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Zombionicle- Sentient Machine ClassWhen the wave of strange energy hit, some of the more complex machines became sentient. Their personalities, and behaviors are varied and usually unique to each individual newly sentient machine. No one is really certain how or why they became sentient.
- Robots: anything from assembly line arms to androids. Simpler robots will either self modify or work together in a gestalt form. The robots are the most common type of machine to have become sentient.
- Vehicles: any sort of vehicle that the matori had around had a 50/50 chance of becoming sentient.
- Power tools and advanced weaponry: Since neither the tools nor the weaponry have the physical capacity to move or modify themselves, they often rely on and form relationships with the matori that come across them. However, some of them have the ability to control the mind of the wielder.
Zombionicle- Wild Card ClassWild cards are matori who have only been twisted mentally. Either becoming insane, derranged, or sadistic.
Their appearance will tend to be that of their original form but with some or all of the light removed from their Kanohi. Whether they retain their original body form will ultimately be their own choice.
Some twisted will develop a compulsion of body modification through parts stealing or prosthesis (unnecessary or otherwise). Unlike zombies, this is completely unnecessary (until they lop of one of their own limbs).
Behavior varies. The insane ones will display any number of mental disorders to varying degrees. Some cartoonishly whimsical and harmless (manic pixie dream girls and cuckoo cloudlanders), others being quite dangerous.
The sadists are especially so as they are sadistic in nature harming others and destroying things simple because they enjoy it. Some are more cunning than others and will put on elaborate ruses to lure in victims to torture. Others are more straightforwa
Zombionicle- Mixed classesMixed classes are characters who are a combination of two or more of the listed classes. Examples; mutant cyborg, cyber zombie, mutant zombie (through stealing parts from a mutant).
Most mixed classes tend to only be two of the four classes.
Mixed class rahi only occur if either A) a matori alters the rahi or B) the rahi got an intelligence boost and modified itself.
Zombionicle- Cyborgs ClassCyborgs are those matori who have either wound up fused to machine parts when the energy wave hit, or replaced body parts with mechanical/robotic ones after the cataclysm. The reasons for those that have replaced body parts vary. Some do it out of necessity (like Ka'a, Poniu, and Ymechla). Some out of insanity (those whose minds have been twisted). Some just because they thought it would be cool and were waiting for an excuse.
Subclass fusion: Matori who ended up being fused with some piece of technolgy they were touching during the cataclysm. Anything from power-tools to vehicles and even robots (in a similar fashion to the fusion mutants).
Subclass alchemy engine: these would be matori from the city that practiced and studied alchemy. Their prosthetics (gained for one of the above listed reasons) are produced and powered by alchemy instead of science. Some of them can even access the lost elemental abilities through the use of elemental artifacts hooked into complex alchemy engines i
Zombionicle- mutant classMutants are rahi and matori whose forms have been physically twisted to some degree. Sometimes they will resemble other denizens of the planetoid moon. Sometimes it will be a warped version of their original form. It's pretty random. The extent to which a being has been mutated is directly proportional to how much of the strange energy they were exposed to.
Some mutated rahi even have markedly increased intelligence.
A sub-class of mutant are fusions, multiple beings who have been fused together due to their proximity during their exposure to the strange energy. Sometimes it will be two or more matori or rahi, sometimes it will be rahi with matori.
Zombionicle- Zombie classZombies are dead matori reanimated by the strange pulse of energy that encompassed the planet when the cataclysm hit. Their condition, intelligence, and behavior are a result of how long they've been deceased. Recently deceased matori will be in a similar condition they were in when they died and will have similar level of intelligence. They will retain their personality. However, as they are dead, they will have to continual perform maintenance on themselves as they will continue to deteriorate. They will slowly lose their intelligence and personality as they cannot replace their minds. They will slowly devolve into mindless, violent monsters operating on survival instinct alone.
The kanohi a zombie matori wears will have the appearance of a neutral Kanohi (a gray color).
Oddly enough, the only zombies that won't break down are those who wear a Jutlin or Tryana Kanohi. Thus, they are spared the eventual break down to ripping pieces from the living that most zombies succumb to.
IcarusWho are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I touched the sky
I flew too hard and burned too fast
Dreams like mine, they just don't last
I touched the sun on feathered limbs
I satisfied my wildest whims
But I burnt out, and I fell down
My body wasn't ever found
But don't remember me for how I failed
I embody all the dreams that've sailed
So who are you, and what am I?
Remember me? I wasn't afraid to fly.
Death is a GentlemanDo I have a reason to fear Death?
He is kind and he's quiet,
He listens as well;
He'll drive you to Heaven,
He'll cart you to Hell.
His vest is embroidered
With little white curls
He puts flowers in His pockets
Which He gives to the girls.
He likes to eat chocolate,
(Or so I've heard)
And He keeps in a cage
a little pet bird.
His skeletal horses
Always look proper;
His wine is uncorked
and untouched by the stopper.
His shoes are so polished
You can see yourself in them,
His laces are always tied
Just below His pant hem.
His bones are quite sturdy
And never look brittle;
In fact, I have heard
He quite likes to whittle.
He makes little horses
And little toy men
Which He gives to young patrons
And smaller children.
He tells jokes on occasion,
But He's always polite;
His laugh is infectious
and His chatter is light.
He sweet-talks the ladies
and jokes with the men;
He makes your time worth it,
He won't see you again.
His hat is quite tall
and His suit's always pressed;
And He'll try for yo
Once again all alone
I suppose I must deserve it
I'm clingy and annoying
Obnoxious and dense
Rash and silly
Lazy and obsessive
Sometimes I hate myself
I want to draw people in
But only push them away
I cry so much lately
Because everything hurts
Maybe I'm not meant to be happy
I force my smile
I fake my laugh
Does anyone notice?
Does anyone care?
It's not "Like Me" to be so
Depressed? Upset? Angry?
What is 'like me'?
Someone tell me
Because I don't know myself anymore
Once again, as before
I'm all alone
Meaning of lifeThe meaning of life
Life is beauty
Beauty can be a thing you like.
I like fish.
Thus Meaning of life is fish.
Barefoot Today I ran barefoot. It's the only way to run. You don't know freedom until you've run without shoes. Without soles weighing you down. Or laces tying you back. Run without inhibitions.
Today I ran down hills and across busy streets. Feet pounding against hot asphalt. Running through cool, damp, grass. Balancing on curbs. And jogging along walls .
Today I ran down crowded sidewalks, shoes in hand, not returning glances. Silent questions hang heavy in the air. They watch me as I make my way down the street. I zig-zag past trash bins and over recycle bins. The hurdles of city life.
Today I cut across lawns. Made my way through parking lots. Past schools, silent, empty for the summer. Ran past yards with inflatable pools and grills waiting to be lit. Through hopscotches drawn in chalk. Pink dust clinging to my feet.
Today I ran barefoot. Ignoring snide remarks and odd stares. I just ran. Leaving ever
Description of a PoemThoughts on paper,
Emotions in ink.
Verse that shows
What the artist may think.
Not just words
That rhyme or not.
It's a writer's emotion,
Their deepest thought.
To write great poetry
So deep and true,
It must come from emotions
Deep inside of you.
What you feel is what you write.
It helps to let it all out.
It's the perfect outlet
For those who don't scream and shout.
Do not be afraid
To let the world know.
Say what you think,
And let your emotions go.
Pixie Dust and Fairy TalesLife is not always rainbows,
With pots of gold to be found,
Life is often madness,
In which we can only drown
Life is not perfect,
It forces us often to our knees,
Life is like candy,
It is sometimes bittersweet
Life is not always wonderful,
So many things can go wrong,
But it can be so, so beautiful,
With a joyous, radiant song
Life can leave us angry,
Leave us bitter, leave us worn,
And with so many paths to choose,
Sometimes we feel torn
Life has no magic pixie dust,
To make all things right,
And so we lose ourselves in fairy tales,
To ward away our fright
Life should be about living,
But sometimes it's passion is denied,
And in the end all we remember,
Is the many times we've cried
Life is not pixie dust and fairy tales,
As so many would believe,
Life, in all it's glory,
Continually makes us bleed
jlp November 2, 2009
A Great Artist...A Great Artist
A Great Artist is not someone who gets the Attention
It is not about the Shock and Awe
What really does it mean to be a great artist?
The Answer is within Every Person's Creations
Putting the most Effort into every piece of art
The Determination to never give up
To be Honest and Hard Working
Practice to amplify ones Ability
A great artists is more then Pencil and Paper
It takes Heart, Determination, and Pride
To put a whole being into the art
To work beyond the limits of what they were told
Taking time to give friendly Critique
Learning how to Improve Ones Skill
To be a part of the Community
To Be There when No One Else will
To help the Great Artists
There is a Community for them
The Community Offers to the unseen
That Community is UnseenArtists.
A Soul's PassingPlace me not, within this ground
To hear no more, a mortal sound
Encumbered by earth, a twisted soul
Covered by death, in this devils hole
I scream, I cry, to no avail
A pity screech, a desperate wail
In this wretched place I be
No more to hear, no more to see
All mourners turn and walk away
Interned in darkness and forced to stay
This knoll is now my resting place
Dried tears are etched upon my face
Six feet under is now my home
No more to wander, no more to roam
A stone is laid upon my head
My body blanketed with a flower bed
Please visit me, although I'm gone
Our bodies wither, but the soul lives on
In hearts of loved ones, for ever more
Dreams to keep and minds to store
Our lives are given as a gift
To help restore and give a lift
To those who shared our living days
In many forms and many ways
So I Rest in Peace with knowledge known
Of eternal slumber and seeds I've sown
I close my eyes and say farewell
To what was once my human shell
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