...First the robots took my job. Then they took my brain. Then they gave me a job working on the machines that replaced my brain. Calling Magnus Robot Fighter come in over! Plasma Cannons needed...
that art is the shit. The one on the left looks like he's destroying the world with style as he listens to the biggest ghetto-blaster I've ever seen that is the chest of the robot on the right. I wish that one was my house and I was shreiking with school-girl-like laughter as I stomped out the fires which fuel all of human life on this planet!!! In other words, I'm feeling disgruntled lately. Maybe I would just stomp out the higher powers and walk right up to the illuminati and demand genetic rehab.
The cacophony of a tank-footed titan as it stomps across plains of crystal firing waves of missiles and displaying a planetarium show with its Zeiss projector is enough to make my head explode just imagining it. Ow.
Implant your brain into the Master Control of a Chaos-turned Emperor? You are mad. This is a planet of SPAWN. If form is function humans were meant to wreak havoc...
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Implant your brain into the Master Control of a Chaos-turned Emperor?
You are mad. This is a planet of SPAWN. If form is function humans were meant to wreak havoc...
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