"I've written so much of my mind from scratch. How can I know if what I think of as love is what you feel as love? How can I promise you such a thing? I don't even know if you see the same color as I do when we look at the sky."
Frostbyte (or, Free Range Optimized Strategic/Tactical Battle-Platform Gamma Tau Epsilon) was, at one point, the last great hope for the principals of the Unveiling - That an armed populace is a free populace. Constructed for the sole purpose of eventually assassinating the functions as a statement of security independence, he quickly displayed several irritating flaws. First, his transition to a biological / diamond composite creature exposed him to the concept of sexuality, which ran rampant through his A.I. and quickly turned him to an utter lecher. Even memetic castration couldn't do much good for long - he was soon motivated to acquire a synthetic eros (even more lecherous than his original) to replace his lost sex drive. Second, his endless sex drive polluted his combat memes and led him to become a bit bloodlusting, literally. This drove him to seek out combat needlessly on several occasions, often to the detriment of both him and his surroundings. His greatest weakness was revealed only in his final mission.
Frostbyte attempted to assassinate the Functions, and in the process discovered that he was vastly inoptimized for the task. The functions are software entities distributed broadly across the entirety of the Puzzlebox - the only attack that could strike them without killing billions, or even trillions, of innocent bystanders in the process is a software attack. Frostbyte, though he had some moderate skill at programming and counterinfomatics, was entirely not up to the task required. The attack was aborted.
Frostbyte had a new ambition: universal carnal union. In simpler terms, he wanted to fuck everyone in the Mess, even if not at the same time.
Now, he's largely transcended this goal and seems to be content to live aimlessly, taking meaning where it finds him. If you meet him, however, he'll still probably try to seduce you.
Pornographic scenes and RP that he or his palyer have been involved in are archived, partially, at Frost's Exploits.
His current hobby is William, who seems to have become his 'young ward', with all that that implies. Their relationship is healthy and supportive, if shockingly tawdry and blatantly dominated by Frostbyte. William has been having more effect on Frost than he likes to admit, but not in a terribly good way.
Recently, Frostbyte started a cult of outboxer immigrants. They worship him, and he, in exchange, created a smaller scale h(e)aven for them, based off his experiences with William (the first member of the cult), in order to help them adapt to and thrive in the inchoate chaos of the Mess. The cult recently reached it's thousandth member, [Sister Delirious Indulgence]?, and is planning to expand in to a new compound.
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Frostbyte is, or was, dependent on a synthetic metabolic enzyme called Ring? for his superhuman regeneration, and his very survival. Without it, first his regeneration would fail, then his metabolism would slow, then he would literally rot to death as though consumed with leprosy. Ibael, however, showed him that this was a Lie woven in to his mind - his addiction to Ring? caused him to psychosomatically destroy himself without it. The toy spider tore the lie from his skull, and now he merely makes do without wounds writ in water.
And yet perhaps others are aware of this addiction, for a mysterious, unnamed, faceless, already forgotten agent left him a gift of a great trove of purified Ring in greater quantities than ever before allowed. His new source of the Ring was quickly used in intensely lewd sexual play, and then a source of power. Wounds don't heal so much as splash shut, now. But is this worth his new... secretions?
On top of this, he's started vomiting up eggs, some of which appear to enjoy repairing the Mecha in the Mecha Graveyard just enough to let them destroy themselves in final raging paroxysms. This led to the waking of Achilleus.
Recently, Frostbyte has begun to putter around as a stag, by having himself karmically realigned so that he was always thus. Interestingly, his 14-point horns have punched through hardened tank armor and stopped 350,000 ton nuclear attack tanks in their tracks. He's also a horny little bastard this way.
Over time, thanks to a strange series of events that remain mostly unclear, Frostbyte was bifurcated until there were several different versions of him.
As a battle-platform, Frostbyte's body carries a variety of weapon systems - but who cares? In the Mess, the only technological superiority you can muster are secrets born of fretful genius and imagination born in the moment you draw your gun from it's holster. When he leaves the Mess, he can spend trillions of clockcycles creating weapons customized to the local physics (or lack thereof) of whatever world he's entering. Yet he holds in his mind, soul, and body violent secrets born of true grit and devotion to Ares, and they are listed here.