New pinned: IF IT WORKS DON'T TOUCH IT apparently applies to gpu drivers too 💀
I need a reminder for the future: never oofind decide to ""refresh the drivers :DD"" ever again if the current ones work.
AMD is THIS CLOSE 🤏 to getting a place on my hate list (on which there's already microsoft and several other tech corpos) because what the frog do you mean you somehow ate the OpenCL.dll; don't have a decent fix description on the support site (I am Not going on sites that may have viruses in the download files bro); and the newer drivers are sucking Windows11's fingers.
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Chromia's circuits sort of fizz whenever she goes through the space bridge, and she's…not entirely sure if she likes it. It's an unsettlingly full-body sensation, a prickle down both arms and legs and along the struts of her back and up into the crown of her head under her helm, and it always leaves her tense and on-edge, ready to jump a mile or strike out or…something. At the same time, though, it's not exactly bad? It's just different. Strange. New, Windblade would probably say if she mentioned it, and then they'd end up arguing about it for some stupid reason and she'd lose because it's absurdly difficult to win arguments with Windblade.
Today they're on Eukaris, invited to share a meal with Airazor and Tigatron—them and Starscream, who'd seemed frankly alarmed to be asked, and who now soars overhead, slightly in front of Windblade, while Airazor leads them on her strange, flexible wings. On the ground beneath, Chromia speeds along with Tigatron loping at her side. It's surprising, somehow, that he can keep up with her on foot. It doesn't seem entirely right.
"You're distracted," Tigatron says, not looking at her.
She doesn't look at him either; she has to focus more on steering here. "Still getting used to the ground on Eukaris."
"Seem like you wish you were hunting."
This takes her by surprise, although not enough that she loses her balance or focus. "I've never been hunting."
"Maybe you should." Tigatron springs over a rock in a smooth motion that she envies and lands silently on the ground, still running. "It's not good to stay cooped up all the time."
"I go out. I do things. I fight."
"But you don't hunt."
"And you think I should?"
Another smooth jump over a rock that Chromia has to swerve around. Tigatron is silent for a long moment before saying, "You know, we have a story here about why we left Cybertron. As it's told, the standard-formers drove us away because by our very existence we told them something about themselves that they didn't want to hear."
Chromia does glance at him for a moment, even as she's dodging a tree. "Which was?"
"That we aren't privileged just because we lack organic parts. That we may be machines, but alongside that we are still beasts." They reach a rock face, not sheer but steeper than Chromia can drive up, and Tigatron returns to root mode and looks up at Airazor and Windblade and Starscream soaring above. "They didn't like that. They didn't want to confront the idea that they, too, might have animal instincts. Are you coming?"
Chromia returns to root mode next to him, frowning at the rock face, and then follows him up on foot, towards a platform that leads back into a cave. The others are already landing there, up ahead. "Do you really believe that?"
He shrugs. "Couldn't tell you. But I do believe that Primus wouldn't have given me teeth and claws if he didn't want me to use them." He steps up onto the ledge and reaches back to help her up. "You should go hunting. Bring someone with you. I'm sure you have someone you could hunt with."
"Hm." She thinks of Ironhide; he makes her circuits prickle in much the same way that the space bridge does. "Maybe I will. And maybe I do. I'll think about it."
Notes: This is a little fic project I've started to keep my brain flexible and running smoothly. There will be, as one might guess, 26 total, although I don't know that they'll post on any particular schedule. I'll put them all on AO3 when I've finished, but for now, Tumblr is where to find them. ^_^
--
Surely, Megatron finds himself thinking, surely, I will find a way to make this absurd experiment worthwhile.
He is not normally prone to questioning himself. He's found, over the millenia, that it's better not to indulge in such nonsense—better to be decisive and correct later than to dither and ponder and not accomplish anything in the first place. His Decepticons appreciate his confidence. The Autobots fear it. Uncertainty in the correctness of his actions is not a feeling that he enjoys.
Across the room, Blitzwing sits in front of Sari Sumdac's containment field, his oldest, ice-calm face forward, brow furrowed in concentration as she teaches him how to play some kind of human clapping game. Her tiny, soft servos are not simply dwarfed by his but made entirely ridiculous—even if she could reach through the forcefield, Megatron is doubtful that Blitzwing would even register her touch. Despite this, Blitzwing is being unsettlingly delicate about the game, as if there is no forcefield to block him, as if he could crush the little technorganic wretch with an over-firm palm.
This was not the plan.
The plan had been much simpler. General Strika had waited for him to be removed from Trypticon for the first day of his sham trial before sending agents in to free the other Decepticons in custody and remove the stasis lock keeping that once-great warship asleep and grounded. She herself had then flown Trypticon to Iacon and descended upon the trial, ripping the walls of Metroplex open as if the building were no more than a can of oil waiting to be drunk. She had retrieved Megatron, broken his stasis cuffs and vocal lock, and roared out of Cybertronian airspace before the pitiful 'Bots of the Elite Guard could even muster a suitable response. It had all gone off very neatly, as he'd known it would—even at their current height of paranoia, the Autobots are simply not prepared to respond to a display of true force.
And then Trypticon, still drowsy from millenia of stasis lock, had complained of an itch—Sari Sumdac, nearly the same size as the Mini-Cons that have maintained Trypticon for unknown generations, had gotten into his vents. So now they have a prisoner, who is neither a real Autobot nor a real Cybertronian and yet is inexplicably valuable, and she's teaching Blitzwing to play "pat-a-cake." Megatron only hopes that he can use her bizarre connection to the Allspark to his advantage, since he doubts that the Autobots would trade him for her. Optimus Prime might, because Optimus Prime is fond of the little creature, but the Acting Magnus' dislike of organics is well-known.
"Why," Megatron drawls, when Blitzwing finally steps away from the containment field, "are you indulging her?"
Blitzwing's faces spin before, unexpectedly, landing back on the icy one again. "Because she is a potential ally, Lord Megatron."
Megatron feels his brow ridges rise. "How so?"
"She is not an Autobot, ja? She is a Decepticon." At Megatron's dubious expression, Blitzwing straightens up slightly and gestures to his own forearms. "She has inbuilt weapons. She flies. She is surprisingly mean."
"She flies with an external jetpack, you fool. We confiscated it."
"Ja, for now, Lord Megatron, but she has the thrusters. She is developing the nascent ailerons on her back. She will have wings. The Autobots will not welcome a Decepticon on Cybertron when they figure it out, even a very small one." Blitzwing actually sighs. "Plus it is nice to see a young Decepticon again. It's been so long."
Megatron's optics flicker. "Why, Blitzwing, are you getting sentimental in your old age?"
Spin. Red face forward, biting out, "And what's wrong with that? You think only you're allowed to worry about the future of our people?" Spin, mad eyes and toothy mouth in a black hole that's not really a face at all, "Maybe we can get those colorful twins too! They're so cute! The zip-zip of little jets in the corridors would really liven this place up!"
Megatron squints at Blitzwing for a moment and then looks back over at Sari, now sprawled on the floor of the containment chamber with an irritated look on her face. When she catches him looking she makes a rude gesture and rolls over to turn her back on him, and he does see faint panel lines on her back through the fabric of her dress, the tracery of developing hinges. No Cybertronian has ever developed in such a way, so gradually—but then again, no Cybertronian has organic components apart from Blackarachnia, who was already an adult at the time of her mishap on Archa Seven.
"A Decepticon with a direct connection to the Allspark," he finds himself murmuring. "What a fascinating possibility that is."
--
Across the room, in the containment field, Sari keeps her back turned to Megatron and sneaks a hand up to her comm, which the Decepticons haven't disabled because they can't figure out where it is on her. "Hey, Optimus," she whispers, quiet as she can manage, "are you guys locked on yet? Because I think these guys are starting to get weird about it."
"Weird how? They haven't hurt you, have they?"
"No, no, I'm fine, but I think Blitzwing wants to adopt me."
Saw a wee clip of that genAI-made game from Roblox themselves, and I already feel like if fully-genAI-made entertainment was the future, people who play such games would be struggling with spatial orientation, lol
The distances between the elements of the environment feel so inconsistent... I don't even know how jumping and landing works in that game... my eyes expect the fall to take 0.5-1 second longer. but apparently no.
Btw one of the things those ol' anti-video-game people finally started praising games for was the fact that 3d/spatial imagination is more developed in gamers
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Imagine a human using a portion of a Cybertronian's processing — including graphics processing — power and RAM to pull out odd stats like FPS in a game... imagine going into an online game like that and getting banned... what about the IP (depending on how the connection could be formed)?
Sure, our game graphics may have limits, but imagine going from a low2mid-range pc to a portion of a robot alien aka Cybertronian.
Imagine putting a bunch of cables in their motherboard just to do such dumb scrap with them 💀 ... may as well pair a cybertronian-made monitor to that, bruuh. Them having to lean to see the monitor. Also, generally they'd technically be able to play video games on their HUD in their own mind, but if it was to be displayed externally...
Picture this, bra. You be jamming thick, industrial Earth HDMI and DisplayPort cables into massive, glowing Cybertronian motherboard slots meant for Energon routing or neural relays or some junk like that. And that power? You'd probs need like.... A car battery and a transformer block to shove on the cables just to step down the alien power so your Earth monitor didn't literally explode into shrapnel upon turning it on.
The lame part? If the Cybertronian hooks directly into a local Earth router via a physical or wireless bridge, the connection uses the home’s standard IPv4 or IPv6 address. The ISP is completely normal, meaning the human's home network gets a standard, permanent IP ban. Orrr like... If the Cybertronian connects via their own orbital or subspace communications array, the traffic must still route through an Earth-based gateway protocol to interact with standard servers. The game server would see a completely unmapped, spoofed, or non-standard routing origin. Which they'd be like WEE WOO WEE WOO!
Frames per second would cease to exist as a concept cause like....... Cybertronian optical and cognitive systems process reality in continuous, seamless real-time streams and junk. At least, based on my own experience.
Quantum-level RAM allocations mean asset loading, texture rendering, and geometry calculations happen instantaneously with zero latency though. Oh and the integrated graphics processing? It'd totes auto-generate real-time trajectory vectors for every moving pixel before the server even registers the input.
A human using Cybertronian processing would exhibit a reaction time of 0.0001 milliseconds, which is physically impossible for human biology. In other words, LMAO git gud humans.
Crosshair movement would show zero organic micro-tremors, moving in mathematically perfect, straight lines at impossible velocities. And no one can be THAT good, you feelin' me? The server would immediately flag the account for an automated "rage-hack" ban within seconds of the first engagement. So liek. the ban hammer would suck.
Sooooo, my personal advice? Create a dampener! See, the Cybertronian processor moves too fast and too perfectly for standard protocols, flagging the server. So, make something like my Headmaster Unit which totes bypasses this by using algorithmic dampeners to filter the inputs.
[ Human Intent ] ---> [ Headmaster Neural Bridge ] ---> [ Micro-Tremor Generator ] ---> [ Earth Game Server ]
Oh, to add a little flavour, I added a simulated 50-millisecond reaction delay and slight crosshair shaking. But in reality I'm pwning at high speed using stolen tech.
"Those who cannot conceive Friendship as a substantive love but only as a disguise or elaboration of Eros betray the fact that they have never had a Friend."
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