this is where is real ineptness lay. He built his clock, and his father helped him to establish his own business, which quickly boomed when he advertised his new "tick-less" clocks.

His obsession ended after his success with clocks, although his greatest passion is still the production of small, mechanical things. Recently, he developed a man-sized flying machine that is capable of flying itself. He calls it the dragonfly, an insect which it closely resembles.

Technology: Generic, with gears almost always replaced by magnetic ball-bearings.
Forces: 1 dragonfly

What's Jeremy's last name? And the Dragonfly sounds a bit advanced. It would either have to be a lot smaller, or not able to fly properly.

Great stories everyone, and welcome!

 

[TerrisH]

Cid Hibiki/TerrisH
Nationality: Medland
Bio: Cid is the third son of the rich, but not very powerful Hibiki family. Like the other sons, he is quite a merchant, but recently, he has begun to seek more exotic interest. as the youngest of the sons, he is not likely to inherit anything from his father, when he passes away, other then a small fortune. as a result, he has begun to seek a means to build his own fortune, and strike out on his own.
Now, has he has purchased his first, small trading ship, new, interesting Ideas have begun to travel through his head. ways to expand his fledgling shipping industry into places no shipping industry has gone before.
Technology: 'ships'
Forces: 1-small prototype (under construction)

 

[LittleBoots]

Are the religions the same as IRL, Iggy? I was kinda hoping not...

 

[Lord_Iggy]

I was planning to be vague on matters of religion. I would say that religions are to real-world religions as countries are to real-world countries.

 

[e350tb]

The improved Steamhulk slowly moved across the field, fitted with the collossal 'Mega-Gun.' Williams watched anxciously as it reaced the target. It was a small carriage, to be pulled by horses, that had been sold to him at a generous price.

"Load the gun!" Williams yelled.

There was the sound of load clanging as the crew lodged dynamite into the gun.

"Aim!"

The turret moved towards the carriage.

"And...FIRE!"

One second, the carriage was intact, then there was a collossal blast, and then...no more. A burnt crater of grass and splinter was all that remained.

"How would tha' have lasted agains'...say...another Steamhulk?" Bob asked.

"Barely have made a dent, unless one aimed at the turret," Williams replied grimly, "That is the Steamhulk's weakspot. I am hoping on using different metals, expirimenting."

The giant machine was rolled into the flatbed truck, ready to be taken home. Williams got into his private coach, the engine (an 8ft Single) whistled, and the train was on its way.

"Oh, and by the way sir," Bob said, handing Williams an envelope, "This came from a bloke named Ryan Amedeus."

Williams studied it.

"Inquring on the Steamhulk, eh? Invite him over, Bob, we'll show him the machine in it's paces..."

 

[Lord_Iggy]

Do you mean flatbed railcar by 'flatbed truck'?

 

[Nuka-sama]

"Have you finished the preperations Raul?"

"Yes Father, the experiments are right here", gesturing to ten cages.

"Very good, prepare that one for the conversion."

He had pointed to a strong young man in his early twenty's. At this a woman, presumably his wife, screamed.

"Raul, kill the woman"

In a second, Raul's arm turned into a musket, and in three seconds later, there were 9 bodies left

Leonardo looked at his victim. These nine were a part of the Yuwish community in a small village. They had refused to convert, so Leonardo decided they could be used for something else. With a little bit of knock out gas, he began turning the young man into a robot like Raul.

After ten or so hours, Leonardo was exhausted. However, it had been well worth it. He had ten Inquisitors before him; Robots, that showed no mercy in the death of infidels. He was ready, with his small army, he could do anything, take over a state of Sitala and make it into his own Theocratic paradise, return to Espana to kill the man who had taken his place, or more. However, those would have to wait. He was going to the mountains of Rabbiya, to convert those to the true faith, or to experiment on them, either way making the world a better place.

“Father” said one of his new Inquisitors

“Yes?”

“How are we going to Rabbiya to convert the heathens?”

Leonardo smiled. This was the time to unveil his newest invention.

“Raul, do you remember when you modified the weapon that is now all of your arms?”

At this, several of the robots looked at their arms, making crossbows, muskets, and swords.

“Yes Father”

“Well, when you were playing with your toy, I was busy with an invention of my own”

The eleven of them walked outside where they saw a huge Airship, a huge balloon with four engines, and an enclosed basket to hold people.

“This can hold up to fifteen people, so we are alright. Raul, take the essentials and then destroy the lab. We are off to Rabiyya”

 

[das]

a) I see that sparks are congregating in Anglia. It's going to get messy, I think.
b) Iggy - I assume that it will be possible for us to build up our forces at a reasonably quick pace, right?

 

[Luckymoose]

I would like everyone to know that nothing can stop me. Except a giant mechanical ice breathing dog.

 

[das]

In this game, your usual comments are actually appropriate. It's a miracle!

 

[Luckymoose]

In this game, your usual comments are actually appropriate. It's a miracle!

I don't know if I should take that as a compliment or a personal attack.

 

[das]

Take it as a slightly offensive personal compliment. Nah, it really does fit in well with the mad scientist theme.

 

[Lord_Iggy]

a) I see that sparks are congregating in Anglia. It's going to get messy, I think.
b) Iggy - I assume that it will be possible for us to build up our forces at a reasonably quick pace, right?

It depends on your means. People with limited resources cannot build things nearly as quickly as those with the means.