@Massasauga You splash at my MiG, my MiG gonna splash right back.
Foster Member
STATUS: A roleplay not for the timid: "The quest to restore the abandoned Waffle House" 12 days ago
- Last Seen: 3 hrs ago
- Old Guild Username: Foster
- Joined: 12 yrs ago
- Posts: 4119 (0.91 / day)
- VMs: 33
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- Foster 12 yrs ago
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12 days ago
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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.
1 mo 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).
'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
We could also be re-engaging each other's targets, though.
Well, I'm imagining them as the timeless "Macross flying-bricks", beamspammery, and macross missile massacres.
-At least those are things I've learned to expect. Since RL-airfoils pretty much peaked about 20 years ago and things of/from space tend to be blunt for a number of practical reasons.
That isn't to say the dogfights in Macross are bad.
-In fact, if I start acting a bit too cocky, I fully expect to run face-first into this sort of predicament
Meanwhiles
Well, I'm imagining them as the timeless "Macross flying-bricks", beamspammery, and macross missile massacres.
-At least those are things I've learned to expect. Since RL-airfoils pretty much peaked about 20 years ago and things of/from space tend to be blunt for a number of practical reasons.
That isn't to say the dogfights in Macross are bad.
-In fact, if I start acting a bit too cocky, I fully expect to run face-first into this sort of predicament
Meanwhiles
Right, I'm assuming the aliens be chasing the slower of the two attacking planes, since they don't have their performance-capbalities memorized yet.
So they're likely falling back on "Faster plane = better thrust-ratio = more manuverable" like the BS-propoganda that happened when Americans first encountered rocket/jet fighters.
So obviously, mah MiG-23 is a brick to them... fun surprise-time for them.
I'm also assuming our intel from AWACS only told us of what they could see. Tight formations or passive groups could easily increase the amount of opposition we're facing.
Oh, and as usual, chances are the aliens got some sort of ECM, not sure how effective it'll be, but I'm figuring some missiles ain't gonna hit.
-But I'm hoping they're experiance brown-trouser levels of pucker-factor
So they're likely falling back on "Faster plane = better thrust-ratio = more manuverable" like the BS-propoganda that happened when Americans first encountered rocket/jet fighters.
So obviously, mah MiG-23 is a brick to them... fun surprise-time for them.
I'm also assuming our intel from AWACS only told us of what they could see. Tight formations or passive groups could easily increase the amount of opposition we're facing.
Oh, and as usual, chances are the aliens got some sort of ECM, not sure how effective it'll be, but I'm figuring some missiles ain't gonna hit.
-But I'm hoping they're experiance brown-trouser levels of pucker-factor
Alright guys, well I have a confession. I've sat down to work on this but I just can't find the motivation at all. I do have an idea about where the plot goes, but I can't force myself to continue writing when I have no drive.
I really do appreciate you giving this a shot, but I don't know if I'm quite cut out to manage this sort of plot-trail RP. This was a challenge with other versions of FRAMES as well.
I'll understand if this frustrates you; it would if I was a player. But I don't have any enthusiasm for it right now, not when there are other projects I've invested myself in and real-life responsibilities to fulfill.
Thanks for the interest and staying as long as you have; I'm glad that something I created was able to provide you with a bit of enjoyment.
Well, when you do get the time, revive it. Right where we left off.
Mood music
"Clem" Captain Greggor stiffly acknowledged to the plan to blow-through them, and drag the Yurril right back into Ranger three's crosshairs, as he dropped tanks, swept wings, and the MiG-23 breifly went into a ballistic-dive as it cranked-up airspeed. The Yerril knew they were coming, they had radar too. His HUD confirmed this as it put red blips up on his windscreen, but like a crocodile lazing in the sun, he wasn't too worried about those. They'd also learned not to leav all their radar up, the far bigger danger was from the crocodiles that were well-hidden; at the very line of the merge, everyone flew blind under the direction of whoever was in back with the beefiest radar.
His IRST picked up a pair of fast-movers traveling dark. He gave the left rudder a nudge, a bit of right-stick, and put it into a gentle mach 1 left-slip as he picked-off a plane for his first R-27ET, then shimmied his plane into a right-slip to dump his other passive heat-seeker in a seprate direction, all the while trying to remember the proper inter-service brevity for what he just did, "Maydog, Maddog, Fox Two." Although not true all-aspect missiles, flying bricks tended to get plenty warm compared to a sleek fighter-jet.
He then rolled inverted, getting a good look at the spectacle below him as he readied the next salvo of otherwise dead wieght. Thankfully if Xi was any good at his job, the MiG-31 that graciously held-back would be able to simultaniously guide-in more missiles on the opening-salvo than the plane itself could carry.
He popped a flare to get the Yerril's and Xi's attention as he lined-up a few shots. This time he did not mince his brevity. "Fox One Cheapsot, Fox One Cheapsot" Now a full metric ton lighter, Yuril pulled back on the stick and put his bird in a dive at full-burner, his plane did best in the boom-and-zoom, but even despite its antiquated age they were up against a race that mastered interstellar-travel, no matter how good of an energy-fighter was dragged-out, theirs would ultimately prove better.
Clem could see a pair already making a steady climb up to meet him, he estimated them going at better than 800 meters per second of closing velocity. Most of it was his.
He flipped a switch on his dash and pulled the trigger on his stick. "Clem. Grakata." Two streaks of light came shooting out his UB-32 rocket-pods. Yerril ECM may be good, but he'd never seen someone argue for very long against the ten kilos of hypersonic-steel spewn out in front of him covering a swath the size of a soccer-field. That is, however, had the rockets flied true, one broke right, another went high. The upside however, was that one of the pair merged with a cloud of steel and got themselves peppered for their trouble. The other broke low and disappeared under the nose of his MiG.
Flipping another switch, Clem yanked the stick, heard a tone in his ear, and popped a nasty surprise a quarter of a second later to give the rear-pointed R-60 just barely enough room to arm itself lest they run out of range. "Fox Three. Bittersweet." The Bulgarian grunted into his throat-mic, the strain of the 7-G pullout was wearing heavy on his lungs even as his RWR told him to evade the inevitable counter-punches. Flares, chaff, snap-roll, turn the pullout into a Cuban-8 as he broke into a dive to the left in order to get back in-line with where Lonnie's MiG-31 should've been popping out from the furball he was now dragging on the deckline. His mach-gauge was redlining at this altitude on 1.2, he was pushing the needle a little past that.
He wasn;t sure how many he'd gotten in the first pass, or how many bandits were being dragged through the weeds behind his plane, but it felt like he was trolling all the entire Yerril forces staring up his stovepipe as he flew low, fast, and between just about every obstacle he could put between him and one of their death-beams. He could've sworn he was picking-up small-arms fire and hostile tree-branches as he buddy-spiked the MiG-31, and re-acquired visual of the tiny speck of steel in the sky to save himself the trouble of calling out that five was blind. All the while his last R-60 was giving the steady hum of afterburn-heated ground-clutter. He puffed flares at just about every jive through the valley though, just to be sure.
Then he saw the fellow MiG finally turn to re-engage... time to bump.
"Clem!" He keyed, as his plane burst into an unsustainable zoom-climb, within 4 seconds he was already 3 kilometers up, bleeding airspeed just enough for him to unfold his wings back from its aggressive 72 degrees, to 45 degree dogfight configuration, and then whip his plane back around tail over nose to re-engage like a crop-duster getting ready to sow poison upon the next row of grain.
"Clem" Captain Greggor stiffly acknowledged to the plan to blow-through them, and drag the Yurril right back into Ranger three's crosshairs, as he dropped tanks, swept wings, and the MiG-23 breifly went into a ballistic-dive as it cranked-up airspeed. The Yerril knew they were coming, they had radar too. His HUD confirmed this as it put red blips up on his windscreen, but like a crocodile lazing in the sun, he wasn't too worried about those. They'd also learned not to leav all their radar up, the far bigger danger was from the crocodiles that were well-hidden; at the very line of the merge, everyone flew blind under the direction of whoever was in back with the beefiest radar.
His IRST picked up a pair of fast-movers traveling dark. He gave the left rudder a nudge, a bit of right-stick, and put it into a gentle mach 1 left-slip as he picked-off a plane for his first R-27ET, then shimmied his plane into a right-slip to dump his other passive heat-seeker in a seprate direction, all the while trying to remember the proper inter-service brevity for what he just did, "Maydog, Maddog, Fox Two." Although not true all-aspect missiles, flying bricks tended to get plenty warm compared to a sleek fighter-jet.
He then rolled inverted, getting a good look at the spectacle below him as he readied the next salvo of otherwise dead wieght. Thankfully if Xi was any good at his job, the MiG-31 that graciously held-back would be able to simultaniously guide-in more missiles on the opening-salvo than the plane itself could carry.
He popped a flare to get the Yerril's and Xi's attention as he lined-up a few shots. This time he did not mince his brevity. "Fox One Cheapsot, Fox One Cheapsot" Now a full metric ton lighter, Yuril pulled back on the stick and put his bird in a dive at full-burner, his plane did best in the boom-and-zoom, but even despite its antiquated age they were up against a race that mastered interstellar-travel, no matter how good of an energy-fighter was dragged-out, theirs would ultimately prove better.
Clem could see a pair already making a steady climb up to meet him, he estimated them going at better than 800 meters per second of closing velocity. Most of it was his.
He flipped a switch on his dash and pulled the trigger on his stick. "Clem. Grakata." Two streaks of light came shooting out his UB-32 rocket-pods. Yerril ECM may be good, but he'd never seen someone argue for very long against the ten kilos of hypersonic-steel spewn out in front of him covering a swath the size of a soccer-field. That is, however, had the rockets flied true, one broke right, another went high. The upside however, was that one of the pair merged with a cloud of steel and got themselves peppered for their trouble. The other broke low and disappeared under the nose of his MiG.
Flipping another switch, Clem yanked the stick, heard a tone in his ear, and popped a nasty surprise a quarter of a second later to give the rear-pointed R-60 just barely enough room to arm itself lest they run out of range. "Fox Three. Bittersweet." The Bulgarian grunted into his throat-mic, the strain of the 7-G pullout was wearing heavy on his lungs even as his RWR told him to evade the inevitable counter-punches. Flares, chaff, snap-roll, turn the pullout into a Cuban-8 as he broke into a dive to the left in order to get back in-line with where Lonnie's MiG-31 should've been popping out from the furball he was now dragging on the deckline. His mach-gauge was redlining at this altitude on 1.2, he was pushing the needle a little past that.
He wasn;t sure how many he'd gotten in the first pass, or how many bandits were being dragged through the weeds behind his plane, but it felt like he was trolling all the entire Yerril forces staring up his stovepipe as he flew low, fast, and between just about every obstacle he could put between him and one of their death-beams. He could've sworn he was picking-up small-arms fire and hostile tree-branches as he buddy-spiked the MiG-31, and re-acquired visual of the tiny speck of steel in the sky to save himself the trouble of calling out that five was blind. All the while his last R-60 was giving the steady hum of afterburn-heated ground-clutter. He puffed flares at just about every jive through the valley though, just to be sure.
Then he saw the fellow MiG finally turn to re-engage... time to bump.
"Clem!" He keyed, as his plane burst into an unsustainable zoom-climb, within 4 seconds he was already 3 kilometers up, bleeding airspeed just enough for him to unfold his wings back from its aggressive 72 degrees, to 45 degree dogfight configuration, and then whip his plane back around tail over nose to re-engage like a crop-duster getting ready to sow poison upon the next row of grain.
<Snipped quote by Foster>
Fite me
I already flashbanged you in another RP.
The Harrier generally excels at STOVL operations, with SRVL-landings allowing much of the raw-VTOL criticisms to be ignored.
SRVL = Short Rolling vertical landing. Nozzles down, wings out, cut thrust and brake on bounce. Hyper-STOL in VTOL config. Kinda fun if I could find a video of a fully-loaded MV-22 doing this. (which they've been doing for a bit over a year now)
SRVL is also how the Soviet Union managed to keep their Yak-38s competitive into the 90's. Even testing them out on ersatz-carriers from hasty cargo-ships by 1983. MTOW/V 11+ metric tons vs 9 for the Harrier II. Yak-41, meanwhile...
Lets say with the fall of Soviet Union, Lockeed benefited from what was learned making the Yak-41 first supersonic VTOL with big 20+ ton MTOW.
SRVL = Short Rolling vertical landing. Nozzles down, wings out, cut thrust and brake on bounce. Hyper-STOL in VTOL config. Kinda fun if I could find a video of a fully-loaded MV-22 doing this. (which they've been doing for a bit over a year now)
SRVL is also how the Soviet Union managed to keep their Yak-38s competitive into the 90's. Even testing them out on ersatz-carriers from hasty cargo-ships by 1983. MTOW/V 11+ metric tons vs 9 for the Harrier II. Yak-41, meanwhile...
Lets say with the fall of Soviet Union, Lockeed benefited from what was learned making the Yak-41 first supersonic VTOL with big 20+ ton MTOW.
Clem's plan: Weapons-management, mostly. Actual execution is a bit dodgy right now.
Get behind a set of fast-movers and snipe them with his pair of long-range passive-IR R-27s as the opening-move.
Then hand-off launch-authority to Xi to target the bigger things with the slightly longer-ranged radar-guided R-27s (which ironicly can be launched "dim" or delayed-homing on a ballistic trajectory until lock)
After that, tango with a gun and a pair of R-60s to give the MiG-31 time and space to unload its own strike (hopefully more fast-movers).
-Also hoping this is when the Desert Falcon and A-6 decide to show-up... or at least the Draken)
For mopping-up... rockets. A lot of rockets. In the big-ships.
Get behind a set of fast-movers and snipe them with his pair of long-range passive-IR R-27s as the opening-move.
Then hand-off launch-authority to Xi to target the bigger things with the slightly longer-ranged radar-guided R-27s (which ironicly can be launched "dim" or delayed-homing on a ballistic trajectory until lock)
After that, tango with a gun and a pair of R-60s to give the MiG-31 time and space to unload its own strike (hopefully more fast-movers).
-Also hoping this is when the Desert Falcon and A-6 decide to show-up... or at least the Draken)
For mopping-up... rockets. A lot of rockets. In the big-ships.
No.
We just post.
Very slowly.
Especially me.
We just post.
Very slowly.
Especially me.
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