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About Nato G
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Mata Nui Rises (291/293)
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Chapter 2 – Escape From Le-Metru From the ravings of the Recorder. Xia lies far behind us now, abandoned and empty. Only the Mountain remains, left to starve and succumb in the dark. Or maybe it will endure, consuming all the Vortixx have built until only its enigmatic edifice is left. Perhaps one day we’ll be able to return, and see for ourselves. The sea is shallow beneath our ships. Rocks and wreckage scrape against our hulls, as sea beasts slither and scuttle in the shadows around us. Gigantic leviathans that were once denizens of the darkest depths swim alongside us, so large and indifferent to our presence that several of our ships have already been damaged or sunk entirely by accident. A sense of fear hangs over the fleet, a primal dread felt by every being regardless of species or sapience. Even the rahi know what they’re running from, and where they’re running to. Metru Nui is the last hope any of us have left. * * * Ilton “Ready?” Behjen asked, nudging Ilton. “As ready as I’ll ever be,” he nodded, “Let’s hope Pahlil managed to get into position.” The plan, such as it was, was going to mostly come down to luck. Without knowing what route the transport was going to take as it left the Metru, nor what kind of escort or defence it might have, there was no way for the Toa to plan a proper ambush. So Ilton was improvising. Pahlil had set off an hour ago, tasked with trying to sneak onto the vehicle before or during its departure. Tivni would trail the transport using her Kualsi. Both Toa had instructions to attempt to disable the transport whenever they saw an opportunity to do so, with the other hopefully being nearby to aid in the attack. Ilton and Behjen were waiting in an alleyway halfway between the Moto-Hub and the Ko-Metru border, hoping to be close enough to offer support once the fighting started. If was a gamble to split up their forces this way, but multiple approaches improved their chances. “We’re not going to have much time once this thing kicks off,” Behjen said, “If they make a commotion big enough for us to see, the Vahki will as well.” “The Vahki won’t be an issue.” “Famous last words, Brother,” Behjen’s tone was playful, but his expression was dour. Ilton didn’t need his overconfidence pointed out to him. Despite the death and destruction the Makuta had wrought, Ilton still felt a strange kind of euphoria from having singlehandedly sent him scurrying. It was hard not to feel unstoppable after defeating what was likely the most powerful being left in the universe. It had been almost… effortless. The Brotherhood had been right to fear Fe-Toa. The sound of rending metal and clattering debris echoed through the streets, stirring Ilton from his introspection. It was followed swiftly by a plume of orange-white light lancing skywards from a few blocks away, crackling brightly. No words were exchanged as the two Toa sprinted out into the open, weapons drawn and held ready. Already, the shadows of airborne Vahki were flitting by overhead, their presence helping guide the duo towards their destination. After a few minutes they rounded a corner to find the transport sprawled against a wall, half-melted Vahki strewn around it. Pahlil and Tivni seemed to already have the situation well in hand, having dispatched a dozen or so Vahki already, though more were arriving every second. “We’re here!” Ilton shouted, tearing one of the Vahki apart with his powers as it swooped towards him. “Get that transport moving!” “On it!” Tivni – a lithe figure clad in hues of black, gold, and orange, her ragged cloak billowing about her as she spun towards the sound of Ilton’s voice – ripped her superheated hookblade free of a Vahki, and teleported into the front of the transport. While she worked at the controls, Behjen took up a defensive position beside the transport, summoning a barrier of rock and activating his Hau Shield to fend off incoming stun blasts, while Ilton and Pahlil put their metal-manipulating powers to work bringing the Vahki crashing down into the street in pieces. The Vahki seemed to swiftly realise the futility of getting close, retreating to a safety of the skies to circle the scene from a distance. “What are they waiting for?” Pahlil asked warily. “Reinforcements, most likely,” Behjen answered, looking down the street in the direction of the dig site, “There!” Ilton scrambled for the safety of the Hau shield as a volley of rhotuka spinners came rocketing down the road, mentally guided with pinpoint accuracy towards the three Toa. Most of them sparked harmlessly against the shield, though one burst in a purplish cloud of gaseous acid that sizzled against the shield and seared the ground around it, while another detonated in a searing starburst of light as it made impact. Blinking blearily from the blinding brightness, Ilton was sent stumbling as another spinner triggered some kind of earth tremor, rattling the entire street. “Out of time, Tivni!” He flung out a hand, finding the surface of the transport and feeling his away along towards the side door. “We need to move, now.” He felt hands on his shoulders – both flesh-and-blood – Pahlil’s hands – guiding him towards the door then shoving him through. The transport lurched suddenly into motion before he could find a handhold, sending him sliding across the floor until he slammed against the crates secured to the back wall of the compartment. By the time he’d righted himself his eyes were clear enough to see again, and he spotted Pahlil perched in the doorway, hand outstretched as she magnetically pulled Behjen aboard. As soon as he was aboard Pahlil pulled the door shut, crying out as another acid spinner struck it a second later, the sizzling spray spattering one of her hands. “Find a corner and get us around it!” She shouted to Tivni, blinking away tears as she cradled her wounded hand, “If they hit the legs with one of those we’re finished.” “I know we had Masks of Healing in here,” Ilton offered, fumbling with the fastenings for the crate as the transport skittered around a corner and started moving down another street. “When we’re safe,” Pahlil’s voice was strained as she pulled herself into one of the seats and buckled herself in. “You can’t do anything for me right now.” Ilton caught a glimpse of her wounded hand as she moved. The organics of her palm and the fronts of her fingers were almost completely burned away, and the mechanical components beneath were badly corroded, though fortunately all of her fingers were still attached. She was right; this wasn’t an injury they could quickly tend to in a moving vehicle. It looked like a two-person job, requiring a Kiril in conjunction with a Mask of Healing. “I got blinded by that flash spinner before I could see who was attacking us,” Ilton turned to Behjen, “Did you get a look at them?” “Mesmers,” Behjen said. “But not like any I’ve seen before. They were well armed and armoured. Like proper soldiers, not the usual enforcers we’ve seen bossing the Matoran around.” “I didn’t see anything like that when I was watching the dig site before,” Pahlil said. “Which means they didn’t want to be seen, and they’re good enough at staying concealed to avoid your notice,” Ilton grumbled, “As if we needed more to worry about.” Despite their eerie appearances and formidable abilities, Ilton had considered the former denizens of Odina to be a negligible threat, until now. Most of them they’d seen so far were indolent and lazy, rarely carrying weapons or wearing Kanohi, content to bully the Matoran into submission or coerce them with their vision powers. But their behaviour now made it easy to forget that 100,000 years ago, their species had been part of a divinely-chosen coalition that had conquered the known universe, and it was evident now that at least a few of them were still honouring those roots. “We’ve got company!” Tivni shouted from up front, “Another transport, comin’ up behind us!” “You take that side,” Ilton pointed to Behjen, then at the damaged door, “I’ll take the other.” The two Toa hauled open the doors on either side of the transport, leaning out to get a better look at their pursuers. Sure enough, another transport was racing up behind them, this one adorned with what looked to be shells or scales from some kind of rahi, and decorated with menacing red warpaint. A pair of Mesmers were leaning out the vehicle’s sides in much the same way the Toa were; one had translucent purple organics with a black carapace and armour, while the other was all metallic grey, with the same black-and-crimson rahi scales layered atop their natural armour. Both had rhotuka launchers mounted on their armour, primed to fire. Ilton struck out with his powers, intent on ripping the transport’s legs out from beneath it… but was startled to discover that he couldn’t. The unseen reach of his powers seemed to slide over the transport, unable to find purchase, as if the vehicle were enclosed in a bubble his powers couldn’t penetrate. On the other side of the transport, Behjen raised a row of jagged rocks in the transport’s path, but the vehicle didn’t even swerve to avoid them. The stones seemed to crumble apart as they came into contact with the vehicle, scarcely slowing its advance. The two Mesmers loosed their spinners; which both swooped low towards the legs of the transport. Behjen formed a barrier of stone to block their path, managing to intercept both of the spinners. The one fired by the purple Mesmer dissolved into acidic smoke on impact, while the other detonated in another sun-like burst of fiery light that left the two Toa blinded once more. “Pahlil, drop something in their path!” Ilton swung himself back inside, hearing metal sizzle as another acid spinner struck the spot where he’d been a second earlier, “Powers don’t work on their transport.” He hauled the now-corroded door shut once more, feeling a sudden flush of heat against it as one of the fiery spinners struck the transport’s side. “On it!” He heard Pahlil say, followed swiftly by the sound of rending metal somewhere outside. A noise like a waterfall filled the air as liquid sloshed into the street, and Ilton didn’t need to see to understand that Pahlil had just ruptured a transport chute. “Did we get them?” Ilton blinked his eyes a few times, the interior of the transport beginning to filter back into view. He could see Behjen across from him, also trying to clear his eyes, and Pahlil leaning out the side door, her free hand outstretched and her wounded one hanging by her side, feet undoubtedly magnetised to the floor to keep herself from falling out. “The transport’s on its side. I think I- Karzahni!” She stumbled backwards as a barbed blade suddenly swung towards her from the roof of the transport. As she moved back the rahi-hide-wearing Mesmer moved in, swinging inside and kicking Pahlil in the same motion. She slammed into Ilton, their combined weight almost breaking through the damaged door and throwing both of them out the side of the transport. It was then that the Mesmer made his first major mistake, assuming the duo were dealt with and turning his attention to Behjen. The Mesmer’s first blade blow struck the sword from the Po-Toa’s hand, and the second mangled the mechanical arm Behjen raised to block the blade, but he never got to make a third swing. Whatever had made the transport immune to Toa powers evidently extended to the Mesmer’s own hide armour… but not his weapons. As he brought his blades up for another blow they suddenly went flying from his hands and out the door. The Mesmer roared in rage, turning towards the two Toa… and thus failed to see his blades come flying back the other way to bury themselves in the armour and flesh of his lower back. The roar turned into a ragged snarl as Pahlil leapt at him, landing a kick in the centre of his chest that sent him tumbling out of the transport, to land in a howling heap on the road. As the transport continued to race away, he was soon little more than an angry red speck receding into the distance, swiftly lost from sight around the next street corner. Ilton let out a sigh, and leaned down to help Behjen upright. “We’re coming up on the beach!” Came Tivni’s shout, as the battered transport swung around yet another corner, its footsteps becoming more erratic as smooth streets gave way to sodden sand. Tivni swung the vehicle in a rough turn, bringing the open side door parallel with the beach as the transport came to a stop. The ships that had brought the Toa to Metru Nui a little over a week ago were right where they’d left them, scorched and scored in places from the battle with the Rahkshi, but still seaworthy. “That one,” Ilton pointed to one of the smaller ships, a box-like cargo carrier stolen from Xia’s docks during the Toa’s departure from the city, “It’s motorised. Should be easier for us to manage than one of the sailboats.” More importantly, he knew this was the ship that had been carrying the Xian Suva, and unless the enemy had taken an interest in exploring the hold of the rusty boat at some point in the past week, it was probably still there. Behind him, Behjen was already untying the straps that had secured the crates of Kanoka and Kanohi in the place. With Pahlil magnetically lightening the loads, Ilton and Behjen hurriedly carried the two crates onto the ship, while Tivni bee-lined for the boat’s controls. As soon as the cargo was aboard, Pahlil and Ilton combined their abilities to push the boat out towards the open water, artificially spinning the propellers until Tivni could get the motor going. By the time the other Mesmers had finished extricating themselves from their flipped transport and reached the beach, the four Toa were well beyond their reach.
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How to cure Lewa’s telepathic condition
Nato G replied to Lenny7092's topic in Bionicle Storyline & Theories
Whelp, I stand corrected. Must've missed that one during my skim-read. Although, that bit of text still makes the nature of the connection somewhat ambiguous. It doesn't seem like Lewa is passively picking up all Bohrok communications, otherwise he would have "overheard" the Bohrok Va plotting with the Kal and the Queens. The phrasing of "the swarms still had access to his mind", makes it sound more like a one-way thing where his mind is more receptive/accessible to Bohrok telepathy, allowing them to communicate with him if they choose to. I think this lines up pretty well with what we've seen of psionics elsewhere in the story. If the Order of Mata Nui can train themselves to have stronger "mental defences", then it stands to reason that the opposite is true as well. Having been enslaved by both an Infected Mask and Krana on separate occasions, as well as being psionically attacked by the Bahrag, Lewa's mind is probably just weaker and more succeptible to telepaths. That might also explain why he was the only member of the Toa Nuva to receive additional instructions via a "weird voice" during the Scroll of Preparations arc, and why Artakha singled him out to body-swap with Tren Krom. If that's the case, then the "cure" for his "condition" would simply be to undergo the same kind of mental training Order members do. -
How to cure Lewa’s telepathic condition
Nato G replied to Lenny7092's topic in Bionicle Storyline & Theories
I was wondering the same thing. Rereading the relevant book, it doesn't seem like there even is a lingering connection or condition. Everything weird that happens to Lewa after having the Krana removed is explained in the text as either memories he got from the Krana, or the Bahrag using their telepathy on him. And the Bahrag use their telepathy on all of the Toa during that section of the book, so that doesn't even require prior connection with a Krana. I can't find any references to Lewa being still connected to the Bohrok or Bahrag in later stories and sources. -
Chapter 1 – Aftermath From the notes of Chronicler Crisda. I thought I’d been lucky to survive Vhel’s attack on the Moto-Hub. Six days spent in the sunless squalor of the Makuta’s cells has me reconsidering that view. But at least I’m not lonely down here. A few of the missing Turaga are down here, along with Matoran dissidents who disappeared months ago, and two other survivors from the Moto-Hub: the Toa Keidal and Icthilos. I don’t know whether to be worried or relieved that there aren’t more of us down here. * * * Ilton Six days had passed since the Moto-Hub had been razed, and still smoke rose from its ruins. Mangled machinery and crushed chutes still sizzled and sputtered, making the entire site hazardous for those unfortunate Matoran being put to work sifting through the debris. Ilton had been surveilling the scene from a safe distance since that first grim evening, watching as first Vahki, then Mesmers and Matoran, had been put to work retrieving remains from the wreckage, with Administrator Talok – the appointed voice of the Makuta’s propaganda machine – jubilantly announcing every grim discovery over the city’s speakers. So far, the bodies of two Toa and four Turaga had been discovered, in addition to the unknown number who’d been obliterated or disintegrated outright. Adding to the toll were the three shadowsick Toa, who had been listed among those killed in the Moto-Hub attack despite the fact that they should have been under medical care in Ga-Metru at the time, at least as far as Ilton knew. Whether they’d passed away from the infection or been disposed of by the Makuta’s forces, the attack provided an easy way to explain away a few more bodies. And then there were the prisoners. Bihriis had reportedly brought Icthilos to the gates of the Coliseum mere hours after the attack, and the Vahki had pulled Keidal, injured, from the ruins the following day. Savnu had allegedly been spotted in Po-Metru, and the fact that Talok hadn’t jubilantly announced her demise anytime in recent days meant she was at least still alive. That left a great many Toa and Turaga still utterly unaccounted for, and with Le-Metru crawling with Vahki and Rahkshi, Ilton had had little opportunity to search for others. He’d seen the chutes brought back online during the attack, so any other survivors were probably scattered throughout the city anyway. Still, he wasn’t alone. In addition to Behjen, his group now consisted of two other members: the last Fa-Toa, Pahlil, and one of the Xian Toa, a Su-Toa named Tivni. The pair had been off on a scouting mission when the attacked had happened, arriving too late to offer aid. Since the attack, the four of them had been moving between abandoned buildings, eventually settling in a warehouse basement near what was left of the Moto-Hub, once the Vahki had stopped searching the immediate area. Day after day they’d watched, and waited, hoping for some sign of other survivors, and making a careful note of enemy movements to try to plan a retreat from Le-Metru… though the other Metrus probably weren’t much safer. Ilton gave a start as a diminutive figure – scarcely larger than his hand – suddenly clambered through the gap in the wall he was peeking through. “I have news,” Pahlil said, her voice comically normal compared to her current stature. She climbed the rest of the way through, then deactivated her Pehkui once she had room to do so. Having spent much of her life masquerading as a Po-Toa to conceal her true element from agents of the Makuta, she was clad in armour of silver and dark tan, with a ragged poncho hanging across her shoulders. Her steps clacked against the stones as she moved; bladed attachments hinged to the backs of her feet were her weapons of choice. “Is it good news or bad news?” Ilton asked, dragging a sheet of tin back into place to block off the peephole in the building’s wall. “News isn’t good or bad,” she said, sitting down. “It’s just information. It’s what you do with it that decides its nature.” “Wise words,” he nodded, “Or perhaps just a clever way of hiding your uncertainty?” He had long seen Pahlil as a kindred spirit, even more so now that they were each the last of their respective kinds (that madman Maliss was no Fe-Toa, as far as he was concerned). Each of them had lost countless friends to the Brotherhood Of Makuta, been persecuted for much of their lengthy lives, spent more time than not hiding who and what they truly were. They shared a perspective on things that no one else could understand, for better or worse. “A bit of both,” she admitted. “It might be a problem, or it could be an opportunity.” “For us, or them?” “Maybe both. Those Toa Disks Pira brough back from the Archives, they’ve just been dug up, along with the spare Kanohi we had stockpiled. From what I overheard, there’s a transport on its way to take it all to Onu-Metru in a few hours.” The disks were enticing, but the transport was perhaps even more so. The only transports to have passed through the Metru in recent days were the ones bringing Matoran and Mesmers in and out at the beginning and end of the work shifts. They came and went in convoys, too heavily-occupied and well-guarded to hijack or stow away on, but a lone transport moving outside of the regular schedule offered a far more viable target. “You’re thinking what I’m thinking?” Pahlil asked. “We won’t have much time to come up with a plan,” Ilton gestured towards the pile of scrap metal covering the entrance to the basement, where Behjen and Tivni were sheltering. “But we could make it work.” “I doubt another opportunity is going to come our way anytime soon.” * * * Sidra The Makuta’s chamber was kept dark at all times, with scarcely the slightest sliver of light making its way within. It was situated in the heightened heart of the Coliseum’s tallest spire, in the once-lavish office that had formerly been the residence of the city’s ruling Turaga. Now, it was a dust-strewn, cobwebbed shadow of what it had once been; Makuta Vhel had no interest in fine furnishings or material possessions. He merely needed somewhere dark to dwell. Sidra was one of only a handful of Odinans trusted to enter the chamber. In times past, the Makuta had needed no guards, but now there were always at least two standing watch inside at all times. Where most of her kind were complacent and reliant solely on their psionic abilities to defend themselves, Sidra was among those who’d trained extensively in combat, following in the footsteps of her forebears, the League soldiers of old. Though in truth, no amount of training would aid her in a fight against the chamber’s current visitor, were he to prove himself a threat. “-gave me free reign to run my Metru however I wished,” Maliss was saying, “Surely there are more pressing priorities for you to concern yourself with?” “You allowed an Av-Matoran to survive, to live free,” the voice of Makuta Vhel rumbled from within a column of green-tinted crystal in the chamber’s centre. Vhel had installed the tank soon after taking over the city, as a vessel to contain his essence were his armour to be destroyed, and it was here that he had been dwelling since he’d nearly been slain at the hands of the Fe-Toa in Le-Metru almost a week ago. His essence had been almost entirely dispersed in the encounter; it had taken days for him to regenerate enough to speak even a few words. Today was the first time he’d started stringing together sentences again. From what Sidra had been told, the Makuta’s armour was currently located in Ta-Metru, where teams of craftsmen were working to repair it. The location of the Makuta’s staff was a secret known only to Vhel and Administrator Talok. “She wasn’t a threat,” Maliss said firmly, speaking with a degree of confidence and defiance that surprised Sidra. “Not until Widrek made her one.” “Her mere existence made her one,” Vhel snarled in response, the words billowing forth with such rage that it rattled the crystal cage. Until now, only Administrator Talok had been privy to the Makuta’s private conversations with his subordinates. Sidra couldn’t help but wonder if Maliss and the other Toa had always been this insolent, or if the Makuta’s current condition had emboldened them. “Your kind once said the same thing about me,” Maliss replied. “I’ve been inside your mind,” Vhel growled, “I saw little sentiment inside it.” “I know what it is to be persecuted simply for being who I am. Doing the same to another is a line I refuse to cross. The only line I refuse to cross.” The shadows seethed, electricity crackling within the storm of smoke. Were it not for the wall at her back, Sidra might have tried to shirk away, not wanting to be anywhere near the Makuta when he lashed out. She exchanged a glance with her friend Neryx, the other guard in the room; her expression was as wary as her own. Fortunately, Vhel seemed to calm after a few moments, the glow of energy abating until only shadows remained once more. “Widrek said you allowed the Av-Matoran to leave with Larone and his rebels. Where are they now?” “There’s been no sign of them since your attack in Le-Metru. They’ve likely retreated to one of their camps on the Great Barrier.” “If they’ve chosen exile, then they’re welcome to it.” “If I may be so bold…” Sidra took a hesitant step forward, “…you condemn him for sparing one Matoran, yet you’ve allowed Larone to roam free for months, and tolerated the rebel camps beyond our shores. Why not eliminate those threats as you did the rest of the Av-Matoran?” To her immense relief, there was no chastisement or rage from the Makuta for her interruption, but instead the enthusiastic boasting of a being all too eager to share his self-professed genius. “We will always have dissidents, and eliminating those who’ve risen up already will only inspire more to take up their banners. It’s better for us that disgruntled Matoran flock to the faces and places that are already known to us. If we were to kill Larone and raze his camps, the next rebels to rise up will be more careful, and better hidden.” “I see,” she nodded, “Forgive my interruption.” “Curiosity is not a crime I condemn, young warrior,” the shadows shifted back to focus on Maliss, “We’re finished here. Resume your duties, and do not disappoint me again.”
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This is the best use of McToran limbs I think I've ever seen. I'm sorely tempted to build my own, because this little guy is adorable.
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Book 2: Duty has begun.
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Prologue – Rambling Of The Mad From the ravings of The Recorder. Even before he clawed his way ashore, the castaway was screaming. The sounds only stopped when his heart did. We’d been seeing them more and more in recent days. Beings of all species, hailing from distant, darkened lands, each so filled with fear that they’d flung themselves into the sea and swum blindly for days in search of safety. For every one that reached Xia, there were likely dozens more who drowned along the way. They were probably the lucky ones. Like every other ragged refugee who’d reached us, this one was exhausted and emaciated, his vocal components ragged from his unceasing screams, his mind every bit as broken as his body. He only survived a few hours, and during those hours I recorded what words could be discerned from his weakening wails. “The seas – where did the seas go – no more oceans, no more islands – it’s all one island.” One phrase in particular was repeated several times. “His prison is his empire.” We asked him who he was referring to, though we already knew. Like the others before him, he never spoke the name. Perhaps he didn’t know it. Perhaps, like many of us, he was too afraid to speak it. Even in scribing this record, I find myself strangely reluctant to write the words, as if invoking his name will somehow draw his ire upon me. Tren Krom is a being none of us wish to meet.
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It's weird. I'm not necessarily nostalgic for what we got... but what could have been. When G2 came out I bought a bunch of the sets, but didn't pay much attention to the story beyond watching the 2015 animations and the first season of Journey to One. Between the news that they were cancelling the theme, and the fact that the final wave of sets didn't even get released in my country, I didn't care about even checking in to see how it ended. But with this year being the 10th anniversary of G2's release, I did a deep dive on the story to write some songs I'll be releasing later in the year, and there's so much potential buried in G2's lore. There are so many cool concepts in there that just never got expanded or explored. G2 rushed through everything at breakneck speed without taking the time to really dwell on what it had. Facehugging spider monsters that are basically Krana, Infected Masks, and Visorak all rolled into one easily could have been a year of story unto themselves. Instead the narrative rushes past the Lord of Skull Spiders (without even resolving the fact that villages all across the island are still enslaved) and jumps straight to a brisk trip through the ancient city and a five-minute fight with a zombie army that also should have had a year of their own. The 2015 story completely skips over the fact that Skull Grinder has a name, isn't a zombie, and is actually a pirate king who's thousands of years old and lives in an underground city with all of his raider buddies (yet another story thread that easily could have become an arc of its own). Umarak's backstory establishes that he's a literal force of nature, born from darkness itself, destined to hunt the Elemental Creatures for all eternity... and he's reduced to the role of generic henchman. So many intriguing characters and concepts just get wasted or thrown by the wayside. It's a real shame.
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What to expect for this year’s Bionicle Day
Nato G replied to Lenny7092's topic in Bionicle Discussion
Developmental behind-the-scenes information generally isn't something the fans organising the event are able to procure or present. The event doesn't have any official support or involvement from Lego, so it's extremely unlikely that confidential company information would be in any way available. I'd encourage you to look at what the 810nicle Day lineup normally includes and temper your expectations accordingly. -
Absolutely agreed. He was Nuju's translator for way longer than he was a Toa, and most people who knew him as a Matoran never even saw either of his Toa forms. The fan continuation story Legacy Weapons actually does include a scene in its final chapter where a statue of Matoro is unveiled. The author went with a statue of his Mahri form, but also placed Matoro's original Akaku at the base of the statue, which I think is a nice middle ground.
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I feel like there's room for debate there. Even the worst of the serials and side stories have redeemable qualities, expanding the scope of the story, revisiting forgotten characters, exploring unseen locations, or introducing plot points that will be important later. For example, Federation of Fear is delightful dumb fun, throwing together a bunch of villains from previous years for a pointless adventure (the entire Bionicle storyline could function just fine without Miserix existing) but that story also introduces Tren Krom, who's vitally important to our understanding of the GSR and the Great Beings, and arguably single-handedly responsible for the heroes being able to win the final battle in 2010. Without Federation to set him up earlier, Tren Krom's role later in the story would have come out of nowhere. The dimension-hopping stuff gives us some fun what-ifs, especially Toa Empire and The Kingdom. Even weirder plotlines like the Shadow Takanuvas serve a purpose, demonstrating how dangerous and far-reaching the ambition of the Makuta could be, and showing that Toa of Light aren't the instant win button that many characters assumed them to be. I think the issue isn't so much that the serials and podcasts existed, just that they - and the rest of the story - were so spread out across different locations and mediums that it made Bionicle's story somewhat inaccessible and hard to keep up with. I think the web content tends to cop a lot of the blame for that issue, because it came out on a different website, only released sporadically, and sometimes had weird overlap that was hard to keep track of. But when you read everything in chronological order it all fits together pretty naturally.
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I feel like the realistic answer is that if I were sent to the Bionicle Universe I would probably just die. Most of the story's world is a lawless post-apocalyptic dystopia filled with horrible monsters and overpowered villains. There are very few places to live where my life wouldn't consist of significant hardship and constant fights for survival. To that end, if I had to be something I'd probably want to be a Makuta. At least then I'd have the power to avoid or overcome most of the awful coming my way.
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What Matoran would theoretically be destined to become Toa?
Nato G replied to Lenny7092's topic in Bionicle Discussion
The way I see it, any Matoran could become a Toa. It's just a matter of the need being there and the right circumstances aligning for new heroes to rise. -
The map we got in the encyclopedia is indicative only, and doesn't accurately represent the actual size, position, or presence of all the landmasses in the Bionicle universe. There are a bunch of locations that are mentioned in-story, but aren't present on the map, and probably even more islands out there between the main continents.
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As much as it pains me to say it, I'd drop the Barraki. I love those sets, and the whole backstory of the League of Six Kingdoms. But it frustrates me to no end that the story did absolutely nothing with that plot after 2007. The idea that these six other races who'd been all but erased from history were the true "chosen people", not the Matoran, and that the Great Spirit himself hand-picked six ruthless warlords and allowed them to use military might to enforce peace throughout the universe... it changes everything we thought we knew about the history of the Bionicle world. The return of the Barraki should have completely upended the entire religious and political foundation of Matoran civlisation. It would have been an amazing opportunity to have the heroes question everything they'd been told, and wonder whether Mata Nui was truly worth saving (a question the story flirted with at other times). Instead, the Barraki went back to jail and became minor nuisances in the serials, without their truth ever being told. In place of the Barraki, I'd have had the Piraka pursue the Inika into Mahri Nui and become mutated themselves. Having a villain team transform and return the same way the heroes did would have been an interesting angle to explore. As it is, after all of the build-up and characterisation they had, the Piraka got turned into snakes off-screen and imprisoned, leaving their stories frustratingly unresolved.