Over in Japan, the standard scarecrow will not do. So, instead, they’ve decided to raise an army of robot wolves. Ok.
Blue moon…you saw me standing alonneee.
The concept of the terrifying lycanthrope protecting the crop of man, despite the fact that they don’t really trust or understand the evil they’ve shackled is a well-worn trope. A lycan-trope, if you will. Over in Japan, a neon-metropolis built on man trusting untrustworthy beasts of their design (see: Godzilla, Mothra, Hirohito) has birthed its next episode in folly.
I present the rippling, snarling, carniverous back of the SUPER MONSTER WOLF.
This hideous prospect has its genesis in great trauma. You see, it’s digital contemporary replaces the wolves of old, who were sadly hunted to extinction in the late nineteenth century, because some bureaucrat had an axe to grind (or a musket to load). With deer and wild boar now clip-clopping long over the crops of verdant modern-day Japan, there must be something can be done.
The robowolf, therefore, ostensibly exists only to replace a species that man eliminated, because the circle of life?
It matters not, as an apex predator, this is just another day in the Kansai prefecture. The early trials of the beast revealed that the wolf has an effective radius of just about one kilometre. Making it more effective than a stationary deterrent (like a fence), but if you ask it to move, the robo-wolf could literally not be bothered.
So, consider, for a moment, the great genius of man. We’re able to recreate any dead species, replacing it with a really lazy version of it. That being said, the robo-cover has something that the original did not: the ability to mimic gunfire. If gunfire doesn’t startle you, it can also howl and speak fluent Japanese. Which is certainly something.
In the final analysis, the robo-wolf is a $4000 scarecrow with asthma and hard on for weaponry.
Wolfzilla! We must flee!