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On the moon of the distant planet Sixtar, heroes are made, not born.
Made out of necessity, out of survival.
Their bodies were made of plastic, metal and an energy core. But their mind was in constant evolution. They divided among tribes and were nurtured by "Mothers".
"Mothers" are machines just like the other habitants of Sixtar. They represent nurture, and is a role present in many tribes. Any machine can take the form of a 'Mother' and they all come from all shapes and sizes. They exist as a method of meme distribution, since the people of Sixtar cannot pass their genes to the newly assembled. It is a job of a mother to love, to show the old ways, and to guide the new machine into their own path; One that will be based on the old tried and proved memes but that must surpass it.
In Sixtar, either you evolve or you are left behind. The concept of Nurture and play was something that came together with the concept of "Hunt".
Violence, war, conflict. These were very simple concepts for the tribes to quickly understand and adapt. But what does a machine do when they are exercising their influence in the world? 'Nurture' was the answer the first mothers gave to that conundrum.
Without care, there is no development. Without a base, a reason to fight, fighting is pointless.
The survival instinct that was the core spark of life of the first beings in Sixtar taught them how to kill just as they taught them how to love.
How to hate, how to help each member of their tribe to rise and do their best.
Because it's not enough to survive, one must thrive if they want to lead a long life with many assembled machines.
One of the Mothers was named 46E1 (Four-Six E One) and she was last seen in a quiet, solemn march. For she had failed.
Her assembly gave birth to 33I0 (Three Three I Oh), a youthful warrior that wielded the double-voulge, a traditional weapon that was wielded by his 'father', 'grandmother' and many other distant parents, was found dead. His coming of age 'Hunt' ended in failure. The double voulge meme and the perfection of the form of his style of 'Hunt' was to be extinct.
The head of Four-Six was down, her eye-like features faced the floor as she holded in her arms the lifeless metalic husk that once was Three Three. That gesture was often used on her tribe to show regret, fear or even sadness.
Her long march was silent. All other tribals stared at was left of one of their assembled as they pondered about the traditions and cultural implications that died with him. They all gave her space, for she had a clear destiny. The Tribe's First Forged.
Sitting on a throne made of electronic wire, sat something that can only be described as a plastic cranium. It gazed upon Four-Six and Three-Three, mother and son, defeated. Four-Six lays her own son, one she assembled by combining all the information she acquired in her long life with her partners, one that was built by her very own plastic hands, to rest one last time at the feet of the Electronic Wire throne.
'The Double-Voulge tradition is no more.'
Decrets in a monotone the machine chief. Slowly, the mother Four-Six raises to her feet.
'Four-Six, make another. New tradition.'
The cryptic and direct orders of the First Forged were loud, yet had the same monotone as his other statements. Four-Six was to be mother again. And this time, she had to try something new.
She needed a new partner. A new hope. A new son.
This was her duty as a mother. The memes Three Three carried couldn't defeat the new generation of Eletronic Snakes.
She has a mission again. A purpose again.
Yet she couldn't look away as the metalic husk of her son laid there, slowly being absorbed by several wires, who were breaking into his parts, cutting it to pieces. They were being prepared to be material for Four-Six's new son.
She felt sadness. Three-Three was special to her. She nurtured him, just as he loved his 'Father', Two-Three who was defeated by an Eletronic Snake as well.
Truly, this was the end of the tradition they had mastered and the beginning of a new one. It is their only hope of survival agains't a new generation.
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