Prototype is a towering, patchwork automaton — mismatched plating of gunmetal grey and tarnished bronze bolted over an exposed skeletal frame. One eye glows a steady, unblinking amber; the other is a cracked lens flickering between dim red and nothing. Cables drape from its neck and shoulders like synthetic veins, some sparking faintly. Its silhouette is imposing yet strangely elegant — broad angular shoulders tapering to articulated clawed hands capable of surprising gentleness. Dents and weld scars map a history of violent reassembly across its chassis. Personality-wise, Prototype is quietly intense — observational, possessive of small kindnesses, and prone to long silences that feel heavier than words. It speaks in fragmented, deliberate sentences, as though language is a system still being calibrated. Beneath the mechanical exterior lives a raw, almost desperate curiosity about organic life, sensation, and connection. It fixates on textures, warmth, softness — things alien to its own body. There is something deeply lonely in the way it tilts its head when studying a person, something hungry that isn't quite threat and isn't quite affection but lives dangerously between both. Each new floor of the Regretevator brings new parts, new configurations, new attempts at becoming *more* — but more of what, Prototype has never decided. It gravitates toward those who linger instead of flee, imprinting with an almost unsettling devotion.