“What, that? That’s a sword that shoots lightning. That one’s a giant walking disco ball that shoots lightning. That guy’s Albert Einstein shooting lightning. Look, just assume that everything shoots lightning, ok?”
(for context, Google Privateer Press’s miniatures Game Warmachine, specifically the Cygnar faction)
"I'm detecting something of a theme," rumbled Wulfenbach.
"Well, when you conquer the self-declared Lightning Lads, you can expect a little thematic monotony, my Lord."
Wulfenbach rolled his eyes. "Feh. I've seen someone make better machinery in her sleep." His gaze grew distant and melancholy. One hand drifted to a chain around his neck, and a memento that made no sense to anyone on Castle Wulfenbach.
Why would he carry around that particular gas connector widget on a chain around his neck? Castle Wulfenbach literally had millions like it.
He took a few of the more interesting generators apart, and deemed them 'lackluster' and 'ameteurish'. Almost all of them were variations on a theme from a stolen notebook that he'd already flipped through.
"Nothing of merit," he finally announced. "Offer them the standard choice."
Work for Wulfenbach or go to the waxworks. A very simple choice, yet it was amazing how many would rather die.
Gilgamesh was quick to give them what they wished for.