The Promethean Faction believes in the integration of man and machine, specifically the placing of brains in robot bodies.
Formerly a mercenary lurking around the Silk Road, now the victim of the Neogenecists
The most frequent weak point targeted on a human being is the skull. Pulp the brain, and the body becomes worthless. It was only a matter of time before someone tried to armor the head.
The Cromwell Chassis is specifically the mechanical remains of Major James 'Cyborg' Westerland, but the term has spread to include the pattern of cybernetic upgrade Westerland pioneered.
Mentats, mentons, and cymeks, the synchronization of the human mind and the computer
When a human mind occupies a machine body it's called a cyborg. When it is done remotely, it's a drone. When a machine mind occupies a human body, it's called a crime. You humans are simply disingenuous when it comes to dealing with anything that isn't you.
Testimony of Achilles L/AISC
The Admiral of the Fleet, an exemplary commander, peerless in skill, ruthless in execution.
Also happens to be a 14 year old girl.
A mad scientist, a cyborg, a visionary, a man of god
An incarnation of Laserbeak, and condor/cyborgs for the Cosmic Era
A model of efficiency and effectiveness, also a model of horror in the Cosmic era
Blurring the line between exoskeletons and cybernetic augments, the D9 is unfavorably comparable to the Chemical Augmentation System.
Ingo Takamoto was first a foremost a dog lover, but was also a brilliant geneticist
Man, machine, ghost, myth, legend, hero, and villain. No one is really sure who, or even what the Iron Ghost is.
AutoMedon – A mechanical poet of renown not for his vast catalog of poetry, but for his complete lack of anything written or spoken, having had no output in his programmed profession. His creator is unknown or at least unaccredited, and there are those in great number in the artistic world who wonder and marvel at his inability to produce poetry, crediting that flaw to his creator who is unknown or at least un-credited. There is also a small faction of scholars who believe that when he finally, finally speaks, it will be the most beautiful or sorrowful verse ever spoke or will ever be spoken. Whether his creator is among either group or dead is unknown. AutoMedon sits alone under a tin roofed enclosure, upon a stone chair, with his gaze off in the distant as if thinking.
“It’s strange to look at this mechanical man and think what thoughts are working through its’ workings or even if the damn thing is” – Aralis of Qurim, poet and pottery salesman