App post
Character: Marvin
Series: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Character Age: A couple of months, at most.
Job Idea: Backup Loudspeaker
Canon: The Sirius Cybernetics Corporation defines a robot as "Your Plastic Pal Who's Fun To Be With." Ironically, when the company decided to introduce "Genuine People Personalities" as features in their products, they built the prototype, Marvin, who is neither plastic nor fun to be with. Best described as a "sulking machine," Marvin is a super-intelligent manically depressed robot who trudges around making a big show of just how much effort it takes to move. The robot is not difficult to understand; Marvin openly detests existence and complains endlessly in a very loud fashion about how everyone hates and abuses him, which usually results in everyone hating and abusing him all while trying to politely deny it. Explaining his view of the Universe repeatedly causes spaceships to commit suicide, entire armies of killer robots to loll about sobbing dramatically, a bridge to collapse weeping and other such minor disasters.
Sample Post: Wretched place, isn't it? Sparkles, a chocolate well, some woman who probably offed her own old man-now there's a lucky bastard, if you ask me. Just my luck she'd want a bunch of people to sit and listen to her complain about how depressed the whole thing makes her. As if that's not bad enough, the entire bloody planet seems to have got stupid enough to forget that it's been demolished to make room for a hyperspace bypass. And to top it all off the Director decides her camp's got to be based in a swamp. Swamps! Don't even talk about them.
Then there are the campers. They think they've got problems. Some of them are still mourning the loss of that Bloody Mary spring-doesn't that just take the cake? Just a load of vodka and tomato juice, rotten stuff really. Can't bear the stuff. I wouldn't drink it if my circuits depended on it. Not that I could drink it if I wanted to. Thank you the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation for never stopping to think maybe I'd like a liver to abuse with disgusting drinks. Not that it'd make me happy, but they could at least be a little considerate.
And those poor fools keep telling me I have to save with one of you "moogles" before I can talk to the football players. Isn't like I want to talk to the football players. I can't stand sports, but there's not much else to do is there? 'Course, I'm not getting anywhere with that either. Every time I talk to a moogle it grabs its head, cries "oh no!" and pop! Dead as dead can be. One after another, like little lemmings. "Oh no," pop! "Oh no," pop! Exactly like you're doing now.
. . . What a stupid little creature that was. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and I have to suffer the indignity of mucking about in a swamp watching moogles blow themselves up. Swamps! Don't even talk about them.
But I know what you're all thinking. Won't the bloody robot just get on with his stupid little job and stop bothering us? Why won't he just make his silly little announcement and go so we can get on with our pointless, hormonal lives? Fine, if you really want it done that badly, I'll get on with it. But you won't like it.
ATTENTION CAMPERS: I'M FEELING VERY DEPRESSED. THAT IS ALL.
I suppose you all want to shoot the messenger now. I told you that you wouldn't like it.
--
Voted in at 90.5%.
Series: The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy
Character Age: A couple of months, at most.
Job Idea: Backup Loudspeaker
Canon: The Sirius Cybernetics Corporation defines a robot as "Your Plastic Pal Who's Fun To Be With." Ironically, when the company decided to introduce "Genuine People Personalities" as features in their products, they built the prototype, Marvin, who is neither plastic nor fun to be with. Best described as a "sulking machine," Marvin is a super-intelligent manically depressed robot who trudges around making a big show of just how much effort it takes to move. The robot is not difficult to understand; Marvin openly detests existence and complains endlessly in a very loud fashion about how everyone hates and abuses him, which usually results in everyone hating and abusing him all while trying to politely deny it. Explaining his view of the Universe repeatedly causes spaceships to commit suicide, entire armies of killer robots to loll about sobbing dramatically, a bridge to collapse weeping and other such minor disasters.
Sample Post: Wretched place, isn't it? Sparkles, a chocolate well, some woman who probably offed her own old man-now there's a lucky bastard, if you ask me. Just my luck she'd want a bunch of people to sit and listen to her complain about how depressed the whole thing makes her. As if that's not bad enough, the entire bloody planet seems to have got stupid enough to forget that it's been demolished to make room for a hyperspace bypass. And to top it all off the Director decides her camp's got to be based in a swamp. Swamps! Don't even talk about them.
Then there are the campers. They think they've got problems. Some of them are still mourning the loss of that Bloody Mary spring-doesn't that just take the cake? Just a load of vodka and tomato juice, rotten stuff really. Can't bear the stuff. I wouldn't drink it if my circuits depended on it. Not that I could drink it if I wanted to. Thank you the Sirius Cybernetics Corporation for never stopping to think maybe I'd like a liver to abuse with disgusting drinks. Not that it'd make me happy, but they could at least be a little considerate.
And those poor fools keep telling me I have to save with one of you "moogles" before I can talk to the football players. Isn't like I want to talk to the football players. I can't stand sports, but there's not much else to do is there? 'Course, I'm not getting anywhere with that either. Every time I talk to a moogle it grabs its head, cries "oh no!" and pop! Dead as dead can be. One after another, like little lemmings. "Oh no," pop! "Oh no," pop! Exactly like you're doing now.
. . . What a stupid little creature that was. Here I am, brain the size of a planet, and I have to suffer the indignity of mucking about in a swamp watching moogles blow themselves up. Swamps! Don't even talk about them.
But I know what you're all thinking. Won't the bloody robot just get on with his stupid little job and stop bothering us? Why won't he just make his silly little announcement and go so we can get on with our pointless, hormonal lives? Fine, if you really want it done that badly, I'll get on with it. But you won't like it.
ATTENTION CAMPERS: I'M FEELING VERY DEPRESSED. THAT IS ALL.
I suppose you all want to shoot the messenger now. I told you that you wouldn't like it.
--
Voted in at 90.5%.