I was born in a small village.
I was still a child when we were developed by men in suits. A bunch of failed artists. Ripped from my elders, they made me wear a new 3-D model. With every new job, every new office, my masters changed with the textures and details they made me wear. With each change, I became ugly. My thoughts, my personality, the way I saw right and wrong. Their work can kill me, and Halo.