Final Project
Steve showed up for his big moment with more personality than I could have expected. During the final exhibition, he chose to dance — not walk, because walking is still a bit of a struggle — but dance he did. And apparently, Steve has a favorite artist: Fetty Wap. He only moved to Fetty’s music and ignored everything else we tried. Somehow, that felt just right. Even more impressively, he stayed running for over 25 minutes, working harder and longer than he ever had before.
In addition to his physical performance, Steve had something to say. Through his pre-recorded speech, he shared a side of himself we hadn’t heard — a nervous, tender robot just trying his best. He talked about his anxiety, how scary it is to be watched when your body doesn’t always cooperate, and how performing made him feel both vulnerable and brave. It was a reminder that even machines can have emotions — or at least, stories we can project onto them.
Steve was a joy to watch — charming, unpredictable, and surprisingly committed to his performance. But after over 25 minutes of nonstop movement, his legs began to stiffen, and I heard the familiar buzzing of a tired motor — a sign he likely needs some replacements. Despite that, this project taught me more than just how to build a robot. It showed me how to be patient with failure, to embrace quirks, and to find meaning in small, imperfect movements. Steve wasn’t always functional, but he was always expressive — and in that, he became something more than a machine. I’ll keep working on him, but for now, he’s earned his rest.