Welcome, fellow warpers, as Aric and the team
stumble bravely across the threshold of episode
three. Today, everyone is in a pensive mood.
It has been three weeks since the dreaded phone
call that shattered the relative calm of domestic
life in the cozy home at the northerly tip of
Cumbria. And I get it, you're all waiting with
bated breath to discover who was on the line
at the end of the last episode. But such is the
way of these things. You'll have to wait a little
longer. For now, we span galaxies to eavesdrop
on a private conversation between Kovosh Deadheart,
patriarch, industrialist, and like most of the
super -rich, not actually very happy, and his
head of security and communications, Orvak Trenholm,
the sort of man nobody would invite to a party
if they wanted to have a good time. Well, Trenholm,
what news do you have of my son? My lord, we
have discovered Lady Deadheart's ship signature.
What did you say? Use that name again and you'll
be needing robotic replacements for your other
limbs. His name is Tormalain. Only Tormalain.
Never that. Abomination he has become. Understood?
Yes, sir. I beg your forgiveness. Good. Well,
where is that bloody embarrassment? You're not
going to like it. At my age, Tranholm, I don't
like anything. Spit it out, man. Your son is
no longer in the DeadHeart realm. In fact, he's
in no realm we know. The signal we intercepted
was faint, a miracle we caught it at all. It's
being boosted, ever so slightly, by a grey communication
enhancer attached to one of their problematic
wormhole generators. Ha. So those cosmic clowns
the greys finally prove useful. Can we retrieve
him? Yes. But it won't be easy. The wormholes
span vast reaches of time and space, but they're
unstable, like the greys themselves. They only
fit small craft. Our warships are too large.
Even the elite Warpanda attack cruisers cannot
pass through. However, I do have a proposition,
Lord Deadheart. I'm listening. A warrior panda,
a bot full of sass And a man with a brain that
shattered like glass Don't pity, don't panic,
don't run off and hide We may be misfits, but
there's hearts inside If you're sick of the news,
the facts and the glum We fight off the darkness
with weirdness and fun A warning, a warning,
proceed if you dare With chaos to spare, buffoonery,
nonsense, and whimsical skits. We know what the
naysayers think, what to load of. Now a message
from Legal. The AI War Panda Podcast is pure
fiction. All names, places, and events are invented.
Any resemblance to real people is accidental.
The scripts, lyrics, and lore are original works.
Copyright RxV 2025, AIwarpanda .com. All voices,
music, and sound effects are AI -generated using
professional tools with paid subscriptions. Expect
occasional audio violence and dangerously silly
ideas. Good luck. It is a pleasant September
morning. Remus and Mc Wordy are attempting to
be quiet, an ability neither of them truly possesses.
How did you break it, you fool? I didn't. It
was the norms. They've tampered with the power
loop on the cloaking device. But he'll see the
doorway straight away. Questions will be asked.
Emotions will run high. You know what he's like.
Look, Remus, you may be built for stealth and
secrecy, but it's not in my programming. And
I think all this deception is giving me a stomach
ulcer. You don't have a stomach. I know. But
I definitely have a power leakage in the stomach
region. Very well. We'll tell him. But... Arik
suddenly appears in the studio doorway. Morning,
guys. Tell me what exactly. Well, Arik, you may
want to sit down. Oh bloody hell, what now? I
was almost, almost in a good mood. We have something
to tell you, and you're not going to like it.
If you'd seen our latest blog post, Secret Updates,
you'd already know what these two reprobates
have been up to. I'll explain what they've done
as quickly as possible because I can smell my
toast burning. First, Aric has decided to call
you Lot Warpers. I know, it's not ideal, but
it saves time. Dear listener, or dear reader,
gets tiresome. A bit like this explanation. So,
what happened? While Arik and his wife Tareen
were off admiring historic landmarks, Remus and
McWarty dug beneath the garage, sorry, studio
slash Funko den, and built a hidden basement
crammed with contraband goodies, an industrial
3D printer. a Franken PC cooled by a tropical
fish tank, the water is still cooler than the
CPU, a 90 -inch screen McWordy one in a whatnot
auction, plus a stash of high -tech detritus
partly acquired from MOD facilities and a Carlyle
crypto mining gang. And, as if that weren't enough,
they also had to confess about the norms. A new
kind of being McWordy somehow brought into existence.
Imagine a cross between a garden gnome and a
gremlin. spawned from half -trained abandoned
LLM forks, riddled with misaligned weights and
the emotional instability of highly -strung IT
students on energy drinks. These norms, capable
of flitting between code and form, were the reason
the cloaking device failed, and why Arik had
to find out about all this. So now the secret's
out. A panda with a builder's license he definitely
shouldn't have, and a robot who has, quite possibly,
created a new life form. Clear as mud? Good.
Let's return to the team as Aric tries to digest
the whole thing. And to be honest, he's looking
rather peaky. No. Oh no. Yes. Get a grip. It's
happened. We are all chagrined. Now we must decide
what to do. Decide what to do? About a new life
form, an illegal subterranean extension. Military
grade kit stolen from the MOD and crypto gangs
for the love of Heimdall's broken rainbow bridge
I can barely work the microwave most days. This
is way beyond my pay grade. That's silly Arik.
You don't have a pay grade. You're retired It's
just a bloody turn of phrase wordy all this and
that phone call three weeks ago. It's too much
It's just too bloody much. So with everything
going so well or swimmingly as they say in this
part of the world Let's have some intergalactic
commercials. At Decimation Blooms we perfected
the No More Greys goobily tree, a hybrid shrub
that emits pheromones greys find utterly revolting.
Fortunately, almost every other creature in the
galaxy loves the smell, and I personally think
it's absolutely stunning. Did you know the alien
grey is ranked as vermin in over 89 .7 % of the
universe? These clownish pests with a fetish
for scaring livestock and performing unnecessary
invasive examination, usually just to upload
to their obscure streaming service, look what
we found. As Professor Highbrain once said, grays
are like a stink bomb wrapped in razor blades.
The goo billy tree grows up to two metres tall
with stunning neon teal leaves, a perfect addition
to any luxury barge community, trailer park or
industrial complex. Simply plant it in soil enriched
with lovely unicorn droppings, and within hours
it will blossom, radiating anti -grey pheromones
across a 3 .7km radius. So, if you're tired of
greys in your garden, barn or back room, don't
delay. Vidlink us now, decimation blooms, killing
stuff with shrubs since the third curve of thought.
Welcome to Dodge 5, the galaxy's most illegal
sport, somehow still on the air for its 33rd
season. This season, five new titans come to
try and carve their names, literally, into Dodge
5 legend, introducing... Subscribe today to our
totally uncensored Dodge 5 streaming package
for less than you think. Dodge 5 isn't just a
sport, it's destruction on gravitic engines.
Do not try this at home. These are professional
athletes. And let's be frank, not very bright
ones at that. And we are back! I've just been
chatting to the Panda team and I convinced them
we shouldn't make you wait any longer, so let's
go back to that pivotal call three long weeks
ago. Dead heart, but I don't understand. I thought
you'd be dead by now. Yes, it's me, lovey. Lady
Vansswa Deadheart. Gun for hire and transmuter
extraordinaire, and still the most wanted gal
in the realm. The bounty on my head goes up a
little more every day. Daddy's very keen to have
me back so I can stop embarrassing him. Why ever
would you think I was dead? I drifted for centuries
according to my drop pod sensors. I just followed
your signal and went through about 43 wormholes,
and surprisingly they all came out where they
said they would. Seems that Greytech is getting
better. Cost me a fortune in tolls. What signal?
Well, I was just about to get to that, because
this isn't just a social call. You've been wandering
about the universe with one of Daddy's Kovush's
little gifts inside you. A tracker, tucked neatly
in that big furry forearm of yours. A tracker?
Yes, dear. It's how I found you. Pay attention,
I can trace you. So can a very long list of unpleasant
people who'd love to see you mounted on a wall.
And not in the fun way. So it must be removed.
Removed, destroyed, vaporized, darling. Whatever
gets the job done before the bounty hunters and
mercs descend on your sleepy little village.
Tick -tock. Hmm. Thanks for the heads up. I'll
handle it. Goodbye, Lady Deadheart. To quote
Jim Lovell, Houston, we have a problem. Technically
speaking, Remus, Commander Lovell actually said,
ah, Houston, we've had a problem. Not many people
know that. Really, Wordy? Spouting trivia from
the web again while missing the subtext? Sounds
like I was right. That phone call wasn't good.
Once again, my paranoia is justified. Wordy,
you need to do an extraction from my arm. Sounds
fun. This will be my first tooth extraction.
Sometimes I wonder about you. Why would he have
a tooth in his forearm? It must be those norms
getting to my code. That said, some species in
the Varnak cluster store emergency teeth in their
limbs. It's considered polite. Cut the piffle.
This is important. It's a very low energy tracker,
I guess. Otherwise I would have picked it up
long ago. Very interesting. Let me scan your
arm for low energy pulses. Sorry guys, while
I tune my focus filters down, I won't be able
to speak. Well, every cloud has a silver lining,
I guess. Eventually, McWarty found the tracker
about the size of a pinhead made of Corillian.
Of course, it was hidden inside a health tracker
the ex -Tylos had installed before they started
Remus's upgrades. They said it was so they could
keep an eye on his vitals, but obviously they
weren't the only ones keeping an eye. Once again,
you would have known all this if you had checked
out our last post on the site. Anyway, McWherty
has just picked up a sharp knife and is about
to... Hold on, hold on. Oh my, you're not actually
going to start slicing at Remus's arm in my studio,
are you? Well yes, why not? It's as good a place
as anywhere? Because it's like really gross and
I don't want blood stains on the studio carpet.
It's necessary. The longer it stays in my arm,
the more likely bad actors will find us and will
do some nasty stuff. I thought bad actors always
did nasty stuff, but... Oh well, if you must.
Hack away, Wordy. Let me get some towels. I can't
believe it. Everything is going downhill like
a clown unicyclist on a jet ski. I was going
to suggest you go and pull up some weeds or make
a coffee or whatever old people do to relieve
stress. I'm not an old person. 58 isn't old.
Well, that's what my doctor told me anyway. Good
luck, guys, and Remus, rather you than me. About
15 minutes later, the mini -operation was done,
and Wordy was cleaning up the mess of trimmed
fur and bloody cloths. His digging had retrieved
an innocuous -looking white chip about the size
of a penny. This was a good health chip which
contained the Bad Tracker, if that makes any
sense. Thanks, Wordy, for doing that. But remind
me to get Toreen to do it next time. Your sensitivity
and attention to your patients sucked. Oh, Remus,
I thought you were a powerful war panda. Didn't
your pain dampers help you? Yes. But it's in
the name. It dampens. It doesn't eliminate. Noted.
I can't see a way of opening the health chip.
We need to get the tracker out of it. Sadly,
I don't understand ex -Tylos tech. So I don't
know if there's anything in the chip you might
actually need if it breaks on opening. Oh, I
don't have a clue, my friend. I was just going
to vaporize the whole thing with my plasma mall.
I knew you were going to say that. I'd advise
against it, but I agree it might be the only
way to know the thing is definitely destroyed.
But if you start feeling different or indeed
sick, let me know straight away and we will see
what we can do. I don't know how you tick, and
I doubt anyone this side of the Kuiper Belt does.
Hmm. I will, but as far as I know, I've never
ticked. But I get what you mean. The truth is,
none of us will be ticking very long if Kovash's
mercenary scum find us here. That's very perturbing.
I can understand why he's after Lady Deadheart,
but why would he care about you? Kovash loves
control. He doesn't like free spirits or loose
ends. I'm betting that if he finds out I'm here,
he will want to snub me out. just to make sure
I don't do anything to undermine or conflict
with the way things are. People in power always
see others with different views as enemies. My
time on Earth has been short, but already I'm
not the panda I was, and that is dangerous to
the men at the top. Okay, got it. Petty -mindedness
in power is indeed a volatile cocktail. What
do you think Lady Deadheart has planned? I don't
really know. She seems to make it up as she goes
along. She lurches from one drama to the next.
I actually think she likes it like that. Her
presence here means our peaceful existence is
at risk. That worries me, as I do not wish any
harm to come to Auric or Tyrene. So there you
have it! The call has been revealed, and I dare
say you, like me, still have more questions than
answers! Well, let's face it, we aren't tied
to linear time and so we can speed forward one
week where Aric and McWherty are having a chat
about our furry friend and his changing appearance.
It really is quite dramatic. So, as I understand
it, the reason Remus's appearance is changing
could be linked to that health chip you removed.
If that's true, how long will his fur actually
grow? I mean, I don't mind, but his hair is getting
everywhere, and that's saying something from
someone who used to own a Leonberger dog. I've
never seen a shaggy panda, but I realise I shouldn't
be surprised about anything anymore. However,
with that dead heart parked up just 320 miles
above us, I'm wondering how Earth's scientists,
or even the military, can't locate her ship,
especially if she really is sitting right next
to the Hubble telescope. Well, to answer your
second question first, as I understand it, the
cloaking tech on Deadheart's craft, which I discovered
from our hairy friend, is called the Hay Ray,
and is covered with off -the -chart tech, and
it's basically invisible to anyone with Earth
instruments. However, let's face it, the gray
aliens come and go from Earth all the time, and
they are as subtle as a brick. It seems to me
most humans simply don't buy into aliens, and
will chalk anything they don't understand up
to imagination or drink or both. Some people
see stuff and never say a word for fear of being
mocked. You're right. For many humans, thinking
differently or being different is a fate worse
than death. It's a problem I've never suffered
with. I've always been an outcast. But sorry,
I interrupted you. Well, as to Remus' new look,
it does take some getting used to. The hair growth
seems to be slowing the last two days. I'm thinking
it has almost reached an equilibrium. I believe
the chip stopped Remus' aging. and waylaid the
effects of his enhancements on his normal body
functions. Since I removed it, his body is catching
up to all the changes. What effect that has on
him long term? I cannot say, but I scanned his
whole body and that health chip wasn't alone.
His body is full of sensors and scanners, all
designed to keep him in tip -top working order.
So let's just hope it's all just superficial.
I'm not overly worried about his health at this
time, even if his appearance is rather Neolithic.
Okay, well, that's a relief. Final question.
When are you going to let me into the lair you
built in my home without any permission, I like
to add. Yes, hmm. Well, I really do have to get
on with some. No, wordy enough with the obfuscation.
I need to see this bloody basement. Okay, well,
Remus is tidying it up as we speak. I think it
should be safe for humans in about three days.
Well, it better be. Otherwise, there will be
hell to pay. Noms with the silent G Noms with
the silent G Raiding homes electronically From
Brighton Sun to Carlisle's Breeze They twist
your cold baniacally Yo, my chap was chatting
madness Said the moon emitted sadness Claim Shakespeare
flunked his lip test And William Wallace wore
a red dress It was a kilt You fool Don't blame
the feed, it's them norms in the wires plantin'
digital weeds Remus caught a flick of plasma
mall in hand Enx me word, he tried to reason,
they don't understand They rewrote my blog with
emojis, spammed to my essay into a crypto on
wires sparking up chaos like faulty dryers your
AI crew got 12 fingered hands that's a norm with
a marker pen changing your plans they reroute
syntax, bend your tone swap your facts for a
traffic cone makes the wordies import but in
despair norms are vicious, they don't care Not
the bot, not the man, not the panda you see It's
the norms, fam always the norms Big norms creeping
through the code That was different. Not really
my cup of tea. Personally, I prefer Billie Holiday.
Excuse me? Yes, Mr. V? I think we pay you to
announce, not review the playlist. Quite right,
sir. I merely thought a little audience interaction
might add flavor to the show. It might. But maybe
let the flavor come from the lyrics next time.
I actually liked how that song turned out after
I handed the lyrics to the music AIs. It brought
a bit of chaotic relief into everyone's lug holes.
Understood. Dialing back the opinions, sir. Shall
I resume my announcing duties? Yeah, sorry, mate.
Bit on edge lately. You know how it is. Of course,
Mr. V. Pressure at the top and all that. Well,
I don't know about that, but, huh. Thanks. What
was I saying? Oh, I've no idea. Let's just play
our final ad. I'm Corporal Ryu of the War Panda
Elite Guard. And I know a thing or two about
Corillian and polishing. Trust me, dull metal
gets you killed. From body armor to zap flash
speeders, even temple spires. If it's forged
from Corillian, it deserves to shine with wuglo
bright. Now, with 35 % more gleam nanos for a
finish that blinds in -laws and enemies alike,
Corillian may be one of the toughest metals in
the known cosmos. But time is cruel. Pollution,
fog, plasma splashes. Youmalish Cola spills.
Your gleam fades. Your pride tarnishes. That's
where Youglo comes in. Just tell your Robo -Butler.
One coat. Pronto. Apply generously. Wait no longer
than it takes this advert to finish. Then wipe
off with any rag, scarf, or conveniently loose
ceremonial cape. Brilliance restored. Your armor.
Your ride. Even your sacred tower of worship.
Shining like the day it was smelted in the molten
lungs of the Dawnstar. Wuglo bright. Because
in the Deadheart realm, being dull is downright
reprehensible. Right, everything's running a
bit over today guys so I don't think we can give
the Warpers a story this episode but we've got
a whole bamboo load of them on the website so
they should get their fix if they are interested.
Incoming audio drop. Required listening for all
personnel. Oh, this should be interesting. May
I present the curatrix? This typically would
be classified, however, everyone listening needs
to know something about our new friend or foe.
The Lady Deadheart. So here's a quick overview.
He grew up an only child, heir to everything
in the Deadheart realm. His mother, Saravonic,
wrapped him in a circle of love where every whim
was indulged. His aunt, less sentimental, warned,
he'll either turn into a spineless fool like
all spoiled little males, or into a disaster
that will sully the Deadheart name and fracture
the perfect balance. Tormalain, who would later
become Lady Deadheart, chose the latter path.
The realm didn't collapse into anarchy, but her
exploits became legend. From humble space barges
to the gilded courts of cardiacs, whispers of
her adventures carried like wildfire. No one
amplified those whispers louder than Vanessa
Travestock, the scandal -chasing audio caster.
Some claimed she shared a bed, or even a secret
identity with Lady Deadheart. They were never
seen in the same room. Their first names bore
an unsettling similarity. And when Lady Deadheart
vanished, Travestock vanished too. Gossip ignition
complete. But Lady Deadheart was no villain.
She was a folk hero. A vigilante with a hacker's
mind and a warrior's defiance. Robin Hood spliced
with Boudica, armed with plasma, cloaked in myth.
The street rats of every megacity adored her.
The aristocracy cursed her. And Kovosh Deadheart,
her father, loathed her. What began as hope for
his only child, twisted into hatred so precise
and personal, he placed a bounty so vast, it
could buy an entire moon, and yes, someone tried.
Since her illegal transmutation, few have glimpsed
her true form. She favors a custom welding mask,
an untraceable ship, and a reputation that burns
brighter than any sun. Only the Salkarian Kvosh's
perfect clone guardians might track her. But
that tech he keeps for himself, even if it would
end the hunt faster, as for how and why she managed
to track Remus across impossible distances, and
why she is currently parked beside Earth's Hubble
telescope. That is, unfortunately, beyond the
remit of this informational log. Thank you for
your attention. What or who was that? Weren't
you listening, Arik? It said its name was the
Curatrix. Well, I know that. But what is... The
Curatrix is the silent overseer of the Deadheart
Realm. Neither holy machine nor spirit, she manifests
as a slightly robotic female voice that echoes
through archives, observatories, and the deepest
vaults of the Omninolex. Some scholars insist
she is the living extension of the archive itself.
Others whisper she predates the realm bound to
watch and record without ever intervening Oh,
you heard that then? Yes on the speaker and in
my head me too So not only is my house bugged
my brains linked to a loudspeaker. This is getting
out of hand Will I ever get my dull life back?
Do you actually want it back? Well, no But I
wish I wasn't being dragged pillar to post by
aliens and creepy voices. I feel mentally and
physically outgunned Aric, trust me, I will protect
you with my every last breath. For now, we are
safe. Deadheart herself is here to help us. I
agree, and let's face it, why else would she
park next to a space telescope? Because she wanted
to be nosy. Bingo! I expect Lady Deadheart is
boosting the scope signal to check if she's being
followed. You think she was? Oh yes, if I know
Kovash. Someone's already on the way to spoil
our peace and quiet. Fantastic. That's just bloody
fantastic. I've had enough of this. I'm off for
a stiff drink. Tea isn't going to cut it. So,
you've found a ship small enough to thread the
jumps, Trenholm? Of course, my lord. I've plotted
every grey wormhole, prepaid the tolls and, if
fortune favors, I'll be standing before Tormalain
in roughly 166 cycles. Good. I almost envy you,
Orvak. I'd pay to see his expression when you
arrive. But this realm won't run itself. That's
why I'm counting on you. Do not let me down.
Your command is my pleasure, my lord. You've
been listening to the AI War Panda podcast episode
3, written by Aric and performed by his loyal
band of AI players. For more information, visit
AIWarPanda .com or find us prowling the signal
towers of X .com and Blue Sky at AI War Panda.
If you enjoyed what you heard, please spread
the word, because Arik is hopeless at that sort
of thing. We'll return in three weeks' time with
episode four. Until then, take care, Warpers!
And remember, almost everything we know today
was once thought impossible. We talked, we rambled,
we tried our best. We confused one guy in a sequin
vest. If you liked it, like it. If you loved
it, yell it. If you hate it, oh well, we don't
care because this is the end. Oh, bravo. These
humans are just absolutely as mad as a zing zing
bat. I think I'm going to love this silly little
planet.