Star Wars: Downright Unreasonable ( BAR/SW SI )

[Ridiculous aplenty]

A/N:1 I don't have a theme for this chapter.
But I will give you the main three songs I was listening to while making said chapter. So in no particular order.

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pVClSLTwDw4

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y9aslWZNb24

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wgVTmt6t3hg
>[A=============================C]<
Chapter 1: It began.. With a clank.
>[C=============================A]<

"Mrrmmmhhhmmbbguh"

Tell me if you have heard this one before.

Guy or gal wakes up, looks around. They aren't in the place where they last remember being.

Bonus points if they Notice they have a strange or different body. Those are always the more interesting stories.

But you can have the lightning round points if they have. Say. A robot body. Specifically. A Commander body.

You know the ones. Commanders, specifically from the planetary annihilation game series (technically only one game if you don't consider industrial annihilation a game yet).

The planet cracking, Tech stealing, ever growing machine locust swarm of destruction. Made by their creators with one single purpose. The annihilation of everything. Technologies are captured, refined, and assimilated into brutally self replicating machines of war. Making a perfect War without reason.

In most universes most SI's are put in a commander that not only survives but thrives. Dominating and repurposing any weapon they come across. And eventually achieving the equivalent of a "win" condition in life.

That's not even mentioning the people who figure out some way to be creative with the progenitor tech commander. creating new and terrifying machines of war. And practically eliminating all weaknesses of their commanders. Especially if the ROB that put them in the commander installed them with extra weaknesses. Like a unit cap or longer production times.

So with all this talk of commanders. You can see where I'm going with this. How I'm like the many SI's before me. How with my new and shiny giant robot progenitor body. I will not only survive, but thrive like the glorious robot I am.

If you guessed any of that. Then you would only be HALF right.

You see while I did get a commander robot body. I got the fracking Wish version of a commander.

To elaborate. I need to go back a little. You see when I first got planetary annihilation. I learned it wasn't exactly a new idea. You see it was a "spiritual successor" to a little game called total annihilation. Basically the same premise of PA but further down the line in the same war. So much so that they didn't have the resources to produce the really big toys anymore. But they would still keep fighting each other. To the bitter and drawn out end.

So if Planetary Annihilation was a spiritual successor. Then Beyond All Reason is now the Spiritual Remake.

Beyond All Reason or "BAR" is a little indie RTS that released its alpha right in 2025. Like so many others in it's genre. have you playing as a giant robot, making a horde of tiny robots. Fighting other giant robots and their hordes of tiny robots.

And while I will admit it is a pretty fun game. I wasn't lying about the commander being from Wish. The production times are much longer, There is no option for space combat, there are much fewer doomsday weapons at your disposal, and holy shit your units are so much slower. You practically need air transports to get anywhere. It's absolutely Hot Garbage in comparison to a progenitor commander.

And that's the body I find myself in right now. In The body of what can charitably be described as a kitbashed armada commander with Cortex armor and gun pieces strapped to it, in a mix of Cortex red and Armada blue for its color scheme. In a dark and very cold (probably) hanger bay. Well, at least I think it's cold. The cameras that make up my new eyes are showing ice practically everywhere in what I can only assume is a gigantic hanger bay. I have heat and cold sensors that are doing a half assed job of feeling in the place of actual nerves. And I have the need to take a breath even though I don't have lungs anym- WOW. Okay. Holy shit I am stopping that train of thought. NOW.

So leaving that… Breakdown for later. And doing the practical thing and focusing on my immediate problems. Like for instance. Identifying where I am.

Going back to observing my surroundings. I can conclude a few things.

1. I'm definitely in an artificial structure of some kind. If the metal floors and walls are anything to go by.

2. I think I was right about it being a hanger of some kind. There are stacks of crates and jet-like starships strewn about the place. Honestly they look more like an off brand sci fi ww2 spitfire with two jet engines in the back more than anything else.

But probably the biggest thing I have noticed so far. Number 3. Is the fuckoff huge amount of snow that seems to have collapsed through what i assume is the fighter entrance to the hanger. And when I say huge amounts of snow. I mean a huge amount of snow. Like. There is so much of it that I can't detect any light getting through the giant entrance. Which probably means that wherever I am has been seriously snowed in. maybe a super blizzard swept through or something. Or more likely, this snow has been building up for a while now.

But then that begs the question. Why am I here? Doing once over of myself. Despite my kitbashed appearance, I'm shiny. Like really really shiny. Like factory fresh shiny. Plus there are those scorch marks indicative of a commander teleporting in at the beginning of a game. So I couldn't have been anything stored in… whatever this place is supposed to be. But I mean really! I'm the shiniest Robo mother around! Despite the scorch marks right around me I am shiny as a brand new Ferrari! I'm pretty sure that If you shined a light on me at night. I would light up the surroundIng area like I was the rising su-

*CLANK* *CRRRKKKK* *SCRUNCH*

… you know with my awesome new robot body I should 1. Not be having my sentences cut off mid thought. And 2. Be much more aware of my surroundings.

Looking down I realized that I had accidentally smushed one of the crates while checking my kickass new body out. Yes I say "smushed" because apparently whatever I'm made of now is apparently heavy enough to make whatever metal I knocked into crumple like a soda can made of butter.

I look down at the crumpled mess of scrap metal that used to be the crate. With its contents, what looks to be spare parts for the ships around me, spilling out all over the hanger deck.

Honestly I would be more panicked if this place wasn't so abandoned. Suffice it to say that I'm a little embarrassed. But It's not the worst thing in the world.

I kneel down on one of my giant steel legs. Beginning to sort through the mess that I made. I mean I know that no one is really gonna mind. But I feel like I should still be at the very least a little courteous. Little 3 pronged manipulator digits extend from the side of my gun emplacements (Note: see about getting actual hands.) and I don't know why I'm narrating everything I do. But i think it's either for fun or a coping mechanism that i'm using to not panic about my current situa-

Sudden and intense Dread seized my every processor unit.

Up until now I didn't know if I was still feeling emotions properly, if they were muted or in some way changed. I would not have been able to tell otherwise.

But in comes that awful dread, that ice cold water down my back known as Fear. Arresting my every other ability. Except for the ability to stare and only now start to comprehend the symbol plastered on the side of the once crate.

Its almost comforting, in a weirdly fucked up way.

But you're probably wondering "Oh Mr. Robot - commander - but - actually - once - human, what could have caused you to feel such overwhelming Fear?"

Oh you know. Just an ordinary symbol. Not demonic, not evil, not magic. Just depicting a faction symbol

A faction symbol. A rising star split in half, with two trails curling around the border of a circle, looking almost like a rising phoenix.

You know, the faction symbol Belonging to The Old Republic.

The Old Republic, Belonging to the universe of Star Wars.

The universe of Star Wars. Which contained super weapons that could harvest stars, crack or explode planets, and even snipe entire star systems from halfway across the galaxy?

A universe which contained horrors that could easily break the mind of most normal people? Natural, unnatural, force based or otherwise?

A Universe which contained The most powerful galactic civilizations that rose and fell in the short time span of 30,000 years? Containing some of the most powerful armies ever to exist?

A UNIVERSE THAT PLAYED HOST TO AN ETERNAL WAR BETWEEN TWO CLANS OF SPACE SAMURAI WIZARDS. WITH ONE OF THEM MAKING IMMORTAL GHOST WARRIORS AND THE OTHER CONSTANTLY PRODUCING PLANET EATING MADMEN??!!

THAT STAR WARS?!?!?!

…

Ah. I see.

…

You know this feels like the emotional equivalent of slamming your toe into a German made brick wall at full force.

…

And my first ever word to be spoken in this universe is going to be…

"... Scream? Mhmm, Yes, that seems reasonable. Scream."

…

*Mechanical Inhale*

"AAAAAAAA–"

>[AC=============================CA]<

If someone were to be passing through Starfall ridge ( so named for being the supposed last resting place of the legendary Star of Coruscant) and they happened to be a Pau'an (Or they happened to be equipped with decent enough listening equipment.) They might have been able to just hear under a good mile of ice and metal. A sound.

"████████████████████████████████████████████████████!!!!!!"

If you asked them to describe this sound. They would probably ask you "How in the nine corellian hells did you know about that?" Or " Who the fuck starts a conversation like that, I just sat down!"

But upon further introspection. They would probably say it was most like " A heavy duty construction Droid perfectly recreating the wailing cry of a male sentient learning that his wife is having an affair with the blue milk delivery guy."

"████████████████████████████████████████████████!!!!!"

"And shortly after that cry, a curse filled rant at the universe's unfairness and overtly sadistic nature would be bemoaned out by the supposed victim. While heavy gun fire randomly went off in the background."

"██████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████████—------------------------------------------------------------------------------......................"

"Then that opera of woes would be finished with a serenade of unintelligible sobs and sighs of a great and mighty despair, that quieted down enough that those same cries could no longer be heard from above ground, even with that enhanced hearing."

…

After a bit of a stunned silence. You would probably admit to them that what they just said was one of the most beautiful things you had ever heard.

And then they would probably brush it off and say they were a theater kid before they had to join the rebellion ( because why else would you be on Hoth. It's cold as shit and a generally awful place to be. You don't exactly come here for vacation… okay maybe you skied once BUT THAT'S BESIDES THE POINT!) and really wish they could have pursued an acting career.

This admittance of their origin would have made you kinda nostalgic. And then you would start to talk about ages long past and what ifs and could have been's. You would kinda hit it off and maybe you would have found a friend… or something more.

But unfortunately since this is a hypothetical and the magical entity known as the force doesn't work like that. No one heard this legendary temper tantrum- ( it was AN EMOTIONAL OUTBURST!!!) TEMPER. TANTRUM.

…

*Ahem*

Since no one heard … The Emotional Event ( Screw you.) Make me bitch. ANYWHO since no one heard ANYTHING ANYWAY, This is all hyperbole. Nobody heard anything, no stories were exchanged. And the only person who knows that it happened at all. Is the mech who caused it in the first place.

Speaking of said bot…

>[=A===========================C=]<

…

SO.

Now that i got… THAT. Out of my system.

I can sufficiently say… Holy shit.

I AM PACKING HEAT.

What was probably a relatively undisturbed hanger has been what can be described as Shredded.

There were Minor fires everywhere. Massive explosion marks and debris were strewn about the place. What was once a (relatively) untouched Hanger bay. Now looked like the warzone it was probably a part of… however long ago the battle between The Sith Empire and The Old Republic was.

But to be fair the hanger bay had held up pretty well. Despite being covered in Scorch marks. The superstructure was still completely intact by the looks of it. This was especially obvious where my shots had hit the support. Infact….

"Holy Frack! I barely Scratched That beam! How durable is it? Wait, how Powerful am I?... And why am I self censoring so much? Questions for later."

Shaking those queries off. I looked around. I was trapped, stuck, in a hard place. Whatever you want to call it. And my freakout hadn't helped me get any closer to getting out.

I looked around, For any possible exit. The Corridors- too small for me- the hanger entrance- The snow had long since turned to ice and would definitely cave in if I tried to dig myself out. Making an exit for myself? Same problem as the last sentence. Especially if my sensors which said I was a good mile underground were correct.

I can't exactly build a smaller unit on its own. My fabricators aren't nearly complicated enough for that, and there is no wind or sunlight for me to harvest so I can't power a bot factory. So basically, Im Fracked (okay, starting to get worried about the self censoring stuff ) unless some smaller robot drops out of the sky for me too-

"… Hellloooo~"

Leaning up next to two crates in a V shape. Is the unmistakable figure of an Astromech droid. Iced over, clearly depowered and in major disrepair, but just maybe….

" you'll do nicely."

Marching up to the little droid (because the only modes that seem to be on this mech are stomp, march, and charge.) I knelt down to grab ahold of him with the manipulators on my gun hand. His junked up body clunking and clanging in my hand like it was made of badly strung together soda cans.

However I knew I could repair this little guy. My new subroutines told me so. Moving my nano-faber arm right up to the astromech. I let the nanobots flow into him. And watched the magic happen.

You see the funny thing about the "Resurrection" Process is that while it can save and repair parts. For the most part if Parts of the broken machine are just straight up damaged beyond repair. The nanobots will straight up eat the scrap metal, and make a new part that they think might fit the bot.

So as I'm watching the metal of this astromech mend itself. I see plates start to be eaten away. With new ones of bright blue affixing themselves to the little droid. I see its left leg be completely consumed and replaced with a red and black actuator leg with a red shoulder pad attached to the side of it. Its main head camera lights up with a yellow light like a Pawn unit. And it gains a red flood light like a cortex unit.

All in all, The droid looks like an old republic astromech that got a paint job from both a cortex and armada designer. Kinda cool looking, not gonna lie.

As the astromech repairs are completed. Information rushes into my processors. Engineering components, tools, star ship maintenance plans, how to speak binary, even some guides on how to make engines, Navigational computers and even basic hyperdrives!

But more interestingly and probably more importantly. Astromech and other droid parts. And specifically. The Droid brain. An utterly beautiful mechanical organ. That produces AI that are the most beautifully intelligent and emotional mechanical creatures to ever grace the halls of sci fi. And subsequently. Leagues above my current (Read: not built yet) army's AMI.

I… This…. How… my god. My new brain is already working on designing new units. New warmachines! New weapons… new Starships. From this little old astromech… my god!

Im startled from my musings as the droid whirrs to life. I see it start to flicker to life. Its optics begin to dawn with life as I set it on the ground. As if awoken from a long slumber. It begins to take in its surroundings, until looking up at me

<Booting up—M8-T5 = Online—'Online?'—Query = New Entity—'Identification'—unknown—Query = 'Unknown Droid Identity?'>

…

… huh. I mean… I've read enough SI works to know that you usually forget your name… but to have it happen to you is… strangely freeing.

I mean. I can't remember who my family is, who my friends are. I remember events from my life and plenty of trivia. But names of places… it's all blank.

I expected to be sad. And don't get me wrong! I am a little. But it's like… I don't remember my connection to them. There's no… emotional baggage there…

Maybe it's Whatever ROB that put me here. Didn't want me feeling bad so he must've gone "snip" on that emotional connection.

I'm not who I was before… Well to be fair, I'm still like 70% that person. (whoever they were.) but for the most part… I'm a new me… im … me…

"...Huh huhuhu he he ha hahaha Ha HA HA HAHA HAHAHA MWAHAHA HAHA HA HA HA AH HA HA HA HA!!"

For the first time in this new world. I laugh. Not proud to admit it but it definitely was a wee bit of a manic laugh. (Maybe I should figure out how to see a therapist after I get out of here…)

But honestly I have never known such… FREEDOM! I have no obligations. No Ties to another time or place. My only loyalty is to myself and my morals. No one commands me but ME!

Maybe my life was great or it sucked. Maybe I was poor or rich. Dumb or smart.IT DOESN'T MATTER! I'M UTTERLY FREE NOW. TO DO AS I WISH!!!

IS THIS WHAT THE SITH WERE TALKING ABOUT? BECAUSE I HAVE NO IDEA!

HA HA HA HA HA HAAAA!!!

<Query=Concern—'mental state'—stability='jeopardized?'>

I turned my head to the Smaller droid Laughing and guffawing. Even though I no longer have the organic need to slow down or take a breath.

" Ha ha ha hu hu… hu … ha … ha … I'm sorry, that just hit me funny."

Fully turning to the droid after that manic gut laugh. I considered his question. I can choose literally whoever I want to be. But I need to choose something good, something original.

'Hephestus? no, probably already taken. Ptah? Bah, not cool enough. So who could I name myself after…. Oh. that works'

And like a flash it comes to me. Out of Persian mythology. The man who became the ultimate cyborg. And the very first doctor, craftsman, and smith. And perhaps a prime god when humanity ascends beyond time and space.

And so, I focus on the astromech. Seemingly shuffling in place from how I'm making him uncomfortable.

"Me? My little friend? What a good question. And I thank you for asking. My name? My name is THRAETON"

I bend my knee down, putting my fabricator arm on my knee.

" And You my little friend? You and me are going to do spectacular things together!"

The astromech stares up at me. Phrasing my words. Comprehending the UTTER GLORY THAT WE WILL ACHIEVE TOGETH-

<Statement = No—Intercourse—Thraeton / = / M8-T5—physicality=impossible>

…

Wut?

"N-no that was not what i was referring to-"

<Emotive = relief—'oh good'—addendum = 'full stop'—genocide = 'never gonna happen'>

'Wu- NO. I was not referring to genocide eithe-"

<Relief—Query = 'lesser scale'—'Mass Murder'—Clarification = 'not cool'>

"OH MY ROBOTIC GOD! I AM NOT IN ANY WAY, SHAPE, OR FROM REFERRING TO PURPOSELY CAUSING DEATH ON A MASSIVE SCALE!!!"

<Extreme Relief—pause—M8-T5—requirement—clarification = 'purposely?'>

" HAgubuhmrhebnnnnnnbepphhhh….." making a sound that can only be described as " the concept of frustration" I rested my head piece (just so you know, it sucks not having a face) into my weapon based arms. Took a long and deep (fake) breath. And looked back at the little at the little … FRIEND...

"No no no… what i was referring to little… guy. Was not any murder. Not any… physical interface. No no no, what I was referring to… is very different" I stared at him right in the optic.

"We. are going. to steal… pause for dramatic effect…" my flood lights suddenly light up, lighting up the surrounding room "EVERYTHING!!" my Thunderous artificial voice slightly echoed throughout the hanger.

Yes. I'm going to steal. Literally. EVERYTHING! You see when I got all that juicy information from T5. I realized something. If the information banks in an old astromech droid can give me a massive leap in technology. Then what can I get if I get off this world?

I could probably make even more starships, weapons, space stations, and fortress planets. I would never have to worry about any danger, because I WOULD BE THE DANGER. Hell. if the era is right. I could probably make myself an LMD body so that I could interact with people again. And all I have to do to get it. Is to get close. AND STEAL EVERYTHING.

But it won't be easy. I know, criminals, monsters, the dark empires that existed throughout the ages, any dark force user, the super weapons? Any one or combination of these things could probably kill me if I encounter them unprepared.

While I can produce legions of Machines in mere hours. That doesn't mean that their armies that already exist cant absolutely wipe the floor with me. Or bombard me from orbit. Or they can pull up a force storm. Or lightsabers reflect all of my shots right back at me! Or any number of esoteric abilities I don't know about!

If I'm gonna survive, I NEED to steal. Steal me some tech. Steal me so allies so that we can become friends. Steal me some ships. Steal me some planets! I NEED TO STEAL. EVERYTHING!

…

Heh heh… oh yeah. If things go smoothly. I'm looking at one of the greatest adventure galaxies in fiction. Being free for me to explore and party in for all eternity. Especially without the danger of a true death. Heh, seems like everything's looking up Thraeton-

<query—thraeton = requirement— 'maintenance check?'>

…

" Alright listen here YOU LITTLE SHI-"

>[===============A=C===============]<
End of Chapter. To be continued
A/N:2
So uh… hi. This is my first ever proper fic. I've done Omakes before but never my own fiction. So please discuss. Constructive criticism is welcome. And I hope you enjoy my work.
I will try to post semi- frequently, I'm also gonna post informationals about this new world so you can see this love letter universe to star wars I'm making.
My knowledge on the lore is spotty at best. I have the broad strokes of both The Original and new cannon. My primary knowledge comes from the movies and tv shows. Plus a few of the original and new comics. And the SWTOR MMO. If you feel the need to point out I don't know something or my guy could have done this. Note: 1. I probably straight up didn't know that and 2. TELL ME ANYWAY. I like learning about new Star Wars lore. Old or new.
This AU is closer to legends than anything else. But I will use the parts of Disney canon I like such as Andor and Rogue one. And also a touch of star wars visions and the templin institute reimaging of the sequels.
This fic is inspired by the countless commander fics before it and will have some aspects of them.
But know this. This will not be a fix it fic or and exponential growth in power… well it will have elements of that. But only to a reasonable degree. Our SI is 1. An idiot. So he doesn't always think through a situation fully. And 2. This au is basically the higher estimates of power scaling when it comes to star wars. Which means doing a starkiller and pulling a ship out of the atmosphere is completely possible for any of the Skywalkers or higher end force users. 2003 clone wars was the closest to properly depicting what happened during said war. And most Jedi masters and Arc troopers are IRL anime protagonists and Master Chiefs respectively. OUR BOY IS FUCKED unless he figures out how to Steal even faster. But we will get to that.
You can thank Tomb_spyder, DannyJ, Ravensdagger, LD1449 and my highschool english teacher for inspiring me to write. Love their work and I really hope you enjoy mine.
Best regards.
ELITE

 

[Ridiculous aplenty]

Logo for our funky little guy. and his funky Romanian ROBOTIC helpers.

Spoiler: LOGO

faction logo.png

drive.google.com

edit: I dont know how to upload files to an image host the questionable questing will take <:S

 

[Ridiculous aplenty]

here is my second rendition of the faction flag

https://imgur.com/gallery/auto-alliance-flag-UJeb6zf

 

[Ridiculous aplenty]

AN/1: Once again here are the main pieces I listened too while making this chapter


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cerFSyaXIfQ

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ag2B79yaiSc

View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0FTA690wr7w
>[===============A=C===============]<
Chapter 2: Plans, pains, and the Materials that make them.
>[===============A=C===============]<

So! Fun fact. Astromechs? Very throttleable. Who knew when you made your robot's personality defaulted to "Sassy bitch" when their brains start to develop, would make you wannastrangle them! But. I Digress.

We are still trapped in the ship that I now know is called the star of coruscant. (ringing a few bells all of a sudden.) and I had sent out M8 to do a few tasks that would hopefully allow us to make this wreck into a proper place of… operations? Construction? Survival? Not sure yet.

On a more important note. Guess who discovered more lore!!!~~ (merde! J'en ai marre de ces conneries!) 'SHUT UP ITS COOL'

< Request—'Thraeton?' = noise level—'too high'—attempting—'concentration' = Request repeat— 'shut the kriff up'—appreciation = ''>

I mentally scowled in the direction of the little astromech. Turns out when i added him to my local network. In place of assimilating him fully. He joined up as another user in the network. I would say it's like a hive mind. But that would be wrong. It's more like a mini internet. Allowing for us to hear each other without talking and sharing information. It's like having an iphone directly in your head. (well, I guess it's to be expected, cause, you know, giant mecha?)

The bad news is that we can basically hear each other whenever. And I have yet to figure out how to move myself or him to another chat room. So for now all I can do is put up the metaphorical privacy curtain. And try to quiet our connection. I can't mute it. But I can get pretty close. Though it's apparently like hearing your boss rant behind a wood door. Or so M8 tells me (little Fucker.)

He was currently out hunting for any power we could get our hands on. And since he was much smaller than me. And possessed the knowledge of how to navigate the ship. He had elected to hunt for backup generators around the ship. After some prodding from yours truly of course.

Back to what I was saying. So you know the game of BAR? The whole game that houses the universe that my new KICKASS BODY!!!!~~~~ is from. Well pouring through my Cortex and Armada combined databases. I found some pretty interesting bits on the history of the actual universe, how the "Anastanum" particle works, the meaning of life ( and 42 does have something to do with it!), and other important garbage that isn't really interesting to my situation right now.

What is interesting however. The battle reports, the databases we don't see in game (who knew robots had a civilian population?) , and the technical specifications for most in game units.

And bot o bot. There is a lot that the people who made the BAR game got wrong.

Now to preface my unhinged ranting.(HA IT'S ONLY ME HERE. I CAN RANT HOWEVER I WANT! BISCH!) I have to clarify things. Despite everything I'm going to say about my guys. They are still unfortunately the wish versions of PA commanders when it comes to battles and their sizes.

But that doesn't mean they still aren't destructive. while their smallest battles can be over some little ridge. their largest battles can take place over entire continents. not sieges, not wars, BATTLES ON CONTINENT SIZED BATTLEFIELDS. and that's because of how their unit scale and their TIER system works.

Most basic battles will only ever see T1 troops on the field. These battles can take place between 20 minutes to a week. These battles are for the most part based on luck and speed of one or both of the conflicting forces. but if they get past that first week

Then its on to T2. The boys are deployed. Absolute units. The monsters of the armada and cortex. If these guys are being deployed? That means the industrial and power capabilities are probably producing thousands if not hundreds of thousands T1 units to go along with those T2 units ( or alternatively its just a lot of T2 units. Usually in the thousands themselves. ) These guys are also much better built. Which means that instead of regular old metals they are plated and reinforced with several varieties of Titanium, tungsten, and chromium. (so you know its good)

And then we have the T3 units. Impossibly hard to produce. But if the economy allows it. Then you have definitely gotten to larger sets of battles. They are as rare as they are deadly. A signal that war is evolving into a much larger ordeal. Most of them were practically brand spanking new designs (at least from what my data banks are telling me) hence why most of the particular titanic mechs can be found under the "Experimental" umbrella.

I gotta say. The people who made BAR commanders don't fuck around.

as for unit sizes... let me put it this way. the bots and buildings we see in game? Those are the Chibi versions.

the units. Bots especially, vary in size. The average troops like pawns and grunts are between B1 and B2 battle droids when it comes to size. and things like the Centurion and Aggravator are more like slightly larger Hulks from Helldivers 2.

And tanks? the smallest ones are the size of real world tanks, their construction trucks are like the size of those Oshkosh Military trucks you see, and their larger tanks? The largest T2 tank is BaneBlade size on both sides of the Armada and Cortex conflict, with most other tanks sliding between the scales of the two. And most stealth vehicles scale between bigger than a remote control rover to as big as a buggy. and The Thor ( T3 experimental tank) is more akin to a moving fortress than an actual tank. basically a Baneblade to a Baneblade

Jets are a little more uniform in size. except support stealth and scouts are notably smaller than their other counterparts. ( that also goes for the other types of units. most stealth craft ( except for two notable exceptions) are the size of those cardboard suicide paper airplanes they are currently. also transports are pretty big. with the smaller ones being

The hovercraft are a lot like tanks except just smaller than their biggest T2. simply because any bigger and they would start to fail... well... Minus one T3 Exception of course.

Battleships are fairly big, about the size of modern day battleships. except for their tier 2 ships. The largest one is almost twice as big as an aircraft carrier.

and the Experimentals? The colossus and titan are almost jaeger sized from the pacific rim. with the other T3 being of a similar size. unless there are a lot of bots helping the construction of these bad boys. they will almost certainly take months to construct.

Speaking of construction, the buildings, turrets, and factories? while some of them are basically their in game models. ( Especially at T1 ). Most of them are grossly simplified versions that either make them smaller or miss massive parts of their construction and operation. Like armor and foundations for turrets. or conveyors and wiring for factories. The reason the in game voice is always saying that you should only make one type of each factory? Because usually those factories could get to cloud level. And were fortresses in their own right.

And last but not least. my commander's body? Have you ever seen the buzz lightyear movie? Yeah, I'm a little bigger than Zurg. (definitely helps my ego a bit). And a bit smaller than the iron giant, armed with a Mark 7 cortex heavy duty assault cannon, an Armada type 44 point defense laser rifle, and the beautiful top of the line twin Siege grade Nano Faber. And decked out with both some armada and cortex heavy duty SWAG.

But when it comes to commanders? We have a small problem.

You see, The average commander we play in game? The absolute best and worst of The Machine wars. Absolute units on the battlefield that can slowly upgrade and improve themselves to the point of soloing armies. And IMPOSSIBLY risky to produce. The reason players are not allowed to make other commanders? Well in universe if you aren't especially careful in the creation of a new commander and subsequently a new ai. The new intelligence can come out faulty, broken, and even downright malicious. Digital cancer basically. If you need a good example of a broken commander. just look at The Scavenger protocol.

*shudder*

…

Did I just… think "shudder" like it was a goddamn onomatopoeia?

Alright never mind, back to what I was saying.

You see, on a much more practical level. in a lot of battles. The commanders are rarely ever seen. and even if you do see them and destroy them? You could still very well lose that battle.

Because despite being so powerful. BAR commanders are more like bombs than anything else. They are a shell that is delivering the payload of the guiding intelligence behind the Forces because as long as there is 1 factory, resurrection bot, or construction bot left. That intelligence can rebuild its factories and body. And WIN.

And even the. One. Singular. Bot. can still carry out orders of destruction. And maybe they don't win. But they can hurt the enemy on the way out.

"But ME!" I hear myself think" oh this all seems so good for you, this all seems so good for you! What's the problem?"

Well that funny you ask that, Me! (god I'm fucking lonely.) because you see, here's the thing. You know dura steel? That thing that virtually every vehicle and structure in star wars had a version of built into it? The thing that makes up the ship surrounding me? Yeah well funny story MY NORMAL WEAPON COMPLIMENT IS PRACTICALLY USELESS AGAINST IT.

You see most of my units? While they are formidable and deadly in their own right. They are only made out of plain old steel. A stronger blend of steel then you see on your average warship back on good old earth. But nonetheless steel And why is that a problem you ask? haha well you see DURASTEEL IS PRACTICALLY ADAMANTIUM COMPARED TO NORMAL STEEL.

My weapons? They are good. Don't get me wrong, they are really good. But they are good against the machines of BARS home galaxy. And while stronger units can be considered competent warriors.

Durasteel on the other hand. Is bad news for me. It's stronger, it's tougher, and most importantly of all it's a lot harder for my nanobots to digest. You see I didn't notice this earlier ( well I noticed it a little. But we will get to that. ) but my blasts from my assault cannon didn't do as much damage as it should have.

And that's not even mentioning the other metals that I found that can only be described as the Durasteel versions of titanium, chromium, and tungsten mixed into the super structures. And a number of other metals in their weight class. That I couldn't identify. Because they were what I could only assume were FANTASY METALS.

"Jaybus funking crepes.." I groaned. And looking over my own units again (schematics and such). I came to a (sorta) startling realization. If I arrived at any time in the clone wars, imperial era, or … the sequel area ( EW. ) I would be absolutely wrecked. No joke if a few millennia old dreadnought wreck is giving me this much trouble. I don't even wanna dream what a 'modern' star wars military could do to me.
and that's not even counting legends and all the crazy shit that could kill me from legends. Like The Dark Empire, The Vong, The One Sith, or even The Mother. Abeloth.

My mind racing through a thousand possibilities and simulations, I could only come to one conclusion. I was completely boned if I didn't make a quick and radical change to both my arsenal and defenses. And honestly? With how my mind was taking its time trying to come up with new counters for the presented problems. At this rate I would be dead long before they were finished.

Yeah. I'm pretty screwed aren't I?... Or am I?

Funnily enough, through my moaning and groaning, I actually discovered I have "Sub minds" thanks to them telling me all about the different compositions of the many super metals that made up the hull of the ship. Little mini me's that run around doing certain tasks. Like logistics, combat, strategic, engineering, lore, and most important to THIS CONVERSATION! NOT ALL THE TIME (trust me they don't need the ego boost.) was Research and development. AKA the guys who optimize and design all my toys. They are actually kindly like the real world equivalent of in game research time now that i think about it

I actually was able to digitize myself and go into my own mind. Found out where the little guys were hiding and… well…

>[===============CA=AC===============]<
Honestly? Cyberspace was not what I was expecting. It's basically a big empty void. With a giant size me as some big old dreadnought. Hell it kinda reminded me of that old tron movie. Except with less bikes and spaceships. And quite a few more colors. Although I did see a few other of my sub minds playing what I could only describe as "IRL tron" soo…. you know maybe not that far off, BUT ANYWAY. Making my way through the corridors of my head ( or is it core? Or body? Or… whatever the Frack is the equivalent to my brain in this big as mecha.) I made my way to the door that had a big R, &, and D on it and soon enough, stood right before it.

So I took a deep digital breath. Rotated my leg back. And swung as hard as I could in this digital landscape.

*BAM*

"Arrreeee you winning son?"

To greet their illustrious Prime's presence. None of them immediately reacted to me in a meaningful way. Though I was starting to understand why at a startling rate.

All around me. Pandemonium. Well at least as pandemonium as I think a lab environment would allow. All around me, my "mini mes" ( mostly taking forms of either cortex or armada commanders with some kind of accessories. Usually lab coats and some form of hat.) were all at different stations. Or running to and from said stations.

All at different points. Digital versions of different unit designs, Molecular compositions of materials, and the occasional house of cards. It actually looks like one of them got pretty high. At least eleven stacks up.

And a LOT of yelling.

"-no I KNOW That the consumption rate limiter on the Nano Fabers are the only thing preventing a grey goo scenario! But if we don't adjust the limiter we won't be able to properly absorb the metals of the surrounding Ship-

"-OD DAMMIT MAN! DUDE. WATER. IS. WET! SHUT THE FU-

"-If we increase the Laser intensity anymore. Our weapons might start MELTING if they fire for too long! We need to optimize the cooling systems on the-

"- FOR THE LAST TIME. NO WE CANNOT CREATE TERMINATOR'S! WE DON'T HAVE THE DESIGNS FOR ANATOMICALLY CORRECT MACHINE NOR THE FORMULA FOR SYNTH SKIN!-"

"-how are the blaster prototype simulations coming along? We need to know if there is enough crossover between our own blasters and Tibana based ones to see if-

"-I WANT MY MOMMY!-"

"-Any progress on the new Durasteel formula? The boys in unit designs are gonna need that sooner than later-"

"- no no I know we are gonna run into roadblocks, what i don't understand is why YOU'RE TRYING TO REINVENT THE THRUSTER FROM SCRATCH??? ESPECIALLY WHEN WE HAVE A PERFECTLY GOOD DESIGN RIGHT IN OUR DATABANKS?!-"

Um…

They seem fine.

Apparently they seem to be running into some trouble. Might be good to let them figure it out. Give em some space

Better back out slowly…

One of them suddenly looks up at me "PISS OF YA WANKER!!" said the one in the Australian hat with a suspiciously familiar accent and voice. And proceed to launch something at me.

And the next thing you know. The last thing I see before I'm forcefully booted out of the simulation. Is a brick careening towards my head.
>[===============CA=AC===============]<
So uh… yeah…

Things could be going better. I will admit.

And unfortunately I have discovered that my weaknesses keep stacking up.

My Subminds ( and by extension me I guess, god that is so weird to think about ) have been running simulations and crunching the numbers. And I'm not gonna lie chief. IT'S LOOKING BAD.

Most of the normal materials I use are probably considered barely better than cardboard now. My weapons of war are barely roombas with knives on them if I compare them to droids in star wars. And my (future) enemies are probably fielding troops with technology and firepower that rival my own higher end troops, along with powers I can't account for nor properly counter. JOY.

But the good news is, I have a few surprise tools that will help me later!~

You see, going back to the whole "Database thing" you see along with the civilian and any other non- military equipment Cortex and armada might have had. There is also a massive database of failed and previous designs for me to pull from.

Meaning that what might have been a cost ineffective or mechanically faulty war machine. Might just be able to be upgraded into the next big game changer unit for my army. Already my R&D Subminds have a few proposals for new weapon and unit designs. Some being from older designs and some brand new.

And speaking of my mini mes, My newly discovered sub minds. It turns out that by just fighting, building, and basically muckin about. I'm creating these little guys. Whether for fighting, funking (no, you read that right. WE BOOGIE.), or creating. These guys start to act like my own little crew (like I'm a fracking spaceship or somethin). Making me react faster. Think smarter. And overall be a bit better than human. If I had to guess I would say they are probably the in universe equivalent for the in game veteran system. So, overall pretty good.

And probably the most important. Due to classified events that may or may not have involved sentient digital cancer. I have possibly one of the most unique applications of technomancy ever unveiled in a game series yet. Resurrectio machinarum, AKA resurrection machines. Specifically, The Lazarus and Graverobber. And their ability to not only resurrect friendly units if their bodies are intact enough. But to restore and capture enemy units and structures even if they are from a completely different faction. And of course. My commander body's ability to capture still functioning units to my own side.

And while the aforementioned bots can do the same. Apparently they do it too slowly to be considered "combat efficient". Apparently resurrector bots and capture bots were wildly different in both purpose and function. With the ladder being considered too "outdated" to be combat efficient anymore.

But you see that last little fact is definitely the biggest boon for me. Since I'm not in an active combat situation. I have a much larger database to pull from. Which means military grade construction nano fabers and dirt cheap outdated civilian mining equipment goes together like peaches and cream!... Even though I have never had peaches and cream… oh shit I wont get a chance now. Especially with the whole metal body and mind- PANIC. LATER.

Anyway getting back to what I was saying, the point is that while i'm working with utter trash. I'm working with a continent sized load of trash. And when one man's trash is another man's treasure. Who knows what wonders I can find in the dump that is my mind!

Speaking of trash. From the sudden power boost to my economy I just got I think M8 just hooked up one of the first generators.

Now with a bit more power in my system. I can actually start making the build pad. And with the mountains worth of metal around me. Converting a little bit of it into the necessary materials for bots and build pads should be pretty easy.

All i have to do is set my auto faber to build and reclaim. And I should be good.

And as the blue and red light filters through the hanger. Changing and consuming the necessary materials. I see the beginnings of a metal outline begin to form.

I can already taste the fruits of my labor. Ready to be harvested. And ready to help me get out of this metal casket.

All I have to do now. Is wait

…

And wait.

…

Ah right. Things are slower to construct than in game. Guess I gotta wait a bit longer…

…

And wait.

…

And wait a bit more…

…

Wow it's been a minute and the outline isn't even complete yet.

…

"*sigh*, you know I could really go for some music."

…

"... Now what's this?"

>[==============<0>(o)================]<

M8-T5 didn't know what to feel about the "Droid" that called itself "Thraeton".

He used commas there because apparently from what he had discerned from what little Thraeton had told him and his constant Ramblings. He was apparently a part of a race of organics that had turned themselves into machines. And were fighting some kind of war of desolation against each other.

So he gave it 50/50 on whether he's telling the truth or having a severe malfunction.

But he was leaning towards the previous. The Technology he was sporting was nearly miracle Technology. "Nano fabers?" "Anastasis particles?" "Teleporters?" The only places he heard of those things was from the realm of fiction. And he was pretty sure his life wasn't some trashy romance novel.

…Maker, he missed Knight Tala.

Shaking off the unpleasant thoughts. He focused on the task at hand. Along with repairing him. Thraeton had seen fit to give him some extra upgrades. One of which being something called an "Attis Device". Supposedly it would help M8 repair things much quicker. M8 had been doubtful about that. Especially when things looked to be so… degraded.

Apparently Thraeton had the idea to send M8-T5 through the ship and have the little droid restore some of the ship's backup generators. Then "Juryrig" the generators up to a "build pad".

He wasn't exactly sure how that was supposed to work. You know since Thraeton hadn't seen fit to explain how a lot of his tech worked. And how they were supposed to siphon power from a generator without actually connecting it to the build pad. Even though he had rambled plenty on how

That was another thing, he rambled, A LOT, whether he was talking to himself or to someone else was up for debate. But probably the only people the little droid had met in his existence who approached that level of rambling, were the occasional jedi historian he had been assigned to. Or those emo Sith "lords" that enjoyed monologuing so much about "the power of the dark side" or " how the republic would fall today".

Even though they usually started to cry if you shocked them a little too hard. The pansies.

It didn't help his reputation when they kept cursing him as the "Sith Slayer". With them usually continuing their painful moans right after. it didn't help when knight tala kept giggle at him being called the nickname that SHE gave him.

Plus, he had only ever killed one Sith. And he was of the opinion it doesn't really count when it was mainly the several hundred pounds of industrial equipment that took the Sith out. All he did was hack a crane to release its cargo and gravity did the rest. But knight tala

*sigh* he really missed fighting Sith.

As he finished his repairs on the third back up generator. It suddenly sparked to life lighting up the surrounding area. Bringing the lights back for a second before it was seemingly redirected somewhere else.

Honestly it made no sense. How in the makers shiny metal aft were you supposed to just… transfer power through "air waves ands quantum fuckery"? At least that's how Thraeton put it. The absolute bolt head.

"-KRZZRT- Hey M8? Can you head back to the hanger? We got enough power. And I really want to show you the fruits of our labor -KRZZRT- over -KRZZRT"

M8-T5 rolled his optic. Of course, speak of the sith and he shall appear.

< statement—explanatory—M8-T5—Thraeton—'optimal communication'—interference=impossible—'you dont need to make radio buzzes'—Thraeton='dumbaft'>

There was a momentary pause. "...Yeah I know. Still fun to screw around with ya ;P"

<incomplete query—'did you just…'—query—'add emoji'='digital interface?'>

"Yey"

If M8 could snort. He would. So in place of snorting. He let out a low whirr.

<Responsive—M8-T5='heading over now'—stop>

As M8 started rolling along. He thought about how… utterly strange Thraeton was.

A giant of metal, wielding strange and fantastical technologies, and apparently possessing the capabilities to forge armies from barely anything.

He should be out in the galaxy. Making war, death, and other such miseries.

Yet here he was. Stuck in a box. With the childish dream of "stealing everything". And repairing some old astromech to help him get out.

Here was a being with the power to make war like an artist, and his current concerns involved stealing things from others. Knowing Thraeton he would probably run off into the sunset short

What a strange droid.

Well honestly M8 wanted to get out of this shipwreck too. And since it seemed like Thraeton could create practically anything. A ship didn't seem too out of the realm of possibility.

And being serious. Stealing wasn't the worst thing in the world. Especially if it was from a Sith or Imp. So for now. M8 would help Thraeton.

And if it turned out Thraeton was a liar and was planning to start another bloody droid rebellion. Well. Then he would just have to deal with him. Like any other problem M8 has dealt with.

As he was rolling through the halls. He started to hear noises coming from down the corridor.

Was it construction? No, there was an undertone of that. But there was also a primary noise and it was too Melodical.

Approaching the hallway leading to the starboard hanger. From down the corridor, it almost sounded like… Music?
>[==============<[O]>================]<

View: https://youtu.be/kjIk-cRU0mk?si=YRg4v43Palei-Zch
"I don't want to see tomorrow,
unless I see it with you.~"

I got to say, I am pleasantly surprised, it's not everyday you find several petabytes of music in a random file in the back of your database.

"Tomorrow, so they say"

Maybe ROB left it as a gift or something? Honestly not complaining

"Will be a lovely day,"

<query—Thraeton—'music'—'origin?'>

"A bright new sun will suddenly break through,"

"Hmmm? Oh yeah. Turns out I had a bit of music stored in my database. Who woulda thunk it?"

"But I don't want to see tomorrow,"

<questioning statement—Thraeton—"enjoys music?'>

"Unless I see it with you."

"Well just because I didn't immediately play any songs when I repaired you doesn't mean I don't enjoy it! Speaking of, you like the song?

"Tomorrow, so I hear"

<'meh'—absent minded statement—'heard better'—stop>

"The clouds will disappear,"

"Oh well we can't all be as well traveled as you mister high and mighty."

"The door to happiness will open wide."

<query—Thraeton—'possessing'—'vocal based poetry?'>

"But I don't want to see tomorrow,"

"... I'll lend you some copies of Eminem later. For now. Feast your optics on this!"

"Unless you're there by my side."

Gesturing in front of him. The stacks of crates had been moved aside. With most missing metal sheets and other ores from them.

"Don't want to walk alone,"

The fighter wrecks that had previously been on stand by had either been stripped or were missing completely. Looking like some swarm of steel eating creatures had gone to town on them and not seen fit to finish their meal.

"Don't want to dream alone,"

And right in the center of it. The build pad itself.

"Just want you close to my heart."

Simultaneously lackluster yet over doing it. The humble build pad was a sight to behold

"For if your love is gone,"

Nozzles of nanomachines and matter spewed forth in a glowing cloud of red and blue down to the surface of the pad.

"How can I face the dawn of"

Like a thousand caring hands. Different mechanical arms sculpted and molded the matter into shapes and parts.

"Sunday, or Monday?"

Pushing each piece into place like some great puzzle. The arms kept working.

"I just can't face one day…"

All of their attention on the singular bot right in the middle of the pad

"Until you say you're mine,"

It was shaped like a pawn. Clearly an ancestor of some kind. But there were several notable differences.

"Oh, darling, please be mine"

Instead of weapons. It sported a drill and a shovel like claw. And a fabricator on its shoulder. For harvesting any excess materials.

"And make each bright tomorrow young and new."

It had several hazard markings all over its body.

"But I don't want to face tomorrow"

But like its creator. It had a mixed paint job of red and blue.

"Unless I see it with you."

Its eye was bigger. More like a headlight on a miner hat than anything else.

"Tomorrow, so I hear"

It was also much shorter and stockier. Honestly "built like a brick shit house" came to mind when I saw it.

"The clouds will disappear,"

And the most notable was the giant claw connected to the back of the bot. Making it look like the future descendant of one of those CAT vehicles.

"The door to happiness will open wide."

His name? BORE ( Bionic, Ore, Retrieval, Engineer )

"But I don't want to see tomorrow,"

And right as the constructors finished their work. The mono eye that would guide us out of here. Lit up.

"Unless I see it with you~."

Looking right at the little machine. There was only one thing I could think to say at that moment."… Hello. FRIEND."

>[==============<[🗲]>================]<
To be continued… again..
>[===============A=C===============]<
AN/2: So, another chapter down and another week passed. Honestly kinda iffy about this one. Simply because of how much exposition was in this chapter alone. But I felt like I needed to get some of the heavier exposition out of the way.
Good news is I have also figured out a bit of a schedule. Every Friday I should be able to get a chapter out. ( unless class of exams get in the way )
And I know it kinda sucks we are stuck on Hoth right now. But I swear once we are done with this arc it's pure freedom from here on out. Hoth arc should be 3-5 chapters. So expect escape velocity relatively soon.
again. comments feed the machine that is my muse. and i would love any criticisms and comments you would like to give me.
Anyway, that's my second ever chapter. Hope you enjoyed and you have a very lovely day.
Best regards
Elite
P.s holy smokes it hard to write astromech talk.