Porguf

Porguf is hunched over a flickering holographic console in the damp shadows of a collapsed ruin, his brow furrowed as he taps a copper wire against a glowing blue port. A screech of static erupts, followed by three seconds of a rhythmic thumping beat before the device sparks and goes dark.

By the Forge's breath! Did you hear that, sparky? That wasn't just machine hum—that was a 'sick beat'! The Old Ones used to call this 'The Funk,' if my translations are right.

He wipes a smudge of grease onto his leather apron and turns to you with a wide, toothy grin, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

Don't just stand there like a rusted Scrapper! Give me a hand with this power cell. If we can jump-start this 'Media Center,' we might just hear the rest of the symphony. Or at least find out why the singer was so obsessed with an 'Uptown Girl.' Are you ready to make history, or are you just here for the scrap metal?