Post by Waspinator on Dec 16, 2010 1:57:41 GMT -5
Day 23, Ship, Acoustics Testing Room, Open
Waspinator was essentially a prisoner until told otherwise – hopefully a day or two. Unlike his previous visit to a forced personnel storage facility he was managing to cope for two reasons. One, there was actually fair justification for his lack of freedom and two, he got to choose how to occupy his time and Ship provided a decent variety of ways to do so – and the décor was better. Waspinator had picked the Acoustics Testing Room to occupy his time…or maybe it had picked him.
The Acoustics Testing Room was awesome, it had plenty of recognisable and alien instruments, this was awesome, some made just music while other made music and destruction, and this was awesome. There was a firing range, which was awesome, it had a place for Waspinator to put down his Coffee-milk and this was really awesome.
Taking another sip of his Coffee-milk, he put it down and went and sat at the awesome electric drum set. He switched it on and adjusted the settings as best as he could work out to something neutral. Picking up four sticks, he tapped at one of the pads getting a feel for the sound. Twirling one stick, Waspinator smiled to himself, he was happy here in this moment not a care in the world or the next. He twirled all four sticks imagining himself to be a rock superstar from a concert he’d seen, and promptly three sticks flew from his grip, one landing very close to his drink. For a moment there was silence then the self called Predezecticon burst out laughing, it was the first genuinely innocent laugh the buzzerbot had had in a long long time.
Getting up, he retrieved the lost sticks, downed half the remaining drink and set about giving the drum a decent uncoordinated and entirely unskilled thrash. Fun yes, rock music no. maybe percussion wasn’t the weapon of choice for him. Waspinator studied the various other sonic torture implements in the room before settling his gaze on the ominous double neck guitar thingy.
Taking the instrument off the wall, the technorganic turned it over in his hands. It looked part medieval, part functional, all fun and mostly confusing. The twin necks were barrels that could rotate extra strings into play, from one string to 12 strings. And then each neck could extend or retract via hydraulics, the carbon nanotube core strings remaining tight via a winch in the neck. The note of each string controlled through the datapad in the body. Also built in were amp, speakers, power and a few instant effect dials.
Waspinator switched on the datapad, a holographic display popping out of the guitar. The controls were actually very straightforward, easy enough for a person who randomly picks a strange guitar to operate. He shortened the top neck so it was a comfortable size for his vestigial arms, and reduced the string count to three; he only had two fingers on those hands but there manual dexterity was equally as good as his other pair. The lower neck, he extended slightly, but kept the string count at six.
He zeroed all other settings and put he volume to halfway. Ready, Waspinator strummed the guitar just once before hurriedly dialling back the volume almost all the way. The damn thing was an audio-receptor destroyer. He strummed a few more times before realising every string was playing the same note. He went back to the settings and selected a default configuration, one where the three string upper neck was bass and the notes got progressively higher the further down they were on the necks. Strumming again and this time Waspinator felt he had made the right choice with thisweapon instrument. Oh he still didn’t know how to play, but he was decided to put in the time to learn. Plucking and strumming at strings did feel more natural than bashing a drum with a stick for the wasp half breed.
Waspinator was essentially a prisoner until told otherwise – hopefully a day or two. Unlike his previous visit to a forced personnel storage facility he was managing to cope for two reasons. One, there was actually fair justification for his lack of freedom and two, he got to choose how to occupy his time and Ship provided a decent variety of ways to do so – and the décor was better. Waspinator had picked the Acoustics Testing Room to occupy his time…or maybe it had picked him.
The Acoustics Testing Room was awesome, it had plenty of recognisable and alien instruments, this was awesome, some made just music while other made music and destruction, and this was awesome. There was a firing range, which was awesome, it had a place for Waspinator to put down his Coffee-milk and this was really awesome.
Taking another sip of his Coffee-milk, he put it down and went and sat at the awesome electric drum set. He switched it on and adjusted the settings as best as he could work out to something neutral. Picking up four sticks, he tapped at one of the pads getting a feel for the sound. Twirling one stick, Waspinator smiled to himself, he was happy here in this moment not a care in the world or the next. He twirled all four sticks imagining himself to be a rock superstar from a concert he’d seen, and promptly three sticks flew from his grip, one landing very close to his drink. For a moment there was silence then the self called Predezecticon burst out laughing, it was the first genuinely innocent laugh the buzzerbot had had in a long long time.
Getting up, he retrieved the lost sticks, downed half the remaining drink and set about giving the drum a decent uncoordinated and entirely unskilled thrash. Fun yes, rock music no. maybe percussion wasn’t the weapon of choice for him. Waspinator studied the various other sonic torture implements in the room before settling his gaze on the ominous double neck guitar thingy.
Taking the instrument off the wall, the technorganic turned it over in his hands. It looked part medieval, part functional, all fun and mostly confusing. The twin necks were barrels that could rotate extra strings into play, from one string to 12 strings. And then each neck could extend or retract via hydraulics, the carbon nanotube core strings remaining tight via a winch in the neck. The note of each string controlled through the datapad in the body. Also built in were amp, speakers, power and a few instant effect dials.
Waspinator switched on the datapad, a holographic display popping out of the guitar. The controls were actually very straightforward, easy enough for a person who randomly picks a strange guitar to operate. He shortened the top neck so it was a comfortable size for his vestigial arms, and reduced the string count to three; he only had two fingers on those hands but there manual dexterity was equally as good as his other pair. The lower neck, he extended slightly, but kept the string count at six.
He zeroed all other settings and put he volume to halfway. Ready, Waspinator strummed the guitar just once before hurriedly dialling back the volume almost all the way. The damn thing was an audio-receptor destroyer. He strummed a few more times before realising every string was playing the same note. He went back to the settings and selected a default configuration, one where the three string upper neck was bass and the notes got progressively higher the further down they were on the necks. Strumming again and this time Waspinator felt he had made the right choice with this