Doctor Franklin Nomar was once at the top of the heap in the scientific community. Rich, successful, respected and of course brilliant. Nontheless, there was something about Nomar that disturbed many who met and worked with him. He was a bundle of nervous ticks and quirks and anyone who had even taken a look at some of his speeches would know that he held himself in such a high reguard that it bordered on megalomania. To Nomar, it seems, everyone in the world was an idiot but himself, some people more so than others. Typical quotes included "Dundering idiot!" and "Simpering fools!" more often than not directed at his colleagues who were almost as qualified as himself. Still, none could dispute the vast contributions he had made to the scientific community and his brilliance often offset his personal unpleasentries in terms of standing in the scientific community. His contributions to the field of cybernetics and genetic engineering were considered truely visonary and Nomar himself a pioneer. However, there would be one day when not even his credentials would save him from the wrath of public opinion. A paper released into the scientific journals caused quote a stir in the community. "The validity of thought transferrance through nanotech cybernetics" was the name of the experiment and the moral outcry it caused seriously wounded Nomar's reputation. Many were concerned at the brutal treatments of the test animals, their minds transplanted into bodies of entirely different animals before the host body rejected it and others were worried about potential abuses of the project. Still, after the scandal had died down, people largely forgot about it. Nomar, if he had tried, could have continued to live a relatively normal life with his research. But, he blew it. The press nicknamed him Doctor Frankenstein while the scientific community shunned him. In an experiment called "Cybernetic Replacement of the Human Soul" it was revealed that Nomar had used human test subjects when no such use was authorized. Things went from bad to worse when the subjects, all of them quivering shadows of what they once were, explained that Nomar had no only pressured them to take part in the experiment going so far as to blackmail the majority of them, but had refused to let them leave the testing facility to the point of locking them in their rooms each night. Nomar dug himself further in when he rebutted his critics by calling them Luddite technophobes, afraid of true progress. "Science marches on. No matter the cost" he proclaimed. Nomar was going to be arrested, tried, sentenced and probably spend the rest of his life in prison, if not for intervention from a patron from on high. The judicial system suddenly became billions of dollars richer before Marc Doller offered Nomar a position as head of R&D at Dollarcorp. Dollar expained to Nomar that his company was the only one left that would even consider hiring him. Nomar knew he was right. After a scandel like this rocked his reputation, there was no more hope of work. Marc continued to extol the merits of working with his company. He would get unlimited resources, a fat paycheck and most of all any test subject he desired for any experiment. Nomar, not even bothering to resist, took the job and dissipiered from the public eye. While working for Dollarcorp, Nomar, free from the peer review of the scientific community's Ethics Council, made great strides in improving the technology department in Dollarcorp. Thousands upon thosands of products released have been at least partially developed by Nomar. He has no real loyality to Dollarcorp itself, though, seeing it only as a means by which he can conduct his research. He has sunk deeper and deeper into his own obsession with science, pushing advancement in any field for the sole purpose of advancement. While he may have been eccentric before, one might hazard now to guess that he is now completely mad. Nomar has entered the FPL in order to field test many of his new inventions. He would leave it to one of his assistents, but, well, they're stupid according to Nomar, and can't be trusted with this sort of advanced technology.
The Saurid Genome
Beast Master: Ultimate
The budget director sent more fools in today and told me to change my research. Taking living bio-matter and reconstituting it as mass for my new creations was deemed costly and inefficient. It would be much better, they reasoned, to make the Saurids from scratch. After all, they said, I've managed to isolate the genome. Why can't I simply make new ones cell by cell? I already did that weeks ago and it was far too easy. Production can start soon, but there is so much more to be explored! The fools simply don't realize what vast potential my restructing technologies holds, what benefits the company would reap if I had the time to perfect it. Still, I'm confident that I can wrestle more funding from Dollarcorp. Changing the entire population of a planet into Dollarcorp bio-engineered killing machines is sure to appeal to the budget directors.
Beast Master: Ultimate
- Area Affect
Pygmalion Project, Day One: Faugh. The fool Dollar barely challenges me with these useless assignments. Isolate the Saurid genome, indeed. Indeed! Why waste my talents on such petty assignments? Still... The more I think of it, the more the prospect intrigues me. The Saurids were the ultimate guards when there... Were... Saurids in the Fallen Tower, though that day has long passed. Yes, I recall them well. They were capable of running at speeds superhuman. Their teeth could crush bone and their claws rend iron. They could easily leap twenty feet or more at a time, and their skeletons were cartelage, letting them twist their bodies in all manner of angles. Could one, I wonder, improve upon the ultimate guardsman? The gears in my head are turning as I write, and I say yes! Acidic saliva, perhaps? A barbed tongue would be a welcome addition too. And their intelligence could definately use some tinkering. Yes, let them be smart enough to be able to study their prey and learn from their mistakes, never being taken by the same trick twice. This intelligence could easily lead to advanced pack tactics. They had traveled in packs of three before, why not now? Yes, I do believe I shall enjoy this assignment. But I will need to procure from dead Saurid biomass. Last I checked, the only place to get it was in the Tower maze. I am a sane and rational man of science; hunting such material is not my domain. Best send some hapless cyborg down there, to deal with the monstrosities patrolling those hallways instead.
Psionic Redirection Belt
The Pheonix Project, Day three: More tests and more failures. Another captured psychic has burned himself out, his mental energies overloading themselves, reducing his brain to a fine paste. All that's left to do is feed his catatonic body to the Saurids. Psychic energy has never been my particular forte and it's showing here. I tossed a few beakers against the wall as I yelled in frustration just a minute ago. I also shot one of my lab assistents, a habit I must remind myself to get out of, but, by God, I do feel better after doing that. The problem lies in the subjects' energies. When a psychic establishes contact with the device, their power should be absorbed, giving the wearer of the device intense psychic powers. The problem: after a brief period, the psychic capacitors absorb more than their storage permits and the energy floods back into the psychic that made contact, with often fatal results. However, a thought occurs to me. I believe that while such a device is ineffective for amplifying psychic powers in non-psychics, it should be deadly effective protection against enemy mental attacks. I shall need additional test subjects to be sure, though. I shall send a cyborg strike team to procure more. I'm sure the SLJ suspect that we have a hand in their captured psychic personel, but I am also sure that they will do little about it, as the Fallen Tower floats impregnable.
Geiger Project, day sixteen. More refinements on the nanosect are needed, sadly, mostly along the lines of molecular recognition. Case in point, the dissolving of human test subject 18-A. When exposed to the nanosect, the subject's flesh was easily rendered into a fine red paste, which would be all well and good for the mediocre scientist who says "Well, it seems this man has been reduced to nothing but bones. Good enough!" For a mind of my calibur, however, this is far from good enough. It, in fact, borders on complete failure. The problem with 18-A's flesh being dissolved into a fine red paste is twofold. First of all, it leaves behind a skeleton. This means while exposed to molecules with an abundance of carbon, the nanosects work deadly efficient at destroying molecular bonds. If they're leaving behind a skeleton, this means they're not familiar with how to do the same to molecules with an abundence of calcium. This would not bother me, except that this observation tells me that targets that are not carbon based in biology (ie - cyborgs, robots, crystelline lifeforms, etc.) should be effectively immune to the nanosect's deadly effect. Furthermore, the nanosects are not using the fine red paste left behind to produce more of their own. The reproduction protocol must, too, be recoded. After cleaning up the mess, I shall bring in subject 18-B. I am determined to make this work.
- Ranged Attack Only
- Area Affect
- Ranged and Melee Attack
Geiger Project, day thirty. Eureka! The nanosect is perfected and ready for production! Hoskins, my astute lab assistant's hypothesis was right. Recalling our previous work with the nanotech regeneration of Cybortus, who is able to convert any material into nanites for his own use, he and I were able to come up with a new nanotech protocol in the use of the nanosects! The nanosect is finally perfect. Individually, a nanosect is nothing impressive. Put under an electron microscope, the nanosect is an atom sized (Many scientists stop at molecule size for their nanites. I call these scientists fools) robot shaped much like the common housefly, save for a pair of fearsome mandibles. In swarms, however, the nanosect is something to be feared. Oh, how I wept with joy as the swarm consumed the bodies of test subject 26-G, H, and I, leaving behind not even a rib bone. Even the characteristic fine red paste was absent, as my assistant and I noted with great enthusiasm that they were using the flesh of the subjects to replicate themselves! All that's left is to develop a delivery method. Hoskins made the excellent suggestion of keeping them in a high pressure firing system, much like a fire extinguisher, only smaller. Once released, they can easily be commanded. I must say that Hoskins intellect, while crude and unsubtle, is noticable. This is why I shall conclude the experiment with one last field test on Hoskins himself. After all, if Dollar begins to notice this budding young mind, who knows what would happen? I'll send for another after the tests are over.
It was only a robot!
Self Duplication: Standard
- Weakness: Limited Uses - One Use
My peers (and I use this term as loosely as I possibly can) tell me that AI, true AI in that it doesn't merely imitate thought but produces it, can never be achieved because there is too much control in each one's birth. They tell me that when one codes an AI you are telling it everything it should be, think, and do and therefore true intelligence is impossible. The creators already set the plucky algorithm on the path it is needed to take, predetermining its fate from the start. My peers are, as I have said many times in the past, dundering idiots. They don't realize that, like their human counterparts, the machines are limited by their bodies. To say that to have a mind would necessitate having a body is fallacy in its purest form. The existence of the brain is yet another prison where the consciousness resides, nothing more and nothing less. The consciousness, the true consciousness, is thought and the existence of this goes beyond mere neurons and into divinity. It is because of this particular view I hold about life that I scoff so at people who, themselves, scoff at the notion of true artificial intelligence (and additionally at those who sanctify life as if it mattered in the long run). I have met men who I once thought were enlightened, men who I may have once thought came close to my own genius, foolishly tell me that true artificial intelligence, computer programs that think and reason with full consciousness is a chimera. This simply is not true. The main problem is the mind of the machine, the ghost in the shell, so to speak. I'll admit, even for me, to code the instructions for an intelligent machine is complicated. The more complex and intelligent you want your robots, the more time must be put into individual coding of the mind and Dollarcorp demands only the best. To code such a thing from scatch is impractical at best. It is a good thing, then, that one of my greatest technological innovations, the Primary Essence Extractor, the very invention that caused me to be ostracised from the scientific community in the first place, is the ultimate tool in AI engineering. Almost all Dollarcorp robotics factories possess them now. The Primary Essence Extractor takes the currently mysterious essence known to some as the "Soul" and turns it into pure information. True, the shock often kills the extractee, but can't make an omelette without breaking a few eggs and all. It then uses this so-called "Soul" as a template for the new AI. Sure, we can tweak and twist it as we see fit, but the vast majority of intelligence programming is already finished, giving the robot human and even superhuman levels of intelligence and common sense, but all controlled by us. We've used the templates for the most dangerous serial killers in reality for our hunter-bots, the most sensuous courtisons for our love bots and on and on. The Primary Essence Extractor gives Dollarcorp the edge we need in the robotics field. We usually wipe the personality, though; they're too dangerous in the long run, but sometimes we keep them. Some of our highest personel, including yours truely, keep robotic clones of themselves in the unlikely event they should ever pass away. I, however, keep mine at the forefront, completely under my control, of course. He is weaker than I am, surely, for I would never be so stupid to make a clone stronger than I, but he often suffices to do the job. And if he should fall, then the hapless fool who dared dismantle my avatar will feel the true power of Doctor Nomar.
- Ranged Attack Only
- Weakness: Power in Item - Easy to Lose
Most genetic engineers hold that all modification of DNA must be done before the birth of the actual organism, though they obvious have no idea what they're talking about so we'll ignore the opinions of the uneducated masses for now. Genetic engineering has gotten to the point where advancement can take place anytime and anyplace. We can improve ourselves any time we wish and improve others. It's a simple matter of retroviral engineering. Release a virus with the desired genes. Correction. Release a specially engineered virus that affects virtually all types of biology with the desired genes, or mystical resonance, or formation aura or what have you. Next, infect the target. You will quickly see the virus go to work within moments. While most viruses work only to replicate themselves, we at Dollarcorp, after many years and many test subjects, have managed to create a virus that only does half of its natural urge. It inserts an RNA chain into the cell's nucleus. When the cell reproduces, it has this foreign RNA. This process repeats millions of times a second with the viral payload. It does not destroy the cell, for that would be pointless, would it not? The RNA, of course to those who actually LISTENED in second grade genetics, is responsible for the replication of DNA. The new RNA creates new DNA. The new DNA orders the body to change. Into what? Whatever the genes of the virus demand. I usually change people into Saurids under my control, though I suppose I could, theroetically do anything. What a wonderful, scientific world we live in. And, of course, we'll need something to eject the viral mist at our victims.