FourtyTwo

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Enalais said
When I did Cav in the desert. We had 2 Strykers and 4 Humvees backed by infantry, Humvee roles were fast attack, rapid deployment, as well as transport. While Stryker roles were fire support, IED destruction, and mobile cover. Infantry did whatever infantry did. But if we were to do this with mechs you can possibly have upwards of 2-4 light mechs built for harassment and speed and 1 or 2 heavier ones to be used as cover for infantry as well as fire support.

Just this. Please.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

We have a massive, massive split here I can feel. Now personally, I don't feel offended by mecha, but the way I see it is this- we can't dominate our RP with them, nor with just infantry alone. Perhaps a get-between works well. For example, say one 10 foot mech, that happens to be the "IFV" like tool of the squad, the piece of kit that brings heavy firepower but isn't perfectly suitable for CQC. Then scale it back to maybe two mechanized suits, about 7-8ft in size, that are between that. They're far more mobile but carry less armor and weaponry, being perfect for street-to-street fighting closer to an infantry team. Then the infantry themselves perhaps use exoskeletons, as a far more nimble way to move through an urban environment, to basically enhance jumping and strength-based abilities. It's just figuring out how this all works in a tangible context- if we have too many mecha pilots for example, suddenly infantry sort of become irrelevant, while too many infantry kinda make the former a situation that is inverted. I'd like to see a neat fusion of the two, as I assume this orbital team will be stretched supply wise, and any mechs dropped will literally have to be almost like the Airborne Tanks of old- lightweight, compact and deployable alongside other airborne forces.

The Conflict

Name: Arran Mackenzie
Age: 37 (1977)
MO: Scout/Recon

RN (Royal Navy) 1996-2003
-Naval Reconnaissance Team Member/Leader
-Skilled with SOFLAM
-Good Swimmer
-Particpated in Yugoslav Crisis, 1999
-Participated in Battle of Basra, 2003

SBS (Special Boat Service) 2004-2010
-Highly skilled with RIB Boats (Duh)
-Well trained in Stealth Operations
-Reconnaissance/Scout Soldier
-Capable of Diving Usage
-Talented with Krav Maga/Knives
-Effective with Silenced/Specialized Weaponry
-Operations in East Timor, Iraq, Afghanistan, Somalia

Equipment:
-Sig Sauer P226 (Grey)
-SOG Knives Tomahawk

History: Born in Stornoway in the Outer Hebrides (Scotland), Arran was born to a teacher of a mother and a drunk of a father. He made no mistake when after having pretty poor grades, joined the RN, or the Royal Navy in 1996. He served aboard a frigate for around six months, before getting himself involved in some more ground action, where he found that he was far more effective as a soldier than a mariner- ashore in Iraq in 2003, in Basra as a RN Naval Reconnaissance team. He had balls. He lost three toes on his left foot following an IED, and was notably known for still fighting, with L85 in hand, after even this before then getting himself checked out. While seen by some of his squad as an unrelenting psychopath and by others as a bold and brave man, sometimes this mentality works well in warfare, and his eventual progression into SBS training was inevitable. He became a honed and refined stealth operator, sent in either pairs or teams up to twelve on operations that the SBS, like it's American counterpart, the US Navy Seals, would carry out where military intervention didn't really happen. Over time, he ranked up to Staff Sergeant within his time-frame of service.

After five years of service in the SBS, something went terribly wrong. An operation in Somalia in 2010 left two of his squad dead, and three of his mates injured from twelve. Someone was going to take the blame. And unluckily for Arran, he was the man who was busy pushing forward when there were comrades of his coming down. He was suspended without pay, but this was insane. He was angry. He turned to drug dealing and left, and found his training apt to deal with the reality of the streets. He was arrested consequently a year later, after making what was effectively half a million from Methamphetamine, one of the largest groups in Northern Europe. He was thrown into a cell for four years, out of his fifteen year sentence. Until someone came along and offered a way out. Arran was deniable as an asset, and the blame game had just found him unlucky- he was a talented SBS operator, and he had capability where many other inteligence assets would just get blown open. Sent to Africa, he was instructed to hunt the Scorpion. No support, just the release of his jail sentence, the "accidental" return of his drug money, and whatever money that Scorpion had on his head. It was too good not to go for. A chance to at least buy himself into some more conflict, and redeem himself. And make some cash while at it. He needed a Zodiac upriver, and that was what the British Government gave him- from there on out, he was now out for some money.

Appearance:
Almost completely bald shaven, and with a thick brown beard, as well as being fairly built from his time in prison, Arran is a nutter if there ever was one. He has brown eyes, and stands about 6"3 tall. Arran usually wears a blue T-shirt with a pair of outdoors trousers, as well as a Boonie hat, painted a distinctive digital green. A pair of black Oakleys join this, further separating him from the locals in a way. He is well built, having a tattoo of a Wyvern on his back, a mythological dragon-like creature, as well as having a strong Scots accent. He is missing three of his toes on his left foot, from a previous IED in Iraq, something that is the most prominent of his war wounds- the rest being small scars and bruises. He isn't eloquent, or refined. He is a thug from first appearances, and happily looks like a man who would take a life in either warm or cold blood.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

I really don't like the idea of pure mechs only. I'd prefer to see Mechs as the overall picture, but not the only focus. ie. SF soldiers that compliment it, like infantry squads help IFVs. In urban terrain, they're it's extended reach, and in the open, the mechs are heavy fire and cover.

Year 2058 (Near-Future Military Scifi RP, maybe with mechs)

Hmm, I'll see where this goes. I'd like to see Mechs in support, but not as the focus of the RP. Mechanized/first option preferable.

The Conflict IC

Hmm, I was thinking of going back with my SBS character. So that will compliment the Welsh character, I suppose. I did have my character get a P226 with a Surefire silencer at the start, but I'll have it this time without.

Lunar Colony Role Play

Name: Dave Harris
Age: 28
Former country of residence: Bristol, United Kingdom
Appearance: Around 6"4, Dave has a fairly short head of hair, not being bald but not exactly regularly haired, with blue eyes and a stubble. He can sometimes be seen wearing a pair of goggles around his forehead, of a welding type, as well as usually having a Engineer's jumpsuit while at work- with just a T-shirt and jeans when he's off duty. He has his own EVA kit, something of which he prizes over most of his possessions, to explore whenever he can on the Lunar surface as well as carry out external work.
Any family coming to the colony: None
Any family NOT coming to the colony: Left behind a brother, and his parents.
Are they a member of Moonpeace?: Nope- while his position would compliment an organization, he prefers his pay and security, over terrorism.
Job: EVA (Outside) Engineer
Personality: Happens to be fairly calm, but can be effectively riled, given the right situation. He isn't arrogant- rather being reserved, and being a thinker. He knows how to connect the dots, and while it seems that he has a fairly labor-intensive job, he knows the importance of running the EVA side of things at the base- and making sure that things work on site.
Slight History: Dave was born in Bristol, England, and was brought up in a stable and secure household. He was a good academic, and gained a degree from the University of Bristol, before then signing up in an aerospace company's graduate scheme, for something a little more extraordinary. His degree and his specialisms proved that he had knowledge of space-bound equipment, and himself being a member of the new wave of engineers, found that he'd be invaluable on any temporary colonies that were being set up on the Moon. In particular, he became a hydrogen fuel cell engineer, working on a temporary colony. After this, he got given an offer by the newly launched venture at the PLCB, as an EVA Engineer- working in particular, in oxygen recycling and other external matters in the darkness of the base's perimeter- a matter that requires knowledge and courage to work in the areas that don't often see much attention.

The Conflict IC

I'm in. Nothing like mercenary work.

Lunar Colony RP?

Interested. Seems cool.

Task Force Lima (COMPLETED)

(Yay! All of us are back to it- I do want to possibly jump to Copenhagen straight after this, though that is subjective to all of you.)

Jan looked to Zhenya, nodding.
"Very well. Send it. I'm holding the button. Snipers, fire at will. Our fire is coming." Jan added, the laser designator in his hands firmly held, as he squeezed the big dial on the top of the large binoculars, the invisible IR beam parked on the BMPs. It wasn't going to be long. TOT was likely to be short, and Jan knew the explosion would kick through his lungs, even at this sort of range. It was signiificant munitions, almost a ton of bombs, guided precisely onto two armored vehicles. The kinetic force would just shred the pair to pieces, and do a bloody good job of this. The rocket artillery would be the worst- the bombs first, then the rockets would rain down, like hellish rain from above. The volume and pace of rocket artillery was the ultimate morale killer- it wasn't just the noise of shells exploding, but about fifty huge warheads over a wide area, any of which with a direct impact would ventilate a target. It was more than just efficient, to say the least. And when it came, the volume of shit that erupted, to Jan even, was immense.

In this time, Neil had adjusted his rifle, looking to Wendy, who had the M107 ready to go on target.
"Check Igla pod. Pick up the main operator...fire at will, Wendy, ranging and angle is all good." He said, aware that she knew it already, and the shot from the light fifty would tear the man straight from it. Setting up a backup shot, Neil waited till she fired, before adjusting slightly and exhaling, firing the second backup of his rifle to the man next to him, armed with a pair of binoculars. The man had barely turned, the faint noise of fast movers in the air alerting him, but not changing any positioning of the shot. When the bullet hit, he was thrown off, the force removing him from his mount, as the second man was barely able to yell out. The bullet entered his vertebrae and exited cleanly through his ribcage, taking out a pair of internal organs in the process, the overpressure of the round doing more than enough. Moving the rifle, he tried to find the ZSU, watching as the turret barely was able to turn in time, as the distant noise of close air could be heard.
"Targets eliminated, wait for fire...it's going to be one hell of a firework show." Neil said, chuckling, as suddenly, the rushing noise appeared to both teams, and anyone vaguely close by.
"Wendy, refocus on targets by the first checkpoint in. Range, 600m. No crosswind, it's pretty much dead. Squeeze when ready." Neil added, his hands clasped around the spotting device, already watching the few others that were looking at the devastation that now came down.

The bombs hit right on target, smashing into the netting, and the kinetic force of the laser guided munitions just smoked the BMPs, the two erupting into a huge ball of flames and scrap, as the ammunition cooked off, the secondary bangs from this. But it was nothing to compare to the noise above. The hailstorm-like howl just came down, the Smersh battery lit it up. It was composed of 300mm rounds, 12 of which would fire. And that was almost double and a half of the size of a regular artillery shell used in a howitzer, bar about all at once and far more inaccurate. The noise was hellish, as explosions rocketed the area, levelling the barracks and the hangars, as well as the Su-25s already on ground, as well as the hangar itself. Everything came apart, as the barrage stopped, and suddenly, brown, completely blown apart craters filled the area. Almost everything and anything was gone. A few blind spots, but they were done.
"Good effect on target, get those Frogfoots back to do some gun-runs. We need fire on my new marked laser, reference point, barrack station far side, cleared hot." Jan added, moving, as he waited for the Russian to give him the word. The Su-25s looped back, the sight of 30mm rounds slamming into the barracks quickly decimating and making more accurate what the previous munitions had done.
"That better be rounds complete. Squad, we move in. We hit the front gate, then rush the command centre." Jan said, putting the Designator away, and taking his 416, already looking to the rest that were scattered around and giving a "Follow Me" gesture.
"I estimate their forces have been cut roughly in half, numbers wise. But we must stay vigilant. They'll be like a pack of caged rats, so they'll fight to the death, if they have their way. Scott, on point with me. Zhenya, prep your MG in a suitable location to cover once we have visual out the trees." Jan added over comms, aware that there was no time to waste- they had a command post to search and clear, and he didn't want to squander his time.

Moving downard, Jan kept point with Scott, his 416 high as he crouched behind a downed pine tree, the dust and condensation of the snow and ice thrown up from the weaponry that had hit the airfield had the whole area in dissaray. Looking over the collapsed tree, he saw the checkpoint. They'd have to get through them to move onto the airfield itself, and to the command post, in order to breach through. Jan could guess that the Russian had a different location with his team, as he positioned himself in a crouching position, putting his ACOG's reticule over one of the hostiles.
"This is it. Weapons free." Jan muttered significantly into his radio, pulling the trigger of the HK. The weapon didn't recoil heavily, as it found one of the running men's bodies, quickly bringing him down, as responsive fire came back, hitting trees and branches all over, the AK and G3 fire scattered. Switching to his M320, the simple shot on the post itself quickly tore the weak wooden structure apart, knocking a set of beams inside to pieces as a few more militants headed out, finding whatever cover they could.
"Keep up the fire! They're running out of cover to use!" Jan said over the radio, emerging again to burst his magazine's capacity, taking out another contact in position by the gate, quickly clipping him with a short double-shot to the torso, the 5.56 doing it's job. In these cold climes, Jan still had what it took, and knew the rest of his team, like him, would match that. The small militant contingent of around 12 men wasn't going to last long at this rate, and Jan knew that they were still totally dazed and confused from the sheer volume of 300mm rockets, laser guided bombs and 25mm guns.

(Sorry this took so long- ideas melted away, so I think this works best. Great to see you guys still onboard.)