Inside the massive underground factory, the roar of machinery operating sounded like a rhythmic hymn.
At the end of the fully automated production line, several precise mechanical arms worked in unison. Spray guns emitted a mist of holy ointment, evenly coating a ceramite breastplate that had just cooled and formed.
Immediately after, a laser etching probe swept across quickly, leaving anti-counterfeiting markings and litanies inside the armor, so fine they were barely visible to the naked eye. With a final light click from the conveyor belt, this breastplate, radiating metallic coldness and industrial beauty, was smoothly pushed onto a clean assembly table.
This was the final step of the automated production line.
Standing in front of the assembly table, Gear 007 flexed his fingers and stepped forward.
The next steps had to be completed by his own hands. He skillfully picked up the heavy breastplate, docking it with the already prepared power backpack. Then he picked up the helmet, aligning, inserting, and locking the neck neural bundle interfaces one by one.
Click.
With a crisp snapping sound, the magnetic locks automatically sealed. The entire set of power armor became a single, cohesive entity, as if it had come to life.
He had to do this part himself. Otherwise, the system's judgment mechanism would not recognize this power armor as "The Masterpiece of Player Gear 007."
To be honest, this setting had been complained about countless times by life-skill players on the official forums.
The production line was clearly built by them grinding day and night, the raw materials were gathered by them, and even every single line of code for the production process was designed and supervised by them from start to finish. In the end, just because the final tightening of the screw wasn't done by hand, the system wouldn't recognize it as your work? Was that reasonable?
But no matter how the players complained or mocked sarcastically on the forums in every creative way possible, the developers acted as if they were dead, ignoring them completely without even a single punctuation mark of a response. Over time, everyone just had to accept it as a game feature that provided a "sense of ritual." Fortunately, the judgment wasn't completely rigid; many times, simply painting the work or applying a water decal counted as the "final step," so it wasn't too much of a hassle.
However, as a tech-geek with mild OCD, 007 was used to doing a bit extra. He felt that only by completing the final assembly himself could he ensure the absolute pleasure and acceptance of the machine spirit.
The final step was completed very smoothly.
007 took a half-step back, looking at the brand-new power armor gleaming with a cold metallic luster before him, and nodded with satisfaction. The streamlined helmet design and smooth faceplate were full of a retro, high-tech aesthetic.
"I really still don't like the pig nose," he muttered to himself, looking at the smooth faceplate.
As he gazed at it, lines of pale blue system data floated before his eyes:
Name: MKIV "Maximus" Pattern Power Armor
Type: Armor
Quality: Excellent
Defense: Extremely Strong
Attributes: Isolation, Absorption, Buffering
Special Effects: Servo Motor Enhancement / Auto-Senses System / Life Support Cycle / Mag-boots
The description was an introduction to the origin of this power armor. As the creator with signing rights, he could alter it at will.
After a brief thought, 007 typed the following text into the description box:
Description: I don't know why those old fogies on Mars thought of putting a grill vent that looks like a pig nose on the helmet. This ugly design actually lasted for three whole generations (MK5/7/8), showing absolutely no sense of aesthetics! It looks just like an angry hairdryer. In comparison, the MK4 is practically a work of art.
Thankfully, as far as I know, Master Belisarius Cawl will correct these wrongs later and create the coolest MK10 power armor. Otherwise, I would truly feel despair over the Adeptus Mechanicus's aesthetic standards.
Also, why is there no MK9? Who ate it?
007 gently placed his oil-covered palm against the cold ceramite breastplate, closed his eyes, and sent a soothing string of binary code through the neural interface to this newborn shell, softly calling out to the machine spirit sleeping within.
Almost instantly, a restless and fervent emotion fed back along the data line. It was the ignorance and desire of a newborn machine spirit. Like a wild beast locked in a cage, it roared at its creator, expressing its urgent need for the fires of war, gunfire, and blood. It could not wait to step onto the battlefield to fulfill the sole mission for which it was created—slaughter.
"Shh—be quiet, my child."
007 soothed the restless little guy a bit, transmitting a steady wave frequency into the data stream: "There will be a chance. That day will come very soon. You will bathe in the blood of enemies; that is the best lubricant for you. That is the will of the Machine God."
Feeling the machine spirit gradually calm down, turning into the steady low hum of standby mode, 007 finally removed his hand with satisfaction.
He nodded to himself, the heavy stone in his heart finally dropping. Everything was going smoothly indeed.
In fact, when he previously dared to bluff Huron face-to-face on the battlefield, vowing that these pieces of equipment reforged from Chaos wreckage "absolutely have zero lingering Warp contamination," it wasn't because he actually mastered some profound exorcism technique. It was entirely because he exploited a loophole in the system.
In the game mechanics, once an item completed the final step of the manufacturing process and was officially judged by the system as a "player-crafted work," the item's original data ID would be completely rewritten.
The Chaos contamination and Warp whispers originally attached to the wreckage would be forcibly "refreshed" away with the generation of the new ID (some lore enthusiasts on the forums also believed it was "crowded out" by higher-priority system rules).
In its place was a brand-new, pure machine spirit that could communicate flawlessly with Mechanicus players and maintain absolute loyalty.
The principle behind this remained unknown and was currently a total "black box." No one knew why the developers created such a bizarre setting or what deep underlying logic lay behind it. But clearly, this was a massive boon for players, meaning they could recycle the enemy's equipment for reproduction without any misgivings.
So all along, the players on the forums tacitly referred to it as a "setting" or a "feature," never mentioning that it might be a bug. After all, no one wanted to wake up one day and see the developers suddenly post a blue tracker announcement declaring that this "feature" was being patched as a bug. If that happened, everyone's future days would be miserable.
"Very good. Purification complete, attributes, ah...[1] perfect."
Looking at the power armor in front of him, a smile like an old farmer experiencing a bumper harvest appeared on the corners of 007's mouth.
"Next, I just need to turn these power armors over to the Astral Claws as tax, and let them fight to the death with those heretics and aliens while wearing my gear. As long as the equipment is made by me, I can just lie back, rack up assists, and rake in merit points."
Twas a good life that...
[1] Intense nerdgasm