Avatar of Foster

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Recent Statuses

15 days ago
Current A roleplay not for the timid: "The quest to restore the abandoned Waffle House"
4 likes
1 mo ago
I do agree with Yandere's sentiment that words not wording workingly do be a problem this time of year.
1 mo ago
Scratch that, place your bets on polymarket.
2 mos ago
Looks like I'll be working on memorial day weekend. And no, this does not mean place any bets on polymarket.
3 mos ago
due to a typo on my part I was nearly convinced I owed the IRS nearly $3000 in excess taxes this year.
5 likes

Bio

-There will be delays in replies. Largely due to working overtime, voluntary obligations; other RPs and online-things may compete for my attention.

'Bout me:
Started RPing (badly) back in '05, mostly doing nation-RPs with an emphasis on technology and strategy, later edging out to character-espionage and military-tactics before doing "less serious" character roleplays that were outside of the 2005-2008 continuity.

That's when I went to Dead-Frontier, and found the RP community there, joined a clan, did some pretty good roleplays and pretty much loosened-up my online-personality. When the clan-leader decided to move her RPs here, most of the clan followed.

Took a course in technical-writing back in '08, so now I may sometimes use the semicolon correctly.

In 2010 I dusted off the old nation-RP continuity I had, doing a few hetelia-esque RP-shenanigans there..

RP-Habbits: I tend to geek-out on little technical-details, and sometimes infer how those details would impact the background of the roleplay. Great for world-building, not so great when you had a perfectly good plotline and I just MacGyver it off the rails (though I usually er to the side of amusement, sometimes it creates very grim side-stories).

Most Recent Posts

Tell me when the RP hits nightfall.
-Oh, and I'm going to encounter a UAV near the airport, and like seasons 3-4 in the series, it'll be a bad omen.

Yes. They have more ammo but they are heavy and cumbersome. Also I do belive the jam and are hardr to fix.


Heavy, expensive, the mainspring breaks easily, and the 'can shaped drum was made of thin metal and could easily get dented.

Oh, and if you reloaded the drum incorrectly (to do it right, you had to release the mainspring without breaking it, and disassemble the drum, then place the bullets in the drum correctly, then re-assemble the monster, in the dark, starving, wet, literally covered in mud and shit, while being shot at.) The spring also had to be re-wound up just-so and often needed to be given a "boost" about halfway through or the lack of spring-pressure would cause a failure to feed.

The inside of the drum also had to be kept oiled and clean. But oil attracts dirt and mud, see also method of topping-off a drum and how much it sucked.

If you tried to crank it down all the way to avoid the need to crank the drum halfway-through, you'd often be rewarded by hearing the spring snap-off inside the drum. Now it's just an inert twenty pound steel ammo-box/paperwieght. Twigs getting into the drum-arms could also jam the feed.

Drum weighs nearly five-to-ten pounds once loaded (depending on 50 rd or 100 rd drum). Although the drum is beefy enough to take some abuse when empty... imagine hitting the mag of an M16 with a sledgehammer... that's what happened to a fully-loaded Tommy-drum nearly every time you fumbled and dropped it in combat.

Stick mags... weighed quite a bit less (a quarter of a 50 rd drum), and were a lot less likely to smash themselves like a snow-globe when dropped, they also didn't need to be disassembled nearly as often, so less mud in the mechanisms.

The PPSh-41 mags and the soviet insistence upon using them is another matter; for one, the ammo weighed quite a bit less, and they never tried stuffing 100 rounds into a single can. (in fact, many times the drum wasn't ever quite full due to supply issues)
I never said it was a drum mag.


Oh, good... Happened to get a few stories from my neighbor who used those things quite a bit back in '42.
-His battalion suffered higher casualties on that little island than any other battalion during the entire war.
*"On Guadalcanal, one in 37 died, while troops in New Guinea had a one in 11 chance of dying"

2/126 of 32nd div: Walked in with 1300 men, walked out with 158, of which only about 20 were still fit to fight.
-See also: Huggins Road Block

The dovetail to guide the mag in is still a pain, though.
<Snipped quote by Foster>

Foster. We are going to get along swimmingly.


Yes, but we should probably keep it down so themadhatter and her zombie-pets don't hear us cajoling.

I'll also stipulate that maybe someone in the mafia is a semi-competent enough gunsmith to convert a repro into an automatic either before, or very shortly after the outbreak.

The M1928 model of Thompson with the drum is still hella heavy piece of kit. Fully loaded, it wieghs about 30 pounds, have fun with that.
-Meanwhile, this is an M60, it weighs less. At least until you load it.
<Snipped quote by Foster>

I know about what I am doing, given that he only has it since it has a wide spread of fire. He is supposidly part of the mob so could get a hand on some weapons. Also bare in mind he isnt in england and is still in america.


I was referring to the American NFA act of 1934 regulating the trade, possession, and manufacture of Title II firearms, such as autocannons, machine-guns, and anti-tank rocket-launchers.
-Not saying it's impossible, just saying that all those American Youtube videos are of people with ridiculously clean criminal-records and about several grand to blow on legal fees if you so much as scowl at them. And not complete foreigners with extensive mafia connections.
-Yes, even FPSRussia. We don't just hand-out m'f'ing tanks to crazy people with Russian accents without doing our homework first.

Also, error, check the entry in the character-page, is different:
Name: Wilson Taggart | Age: 25 | Gender: M

Personality: Careful and precise, despite a reckless fatalist attitude. His altruistic tendencies have generally meant a good reputation. His wary shrewdness however stems from a long history of people who take advantage of his generosity.

Back Story: Factory-worker and trained first-responder; Taggart is also a bit of a military-reenactor, not only fascinated with various collections, but also the how and why it was used and designed in order to get a better understanding of history while also learning some useful survival-skills.

Other: A bit of a history-buff/survivalist. Is moderately deaf and severely blind on the left side. Stocks a rather surprising amount of medical supplies. Enjoy our cuisine, I did mention he knows how to cook, right?


Also, I'm aware of the issues with frightened horses. There's several reasons why Taggart wanted to leave the horse behind when checking the airfield, you listed a few of them.
-Other notes:
  • The horse is amish, you don't ride them, ever, they pull carriages. Unless you like getting kicked in the head, that is. The concept is almost entirely alien to them and their reaction to a 150 pound man mounting them like a horny stallion is likely be very negative.
  • Horses on their own make quite a bit of noise, a horse & rider is quite tall in the woods of the ORV (likely to become a "headless horseman" if the stallion goes nuts), and a carriage just makes that so much worse.
  • Horses, when they aren't frightened, tend to get way too curious if left unattended in unfamiliar surroundings. Especially when hungry.
  • When traveling at night with a horse, you're probably going to have to get out and lead the horse by the reigns.

Also, Taggart found the horse slightly after a month into this mess, not just one month before the RP starts.
(minor retcon, landing the whole yacht [so pretty much disregard half of what Adria did and... yeah there's enough crew-seats in the yacht's 'pit])

With clearance granted to depart the starbase, Isaac gently eased the Heavy Hand out of its temporary docking-cradle quickly made for an intercept I orbit around where he believed would get Mutan as quickly to her father's island as physically possible without getting killed (can travel MUCH faster in space).

Arriving about 150 km directly over their destination, Isaac nodded to Adria and they cut the engines. The ship went into freefall and Adria turned-off the grav and inertial-dampers so Isaac could 'feel' how the ship was reacting... the ship was shaking rather violently as the atmosphere grew thicker, and a tiny sense of gravity returned despite being in essentially an express-elevator freefall from space.

At 75 km up, Adria spooled-up the engines again as Isaac checked his surroundings for anything to help get his bearings.

"Land, ho." Issac bellowed as he spiraled the massive 200-ton interstellar-boat around the Godie family's private island to make a terrific splashdown and cruise up towards a nearby anchorage, where Adria could see people already expecting them.

After landing, Adria set to moving the ship's boat (and the rec-room it contained) topside and fastening it down, where it could be accessed either by a set of stairs through a hole left in the hangar-bay doors, or the ladder affixed just outside the airlock.
BTW, the HexMaster Special, rough sketch.

It's a Machine-pistol with a single shotgun-barrel.
Further down the highway, after checking the IGA for what very little there was (as the supermarket away from the chaos had been picked clean several times over, someone even took the Jalapeno peppers in 1 gallon jars... He kept glancing behind him, almost sure there would have been movement in the Eaton Estates; he expected at least a few squatters, despite the evacuations...

He brought the horse to a halt at an overpass, as the highway-bridge was clogged and underneath it stood a pristinely-clear railroad-track that would fit a buggy down just nicely.

About 500 meters in, he noticed the trees towering to either side of the trail, and decided this may not be the brightest idea as he saw a hint of civilization... a gun-shop. Hallelujah.

The most important part however, was that it had a garage-bay he could sneak his horse into for the night, and the building could readily be made secure. Why a place, still brimming with gun parts, had been abandoned was not immediately clear... so William affixed bayonets and gave the place a good stalk.

Then he realized, none of the parts were finished, none of the tools would be able to finish them without power, and there wasn't any ammunition. So even though he was surrounded by literally thousands of nearly complete guns, they all had the same critical parts missing or incomplete. Any complete firearms the store still had were in for repairs, and William didn't want to mess around with that... considering the complete lack of ammunition due to the previous-occupants stripping that part of the store dry.

Still, a new combination red-dot/night-sight and maybe a laser wouldn't hurt his Mosin any...

And with that, Mr Taggart locked-up shop, and walked out onto the rooftop with a few batteries he'd salvaged and some night-vision devices he wanted to try out before going to sleep for the night. If he found something he liked and was confident in,he could try stalking the airfield at night.

(I traveled 1.5 miles since my last post)
Eaton, Ohio (AKA: NOT where the other two are, but getting there)

Of all the things William Taggart could ride past in a stolen horse and buggy, it had to be an Amish furniture-store nestled between three churches and an RV-dealership. About a km ahead lay a hardware store and an IGA supermarket, plus a few iconic restaurants of a bygone era of civilization.

But what he was really after, lay the small single-strip Columbia-airport. Big enough to carry a plane that could get him to Cuba, small enough not to be crawling with rotters... except he now needed to find a pilot... and fuel.

His stomach growled, and told him to stop at the IGA.
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