Rhona W

RP Rules & Preferences - What do we look for nowadays?

What I look for in an RP and that draws me to it, is obviously foremost being interested in the subject of it - I know what I like; sci-fi and mecha RPs, anthro stuff, military and near future military. A small number of fandoms, possibly.
But even then; it needs to be well-presented and written. That doesn't mean flashy graphical flair, that's just icing on a cake. An RP could have the most fabulous graphics ever, but if the actual premise is thin, or inconsistent and rambling without much actually explaining what's going on, what the hooks are and what's going on, then yeah; that's just flash instead of substance.
Give me some substantial lore and world-building to hook me in, give me threads to follow and ideas to inspire me. And also give me firm, but not restrictive guidelines - tell me what kind of characters are expected, what kind of mood and tone we're going for.
It also helps give expectations of what to expect, and makes sure all the players and characters are on the same page.

I'm also in the camp of not really liking sandbox RPs. I've tried a few over the years, but I find them distinctly lacking in any kind of drive or direction. I much prefer a distinct and obvious narrative that pushes things along, if only because it creates a reason for the players all to interact with one another too, and actually do some roleplaying, instead of just pottering about doing random stuff.

GM's being consistent with their expectations and standards helps a lot too. Avoiding cliques or playing favourites with people, and making sure everyone has a fair shake and is treated the same.
Keeping enthusiasm going and communicating that enthusiasm to players is important, as it makes everyone excited.
I haven't joined any RPs for a while now, and I'm mostly just running my own one. I tried joining a couple, but they just trailed off and didn't even really get started. One of them had absolutely insane differences in ability between the characters which made me a bit unsettled as well, to begin with.

Genre wise; there's always fandom RPs and lots of them. There was a period of a lot of 1x1 'relationship' RPs turning up in the general thread areas, but they seem to have been herded back into confinement in the 1x1 section.
Hadn't really noticed the rise in Superhero RPs, but I do see a lot of fantasy ones, and anime-esque high fantasy at that.
I'd personally love to see more Sci-fi, Mecha, 'vehicle'-centric stuff (i.e. fighter jets), anthro/furry stuff and modern or near-future military stuff with a cool sci-fi or 'fantastical' twist. And combinations of all of the previous things.

I think overall, the site has slowed down a lot in general over the years, as other past-times have become more popular, and people want more immediate results for their attention and gratification. Patience and long-term enjoyment are in shorter supply than they used to be, and the immediate reward and satisfaction of things like gaming have taken over. Also it seems like roleplaying by text has moved a lot more to platforms like Discord too (not that I can ever see or find any of these mythical Discord RP servers).
The fact the site also relies on people coming back actively to check it doesn't help sometimes, rather than being notified that they have activity.

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Scott 'Heartbreak' Valentine - Cobalt Leader

The Aqua-tailed Titan being hounded by Amelia and Ximena had no chance. Between them, the two women had pushed and pulled the Silent Eagle and it's pilot into the corner. Ximena danced her Sea Raptor out of the way of the laser, a move that goaded the enemy pilot to chase the plucky sinomexican into another shot, only to have one of Jefe's pair of missiles as a return for their troubles. At the same instant, Calico let fly with a trio her her own.
Bracketed by both planes and with five air-to-air missiles bearing down on them, there was really no avoiding it. The Titan pilot was no quitter, and they pulled to try and gain altitude, heeling into-
Before they could even complete the maneuver, the first of the three R-73's detonated, the close proximity fuse showering the belly of the Silent Eagle with blazing shrapnel. The second plowed home moments later, and the third arrived at the same instant as Ximena's missiles. The F-15 was obliterated, the machine and pilot alike so thoroughly obliterated by the successive hammering of explosions that it was spread out square miles of the suburbs in a shower of fragments that looked like a brief, if heavy meteor shower.

With all the Titan's down or ejected and no further bandits in the air, the squadron had got themselves some breathing room - however brief it might be.
Stingray hitting the SAM site removed another obstacle, and finally the picture was clear, the AWACS voice coming over the squadron channel to confirm they were in the clear for the meantime as the Libyans were regrouping and rushing planes to the area.
"Cobalt One to all aircraft, move to the next target. Targets are the Tu-22 bombers and any other strike aircraft and their support facilities at Mitiga. We're looking to stop them from being able to target the NUN fleet with long-range anti-ship missiles. As soon as we deliver our payloads, we go low and head north at max speed to exfiltrate back to Malta, over"
Orders delivered, Scott nudged the Harrier back on course to the east, and the waypoint for Mitiga International Airport, their second target. The AWACS operator aboard the E-2D Hawkeye was already advising them of SAM and surface-to-air radar around the airport, but not nearly as dense as that around Tripoli. There was a significant amount of movement on the ground that the Hawkeyes' powerful APY-9 radar was picking up, showing that the Libyans were already expecting something.
"Anyone with ground ordnance left; target the bombers and then bug out. No hanging around, no dogfights - we go in and out clean and fast. Dump any remaining air-to-ground stuff on the target, and then out over the ocean toward home. We delay any longer, and they'll be all over us. We already gave 'em a bloody nose, now we make it stick, and get out in one piece, over"
As Scott's aircraft closed in, the airport was laid out below. Winking lights of AA fire flashed from emplaced guns and mobile vehicles, brief sights as he closed in at high speed.
Of more note were the sleek shapes of the Tu-22 Blinder bombers. They looked almost like sleek, predatory fish, or rocket-ships from a 1950's pulp-era serial, gleaming silver under the moonlight. Several were parked up on the apron, while others were slowly taxiing to the end of the runway, where one was holding, navigation lights blinking.
Not hesitating, Scott thumbed the weapons selector on his stick, bringing up the maverick missiles slung under the AV-8's wings. He slewed the laser on the Litening pod under the belly onto the TU-22 about to start rolling and locked on.
"Cobalt Lead, Rifle!"
He squeezed the trigger twice rapidly, and the air-to-ground missiles flashed away, guided in by the laser's point onto the shark-like bomber. The distance was so short, that the Mavericks hit home within seconds, and the thin-skinned aircraft stood no chance. The anti-tank missiles blasted into it like thunderbolts from Zeus himself. Loaded heavily with fuel and the payload of the massive Kh-22 anti-ship missile, the bomber exploded in a gigantic fireball, the shockwave causing even more damage, blowing out windows, tossing support vehicles, and incinerating unprotected bodies.
The AV-8B screamed over the airport at low altitude and high speed, before Scott executed a picture-perfect bank and a nose-up, reducing speed just enough to get a good laser fix on the main control tower. As soon as the point was set, he punched off the two GBU-16's, letting them sail toward the target, toggling the laser to stay on target as he rolled and smoothly banked away from the target, punching out chaff and flares as the jet insistently complained about the radars painting his jet.
The paveways lazily soared toward the concrete tower as he moved away. The twin laser-guided bombs blasted into the middle of the tower's concrete stem, raining chunks of concrete and steel from the blossoming explosion, as flame bloomed out from the windows at the top.
"Cobalt Lead; targets hit. Heading for the ocean. It's all yours, guys and gals, over".

Katherine 'Kitten' Kane - Cobalt 7

Kat had kept her A-10 at high speed as they had transition from the area around Tripoli to Mitiga. With the speed of their combat jets and the short distance, even her comparatively slow plane moved fast enough to cover the distance in barely a few minutes. She dropped altitude and speed on the approach, heeding Scott's warnings and instructions. The big bombers gleamed under the moonlight, but she had other targets in mind. To one side, a little removed, sat the POL (petroleum, oil and lubricant) storage farm. She selected her APKWS pods and let the Litening pod under her port wing play across the tanks and maze of piping, before selecting volley fire and curling her gloved finger around the trigger. As the rockets flashed out in rapid succession, each pod alternately firing until they were empty, she fish-tailed the rudders of her plane gently, strafing the rockets in a wide pattern back-and-forth across the compound, and pulling up and banking as soon as the last rockets had left the launcher.
Almost immediately there was a rain of explosions, and then moments later a massive fireball mushroomed up from the storage area as the vaporised volatiles met the burning and superheated metal fragments, the shockwaves flattening structures and tossing nearby vehicles like cheap toys. To her satisfaction, at least one of the SAM radars went offline, and the AA fire faltered and dropped off.
Wheeling in her bank into a tight turn, She selected her remaining cluster bombs and punched them off with a call of 'pickle' as she passed over the vehicle park, the weapons wreaking a blaze of fiery destruction as the smart submunitions targeted the parked-up service and repair vehicles and equipment, as well as tearing through thin-skinned steel outbuildings.
Her plane shuddered and bucked as she came around, the sounds like heavy hammerblows against the A-10 as it skidded and slewed. Grimacing, she pressed her booted foot heavily on the rudder pedals, and the plane nosed back on course, and she carefully eased her stick in a few slow turns, checking the mirrors attached to her canopy rail - yep; there it was. One of the twin, rectangular vertical tails had the top edge raggedly chewed away. She gingerly eased the throttle back up, pressing her feet on the pedal to test... there was a noticeable shudder and a sluggish response, and the shuddering grew as she advanced the throttle closer to maximum speed, but it held.
"Cobalt 7, I've taken a hit from triple-A. Some damage to my rudders, but I've still got control of the aircraft. Should hold until we get back to base, over"

@Smike, @Letter Bee, @Finetales, @AvaP, @Damo021

What are some of the most confusing/cringiest OC's you have ever encountered?

The most bewildering one was on Ye Olde Guilde (the previous version of this forum) when I was running one of the many, many incarnations of my GEARs RP. GEARs is a sci-fi RP set solely on one world, with a fairly detailed setting that has various mysteries to it. The tech of the setting is quite explicitly detailed too. It features smallish mecha (the titular GEARs), a bit bigger than powered armour, but much smaller than your regular giant robot. The people in the setting are all anthro animals too, which is also an intrinsic part of the setting and plot.

Anyway, the game was in Casual, but it could have easily sat in Advanced, IMHO. Someone submitted a character app, and they clearly hadn't read anything about the setting or RP at all.
They had made up a vulpine character who was from 'another planet than Landren' - Landren being a country in the setting, not a planet. Let alone space travel not even being a thing at all.
Their mecha had 'laser particles'... (in it's legs!) I don't even know what that means, let alone the fact that energy weapons were experimental tech in the setting and not readily available to the players. It had a bunch of other nonsensical things too, but I remember that being the standout one because of the odd wording.
The whole app read like it was written by a little kid.
I rejected it as it clearly didn't fit anything, but I made sure to do so politely. I was still completely bewildered by it, and we did used to joke about 'space fox' afterwards in the RP group.

There was also a dude who joined the same RP or another version of it, who clearly was just there to get his rocks off with furry smut RP - or at least, to try to. He had no knowledge or interest whatsoever in the setting or anything about it, and was just constantly trying - very, very poorly - to hit on every character that was there. I remember this specifically, because he offered to be someone's co-pilot, and when asked to do something in character, he replied his character had no idea what that meant... not sure how they'd have ended up in a hi-tech war machine if that was the case.
He also tried to start a 1x1 with me, and his characters were as deep as a dry puddle, and he had no interest in discussion about setting, story, or anything. All his characters did was just keep 'looking at' mine with no elaboration.
That was just eye-roll worthy.

Otherwise, I had a friend who was a dyed-in-the-wool weeb when we were teenagers, and first getting into TTRPG's.
We had just started out on our journey into playing TTRPGs, and a slightly older friend was running a high fantasy RPG for us - it was from an old paperback book called 'Dragon Warriors'. Tolkienesque high fantasy stereotypes through and through. Simple system, great for a beginning point for anyone new to RPGs.
Me and my other friends were all playing fairly familiar - if a little childish - high fantasy characters. We all knew the style and the tropes, and were playing to the setting.
Weeb friend, well...
He was basically using anime stereotype jokes all the time. Describing his character having anime sweat drops, giant jiggly boobs, fireballing people for disagreeing or upsetting her (as if it was a cartoon and they just shrugged it off like Wile-E-Coyote), and so on.
Needless to say, everyone got very fed up with this, and the GM eventually had to say that their character did not fit at all with the others, and to tone it down. They got pretty huffy about this and didn't understand the issue.

They had their own OC too, and talking about that RP makes me remember him. He was an absolute Mary Sue; half vampire, half demon, and cribbed looks, powers, gear and everything else from basically anything and everything you can think of. Adamantium (or equivalent) skeleton, giant sword(s) that were supernatural, Super handsome (apparently; they basically looked like Vincent Valentine and Sephiroth's lovechild) but brooding, all the girls love him, but he's just too cool and angsty to show his super deep feelings. A plethora of magical abilities (naturally) a spaceship that would make the SDF-1 Macross look puny (oh, and it was full of his own Space Marine chapter, and crewed by a mixed assortment of anime babes from various franchises who all lurrrrvvve him) A bad boy because 'heroes are too goody-goody'. All the personality of a small radish and so overpowered that nothing at all feasible was a challenge to him and his 'weaknesses' weren't really weaknesses of any relevance.
Typical teenage power fantasy, I know; but even now any time I see some overpowered OC on DeviantArt or somewhere it makes me smirk as I remember the excesses of my friend's character.

Not that I don't have my own characters who had silly moments, especially when I was younger. But I always think they've been much more restrained by comparison.

Cyberknigths: A post-Apocalyptic Sci-fi World

I'm kind of interested; enough to keep an eye on this at least.

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Scott Valentine

Scott was relieved and in admiration as he saw three of the Silent Eagles go down in the space of mere minutes, and then Sparrow tearing a Mirage 2000 out of the sky with almost contemptuous ease. He'd already been impressed by what the men and women under his command had done in the scant few days he'd known them; their skills and talent matched up to that feeling by what he'd seen. The remaining Silent Eagle was still angling in for a run on Fuka's F/A-18, and Scott was about to throw himself into the attack, but Freyja was there before he could take action.

“Cobalt 6, Fox 2”

@Damo021

The gunmetal-trimmed Silent Eagle had already been shaken by Valkyrie's lock-on to his plane. As she let loose with her Sidewinder, Titan 9 punched out flares, and pulled a hard, abrupt bank, one that had him on the edge of a red-out. Heavier and larger than the Gripen, but with much more power and wing area, the F-15 was - on paper - evenly matched, but in close like this, the lighter jet could keep more energy. He had to break away and use his power and speed.
Even as those thoughts went through his head, Titan 11's panicked and strained voice came through his helmet's earphones.
"Basilisk to Hellhound; we just lost Gorgon and Banshee punched out! These mercs are better than we gave them credit for. Even with the lasers! They've got us outnumbered, over"
"I know, Basilisk. But we can still hurt them. Hit your target, and then break contact. All we need to do is buy time, and we're doing that. That was the mission, remember? Just do what you were told"
He was more curt with her than he was happy with; the younger pilot was less experienced. He felt a moment of regret for it, but the battle he was in took the priority, and the mission above that. And with that in mind, he fed the engines more power, getting the speed and energy he needed to put distance between himself and the Cobalt Haze planes. He pulled the jet around in a smooth climbing roll after he had a few miles of vertical and horizontal distance, and cued his helmet-mounted sight, tracking in on both the F/A-18 and the Gripen alike. He bracketed each with an AMRAAM, and as soon as they was a positive tone, snap-shot off a missile each apiece, before continuing the dive, and levelling out down low, using the ground clutter and his planes' reduced RCS to try and hide in the clutter and aim to pop-up from below if the missiles didn't hit as planned.

“Hold that thought”

@Damo021

The remaining Mirage 2000-5 sliced through the night sky toward Brightspark and Sparrow. The seeking radar snapped a lock onto both the Typhoon and F-16 alike, and the bold Libyan pilot rippled off a MICA radar-guided missile apiece at them both from medium range, while still boring in to close the distance and press the attack with their shorter-range Magic IR-Guided missiles if need be.

Hellhound in the Aqua-trimmed Silent Eagle was still set on tangling up with Yuna and her deadly Sukhoi. The first missile had spooked her, but surviving it had only strengthened her resolve and her confidence in her skills and her plane. Her radar warning receiver sang at her as Calico's radar hunted for a lock. She needed to reverse the situation and get the big, heavy, and powerful Su-35 off of her tail and get back into a position of advantage. Especially hard, when the Super Flanker had its' trademark impressive manoeuvrability. Still, Basilisk's words rang in her head and still stung her pride. She nosed down, gaining speed and putting on power, luring the Sukhoi and it's pilot to follow her low, before pulling up and hard into loop, using her jets' lesser mass and the power she'd gained to try and roll inside the their climb and put herself back on their tail.
Just as Jefe's hunting radar locked onto her plane, and she cursed, now faced with two powerful, advanced enemy jets hunting her down. She gave a frustrated yell as she punched out chaff, breaking into a tight bank that left contrails streaming and a giant standing on her chest, pinning her back into her seat and choking air out of her lungs, before she violently pulled a reverse to the motion, hauling the nose around in the opposite direction. She knew the second plane was stealthy; it wouldn't show up as well on her radar, but at this short a range it wasn't 'invisible'. Added to this, she had the LANTIRN pods under the fuselage and the Sniper pod of the pair could hunt with infrared, TV and laser-guidance.
And the Sukhoi, well; that wasn't stealthy. Her helmet-mounted sight helped too; anything she could see she could lock onto or track - but that only worked for her missiles.
She craned her neck, as she strained to get one of the pair into her sights. She switched over to short-range, selecting her lasers even as her vision tunneled, and the sleek shape of the F-22N came into view and she pulled the trigger as tight as she dared, the beam lashing out and drawing a line across the shape of the swing-winged jet for the brief heartbeats it was in view, before she rolled inverted once more, feeding power to the engines to extend and break away, putting distance between them to reattack.

"Kitten to Heartbreak; the airport is out of action. Nothing is going to be flying out of here anytime soon - or landing here, over"
Scott orbited the airport, a few miles distant off his port wingtip. The place was aflame in various places, and the blaze was only growing.
"Skywatch, this is Cobalt One; primary target is down. We still have hostiles in the area and are engaged. What's the situation looking like, over?"
There was a brief pause before the always-calm AWACS operator aboard the distant E-2 Hawkeye replied.
"Cobalt One, Skywatch. Seems like the enemy are in disarray; patrols are vectoring to your location, but are miles out. Primary radars are down, recommend you proceed to secondary objective, over".
"Skywatch, Cobalt One; roger. Will proceed to phase two as soon as our noses are clear, over"
Like any fighter pilot; Scott was possessed of a particular mindset and skill that was necessary for the role and it's responsibilities: being able to sum up a situation in the blink of an eye, and make judgements and decisions quickly. Jets travelled so quickly, and moments were all it took to be past a target, and to miss an opportunity in combat. Moments were all you had to make decisions, and command added even more pressure to that equation.
We have another ground target to strike; it's a smaller one but still vital. I've got most of my ordnance, Kat has expended most of hers, Myk is running low. Ayvee hasn't loosed a shot, Freyja is still loaded for air to ground, Ximena still has air to ground ordnance, and so does Amelia. We still have enough air-to-air to protect ourselves. We can do this, if we can lose these bandits.
The remaining Silent Eagles were extending, trying to get better shots on the four aircraft they were engaging, and the remaining Mirage 2000 was likewise trying to punch above their weight. The Cobalt Haze squadron outnumbered the three bandits, regardless of skill and even if some of Cobalt's planes were damaged.
"Cobalt One to all aircraft. Let's ditch these losers; there's three of them and nine of us. Team up on them, and let's bully them out of our sky, and get that second target. All aircraft, engage the bandits!"
"Cobalt One, Cobalt Seven. Already ahead of you, chief"
Kat's voice was tight as she spoke, and it was only as Scott saw the flare of gunfire in the night sky that he saw the A-10 climb from down low. The GAU-8 in the nose was roaring, and the line of tracers intersected the course of the Mirage 2000 bearing down on Mykhailo and Amelia. The massively powerful anti-armour 30mm rounds were overkill for the thin-skinned combat aircraft, and for a moment it looked as though nothing had happened, before the engine tore itself apart and the delta-winged plane exploded in an angry red fireball, Kat pulling inverted to avoid the cloud of shrapnel and flame.
For his part, Scott pulled a heavy wing-over, and poured power on, homing in toward where Fuka and Freyja were tusselling with the silver-trimmed Basilisk, and switching to his remaining sidewinder.
Cobalt One to Three and Six, I'm heading to join you. Three, break off and go help scratch Eight and Nine's backs, over!"
It was time to get this over and done with, and move on to the next target. They'd been side-tracked too long.

@AvaP, @Smike, @Letter Bee, @Finetales, @Damo021

Splintered / Reflections

Hey, everyone! Have almost two minutes of freaky noises that Runners make!

youtube.com/watch?v=PqoyYIHN318

(it counts as world-building or... something)

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Scott 'Heartbreak' Valentine

Scott watched in a mix of amazement and bewilderment as Mykhailo charged in. The kid might be green as a lilypad, but he had balls the size of Jupiter when it came to putting himself in harm's way. The marine aviator noted the F-16 punch home a variety of hits against an array of targets, and mentally scolded that. Focus on one target, then reattack he chided mentally. Too many chances to be hit otherwise! Too much target conflict.
As much as the veteran aviator may have chided that mentally, however; he was relieved to hear Fuka provide some stern, but fair guidance - even though Brightspark's attacks were doing damage. One of the airport's radars was damaged by the rocket attack, Scott's own ordnance finishing it off. The runway was further cratered along with Kat's munitions already damaging it, putting it thoroughly out of action - not to mention, Mykhailo's bomb causing collateral in the form of aircraft on the taxiways, hit by the fragments. The cannonfire volley was less hard to determine; the 20mm rounds would have done some damage, but they weren't nearly potent enough to completely collapse the buildings.
Nonetheless, the younger pilot had certainly reaped his toll - but at cost, as one of the mobile SAM launchers defending the airport launched missiles toward the nimble, sleek F-16. Pillars of fire flashed up into the night as the four-wheeled armoured vehicle let loose, the missiles tracking in on the bright hot exhaust of Myk's F-16.

As situationally aware as Scott was, even he couldn't track everything, least of all a black jet in a black night sky, but he could see the plume of flame as Fuka launched her HARM at the cleverly concealed radar, and heard her announce the weapon release. With such short distances involved, there was barely a delay before Skywatch came back with a 'Confirmed, Peacenik; radar is destroyed or off the air, over'. The burst of her bomb hitting target lit up the night sky with another brief globe of flaming light as well, even as more tracer fire from all manner of weapons criss-crossed the skies; anti-aircraft guns, heavy machine-guns, and even ground infantry spraying the heavens and trying to become a legend and shoot down the untouchable combat jets and humble their pilots, or out of sheer terror and helplessness.

His attention was jolted back to the present as he heard Yuna's call over the net, and he replied with his characteristic laid-back manner, even as he fed his plane more throttle and nosed up, easing the wing over to bring himself onto course with the younger woman's Sukhoi, and where it was involved in the complicated aerial ballet with the chasing MiG-29's. He broke the one on Yuna's tail out of the melee, and armed one of his Sidewinders, the missiles' seeker head filling his ears with its' familiar pulsing tones as it searched.
"Roger, Cobalt 8; I hear ya. Keep him interested just a second longer, I'm gunnin' for him, over".
Scott's gloved hand moved to the controls for the VTOL nozzles on the sides of the Harrier's fuselage, and with a little turn of the wheel, that slight bit of vertical lift nosed up just enough...
The sidewinder locked on with a firm growl, and he thumbed the fire button on his stick, calling out as he did.
"Cobalt One; Fox Two!"
The missile rocketed into the darkness, and Scott's helmet-mounted sight kept the Fulcrum in sight, even as it heeled over hard and dumped flares. He rolled hard to follow; pull 270-degrees of bank and nosing down to follow as the twin-tailed jet, like a smaller shadow of Calico's plane, tried to lose the missile, even as it relentlessly followed, ignoring the bait of flares that arced out into the night sky. It slammed home at the join between the nose and fuselage of the plane, turning into into a tumbling fireball as Scott nosed up, using the vertical lift once more to smoothly pull out of the dive and nose back around to the airport.

Kat 'Kitten' Kane

Kat's callsign may have been 'Kitten', but the irony inherent in it was that she wasn't the cute, playful little feline of greetings cards, calendars and motivational posters. She was a hunter; a battle-scarred panther that moved through shadows and crushed its' prey between powerful jaws, and tore it to pieces with knife-like claws. Her scars were her personal kill-marks; the fights she'd lived through and carried with her as experience and proof she'd survived. A warning or challenge to others: This is what I've lived through already, you'd better be prepared if you want to try me.
As such, scudding around at low level, she was in her element in the target-rich environment presented to her. Yes, she was more vulnerable to aerial threats and to air defences... but only if they saw her first, or weren't preoccupied with her friends and allies.
And they were; the rest of the squadron's jets raised hell over the airport, and drew fire from anti-aircraft guns and SAM emplacements, marking them out for her via their telltale tracers and plumes of exhaust, and homed in through the LITENING pod under her wing. The SAM that fired on Brightspark received a pair of APKWS rockets for its' trouble. A BTR firing skyward got hosed with 30mm Avenger fire, and as she wheeled over the suburbs, banking to come around, she angled for the airports' aprons and hangars. She climbed slightly, and punched off two of the four CBU-103's as the release point tagged itself in her HUD, smoothly continuing the climb as Ximena spoke to her in that cheery, cocky tone she had.
"Roger, Hefe" she replied in her normal, rough, scratchy, low timbre. "Good to know I've got eyes watching my back, and appreciated. Didn't Cobalt 8 just call in some bandits, if you're looking for some playmates, over?
As they spoke, Kat's munitions carried out their pre-programmed task. Airbags flung out 10 submunitions from each bomb, and in turn, after a timed delay, each of them released four 'skeets', hockey-puck shaped projectiles which were little more than a package of sensors and an explosive charge. As they scanned the area and identified parked aircraft, support equipment, servicing vehicles and armoured vehicles, each one detonated, the explosion forming a penetrator that blasted through the skins of the vehicles, aircraft, or other equipment, disabling it and tearing it apart. In some cases, the impacts caused further explosions, and the apron was covered thoroughly by the pair of bombs and their eighty skeets. Any that didn't find a target self-detonated 50 feet up, avoiding any unexploded munitions.
For any observer, the effect was utterly terrifying as a chain of explosions blanketed the parking apron from seemingly out of nowhere, tearing through all the targets in place.

Jefe was about to get her wishes answered, however; as Skywatch called in over the squadron's channel.
"Cobalt Squadron, this is Skywatch. Be advised; I have a formation of four bandits approaching hot at high speed. Altitude ten thousand; radar identifies them as F-15's, but I'm getting issues resolving a steady picture at this range. These must be some of the mercs the Libyans have hired. Be on your guard, their aircraft may be heavily modified or unusual types, given the radar returns, over!"

* * *

In the cockpit of the lead F-15, the pilot spoke calmly to his wingmen as they closed in.
"Lady and Gentlemen; let's show our employers what their money can buy and make the boss back home proud. These upstart N/UNny mercs are going to regret being so bold. Break and engage. And don't hesitate to use your shiny toys, over"
The replies of 'Roger' ranged from calm and cool to eager and almost thrilled as they came in, and Reynard couldn't help an eager smile of his own creeping onto his lips under his oxygen mask.
"Titan Nine, Engaging"
The F-15SE Silent Eagle split from it's fellows, the V-Tailed, stealth-enhanced air superiority fighter diving toward the battlefield, a black F/A-18 in his sights, as his radar swept the skies for a lock-on. His aircraft was matte black with gold trim, and steel grey accents, the only identifying marking a simple gold 'T' surrounded by four gold stars on the tails and upper wing surfaces. Like all of the aircraft in his unit, they carried AMRAAM's in the stealthy compartments on the fuselage sides, as well as AIM-9X's under the wings, along with a pair of their 'shiny toys'; large pods a similar angular shape and size to a Storm Shadow or Taurus cruise missile; or an ECM pod, but tapering to a nosecone that had a large, dark, smoky lens at the tip; like a targeting or camera pod.
His wingmen went other ways, one of the matte-black jets with subtle gold-and-aqua trim arrowing for Yuna. The one with white trim singled out Hefe as she lurked in the clouds, while the last one, with lilac trim, sliced through the skies toward Mykhailo's plane, all of them sweeping for lockons, setting radar warnings blaring in the cockpits of the Cobalt Haze squadron planes.

@Smike, @Letter Bee, @Finetales, @AvaP, @Damo021

Splintered / Reflections

Silverwind Blade

"Okay, GO GO GO GO!!" Silverwind yelled, as the lights in the cargo bay snapped red and a repeating beep sounded in all of the team's MAS helmets, and Maxon's headset.
As she'd requested, Kerris was out first to establish a perimeter defence. Then HB, Keeper, Veep, himself, Fea, Jacobin, and - as he'd rightly said - Maxon bringing up the rear to avoid being squashed by a falling MAS Suit. Even as big as he was, they were large and heavy suits made of an array of materials studier than Dranfel flesh and bone.

There wasn't far to fall, even with the plane at a hundred feet or so, and the desert came up quickly. The altimeter sounded off and automatically fired the suits' jumpjets to cushion the landing, but Silverwind overrode its control and guided himself in, skidding to a stop on the hard-packed sand. The air was already alive with sound, even as the rumbling roar of the cargo planes' engines rose as it climbed back out of harms' way and receded into the distance. Gunfire and explosions filled the air, shouting voices in languages he didn't understand, and the alien sounds of Totality war machines and weapons fire.
The forward base around the Mirror had been set up pretty logically. The Mirror itself rested in the dry bed of a Wadi; hard, dried mud with the scrappiest and hardiest of miserable-looking vegetation clinging on in some corners around it, and rocky surfaces making up the shallow walls of the depression. In front of the portal, a few hundred feet back, had been defensive positions. Made of sandbags and other portable materials, they had held some kind of heavy weapons, as well as presumably, observation equipment. All of which was now billowing thick, greasy black smoke. Beyond that was another line of fortifications, with more on the banks of the shallow ditch-like depression. And beyond and between those were various tents and temporary structures. Among them were the flashes of gunfire and shouting voices.

Their descent hadn't gone unnoticed - given how low their transport had come, and the manner of their debussing, it would have been a surprise if that were the case - and already Silver could see movement toward them. The ripping sound of Totality assault rifles tore down toward them, along with that distinctive, processed, vocoder sound of operational chatter from the enclosed helmets their line troopers always wore.
Helmets that didn't come off, he thought with a grim note.
Somewhere else, among the buildings, hooting, warbling, distorted calls rose up; indicating there were the biomechanical synths as well; at least the smaller Runner and Heavy Trooper ones. And judging by the explosions, some armed with heavy weapons. At least there were no airborne enemy forces so far, and someone was still fighting back. It was still more-than containable, if they moved quickly.
Decisively, he took action and relayed his orders quickly.

"Kerris, HB, Keeper - stick on me and we'll push them back and secure the Mirror. Veep, Valkyrie; pick off the heavy weapons units and commanders from range. Fea; stick with our snipers and jam the enemy's coms and sensors. We don't want them bringin' in any reinforcements if we can help it. Maxon, cover Fea and the others while they works, and take out anything that the others don't hit!"

That said and done, Silverwind unslung his shotgun and moved forward, loosing a burst from the heavy minigun on one arm to cover their advance and pin down their attackers as he moved.

@Cozure, @Chevaleresse, @Smike, @Lovely Bones, @FalloutJack

Splintered / Reflections

I've just edited the specs for the MAS suits we use, as I realised I'd left off jump-jets, and I'd intended us to have them. I've also added foot wheels to them as well, because, well; speedy zooms are fun and very anime.

Working on a post currently!

Shattered Steel - An Ace Combat/Project Wingman/etc inspired aircraft-based RP

Scott Valentine

As the squadron rose to join him and Fuka, Scott had a familiar feeling bubbling up in his chest. A mixed feeling of pride in the men and women who had agreed to follow him - but also dread of the thought he might lose any of them. Any more of them, he thought with a stab of sadness and shame, remembering he'd already lost one of them, so early on. Even if it was to the same sabotage and insurgency that had left him and Kat hurt rather than the enemies' actions, it was still something he felt deeply.
Nonetheless; having them all in the air together like this, having other planes on his wings and a target in mind - it gave him a sense of purpose he knew he'd struggled without.
The darkness of the late night hid a lot of details; some of the squadron's aircraft in their dark or low-viz paint schemes (his included) blended in all too well, and only the blinking position lights and nav lights showed them, along with reflections from below. As such, there was no point in a wing-waggle to Fuka or the others, but instead he spoke over the radio as he lead them in the turn out over the sea and towards Libya.
"All aircraft, drop altitude to five hundred feet, and extinguish all external lights. Good hunting, over".
Switching channels, he spoke out to Skywatch, the E-2 Hawkeye orbiting well clear of the area, but well within range of the powerful radar mounted atop the turboprop plane's fuselage. As he switched channels on the radio, he also took in the radio picture being sent from the Hawkeye, showing their relative position and that of anything flying, on the ground, or at sea that the operators aboard the aircraft packed in its' fuselage deemed relevant to the mission. He quickly noted Libyan aircraft on patrol over the country and off the shore, and the sweeping radars of SAM sites and early warning radars and felt his heart flutter; they were flying right into the enemies' face, just to kick them in the teeth and then tweak their tails on the way out too. It was gloriously - and absurdly - daring.
"Skywatch, Cobalt Leader. Got a good picture comin' through. I can see that there's a good few people burning the midnight oil over there. Looks like we're gonna have to be careful tip-toeing in through the door, over"
"Roger that, Cobalt Leader. Just stick to the plan, and you'll be fine. I'm sure you can handle whatever they throw at you, over"
"Roger that, Skywatch. Just make sure to keep an eye open for us, and get the greatest hits on tape, over"
"Always, Cobalt Leader. I'll make sure to cut the highlights reel together in time for you to get home. I've got my eye on you, don't worry. Good hunting, and godspeed, over".

The miles of ocean passed beneath their wings, and as the Libyan coastline drew nearer, Scott adjusted the heading minutely, threading the needle between picket ships, nudging them lower still so that they passed under the detection of hostile radar, sweeping the skies. They passed beneath patrolling aircraft, and then the land passed under their wings.
As Scott had predicted: the lights were off across the city except for essential areas, and their targets lay dead ahead; the airport closing in rapidly as they flew what seemed like deadly low across the patchwork of roads, desert, buildings and civilization. Then they reached the IP, and-
"Skywatch to all Cobalt Squadron aircraft, engage"
"Roger that, Skywatch. Break. Cobalt One to Alpha Flight; engage as briefed. Kitten, take the runway. Jefe, Stingray; take out the air defences. Valkyrie, you and I got the facilities and any parked aircraft. Go, go, go!"

Even as Scott spoke, the airport started to wake up, the sound of their jet engines couldn't be hidden for long, and as they rose in altitude to safely engage their targets, radars painted their aircraft. Hostile fighters would be slow to respond - but already, there were combat patrols over the city, and some of the pilots were clearly quicker off the mark and more skilled or independent than others, and they turned toward the squadron, even as others checked for confirmation on what their screens were showing them. A flight of MiG-29's headed toward Cobalt Haze squadron, and Skywatch's patient and cool voice advised them on the incoming aircraft, even as another flight of Mirages likewise started to creep their way

Meanwhile, the surface defences of the airport didn't lay idle either. Searchlights speared upward, sweeping to get a glimpse of the aircraft honing in on their position, and search radars for the HAWK Gecko SAM systems swept the skies, hunting desperately for the attacking aircraft. There was also the ever-present and worrying danger of infra-red guided missiles; no radars betrayed their presence, and the same with optically guided guns.
Lights on the ground stayed blazing, as the targeted Libyans hurried to get defence aircraft airborne, or hurry along flight operations already in progress.

Scott rolled his shoulders in his seat straps, and ignored the bead of sweat that trickled between his eyes as he breathed the stale, rubber-smelling oxygen through his mask. The Harrier performed like it always did under his expert hand; dancing through the skies with the grace and elegance of the predatory bird that was its' namesake. The radar warning receiver warbled and buzzed angrily as one of the hunting SAM launchers caught him, but the warning was transitory; he may have gained altitude, but he was still low enough that the ground clutter was causing issues.
He selected the AGM-122 Sidearm missiles from his weapons available, and the passive seekers did their magic, sniffing through the bouquet of electromagnetic signals crowding the skies until they found the one for the airports' search and tracking radar, and confirmed their lock-on to Scott. He held the Harrier steady and on course long enough to fire first one, and then the second missile. Both weapons, looking like the Sidewinders they were developed from, blasted off the rails in a flare of yellow-white flame as he called 'Magnum' twice over the radio, before heeling over in a sharp bank and changing direction to confuse anyone targeting him from below.

Kat 'Kitten' Kane

Unlike Scott, Kat had kept down low. Her Warthog carried no anti-radar munitions; that was the task for Scott and her other wingmates. Her target was the runway and anything on it, attempting to disable the airports' ability to launch more aircraft. Once they reached the initial point, she nosed up only a little; just far enough to give the LITENING targeting pod under her wing enough range to see the intersection between the two runways, and the entry-and-exit taxiways. Designating three of them, she stabbed the release button on her stick, pulling back gently to aid the separation from the A-10's belly, and sending the trio of thousand-pound laser guided bombs on their way, gliding toward the targets highlight by her laser, even as she nosed down again, searching for her next target.

@Smike, @Letter Bee, @AvaP, @Finetales, @Damo021