4Mechanical Devil Dolls From Japan
Perhaps also eager to invent the Japanese stereotype, this robot was built by 19th century Japanese engineer Hisashige Tanaka who started tinkering with robots at the age of eight. Historical record does not indicate if he liked watching squids rape pseudo-white schoolgirls, nor made any mention of the size of his penis. He left those developments to later generations.
Tanaka had a thing for Karakuri dolls, which were like mechanical puppets, only more sinister (if that's possible). They were intended to "tease, trick or take a person by surprise" which is just a brilliant thing to design your creepy doll to do, Japan.
Tanaka was best known for the Yumi-iri Doji, a lifelike (if life was horrible) doll that picked up four arrows and shot them in succession. So they loved to take taunt you and "take you by surprise" and were programmed to be expert archers? It's like you're trying to write a Stephen King novel here.
Although there is some hope of escaping the deadly robot projectiles: One of the four consecutive shots was programmed to miss the target to better simulate an actual archer (because in 19th century Japan archers were apparently creepily smiling half-men attached to boxes). This just proves what we've been saying all along: Japan is now, and has always been in the mouth of madness.
How Did He Do That?
Tanaka's masterpiece was truly elegance in simplicity. It was a combination of western clockwork techniques with cams, levers, threads and had only 12 other moving parts:
So Tanaka pretty much perfected the technology that Walt Disney would later exploit to build his eerie, music-infused robot doll armies.
If you're mourning the injustice of this world that such a great inventor went unheralded, don't worry: He wasn't toiling in obscurity; the workshop he founded would later become Toshiba. That's right: Your television's great-great-grandfather was a murderous Japanese doll built solely to harass humanity.
3Hercules Versus the Dragon
Heron of Alexandria (who sometimes simply went by "Hero" because modesty wasn't invented until the Victorian era) was a mathematician/engineer who lived somewhere in the vicinity of 10-70 AD.
Did you ever know that you're our Heron?
While not doing whatever it is that mathematician/engineers do (figuring out when the two trains will pass each other, most likely) he fiddled around with steam, wind and other forms of energy. But things got really exciting when our Christ-era friend here invented a completely functional Chuck E. Cheese style robot show illustrating the story of Hercules and the dragon. We're talking about an intricate, complete mechanical opera operating before the invention of pants.
What he came up with was Hercules fighting a dragon, and there were actually several different incarnations. What each version had in common was that Hercules was always perpetually attacking the dragon, while the dragon was either hissing at Hercules or drinking some water--which frankly kind of makes Hercules the dickhead in that situation. In one version the dragon even spat water at Hercules' face, which is an understandable reaction when somebody shanks you for being thirsty.
So basically, Heron made little moving gods for people who still worshiped big, unmoving, statue gods. Can you imagine how confusing it must have been to see your actual idols bonk moving monsters? It seems simplistic now, but people call it a miracle when they see Mary shedding bloody tears--imagine how they'd react if Mary whipped out a club and hammered a nearby statue of the Devil to rubble.
How Did He Do That?
His creation ran on an amalgam of pretty much every power source available: Air, water, pulleys, chains, pressure, magic, willpower, spite - you name it. The pedestal on which the robots stood was airtight, so when you lifted an apple (because if the Bible taught us anything, it's that ancient times were just chock full of apple-thieves) you'd break the air pressure, setting off a chain reaction that kicked the opera into motion. Imagine that: You think you're some big, hot-shit apple thief gankin' ol' Heron's knowledge-fruit and BAM! Tiny mechanical gods pop up and start waging a war-that-cannot-be right in front of you. Heron probably killed half the population of Rome with shock.