Glamourbot!
This
Male
is ???
??? years old
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Jan 17, 2016 2:04:44 GMT -5
Mettaton ☆
❝ —SO WHAT IF A FEW PEOPLE HAVE TO DIE? THAT'S SHOW BUSINESS, BABY! ❞
☆ Sample Roleplay
True to Mettaton's unmistakable aesthetic, MTT-HQ'S interior was slick and gleaming, heavy with accents of gilt, glitter, and pink glass. At least this time, the contents of the lobby fountain weren't puddling across the floor. This particular location was relatively new -- Mettaton had started... well, never small, that wasn't in his nature-- but smaller. Between monsters eager to keep sight of something familiar in a strange new world, however, and humans fascinated by his novel quality, his fame had grown faster than even he had ever anticipated, soon sprawling far beyond the comparatively-meager amount of sway he'd held in the underground.
Enraptured by the human concept of celebrity culture, the android had thrown himself headlong at the Hollywood lights just as soon as he'd surfaced (After all, adaptability was a must for any successful artist), and the rewards had been rich. Albums, tours, a handful of movies and plans for more, awards won along the way, an amusement park in the works... MTT-Corporate's product line was ever-expanding.
Napstablook had been at his side for the entirety of the rise, of course, alongside Shyren. Old employees-- generally the loyal and most familiar-- had chosen to remain with him and made the transition as well. He'd kept track of so many of them, in fact, that it came as nothing short of a surprise to be pinged by the front desk with a report of an arrival without an appointment, someone who was apparently sure that they'd be a familiar face. Double-clicking the icon for the security feed on his desktop monitor, Mettaton took in the sight, his amusement apparent until his single pink lens fixed on the top of the tawny-furred feline head. Lacquered lips immediately pursed.
Downstairs, behind the reception desk, the intercom buzzed -- the voice on the other end of the line was no doubt familiar, a sibilant, synthetic purr.
"... Send him up, darling."
Beyond the double doors on the top floor, the office itself was imposing. One wall had been claimed completely by depictions of Mettaton's exploits, hung in heavy gilt frames -- the row began with a reprint of his very first poster and ranged right to more recent endeavors. A shiny silver disc hung opposite, above a shelf of strangely-shaped glass blocks and shiny stars. A massive desk backed by sprawling windows, pink-stained pinewood trimmed in gold, dominated the far side of the room. Behind it, ignoring a pile of paperwork in favor of painting his nails to match his pinstripes (Human fashion, he'd found, was fantastic. While he would never do away with the armor -- it'd become iconic, after all -- he'd grown fond of a well-cut suit on office days), sat the automaton, beaming.
"Good morning, gorgeous! You're in luck, you know! I'm not always here, and when I am... well, we book appointments on a very selective basis. Coffee? I'm told it's cold down there." Blowing on his nails with a faintly hydraulic-sounding hiss, Mettaton twisted the lid back onto the bottle of varnish and dropped it into a desk drawer. "... Now, I'm sure you know how valuable my time is. Have a seat. Why don't you get right to the point and tell me what brings you all the way up here? I know you didn't just... miss me!" His visible eye, framed by a pair of blocky pink glasses (Purely cosmetic), shone with curiosity.
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Administrator!
This
Female
is Pansexual
18 years old
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Jan 18, 2016 1:51:15 GMT -5
Accepted!
Welcome to Overtale as our new Mettaton!
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