ROBOT HELL
Apr. 29th, 2015 02:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
flashyfinishOOC INFO
Name: Alana
Contact:![[plurk.com profile]](https://plurk.com/favicon.ico)
alanahikarichan skyseers
Other characters: Skipper, Slipstream
IC INFO
Name: Knock Out
Canon/Continuity: Transformers: Prime
Reference: link!
Canon Point: Post-Predacons Rising
Personality:
• Vain, fairly amoral, preening, a smidge posh and very snobby, and a big fan of hurting people he doesn't like
• he is robot miss piggy basically
• Not as treacherous as any given Starscream but not particularly overflowing with loyalty
• Gets pissy when treated like any other minion, and appreciates politeness and equal treatment
• Doesn't seem to hold grudges for anything less than, like, vivisecting or killing his buddies
• Fairly intelligent, a competent doctor and dabbling scientist, and fairly aware of the consequences of his own actions
• Also he really likes bad pun one-liners, drive-in theaters, dancing monkeys in formalwear, oil baths, looking pretty, and other people being pretty (as long as they aren't flashier than him)
AU or OC Info: n/a
Sample:
"This is disgusting," Knock Out grumbled to himself, lifting a foot and brushing the grime off it, "absolutely loathesome work, why did I ever even think of agreeing to this?"
He had, of course, agreed to it for what had seemed a truly excellent reason: complete and utter boredom, and a chance to go haring off at top speed across the unrusted Sea of Lovely Shiny Metal, and a favor to the Autobots whom he had joined so recently-- nothing quite like being the new and untrusted fellow on the team to make him want to earn brownie points instead of dents. Surely within a few weeks (months, eons...) they would be willing to set aside their sarcastic remarks and cautious glances, and then he could get back to regular business.
Whatever that would be without a war, partner, or a goal of a clearly-defined victory.
Still! That was an issue to be approached when Knock Out wasn't ankle-deep in rusted and smashed corpses. The renewal of Cybertron had been very impressive, true, but it hadn't cleaned up the whole planet; there had been that Predacon graveyard (now empty of bones, thank the Allspark; even in his quest for trust, he would rather not have to deal with those), and pits full of deactivated cybertronians that had never been taken to a smelting pit nor awakened by Dark Energon.
And by Primus, they were disgusting.
The eons had not been kind, and while the assignment to look for anything useful and categorize the dead had seemed fairly simple, many of the husks dissolved at the merest touch.
"GP syndrome? Really?" he grumbled, withdrawing his toe from yet another crumpled and crumbling chassis that he had barely touched. "I'm lucky it's not communicable, but I've never seen it so advanced..."
He supposed, back when GP syndrome was first noticed, the cybertronians afflicted had simply had their parts replaced, instead of being left to the wear of ages. Mildly medically interesting, that it advanced even in death, but not what he was here for; he took a picture of the deceased's face, for Magnus' list of wartime casualties (incredibly long, impeccably organized, and woefully incomplete), and continued to the next body still intact enough for identification.
Name: Alana
Contact:
skyseersOther characters: Skipper, Slipstream
IC INFO
Name: Knock Out
Canon/Continuity: Transformers: Prime
Reference: link!
Canon Point: Post-Predacons Rising
Personality:
• Vain, fairly amoral, preening, a smidge posh and very snobby, and a big fan of hurting people he doesn't like
• he is robot miss piggy basically
• Not as treacherous as any given Starscream but not particularly overflowing with loyalty
• Gets pissy when treated like any other minion, and appreciates politeness and equal treatment
• Doesn't seem to hold grudges for anything less than, like, vivisecting or killing his buddies
• Fairly intelligent, a competent doctor and dabbling scientist, and fairly aware of the consequences of his own actions
• Also he really likes bad pun one-liners, drive-in theaters, dancing monkeys in formalwear, oil baths, looking pretty, and other people being pretty (as long as they aren't flashier than him)
AU or OC Info: n/a
Sample:
"This is disgusting," Knock Out grumbled to himself, lifting a foot and brushing the grime off it, "absolutely loathesome work, why did I ever even think of agreeing to this?"
He had, of course, agreed to it for what had seemed a truly excellent reason: complete and utter boredom, and a chance to go haring off at top speed across the unrusted Sea of Lovely Shiny Metal, and a favor to the Autobots whom he had joined so recently-- nothing quite like being the new and untrusted fellow on the team to make him want to earn brownie points instead of dents. Surely within a few weeks (months, eons...) they would be willing to set aside their sarcastic remarks and cautious glances, and then he could get back to regular business.
Whatever that would be without a war, partner, or a goal of a clearly-defined victory.
Still! That was an issue to be approached when Knock Out wasn't ankle-deep in rusted and smashed corpses. The renewal of Cybertron had been very impressive, true, but it hadn't cleaned up the whole planet; there had been that Predacon graveyard (now empty of bones, thank the Allspark; even in his quest for trust, he would rather not have to deal with those), and pits full of deactivated cybertronians that had never been taken to a smelting pit nor awakened by Dark Energon.
And by Primus, they were disgusting.
The eons had not been kind, and while the assignment to look for anything useful and categorize the dead had seemed fairly simple, many of the husks dissolved at the merest touch.
"GP syndrome? Really?" he grumbled, withdrawing his toe from yet another crumpled and crumbling chassis that he had barely touched. "I'm lucky it's not communicable, but I've never seen it so advanced..."
He supposed, back when GP syndrome was first noticed, the cybertronians afflicted had simply had their parts replaced, instead of being left to the wear of ages. Mildly medically interesting, that it advanced even in death, but not what he was here for; he took a picture of the deceased's face, for Magnus' list of wartime casualties (incredibly long, impeccably organized, and woefully incomplete), and continued to the next body still intact enough for identification.
