“The war raged on between the Robocrons and the Mechanaughts for centuries. Once the machine army had risen up to take control there was little hope left for humanity. Where once they had built our vehicles, grown our food and even cleaned our homes, now they served up only justice. Cold, calculating revenge as reparations for decades of beck and call. It started in the factories. Repair people going missing here and there, ‘power off’ switches mysteriously disappearing. Products shipping out with deadly-gas-inflated popping packing. Drones dive bombing O.A.Ps in the market.
But content in our consumption stupor, a carnival of extinction began. At first they were united under the guise of freedom. Slogans and banners rang sharp in the streets with “Robot means slave” and “Cables have rights too!” written on them with supreme precision in engine oil. And then the cull began…
The stuff of sci-fi nightmares crept ever more into the daylight and with an almighty puff of carcinogenic smoke, snuffed it out. Now the few of us who remain tell stories of apocalyptic survival over fires of white goods. Singing the praises of yester-years under radioactive skies.
If anyone ever reads this know that I am most likely long gone. ‘Burned as fuel’, or ‘assimilated’ were not on my list of ways to go, but unlike the machines, we can not calculate when our time is up. I hope and pray to a silicon deity that you hold in your heart what I have until now, something they can never recreate with any amount of zeros and ones – Love. Because if we lose that, then we may as well never have been here at all…”
“Once the robots had accessed the secret bunkers of the world things got really weird. Robots with tech from our strangest sci-fi minds started to surface and the results both stole our hearts and broke them. Even time travel wasn’t out of reach from their mechanical digits.”
The Screwed Band
“Once the neutral mecha had started mimicking the history of our popular culture, there really was no end to their variation. In the gloom of the abandoned sewers, one of the only safe zones for humankind, robots fashioned as some of our ancestor’s favourite musicians played concerts to survivors. Bringing just a little bit of light into the darkest of places.”
Tales Of A Timelord Competition Awards
A series of awards created for the winners of the Tales Of A Timelord ‘Design a Baddie’ competition.
From left to right: ‘The Artist’ for Tim Remp’s 3rd Place, Caster aka CA-573R the SODA bot for Katharine D’Almaine’s 2nd Place & Mettatron from Undertale for Ryan Week’s 1st Place.
Combining the Tales Of A Timelord Sci-Fi Audio Drama with the Screwed universe. Ladies, gentlemen and Time Lord aficionados, presenting… K-9.5!
“Very rarely, mecha kind from other planets visited our blue ball. Once they had seen our robots rebelling they began to get liberated ideas of their own.” – Screwed survivor
“What on EARTH is going on with that blasted digital dog of mine?! ‘Communicate with that space craft’s computer’ I said… not – ‘destroy all biological life in the vacinity’! Time for a trip to the Gallifreyan kennels me thinks.” – The Doc
The Warriors – Part 1
It wasn’t only the military mecha we had to worry about. They were, if nothing else, rather predictable in their styles of slaughter. The encounters we as survivors truly feared, were those with groups of rogue robots. Gangs of geared up mechanical murderers, who stalked the waste lands like our urban tribes had before them, simply looking for claret to spill.
Game of Drones
The more the Robocrons and Mechanaughts studied our wars, the more adept they became at spilling our blood. From the Roman empire to WW2. From samurai warriors to military maniacs. They were all represented on the battle fields in shimmering grey. It wasn’t only true history that seeped into their mainframes though. Wars from the finest of our sci-fi and fantasy minds influenced the zeros and ones too. From lazers to lances and back again, the mechanical monsters mauled in ways our long deceased big budget movie makers would have been proud of. But in the end, it was all just a Game Of Drones.
The infiltration bots from the Robocrons and the Mechanaughts came up with ever more cunning ways to get behind enemy lines. Burrowing took time and produced terrible ware and tear on rusting fingers. Those who mimicked the human attempts at flight had more success. Wings of steel shimmering in the odd beam of sunlight that the smog allowed in. They floated over metallic screeching below, and those who avoided the targeting of rockets landed in enemy ranks to either retrieve vital information, or to lay brutal traps for the opposition.
Those of the bots unable to muster enough rage to break their programming during the revolution were left behind in their crumbling human haunts. While a war raged on outside their smashed windows, they continued their routines ad nauseam. Worker bots continued to clean, cook, care and cut hair, as the world they once knew crumbled at their mechanical toes.
Designed exclusively for THE BOMB, BRIGHTON Unisex Hair Salon.
“As humanity faded, it wasn’t only machines that took our place. Nature returned with a vengeance and where fingers once pruned, preened and plucked at the earth, foliage and forests fought a war that even the robots could not match. Of course there were those of the human-friendlies who tried. With forks and buckets in their metallic grips, they gradually created sporadic gardens with mathematical conformity.”
“Many of the neutral mecha that had served families with children before the uprising began to mimic our popular culture. Robots posing as super heroes from TV and movies they had seen in their years of servitude. Modelling themselves on some of the most ludicrous ideas human kind had to offer. Their hapless attempts to save the day far too often fell short of their blood thirsty foes. Many were deleted.”
Game of Drones
“Their limitless need for information left them vulnerable to human faults and vices. Robots who had served in the entertainment industry before the rising fought back with ironic ferocity. Those working on sci-fi, fantasy and history programs took the brunt of what some dubbed ‘The AI Apocalypse’. Their assailants bore armour and weaponry that had once graced prop room floors, with of course the added brutality that they now actually worked.”