I’ve seen plenty of things in my day, but none of them involved these divines darned machines taking over the place. I work for a living and some oiled up rust bucket won’t replace me! I’m a representation of the great folk who live here, at least out in Cascading Ridge, a real oasis if I do say! Now the place is probably gonna smell of bad oil. I’m gonna file a grievance to the mayor about this. I won’t be replaced!
– Gristle Pete, deceased cook for the Cascading Ridge Saloon and former miner.
“Shame about ol’ Pete. But, rumor has it that there’s an order hunting down folks who steal a fine explosive powder filled with magic. I heard Pete’s been hoarding it like something fierce. Plus, no machine can shoot with that level of precision, that bullet hole between the eyes? That’s masterwork! Hmm, certainly the act of an elite gunslinger, the wound is still somewhat fresh. I’d say maybe a couple of days old.”
– Jeanette P. Hoffman, Human Smokepowder Shootist, “Wandering Medical Examiner”.
The machines, they seem to be popping up everywhere. As long as there’s some hack scientist with some kinda idea, something automated will appear soon after. Gristle Pete, the saloon’s mad cook got strung up by something a couple of weeks ago after babbling about “automatons replacing him”. Poor ol’ loon. Plus, the owner of the bar seems a bit toooo friendly with his top of the line automaton staff, it’s downright disgusting. Plus, you got the mechanical miners too. Ol’ Pete used to be a miner once, ya know? No wonder he’s paranoid. Keep your distance from one of those wandering tin cans, if ya know what’s good.
Author’s Note: Machines, constructs, robots! I always love crafting something like that. Hell, I did an entire post dedicated to robots before. Plus, what better way to celebrate the Fourth of July than with some crazy, volatile machines!