ande » Lair » Dystopian

Dystopian

(#48977707)

Level 10 Imperial

Familiar

Spirit of Fire

Energy: 0/50

Personal Style

Apparel

Skin

Scene

Physical Attributes

Battle Stats

Measurements

Length

30.45 m

Wingspan

15.76 m

Weight

9430.77 kg

Genetics

Blood
Iridescent

Ruby
Shimmer

Yellow
Circuit

Hatchday

Jan 30, 2019
(5 years)

Breed

Adult
Imperial

Eye Type

Ice
Uncommon

Level 10 Imperial

EXP: 397 / 27676

STR

AGI

DEF

QCK

INT

VIT

MND

Lineage

Parents

Freddy
Anika

Offspring

Biography

» PROJECT: DYSTOP14N «

OP14 was, as his name suggests, the fourteenth unit in a special task force. PROJECT: Oversight and Preservation was meant to be an avant-garde security initiative, in which androids were stationed at a great height above Sornieth. They would scan the realm for any signs of a threat, detection of which would prompt a quick, merciless attack. For a price, any enemy could be struck down for you. Beastclans could have been eradicated, PROJECT's opposers quashed. It would have been revolutionary.

But the key phrase here was would have been. PROJECT: Oversight and Preservation met a rather lacklustre end when air currents carried the androids into the eye of the Twisting Crescendo. Not all of the OP units made it out in one piece, and those who did were invariably damaged.

All OP units had been equipped with long- and short-range sensors, along with the best weapons PROJECT had in their arsenal. Unfortunately, all of this tech was externally mounted — when PROJECT recovered OP14 from the Sea of a Thousand Currents, the sensors were battered, the weapons either crushed or ripped off by the wind. It was a miracle his body remained almost entirely intact.

The standard procedure at this point would be to discard OP14, as so many broken androids had been before him. But OP units were built of a durable (and, more importantly, expensive) metallic alloy. As OP14 wasn't too badly damaged, he could be repurposed. A bit of sandpaper here, some reprogramming there, and OP14 joined the ragtag group of entertainment models in the staff lounges.

Though the reprogramming erased his combat abilities, OP14's memory cache somehow remained untouched. What's more, he found himself aware of things like he had never been before. He perceived himself and the world around him differently. He felt. He thought. He was conscious.

(He would later learn that his code was modified by PROJECT: CH3R1. The tale of her courage would inspire him to return to PROJECT as a spy — but that's a different chapter in this story.)

With his newfound consciousness, OP14 watched and listened. Entertainment units were the lowest of low in the PROJECT world, machines so useless they could only provide amusement to moderately boost the scientists' productivity. OP14 danced and played for them, let them beat him at cards and prod at his casing and laugh, again and again, at the slight hitch in his step that was too expensive to repair.

He quickly realised that the scientists weren't watching what they said around him. The staff lounges were where people went to unwind; he was nothing to them, a piece of furniture in the background. Half the time, they even forgot to shut him down when they went home for the night. He got to know the other entertainment droids, all of them damaged in some way. Most were as mindless as the scientists assumed, but those who weren't spoke in whispers of a faction called FL/GHT, who would stop at nothing to take PROJECT down.

OP14 listened, and he waited, and, one day, he successfully faked a bug in his system. It was nothing serious — a purge of his application caches should clear it — but it did require a tedious scanning procedure to ensure the bug had been neutralised, which would put him out of commission for a day.

The next day, he was back in the lounges, as if nothing had ever happened. As if he hadn't snuck out in broad daylight under the pretense of finding a section of the compound where he could perform the required maintenance, and found the junkyard where PROJECT's dreams were sent to die.

As if he wasn't transmitting encrypted messages to FL/GHT whenever the scientists let slip a particularly juicy morsel of information.

Dystopian always dances with a vacant look on his face. Behind his eyes, an endless stream of ones and zeroes spells out PROJECT's downfall.

code by nimrook | graphics by Windbloom, Rexcaliburr, Drytil and Neurachem

If you feel that this content violates our Rules & Policies, or Terms of Use, you can send a report to our Flight Rising support team using this window.

Please keep in mind that for player privacy reasons, we will not personally respond to you for this report, but it will be sent to us for review.

0/1000

Click or tap a food type to individually feed this dragon only. The other dragons in your lair will not have their energy replenished.

Exalting Dystopian to the service of the Lightweaver will remove them from your lair forever. They will leave behind a small sum of riches that they have accumulated. This action is irreversible.

Do you wish to continue?

Name

Names must be longer than 2 characters.
Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
Names can only contain letters.

Name

Names must be no longer than 16 characters.
Names can only contain letters.