Any ideas for a title for a Big O Stagger? I have a few, but nothing that really grabs me. Love to get some input.
Here's something I'll eventually develop.
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Flanked by his two henchmen, Beck stood proudly, gazing down upon the key to his future domination of Paradigm. It really was a work of art, he mused: nice, bright color scheme- assertive, but not flashy. The lines were smooth, and pleasing to the eye. Its beauty was matched only by its effectiveness- with its multifunction weapon-arms, the Megadeus Beck possessed had the strength to rip its foes apart, with the dexterity to reach through doors and grab objects. It was perfect.
Sure, there was the little matter of a bit of battle damage- a few scratches and dents here, a bit of damage to the arms there, a big, gaping hole in the chest over there- but nothing that couldn't be fixed with some spit, polish, elbow grease, theft, and creative rewiring.
With a sad look on his face, Beck looked over at his minions and said, apologetically, "Damn shame, folks throwing away a perfectly good giant robot..." His expression then grew cheerful, almost manic, as he continued "...but wait- we aren't!!!"
-----------------------------------------------------Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines...
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.
Here's something I'll eventually develop.
_________________________________________________
Flanked by his two henchmen, Beck stood proudly, gazing down upon the key to his future domination of Paradigm. It really was a work of art, he mused: nice, bright color scheme- assertive, but not flashy. The lines were smooth, and pleasing to the eye. Its beauty was matched only by its effectiveness- with its multifunction weapon-arms, the Megadeus Beck possessed had the strength to rip its foes apart, with the dexterity to reach through doors and grab objects. It was perfect.
Sure, there was the little matter of a bit of battle damage- a few scratches and dents here, a bit of damage to the arms there, a big, gaping hole in the chest over there- but nothing that couldn't be fixed with some spit, polish, elbow grease, theft, and creative rewiring.
With a sad look on his face, Beck looked over at his minions and said, apologetically, "Damn shame, folks throwing away a perfectly good giant robot..." His expression then grew cheerful, almost manic, as he continued "...but wait- we aren't!!!"
-----------------------------------------------------Eagles may soar, but weasels don't get sucked into jet engines...
My Unitarian Jihad Name is: Brother Atom Bomb of Courteous Debate. Get yours.
I've been writing a bit.