Player

Player Name:
Other Characters (if any):

Character

Character Name: Drake
Character Age: 4 - 5 million years
Canon: IDW Transformers comics
Canon Point: Just after his death on Earth, at the end of Requiem of the Wreckers
CRAU (if any): N/A
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History: IDW Tarantulas's page on tfwiki.net.
Personality: Passionate to the point of obsession, Tarantulas often suffers from tunnel vision when his emotions preempt his better judgement or common sense. In the comics he abandons an entire scheme twice in order to get closer to an object of greater interest; in the first case the scheme had literally been thousands of years in the making. A true polymath, he's interested in the fields of engineering, xenobiology, and sociology, but tends to hold himself apart from others unless they have vulnerabilities he can exploit for his own plans. The Great War and its catastrophic effects on Cybertronian society were of scientific interest to him, and he enjoyed the opportunities it afforded him to hone his skills as an inventor, but he didn't care about the loss of life and sapient suffering.

However, he does possess at least an academic knowledge of compassion, and was outraged by the accusation that he could only destroy, not create. The greatest achievement of his life, in his own words, was the creation of an artificial but fully sapient Cybertronian, and via that connection he eventually came to realize that, in at least one sense, he had wasted his life. By devoting himself to the creation of horrors, he had materially contributed to making the world a more frightening and more painful place for his creation. He had failed as a parent.

Now, Mortanne has given him the chance to reinvent himself, as he did once before. Maybe this time, if he works hard and plays nicely with others, he can transform himself into someone who would improve Springer's life? Or maybe he'll just get bored and start doing illegal experiments on sapient beings again, we'll see how it pans out.
Initial Game Plan: There are a few plot threads I couldn't quite get into as First Aid that I'd like to investigate, and I'd like permission to pleeeeeaaaase build Cecil a radio. He's been working so hard! He deserves this.

(I estimate it will take Tarantulas about a month to re-familiarize himself with such basic technology and gather the materials for a few ham radio sets. There's a line in Star Trek The Original Series where Spock complains about working with 'stones and bear skins' while he and Kirk are trapped in the 1950s. Same mood XD)
RP Interests: Tarantulas died in a moment of extreme emotional vulnerability where he questioned the entire course of his life. I'd like to see if it's possible for him to evolve into a better person via establishing some new relationships and working to help people instead of hurt them.
Preferred Job: He has no interest in a regular 9 to 5 job, but he'll offer his services as an electrician to the town just to show willing. If it happens to give him an excuse to skulk around and spy on people without their knowledge, that's what we'd call a bonus. XD
NSFW-friendly?: Sure! Try it, let's see what happens!

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Tarantulas was accepted into Pumpkin Hollow in November 23rd, 2023. Since then he made several friends and even struck up a romantic relationship with two player characters -- which he then immediately sabotaged by failing to play nicely with other members of the polycule. He struck a deal with Eligos, the king of demons, which granted him a child of his own flesh and spark. The price? Eight thefts or lied spoken to his closest companions. As of March 19th, 2024, his CR is in shambles and everyone is still reeling from his behavior. What's next for the spider? Probably not rest and recuperation!

Tarantulas thought long and hard before accepting the white-haired woman’s offer.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t wish to go on living, by whatever means he could manage it – it was, in fact, that he wished for that so desperately that, upon hearing it offered, he couldn’t help but feel suspicious of the person doing the offering. It sounded much too sudden and much, much too good to be true – and he couldn’t settle in his own mind whether it was concerning and reassuring, how smoothly she was able to meet his questions and objections.

Although it felt as though they’d talked for hours, later he would only be capable of clearly recalling a few of the things she had told him. He would be going somewhere else, if he accepted her offer – somewhere with minimal oversight, where he’d be able to conduct his research as he pleased. Although the other residents of that place might object if his research harmed them, nobody would have the power to compel him to work on weapons – or anything else. He’d have the freedom to choose his own course of study. Oh yes, and there would be other people there too. He could interact or ignore them as he chose – but some of them could surely use help from someone of his expertise.

He knew what Springer would have to say about that; it seemed the white-haired woman did too, although she politely – or wisely – refrained from pressing her point. Springer would want him to say yes. He’d want Tarantulas to find out who needed his help, and with what, and so long as it wasn’t a war crime and didn’t involve brainwashing anyone…Springer would want him to help.

Tarantulas had had a long and dismal year to think about all the things Springer seemed to want, and how they differed from the things Tarantulas himself had always wanted. ‘You make the impossible obsolete’, had transformed from treasured compliment to a painful falsehood, as Tarantulas could see no way to bridge that gap. In the end he’d given up entirely and turned his attention back to the Specimen and pleasing his dear departed rebound – only in his final minutes had he realized just how hard he himself had labored to widen that gap ever further. Prowl might have torn them apart and made Ostaros forget him – but if Springer hated him now, Tarantulas only had his own actions to blame.

He’d died knowing it was too late to fix it; he’d always been a committed empiricist, believing only in things that could be directly measured even as he’d pushed back the limits of Cybertronian tools and senses. He’d never believed in Cyberutopia or the Afterspark or any of those old legends – but now it seemed he’d been wrong. Existence did continue after death – and that meant there was still a chance he’d see Springer again. And when that day came, would he present himself once more as a vicious monster? Or would he be someone Springer might actually want in his life?

It was an easy choice to make after all. There was just one little problem…

“If I’m going to agree to your proposal – and I am rather inclined to say yes, just for the record –” Tarantulas pauses to delicately pour the last of the hot cocoa down his throat. “But this magnificent body of mine just wasn’t designed for peaceful co-existence with other people. Certainly not humans, hyeh hyeh. I’m afraid I’ll need to do a little work on myself before I’m fit to be seen. After all, I would so hate to frighten people.”

The white-haired woman smiles slightly, her head tipped to one side. “You wish to reinvent yourself? I think I can help with that.”

***

Tarantulas is very different when he steps off the boat.

He’s smaller now, and softer. His body is almost entirely organic, except for certain parts of his processor and around his spark chamber. His setae has grown longer and thicker, almost like a mammal’s fur, in a charming shade of purple as it obscures the more alien details of his body. He has proper hands again, and his face –

A gust of wind blows off the water, startling Tarantulas into a hard shiver. He reflexively wraps both arms and all eight of his alt-mode’s legs – still protruding from a shallow hump on his back – around his torso, shaking harder. It seems his body is also more vulnerable to the elements this way…

“Oh dear me! You poor thing, how did you end up like this? Here, take my coat –”

For the second time in as many seconds, Tarantulas is startled as a thick leather coat is wrapped around his shoulders and belted close to his waist. He looks up – straight into a grinning human’s eyes.

You can’t study Earth’s biosphere without learning a few things about humans and their cultural mores. He knew that humans like small, furry things, with lots of neotenous traits, and had adjusted his body to match. Fluffy setae, hands instead of claws, a pair of large lidded eyes in place of a visor, with the other six arranged like decorative jewels on his forehead – in a sense, this is the very outcome he was working towards. He just didn’t expect to get results so immediately, or so well.

Well, Tarantulas didn’t live so long by wasting opportunities.

“Oh, thank you,” he says in a quiet, husky voice, and smiles with his soft, human mouth. “You’re really too kind.”