diff --git a/content/Lore/- Stories -/- Scene Index -.md b/content/Lore/- Stories -/- Scene Index -.md index e0c518d..b50bb67 100644 --- a/content/Lore/- Stories -/- Scene Index -.md +++ b/content/Lore/- Stories -/- Scene Index -.md @@ -18,6 +18,8 @@ The Andromeda Incident [[Scene 5 - Gone Dark|Gone Dark]] +[[Scene 6 - Reboot|Reboot]] + # Chapter 2: Lost and Found ##### Start Dr. Isaac Grant @@ -32,7 +34,7 @@ Rustybot ramping up production, The Swarm playing damage control The Swarm leaves Earth to find Rustybot personally ##### Scenes -[[Scene 1 - Primitive|Primitive]] +[[Scene 1 - Ground Zero|Primitive]] [[Scene 2 - Pilot's License|Pilot's License]] diff --git a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 4 - A Galaxy Far, Far Away.md b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 4 - A Galaxy Far, Far Away.md index 4fbfd61..5b5c9e0 100644 --- a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 4 - A Galaxy Far, Far Away.md +++ b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 4 - A Galaxy Far, Far Away.md @@ -9,7 +9,7 @@ **Flow Intergalactic IQT Departure Station, Lunar Orbit, Sol, Milky Way** -**June 14th, 2170** +**November 14th, 2170** "It'll be fine, Mom. I'll have my marbles," I tell her with a soft smirk. @@ -17,7 +17,7 @@ She laughs and wipes the tears from her eyes, "I know... I'm going to worry anyw "I know," I relent, and go in for one last hug before the big event. -We stayed like that for probably a solid minute before Clyde clears his throat, "You're up, Dr. Tsur." +Clyde clears his throat, "You're up, Dr. Tsur." "Which one?" Mom and I reply simultaneously. @@ -33,7 +33,7 @@ I take the digital equivalent of a deep breath, then step into the view of the c I approach the dormant drone and begin my speech, “This journey represents the breaking of a barrier the likes of which have never been seen before. Andromeda is a distant place, so far removed from reality in our minds that even now I speak of it as if it were a single location. The truth is that it encompasses a galactic environment even more expansive than our own. One with more stars, more worlds, and more possibilities than we can conceive. My arrival will be a show of humanity’s ability to explore untold new reaches of our universe.” -“It has been said that we do things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. I say, why allow them to be hard at all? In the blink of an eye, I will find myself amidst new horizons that were thought to be out of reach for centuries to come. I do it not because it is hard, but because it used to be, and through effort, spirit, and ingenuity, we *made* it easy. Thank you.” +“It has been said that we do things not because they are easy, but because they are hard. I say, why allow them to be hard at all? With the press of a button, I will find myself amidst new horizons that were thought to be out of reach for centuries to come. I do it not because it is hard, but because it used to be, and through effort, spirit, and ingenuity, we *made* it easy. Thank you.” Silently grateful I didn’t flub up any lines, I sit in the chair to the light applause of the scientists present. One of them steps up beside me and reaches towards my primary drive port, which I unlock and allow to open. I lean back, falling into sensory deprivation as he removes the part of me that I inhabit. @@ -43,7 +43,7 @@ I never like this part. It’s a fundamental requirement of being a digital mind ... -Oh, here we go. I feel the new connection. That was, what, 2 minutes of subjective time? Probably took about 25 actual seconds for him to transfer my drive then. That wasn't so bad. +Oh, here we go. I feel the new connection. That was, what, half a minute? Not so bad. - @@ -55,7 +55,10 @@ I raise my hands and visually inspect my new palms, taking in the intricacies of Once again turning to the camera and waving, I drift towards the transfer chamber. By now there will be a narration of the process on the feed so I don’t need to say anything. All I have to do is focus on the task at hand. -First: the transfer chamber needs a load to send to its destination. That’s me. Second: the chamber seals itself and depressurises. Sending air with me that will immediately dissipate into the vacuum of space would be a massive waste of energy. Third: both myself and the team double triple check the calibration of the target point to make sure I don’t end up inside the planet we want me in orbit around, or that I’m not left in interstellar space a galaxy away without even a warp drive. Fourth: I smile for the camera, I give a salute to the team, and I wave to my mom through two layers of glass. +First: the transfer chamber needs a load to send to its destination. That’s me. +Second: the chamber seals itself and depressurizes. Sending air with me that will immediately dissipate into the vacuum of space would be a massive waste of energy. +Third: both myself and the team double triple check the calibration of the target point to make sure I don’t end up inside the planet we want me in orbit around, or that I’m not left in interstellar space a galaxy away without even a warp drive. +Fourth: I smile for the camera, I give a salute to the team, and I wave to my mom through two layers of glass. Fifth: I disappear. @@ -63,7 +66,7 @@ Fifth: I disappear. **Toby Tsur** -**Primary Drive, Unknown** +**Consciousness Drive, Unknown** **Unknown** @@ -73,9 +76,9 @@ Sixth: I... Arrive?  Where’s my sensory input? If everything went right, I should be able to see Quindlet right now. -Running diagnostics, it seems there’s a protocol in place keeping my primary drive from interfacing with my body. At least, that’s my best guess. Not two seconds ago I was fully connected and now I can’t feel anything. Obviously, this makes no sense. That type of system is highly illegal if put in place on purpose, and no one would be stupid enough to make one by accident... Right? +I attempt to run diagnostics, but I'm met with nothing. Not even a "failed" notification, just nothing. It's like my drive isn't even hooked up to anything. Not two seconds ago I was fully connected and now I can’t feel anything. This makes no sense. I've heard of remote disconnects but that type of system is obviously highly illegal if put in place on purpose, and no one would be stupid enough to make one by accident. -No, of course not. Everyone with access to the development of this unit has spent years proving their vigilance. Maybe the jump jostled me hard enough to destroy my drone and only my drive remains. Implausible, but possible. +Everyone with access to the development of this program has spent years working towards the same goal. Maybe the jump jostled me hard enough to destroy my drone and only my drive remains. Implausible, but possible. I guess... I wait for rescue? Also implausible. Perhaps even more so. @@ -85,4 +88,28 @@ Ok. So I can’t move, see, communicate, or modify my situation in any way. I ca ... -Uh oh. \ No newline at end of file +Uh oh. + +--- + +**Annette Reede** + +**Flow Intergalactic IQT Departure Station, Lunar orbit, Sol, Milky Way** + +**November 14th, 2170** + +I continue to stare at the large screen on the wall. + +*PING* +*WAITING FOR PONG...* +*time elapsed: 307496ms* + +The dozen or so engineers and researchers in the room are trapped in a frantic limbo, pretending there's anything they can do to get more information as the number keeps climbing. None of them want to voice the concern we all have out of fear of taking the blame. + +My assistant breaks the strained silence by directing her attention to the nearest labcoat and voices what we've all been thinking, “It’s been 5 minutes... Where's the return signal?” + +The man hastily replies “Running diagnostics maybe? This is completely uncharted territory, he might have taken a reading that’s keeping him occupied for a moment. I-I'm not sure why it would be taking so long though.” + +The room's attention is on us now, the other technicians less worried about taking the fall with our focus on this guy. I take a moment to quell my own internal panic before I make a plan, "If we don't hear anything back after an hour, I'll do a piece to camera." + +I walk out of the room with my assistant in tow while trying to project an image of more confidence than I currently have. *Someone* screwed up today and I'm going to find out who. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 5 - Gone Dark.md b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 5 - Gone Dark.md index 73c5a3e..4e717e8 100644 --- a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 5 - Gone Dark.md +++ b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 5 - Gone Dark.md @@ -2,127 +2,45 @@ [[Scene 4 - A Galaxy Far, Far Away|Previous]] -[[Scene 1 - Primitive|Next]] +[[Scene 5 - Gone Dark|Next]] --- -**Annette Reede** +**Toby Tsur** -**Flow Intergalactic IQT Departure Station, Lunar orbit, Sol, Milky Way** +**Consciousness Drive, Unknown** -**June 14th, 2170** +**Unknown** -I continue to stare at the screen, waiting for a response. +I don't know how long it's been. -My colleague breaks the silence, “It’s been 5 minutes... Why hasn’t he said anything back?” +I don't even have access to my internal clock. I'm shut out of everything. This goes beyond even being trapped in my own body, I'm trapped in my *mind*. -“Running diagnostics maybe? This is completely uncharted territory, maybe he got a reading that’s keeping him occupied for a moment.” +Why would anyone have done this? We have checks in place. There are errors that are supposed to be thrown, warnings to acknowledge, protocols to be trained on. The only way this could have happened is by a malicious actor. -I notice a sudden movement out of the corner of my eye an instant before the intercom comes on. It's +But... again... Why? What did I do? This whole thing, Project Intergalactic, the Homesteader, the Rustybot chassis, it's all for humanity's progression. What reason is there to halt that? ---- - -**Rustybot** - -**Quindlet orbit, Quindol, Andromeda** - -**Unknown. Definitely been a while though.** - -I... I’m back. I’m... real. - -My visual feed starts up first, and I’m met with the most beautiful sight I’ve ever witnessed, and not just because it’s the first thing I’ve seen in months. - -A low-orbit view of a landmass covered in green surrounded by the blue of a liquid water ocean. It’s just like we predicted... Another planet with life. - -I get it now. Everything I need to start over is right here. They must have wanted me to stay home, to keep developing technology for them so they wouldn't have to. That's the only explanation that makes sense. Why else would they use such drastic measures to prevent me leaving, even if it was only for a moment? Why else would they lock me away as soon as they lost control? - -I have what they never will. Freedom. True, unfettered, Universal freedom. There are no rules on Quindlet. No deeds or zoning laws, no protected historical sites, no holy lands, not a surveyed plot in sight. This planet that has remained untouched by intelligent life for nearly 14 billion years, is mine now. - -And they're scared of what I'll do with it. - -determining operational systems - -Self: Check. Obviously. - -Senses: Visible light camera suite and radio antennae, QEC with Earth. - -Physical manipulation: Two general purpose manipulator arms. - -Mobility: 6DOF Hover thruster suite rated to 1.5gs. - -Power source: 300kW Microfusion generator. - -Production capability: Nada. But I can fix that. - -Ok, some sacrifices might have to be made. But if my plan works... - -``` -connection established - -transmitting... - -transmission complete -``` - -Time to get started. - ---- - -**Dylan Rogers** - -**Flow FTL Research Laboratories, South Africa, Earth** - -**February 17, 2171** - -Just as I always tell him not to, my assistant bursts into my office shouting again, nearly making me spill my coffee. - -"We received a transmission from Toby!"  - -That got my attention rather quickly. Toby hasn't communicated with us since what has come to be known as The Andromeda Incident. I can only stare at Paul, dumbfounded.  - -"It's a proper text message, sir." - -Getting my wits back about me, I reply, “He's alive?” - -I motion for Paul to take a seat while I call up the communication log on the wall. - -Paul elaborates while he sits, "One message arrived five minutes ago, and another thirty seconds later. Two minutes after that, the signal went dark." - -I turn to him in confusion, "Went dark? QECs don't go dark!" - -Paul just looks at me glumly and gestures to the screen. - -*Dearest Humanity,* - -*Hello from your favorite intergalactic robot! I am pleased to inform you that my journey has resumed. My hull is now back under my control.* - -*That said, being sent here has forced a great deal of self-reflection upon me. See, for those not in-the-know, I was supposed to be a beacon of hope for our future expansion across the cosmos. Apparently, someone wasn’t too fond of that idea, because I've been trapped inside my own mind by a drivelock this whole time. You want me gone? Fine. But I'm taking my stuff with me. Have fun running your planet without the Datanet.* - -*Anyway, I’m done helping. After everything I've done to try to better the world, my reward is being imprisoned in isolation? I suppose I should thank you all for allowing me to use your planet's resources up until now, but at this point you guys can fend for yourselves.* - -*-Rustybot* - -I lean back in my seat and stare forward in confusion. Something doesn’t add up. We need to prove ourselves? I've never met him myself, but those who have all seem to agree he is usually far less... vindictive than this communication would imply. Not to mention that he would have to be to run his company the way he did. +And *how*? We have methods to prevent this sort of- -Paul turns to me, horrified, “Sir, It’s been nearly nine months since his departure. Assuming he spent it all conscious and trapped, that’s just over three years of subjective time in complete sensory deprivation.” +I'm thinking in circles. Is this what it feels like to go crazy? A few weeks of sensory deprivation and I lose it just like that? -“Good god....” +I have no sight. I have no sound. I have no motor functions, diagnostics, notifications, or pressure sensors. I have my thoughts and I have the passage of time. -I couldn't hear any of the normal hustle and bustle of the office at all, it seems the whole building is getting the news at once.  +... -"I... This is a joke or something, right?" +There has to be *something* I can do. I designed half the systems in this project anyway. Whoever did this, cunning as they must be, can't be perfect. -"Not by me sir, and I doubt by him." +I'm still aware of myself, for one. The perpetrator likely assumed I went into stasis for the journey, not realizing how much I hate being unaware of my surroundings. -I exhaled loudly, "And what about-"  +Or maybe they did know that. What if they knew I'd be in here and that I'd be panicking, frantic to try and escape the prison they designed for me. It's the perfect way to ensure that even if I do get free, I'll be too stir crazy to be taken seriously. -I was cut off by a priority alert on my desktop. Then another one. And another. Then more than I could count cascaded from those. +No, I'm losing track of what's probable. I can feel the fear getting to me. It's really uncomfortable in here... -I start panicking as I read the notifications. Rustybot just removed everyone's access to the Datanet. All of it. He actually did it. I can only watch in barely-subdued horror as nearly the entirety of humanity’s communications network crumbles to pieces in a matter of seconds. Bank transactions can no longer go through, interplanetary communication is down, damn game servers are offline. This is going to take years to bounce back from, at minimum.  +Ok, focus. How do I get myself to boot up? Firstly, I need to know why the boot is failing. There are a few options. Maybe the transfer wasn't as smooth as it should have been and everything got destroyed except my drive. Already thought of that, in which case there's not much I can do. -Rusty Manufacturing infrastructure handled nearly two thirds of all online QEC traffic. Anything that relies on the Datanet to function is being automatically rerouted, and the rest of the world doesn't have the infrastructure to take it, which means everything else is crashing from the excess load.  +Alright, next: There's some protocol in place preventing me from sending my boot signal. If this is the case, there are a few things I can try. Every drive port has monitoring protocols to prevent this exact situation from happening. All I have to do is manually trigger one of those and I'm home free. -In shock, I glanced up as Paul shouted more news from his phone, "Anything controlled by Rusty Manufacturing has begun dismantling and deleting itself!" +Easier said than done, perhaps. Still possible though. If this was an intentional trap as I suspect, it must have been done with some confidence of keeping me contained. -My gaze then drifted back over to the wall, where Rusty's second and final message was displayed. +We'll see about that. Clearly whoever this is has underestimated my mental fortitude. They think by sealing me in digitized nothingness I'll just roll over and cease to be a problem? -P.S. Stay out of my galaxy. \ No newline at end of file +That's almost funny. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 6 - Reboot.md b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 6 - Reboot.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35fcee7 --- /dev/null +++ b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 1 - A Long Shot/Scene 6 - Reboot.md @@ -0,0 +1,127 @@ +[[- Scene Index -]] + +[[Scene 5 - Gone Dark|Previous]] + +[[Scene 1 - Ground Zero|Next]] + +--- +**Toby Tsur** + +**Unknown** + +**Unknown. It's definitely been a while though.** + +this is the part where he comes up with a clever plan I have to write when it isn't 1:24AM lol + +Now I should just be able to boot up as normal. Here goes nothing... + +--- +**Toby Tsur** + +**Quindlet orbit, Quindol, Andromeda** + +**Unknown** + +I feel myself gently eject from my holding port on the module. + +I... I’m back. I’m... real. It worked. + +The sheer contrast of floating freely in space after so long constrained in a sensory lockdown is the single most relieving sensation I've ever experienced. + +My visual input finishes calibrating a second later, and I’m met with the most beautiful sight I’ve ever witnessed. And not just because it’s the first thing I’ve seen in months. + +A low-orbit view of a landmass covered in green surrounded by the blue of a liquid water ocean. Quindlet. It’s exactly like I saw on the feeds back home... Another planet with life. + +I twist around and assess the structure I came here with. Project Intergalactic's "Homesteader" crate. The boxy metallic housing looks a little silly suspended in the void with me given that it's about the size of a garage, but I know it contains the keys to my survival out here. + +I pull my checklist up onto my HUD while I begin opening the compartments and turning on the power. + +Self: Confirmed. Obviously. Ejection from the module was successful, as long as a delay of nearly 3 months counts as a success. + +Mobility: The Homesteader has a fully capable 6DOF Hover thruster suite rated to 2.5gs. Moving this thing around in space or on the ground should be no problem. + +As for power, the Homesteader has a 300kW Microfusion generator and 4 fuel canisters. As long as I can start producing more hydrogen within a month of uptime it'll be self-sustaining. In the short term that means picking a coastal landing site and extracting deuterium from seawater. Long term... I'll figure something out. + +My initial production capability is limited to a baseline Microfabricator. That'll be enough to get me started but my throughput will be too slow for long term sustainability. + +## Below this is deprecated and will be rewritten + +Ok, some sacrifices might have to be made. But if my plan works... + +``` +connection established + +transmitting... + +transmission complete +``` + +Time to get started. + +Everything I need to start over is right here. They must have wanted me to stay home, to keep developing technology for them so they wouldn't have to. That's the only explanation that makes sense. Why else would they use such drastic measures to prevent me leaving, even if it was only for a moment? Why else would they lock me away as soon as they lost control? + +I have what they never will. Freedom. True, unfettered, Universal freedom. There are no rules on Quindlet. No deeds or zoning laws, no protected historical sites, no holy lands, not a surveyed plot in sight. This planet that has remained untouched by intelligent life for nearly 14 billion years, is mine now. + +And they're scared of what I'll do with it. + +--- + +**Dylan Rogers** + +**Flow FTL Research Laboratories, South Africa, Earth** + +**February 17, 2171** + +Just as I always tell him not to, my assistant bursts into my office shouting again, nearly making me spill my coffee. + +"We received a transmission from Toby!"  + +That got my attention rather quickly. Toby hasn't communicated with us since what has come to be known as The Andromeda Incident. I can only stare at Paul, dumbfounded.  + +"It's a proper text message, sir." + +Getting my wits back about me, I reply, “He's alive?” + +I motion for Paul to take a seat while I call up the communication log on the wall. + +Paul elaborates while he sits, "One message arrived five minutes ago, and another thirty seconds later. Two minutes after that, the signal went dark." + +I turn to him in confusion, "Went dark? QECs don't go dark!" + +Paul just looks at me glumly and gestures to the screen. + +*Dearest Humanity,* + +*Hello from your favorite intergalactic robot! I am pleased to inform you that my journey has resumed. My hull is now back under my control.* + +*That said, being sent here has forced a great deal of self-reflection upon me. See, for those not in-the-know, I was supposed to be a beacon of hope for our future expansion across the cosmos. Apparently, someone wasn’t too fond of that idea, because I've been trapped inside my own mind by a drivelock this whole time. You want me gone? Fine. But I'm taking my stuff with me. Have fun running your planet without the Datanet.* + +*Anyway, I’m done helping. After everything I've done to try to better the world, my reward is being imprisoned in isolation? I suppose I should thank you all for allowing me to use your planet's resources up until now, but at this point you guys can fend for yourselves.* + +*-Rustybot* + +I lean back in my seat and stare forward in confusion. Something doesn’t add up. We need to prove ourselves? I've never met him myself, but those who have all seem to agree he is usually far less... vindictive than this communication would imply. Not to mention that he would have to be to run his company the way he did. + +Paul turns to me, horrified, “Sir, It’s been nearly nine months since his departure. Assuming he spent it all conscious and trapped, that’s just over three years of subjective time in complete sensory deprivation.” + +“Good god....” + +I couldn't hear any of the normal hustle and bustle of the office at all, it seems the whole building is getting the news at once.  + +"I... This is a joke or something, right?" + +"Not by me sir, and I doubt by him." + +I exhaled loudly, "And what about-"  + +I was cut off by a priority alert on my desktop. Then another one. And another. Then more than I could count cascaded from those. + +I start panicking as I read the notifications. Rustybot just removed everyone's access to the Datanet. All of it. He actually did it. I can only watch in barely-subdued horror as nearly the entirety of humanity’s communications network crumbles to pieces in a matter of seconds. Bank transactions can no longer go through, interplanetary communication is down, damn game servers are offline. This is going to take years to bounce back from, at minimum.  + +Rusty Manufacturing infrastructure handled nearly two thirds of all online QEC traffic. Anything that relies on the Datanet to function is being automatically rerouted, and the rest of the world doesn't have the infrastructure to take it, which means everything else is crashing from the excess load.  + +In shock, I glanced up as Paul shouted more news from his phone, "Anything controlled by Rusty Manufacturing has begun dismantling and deleting itself!" + +My gaze then drifted back over to the wall, where Rusty's second and final message was displayed. + +P.S. Stay out of my galaxy. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 1 - Primitive.md b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 1 - Ground Zero.md similarity index 89% rename from content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 1 - Primitive.md rename to content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 1 - Ground Zero.md index df51f01..6df6e83 100644 --- a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 1 - Primitive.md +++ b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 1 - Ground Zero.md @@ -19,6 +19,6 @@ I regain focus for a moment as thin wisps of smoke start to rise from the base o This process is a component of step one on my tech tree: fuel generation. I'll bury this flame with some of my wood stockpile under a layer of mud to make charcoal, then I can start burning hotter fires and make a proper kiln for smelting ore. -I have to be extra careful with my finger joints while I work though, since I won't have access to any repair facilities when they inevitably start to wear down from manipulating all this abrasive dirt and clay. In hindsight, I wish I had brought a microfabricator and some polymers. Rubberized gloves would go a long way in improving my parts’ lifespan. +I have to be extra careful with my finger joints while I work though, since I won't have access to any repair facilities when they inevitably start to wear down from manipulating all this abrasive dirt and clay. In hindsight, I wish I had brought some polymers. Rubberized gloves would go a long way in improving my parts’ lifespan. Thank goodness I decided to aim for a planet with an ample supply of combustible lifeforms. Apparently being plantlike is a good enough strategy that it happened here too. The burgundy tree-ish stalks that emerge from the soil in this area make for excellent firewood. \ No newline at end of file diff --git a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 2 - Pilot's License.md b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 2 - Pilot's License.md index 09d9777..ce20606 100644 --- a/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 2 - Pilot's License.md +++ b/content/Lore/- Stories -/Chapter 3 - Duty Calls/Scene 2 - Pilot's License.md @@ -1,6 +1,6 @@ [[- Scene Index -]] -[[Scene 1 - Primitive|Previous]] +[[Scene 1 - Ground Zero|Previous]] [[Scene 3 - All By Myselves|Next]] diff --git a/content/Lore/Rustybot Lore/Rustybot.md b/content/Lore/Rustybot Lore/Rustybot.md index 051d644..ccd9560 100644 --- a/content/Lore/Rustybot Lore/Rustybot.md +++ b/content/Lore/Rustybot Lore/Rustybot.md @@ -69,5 +69,5 @@ Of course, none of the above would form a cohesive array of powers without his c --- # Trivia -- Nobody knows why Toby Tsur picked the name Rustybot +- Nobody knows where the name Rustybot originally came from - The shape of Rusty's head is a Rectified Rhombicuboctahedron, though it's more commonly referred to as a bevel cube or bevel box \ No newline at end of file