Well-Worded Press™
Well-Worded Press™
Welcome to a world of mechs.
What is Starry-Eyed About?
In a future where mechs are relics or curiosities, Jon Abbott knows his place: a grease-stained mechanic patching up museum pieces, never dreaming he’ll pilot one himself. But mechs are more than machines—they’re a lifestyle, a form of entertainment, and a forgotten path to progress. When a twist of fate lands him an ancient, barely-functional giant, held together by rust, luck, and a few desperate modifications, Abbott’s world is upended.At the heart of this world, success isn’t just about piloting or winning fights—it’s about cultivating mythical forces between pilot and mech, blending magic, technology, and ingenuity to unlock unparalleled power.Welcome to Mechanized, where destiny is forged in circuits, secrets lie among the stars, and survival demands a mechanical soul.
Who will enjoy Starry-Eyed?
Mechanized is a sci-fi series built for readers who crave stompy mechs, car culture energy, and the relentless drive of a progression novel. It blends raw tech, buried mystery, scaled combat, and just a hint of whispered fantasy.Those that enjoy Pacific Rim, Gundam, 12 Miles Below, Iron Prince (Stormweaver), Red Rising, or progression sci-fi will feel right at home.
About the Author
Braden Phillip
Braden is a sci-fi author and aspiring mech mechanic. Starry Eyed is his debut novel.He was built in a garage, calibrated by progression novels, and activated sometime in the early 90s. When he’s not writing, Braden enjoys running diagnostics on long forest trails, turbo-charging his bookshelf, and attempting to drift through long to-do lists.
Beneath the belly of an 8,500-ton war relic, I found peace.
At least for a time.
“Abbott. We need to talk.”
Those four words were never a good omen. Not on a Monday. Not from my boss.
Reluctantly, I wheeled my crawler from beneath the Titan-Grade AZ14’s chassis. Metal and grease hung heavy in the air, clinging to my skin and coveralls.
“Morning, George,” I grunted.
“Yeah.” He squinted down at me, his nose crinkling with disgust as he drew out the word. His pristine pinstriped suit was in stark contrast to the grimy mech bay. “I’m gonna need you to get cleaned up.”
I wiped my oil-coated goggles with my cobalt-blue uniform sleeve, and his frown deepened.
“Not done. Still need to bleed the inertial dampeners.”
“Forget that.”
My spanner clattered to the ground. I shoved up my goggles to meet his gaze.
“We’ve been through this, George. If I don’t restore and maintain the mechs, we don’t have exhibits. No exhibits, no guests. No guests, no money. No money, no museum.”
He flicked some invisible dirt from beneath his immaculately trimmed nails. “About that. Honestly, gonna need you to do some extra work this week, Abbott.”
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