robothell app

[babyboombox]

OOC INFO
Name: Lee
Contact:armcontrolnerve, bigdrillssohuge @skype, loquacioussun @AIM
Other characters: none

IC INFO
Name: Soundwave
Canon/Continuity: IDW
Reference: bam
Canon Point:Very early - after meeting Ravage & the birds but before running into Senator Ratbat
Personality:

• pretty young/inexperienced as these robots go
• still learning how to function without constantly being bombarded by everyone else's thoughts, basically robot Jean Grey
• prone to shutdowns (the brain problems kind, not the literal kind) when overstimulated or in stressful situations
• trusts 3 people in the whole world (Ravage, Laserbeak, Buzzsaw), everyone else can go eat dirt
• unless you're nice to Soundwave and don't spontaneously decide to reformat their entire family for your convenience
• suspicious of basically everyone but learning how to play the game of Social Interaction
• gets very attached to the people they do trust
• good survival skills on account of already being homeless for basically their whole life so far

AU or OC Info: I'm going to be referring to Soundwave with the singular they, and I'd appreciate if this was taken as fact IC as well

Sample: Soundwave’s unease only grows with every step they take away from Ravage; they’ve tethered themself to his mind like a lifeline, but his fond exasperation is only marginally helpful. Not for the first time in the last hour, Soundwave reminds themself that this is necessary, if they want to stop having shutdowns in the middle of the street. It’s hard, and it hurts, but it’s necessary, and Soundwave is no stranger to painful necessity.

They comm Ravage over their crackly, short-range band. ≪I—I'm moving out onto the street now,≫ they say. ≪Are you still...?≫ Soundwave would have sensed his intention to leave, had Ravage been inclined, but he sends Soundwave a wordless affirmative regardless, and Soundwave relaxes minutely as they receive it. They edge out of the alley, and cast their mind out slowly, trying to keep a handle on it. The mecha passing by are almost uniformly exhausted, their processors a strut-deep grey; Soundwave lets these thoughts pass over their own unexamined, but the longer they’re out on the street the more there are, not so much passing over Soundwave’s processor so much as pressing down on it, and soon they can feel the beginnings of sensory meltdown stirring in the back of their mind.

This, of course, spurs Soundwave to more immediate panic for several long, frantic seconds before the memory of Ravage’s advice finally kicks in. It’s hard to find something to focus on, through the panic, but Soundwave’s own frame is covered in scrapes and pockmarks enough to keep them occupied for weeks, and, staring down at the plating on their arm, they begin to catalogue the dents. It’s shaky work, at first, and Soundwave stumbles more than once on a particularly strong passing thought, but they keep at it, and eventually the rising tide of panic in their spark ebbs, leaving quiet relief in its wake.