The sentry bot head whirred, and soon followed the rest of the parts - an eyebot antenna, a protectron torso, jutting mister Handy limbs.
Rather than a monster of stitched together human parts, stood a concoction of mix-matched robots and mechanical components. Abandoned projects served as a looming reminder of the owner’s sheer obsession with their experiments. Components and salvage were strewn about in the gloom of the office. After the Great War, very few copies of the novel remain, and even fewer were alive to remember it, let alone recount it.Ĭenturies later, in 2281, deep in heart of the Mojave desert, a workshop stood shrouded in the ruins of a Poseidon Gas Station. You know of Frankenstein - the old, pre-war tale of a mad scientist and his twisted experiment.
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