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Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


I'm not going to be around until Sunday, but assuming that's not an issue, consider me in.

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Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


MMM Whatchya Say posted:

Here's my story:

BK sucks

don't vote me out if you want to read part 2

You make a compelling case.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011



I, Meinberg, have no challenge skill for most of these sorts of things. I might have an edge up here, certainly, but I wouldn't count on it. However, I did triumph in Awful Big Brother through the sheer strength of my... whatever I have.

Hero's Journey.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Brooklyn Nine-Nine is probably the best comedy show on the air today.

The best drama, at least in my opinion, is the Leftovers. It had a very shaky first season, but the second season has been so good. So loving good.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


BottleKnight posted:

I watched 4 episodes of that show (last season) and for every time I said "holy poo poo that rocks" there were 20 times I cringed and got annoyed. Maybe the second season is better but I don't really give passes to tv dramas, since there's so many good ones. If I lose interest I move on.

The second season is way a whole lot better, though. Imagine the Leftovers, except without those cringey moments.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


BottleKnight posted:

Is the quality of S2 roughly equivalent to the quality of S1E03? Because that episode is amazing.

That would be an accurate assessment, at least in my opinion.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Hello friends, I hope you're ready for fantasy mecha action with a strong focus on class struggles.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


EccoRaven posted:

I have not yet started writing. I wish this had started sooner when the Motivation Angel was on my shoulder instead of the Procrastination and Self-Loathing Devil.

Procrastination is an insidious worm, the most vile of the vile. On the other hand, I wrote a blog post tonight and I really want to play some Fallout 4.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


I'll write when I'm good and ready too!

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


jon joe posted:

I already have mine written but I'm thinking of changing the perspective from third person omniscient to third person limited.

Editing is for people I'm going to vote out.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


I also blame Fallout 4 for many stuff. I finally got a decent gun and now the game is much more fun.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


UMAS Chapter 1

Pilot Frances Orzart pumped his feet and made his Siege Armor march forward, the pneumatic pads beneath his feet providing just enough resistance to make the action conscious. Instructions flooded in through his headset, orders to be followed and understood, procedures to be followed, that he obeyed readily enough. He gripped the sticks before him and leaned forward to gaze into the viewfinder.

The enemy was arrayed before him, a sizable force armed with primitive rifles. They loosed their bullets but the few that hit his, admittedly large, profile at the current distance just bounced uselessly off of the thick plating of his Armor. He pressured the sticks forward and his view swung downwards, locking onto the central mass of the enemy. The order came in. He flipped off the cover of his control sticks and depressed the triggers, starting his gatling guns spinning and spinning and then they spat forth a series of bullets-

That flew over the heads of the enemy and hammered into the tree line behind them.

“gently caress this piece of poo poo!” said Frances over the comms. “Who the hell calibrated my sights? I can't hit the broadside of a barn like this!”

The voice of Pilot Commander Evgenia Thistleton crackled over the comms, her crisp and precise dialect speaking to her Entrepreneurial background. “Pilot Orzart,” she said, “Please remain calm and manually compensate for the calibration error.” Her voice remained perfectly, to the point where Frances could only grit his teeth and comply, pushing his sticks further forward.

“Aiming at the blasted ground,” said Frances. He warmed up his guns once more and unleashed another hail of bullets that crashed into the enemy ranks, leaving behind only red mist and bone fragments where the massive shells hit human bodies. The other front line Armors had moved into position and were similarly unleashing hell upon the enemy.

But the enemy didn't break. Frances allowed his guns to spin down to keep the barrels from melting, and took the time to scan the surroundings. He spotted movement to his right, up on a bluff and turned his guns onto the position. The bluff was made of limestone, soft in comparison to the hardstone that'd need explosives to tear apart. He spotted seven figures move into position and one, the one in a hat, pointed before Frances managed to open fire.

The limestone pulverized under the heavy fire, sending clouds of powder up and obscuring his sight of the targets, until they began to tumble down along the bluff's face. But their bodies were followed shortly by three rockets, which adjusted position mid-air, now heading straight for the front lines. Frances grit his teeth and pulled back on his sticks, angling his fire upwards, but his gatling guns were poor flak guns. He barely made contact with the very last of the rockets, which exploded in a deafening cloud.

The first rocket flew over his head, leaving only the middle one to head straight for him. He kicked down into the pedals and pushed his sticks to the side, sending his Armor tilting to the side, out of the line of the rocket. But the rocket adjusted again. He instinctively threw up his arms to try and block the incoming rocket. His Armor lifted its arm in response and the rocked slamming into his left arm.

The force of the impact knocked his Armor fully off balance and slammed his body against the side of his cockpit as the explosion rocked through the entire frame. Frances' consciousness blanked out.

Frances opened his eyes to see the sunlight streaming into his cockpit. The entire left side had been torn clean off. “Pilot Orzart to command, please advise!” he said into his headset. While he waited for response, he looked to his console and wiped off the soot from the displays. The core had been destabilized by the hit, and even now was moving towards a meltdown.

Despite the numbness of his limbs, Frances worked at the straps that held him place, before finally ripping himself free. He climbed out through that hole in the Armor's side and fell over the side, collapsing onto the ground with a heavy cough. Hearing the increasing whine of his Armor's core, and the whistling of rifle rounds thudding into the ground behind him, he put all of his strength into a mad dash, leaving the enemy and his Armor behind him.

The core exploded in an expanding blast of blue flames that knocked Frances to the ground once again, singing the back of his uniform and leaving the air overheated and stinging his lungs. He coughed heavily and slowly turned, falling onto his back before settling to watch the battlefield as best as he could.

Another of the front line Armors had taken a direct hit to the cockpit and sat as a smoldering monument. The remaining Armors struggled under the increasingly heavy fire as the enemy closed on them. He could make out on the closest small dings from the repeated rifle rounds, structural damage that would only grow worse, but despite their loss in numbers, the Armors were gradually whittling down the enemy force.

But then another round of rockets surged up, from the midst of the enemy. The Armors didn't try to dodge, there was no reason to do so when they had tracking capabilities, and focused instead on shooting the rockets down. But there were too many. One by one, the Armors took hits, fiery bursts blossoming on their armored shells, and then one by one, the Armors fell, collapsing on the ground.

The long range Armors, still behind him, unleashed their own rockets, but the effort seemed pointless, they didn't have enough ammunition to take on the remaining enemy, but they seemed willing to go down shooting.

Frances wasn't nearly so brave. He pushed himself to his feet and resumed running. Perhaps he could report back to headquarters about what happened this day, about the first loss that the Siege Armors had ever faced.

And perhaps they'd have some idea of where the enemy had received their shipments of explosives, because Frances certainly didn't.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


I'll try to do some reading and commenting later tonight!

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


uranus posted:

nice

have you read 'armor' by john steakley. you may like it

I have not, but I'll look into it!

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Hal Incandenza posted:

Gotta say though, what the hell kind of name is Orzart?

Orzart is a perfectly cromulent name!

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Hal Incandenza posted:

It's no Thistleton, that's got a nice nature feel to it.

Names are hard, okay?

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Chic Trombone posted:

Orzart's kind of a weird name but I don't think it's that hard to pronounce tbh

Certainly easier than Bog'gdal.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


EccoRaven posted:

most of chapter 1 is finished but it is hot and boring garbage so

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


EccoRaven posted:

Better idea: LM and Meinberg, challenge my rating/explain away my perception of your problems, and whoever is less persuasive gets the vote.

First off, the names are perfectly fine. I may make the Frances to Francis change, I probably should have done a little more research into the differences between those two ahead of time. Also Orzart is good because it helps to set the world apart, while still using phonemes that are common in Earth-based names, particularly of a northern European extraction, which will have thematic relevance eventually.

Second, I wanted to start off the story with a bang and an action heavy beat. The war is not the focus of the story, but is here to provide excitement, a look at the level of technology present in the world, and a peek into the psychology of this character. Later on, the story will develop to be far less focused on the action and more on the nature of the class structure and its inherent inequalities, as a way of making commentary on the nature of the class structure of our world, but with the aesthetic difference of a speculative fiction setting.

Finally, it's less sci-fi and more fantasy in a world with early modern levels of technology, albeit with some alterations to allow for cool giant robot fights.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


RIP Diqnol, so it goes, another must feed the flames.

I do not yet have a metric for judging the stories, but I'll give them all a looksie probably tonight, and get to judging sooner rather than later.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Ugh, things have been crazy busy here. I'm glad I don't have to vote anyone out, because I probably won't have a chance to read anything until much later this evening, when I finally get home.

If you want to read any more of my stuff in the meanwhile, check out my blog! It's mostly about analog games design, and I'm currently on a pretty nifty topic talking about designing RPGs with a mechanics first approach that might be of interest to some folks.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Yeah, I'm not going to make the deadline. Good luck everyone!

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Chic Trombone posted:

I'm gonna be honest and admit I haven't written a thing yet, it's the week before finals for me and I've been alternating between ignoring every responsibility ever and studying like the worlds gonna end

I'll try to have something by tonight but idk if it's gonna happen

I also haven't written anything yet, and I also hope to get something up tonight. It'll probably be ungreat, but c'est la vie.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


I'm leaving to go see Neil deGrasse Tyson in like fifteen minutes, but I've finished my rough draft. When I get back, I'm going to edit and then I will post. It will be up before midnight Hawaii time!

Also, I got my blog done for this week and I'm going to actually have time this weekend to build up a backlog!

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


uranus posted:

i'm jelly

I'm pretty hyped, despite not liking going out that much. Neil deGrasse Tyson is worth it.

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Anyone ready for some more weird-rear end names?

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


UMAS Chapter 2
Tavy trudged through the snow and the cold, even as more flakes fell from above. Her form was bundled in layer after layer of clothing, to help to keep that cold at bay, but she still shivered as she came to a rest at the door to the pub. Her glove clad fist thudded repeatedly against the door, until it slid open and she stepped into the warmth.

A fire roared in the corner, sending waves of heat throughout the main room and cast its soft light over the polished wood of the furnishings. Despite the comforting environment, few of the chairs were occupied, save for some faces that had grown increasingly familiar. The Trio played some new game of their own invention at the table, while Professors Macidon and Gallowsglass argued heatedly with the bartender, likely over the quality of the local whiskey.

And in the back of the room, Reinborg and Finistre poured over documents splayed over the table. Reinborg looked up at the closing of the door and called out. “Tavinette, how lovely of you to join us, and so punctual.” Despite her Artisan background, Reinborg spoke with the affected tones of an Entrepeneur.

Tavy smirked and removed her overcoat and a couple of her scarves, hanging them up by the door, before sauntering over to the back table. She said, “In case you hadn't noticed, there's something of a blizzard happening.”

Finistre laughed heartily, a smile cracking his oversized beard. “Ah, now, now, no need for such disagreements,” he said. “We have more than enough to worry about is it is.”

“Fine,” Reinborg said. “Sit.” She slid some documents over towards Tavy who swiftly scanned the text.

“Are these numbers right?” Tavy said. Both Reinborg and Finistre nodded in response. Tavy withdrew a coal stick from one of her remaining pockets and quickly began circling items that drew her attention. “This is much more encouraging than I was expecting-”

“So we should proceed!” Finistre said.

“I didn't say that,” Tavy said. She shook her head and pushed the documents back over. “We can get widespread support, that's true. We can rely on the majority of students, staff, and faculty supporting our plan, but what we have in manpower, we lack in firepower.”

“Which is why we stop sending shipments to the Investors,” Reinborg said.

Finistre stiffened instantly, ingrained instincts rebelling against the idea of rebellion, but he slowed nodded. Tavy chewed on her lower lip contemplatively, and leaned forward to look at the numbers once again. “Finistre, how is the special project coming along?” Tavy asked.

Finistre strokes his large beard and fell into a moment of quiet contemplation. “A few months away, at least. And that's assuming that we can get enough people with the proper training.”

“We don't have time to wait,” Reinborg said. “Now is the only opportunity that we have.” Her voice slowly began to rise in volume. “For over a century, we have been under the thumb of these foreign capitalists, forced to bend and bow to the will of these Investors. We have lost the spirit of free and unencumbered research, we have lost the pursuit of academic freedom in the name of their blasted profit. And now with their war grinding both both sides down, we have an unheard of opportunity.”
The few others in the room had all fallen silent and were staring at Reinborg from across the room. Tavy's lips curled into a wry grin. “The snow will keep them away,” Tavy said. “Especially if we don't have make our announcement particularly loud.”

“Plus, we still have conventional arms,” Finistre said.

Reinborg looked over her entire audience, before bowing her head under the weight of the responsibility that had fallen onto her shoulders. She said, “So it is. Tavy, draft me a letter to the Dean. We here officially declare our independence!”

Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Hal Incandenza posted:

Meinberg, Reinborg is you, isn't it?

I really don't know what you're talking about.

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Meinberg
Oct 9, 2011


Thanks for running this! I should Thunderdome it up more, it's a pretty cool place with cool people who are sometimes mean.

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