Show Posts
16
XPiratez / Re: Everyday is Caturday Challenge Run
« on: March 29, 2024, 11:32:23 pm »
Captains Log #6
7th of Febuary
Skullday
Melancholy fades away like setting sun when you've got too much to do.
On my desk lies at least twenty five combat reports- and I Know I haven't gone through them all. Im working as fast as I can, but I cant keep my finger on the pulse of every combat action that happens nowadays. I've had to decentralize and trust that my officers know what they're doing- so I can focus on the more important operations. Its been a hell of a reduction in my stress levels to say the least, and the other Claw-Sisters are starting to see the burdens I've been carrying for them in managing field operations (Quite Often from my Hospital bed!) Its been an... Interesting stablizing force here.
Instead, I now face two problems: One, We're not designed for this kind of warfare. Our enemies are starting to counter our tricks with advanced equipment, whilst I struggle to petition Cat Of Nine Tails for even the most basic tactile stealth gear. Hell, I'm not even begging for Unipuma Stealth suits (Though we've managed to scrounge a few up), I'm just looking for the reactor belts. Camouflage only works so well, for so long. But like many things- they deny my requests, citing that a Warrior should be 'Clever enough to adapt' to the changing circumstances.
Right. I can comfort my crew that our fallen Claw-Sisters were simply retarded and that we're better off without them, for the misfortune of being under-equipped for the job. To hell with her.
The only solution I have is to bring in fresh faces- Another Ten join our ranks. Some have had basic training, some are being pressed immediately. There's not enough Veteran sisters, and some are going Stir-Crazy waiting for their chance to get out of the revolving door that is Medical. I need more bodies on the field, and I simply have to accept that not all of them will survive. They'll simply have to trust their Elder-Sisters to lead them out of the fire. Yet such decisions shall influence the crew in another way: That of the ways.
It is no way that many of us are former combat veterans, even before this piracy business. I have made no secret that I follow the way of the missed strike- Opportunity follows in careless attacks. Many of my Claw-Sisters took to The Way of Shadow when we had to smear ourselves with paint and hide in the bush in the buff. There are a few outliers- and whilst survival was our principle concern, ideas of combat doctrine and philosophy were put to the wayside... But now that we are starting to find our footing, entrench and find ourselves growing in comfort: Matters of philosophy soon follow. And with fresh faces and time to argue over which strategies work and which do not...
There will be a growing diaspora of doctrines. A collection of military polities within our own organization that will argue which of the ways are correct, and which shall no longer suffice. But perhaps there is a way to bring these thoughts into line. For all of these Arts are simply interpretations of the Way of trounce. I will never be able to bring them all to heel: For talent often seeks to define itself and stand out- and to grow its strength. But they see me as Captain, and they will *Obey*. In Curating their growth, I shall have officers whom specialize in their fields, and in turn I shall have strike teams that are of a unified mind. It must be that as we grow wiser, that these scattered ideas once again, form the ways of trounce. Each us of, a piece of the whole.
Hah. I speak of being busy, and yet here I am writing prose. Perhaps I am not so far removed from my Noble blood after all. To think I used to detest reading and writing. That I'd rather go play with the other Claw-Sisters, then to look adminastration. Perhaps my father can be thanked afterall. But thats neither here nor there. The second problem I'm facing, is that my Science Team needs to speak to me, and that's terrifying in its own right.
I end this log with a deep breath and trepidation. Its always an adventure to go in there.
Back to School
"Gwynevere De Tylmerade Bennett, Captain Level Access. Authorization Code- SERAPH."
I am not using their codes. I don't need to be laughed at for being 'Horny' again. But with a flick of my Keycard and the gentle hiss of the door, it slides open with a satisfactory ease and a wave of *heat* blasts me in the face. I thank the Stars that I have desert blood in me, or else this would be unbearable. I simply don't get why the 'Brainers' must have things so bloody HOT. I don't care if its their preference to not wear clothes, I swear half of the salary goes to the Power bill so they can keep warm in the nude!
Stepping inside however, the Laboratory is a wonderous display of colors and not so wonderous odious cadavers. A sterile room defiled, but alive with the discoveries and passions of those whom call this room 'home'. Once only operated by the Brainer-Strain, more have joined their ranks; More of their own Castaway kin that we have rescued and brought into the fold- but also Hacan blooded Claw-Sisters whom share in their pacifistic tendency. The Brainers tend to the needs of Violence, explosives and abstract thought- The Hacanites tend to the needs of worldly, Nekomimi concerns- alongside political machinations. Together, they create union of creativity and intellectual capacity. Harmonious however, we could not be further from. Striding forth, my ears pick up a pained, shrill sound- a tone that could only be produced by one of our kin.
"That's my tail, you fucking bitch!"
My eyes drift as melee starts off to my left. Glass shatters and a table smashes as Claw and Fist intermix into what could best be described as a 'Catfight'. Apparently, the Brainer couldn't help but grasp her tail for some odd reason- A lesson these ubers do not seemingly learn. If anything- they only seem inclined to be... Encouraged by our wild reactions to others touching such fluffy tails. Whilst at first i was prone to stopping such incidents- I've come to learn this is how they bond, or work out grievances. It only makes it harder for our Claw-Scientists to garner the respect of their fellow working companions if they cannot prove that they brawl. The hooting and the howling over the spontaneous fight is their entertainment anyway. I have a more important destination in mind.
At the far end of the lab sits a circular table, staring into a incandescent holographic image of the planet. In a shape before the landmasses were split (We've had to adapt the map). At the far end, sits the FBB (Pretentious that, but she wont accept 'Chief Scientist') and the Elder Claw-Matron. A spread of papers and documents. That they called me down here, rather then sending a runner to deliver their report- Means it is something worth my precious time. So I shall not waste theirs. Striding forth, I clear my voice before speaking.
"FBB. Honored Matron. You've called me down here for a Report?" I flit my eyes between them, but it is the FBB whom speaks here. The Matron seeks to speak at the right opportunity- Preserving words for impact.
"Yes, Ma Capitaine. Our investigation is complete, and whilst I *Could* explain matters to you, I suggest you read those papers. You will find elucidation on our labours, and what this means for our organization as a whole... And why of course, you should keep us around."
I roll my eyes at the incinuation. Yes, I know your needs are ridiculously expensive. But I open the documentation in question- and my eyes glaze over the details at first. It takes a few passes before I understand it all: What is presented before me is theoretical concepts. But beyond those such as 'How to Firearms work' and 'Why does the Bikini look good on us'- I see cracking Hyperwave Technology. I see Plastasteel being molded into bullets, alongside many wonderous things. I see Advancements of our tools, and the ability to bring us beyond just merely Humans.
What I see before me, is the makings of Empire. Apparently, the shock spreads across my face- for my ears catch what my eyes do not.
"Impressed, Cap'n? What I present before you is the keys to the Kingdom. You held up your word with our... Agreement, and thus we shall hold up ours. You speak of returning to the stars, but what if we could do something better? What if going as Paupers, we make you the Queen you are supposed to be? Your Kittens have already adorned you with a crown- We are merely formalizing the title... And a Queen such as yourself should have herself a Fiefdom worthy of her status, should she not?"
I look to her, blinking absentmindedly. "You want to take the earth?"
"Heavens no! Unless that is your ambition that is." The FBB smiles faintly, her hands gently clasping together. "My thoughts are that there is no one else you should *Bow* to- and we know the *Star Gods*-" "Ethereals." I try to correct her as quickly as possible, but she merely brushes me off. "-are taking a keen interest to our operations... Twice we've humbled them. And twice, we've had to run. Do not think they will let us go so easily in the future..."
I look to the Claw-Matron. She simply nods in rare agreeance with the FBB.
"Think about your legacy. It is as much Yours as it will be Mine. And what better way to cement your crown, then to slay the gods themselves..." Her lips curl once more, as my hand traces over the papers again.
Despite the warm air, the papers feel cool to the touch. The Air is charged, and my mind races a mile a minute- As I weather Manipulations from the FBB. There is clearly a direction she would see us go in- despite her insinuations to the contrary... and yet she would give us the tools to claim it for ourselves.
In which way, does the road go from here?.. Is such still truly my choice?
Stream is Over!
The Vod is here!
Saaaauce. Ew because of it being Reddit, but its the sauce.
Post Mortem
Why is the image so big? Im legit sorry about that. Most of the time, its pretty small...
Hired: Kildarienhyton (B-2, K-2), VintageMedic (Newly Hired!), Xika (Newly Hired!)
Survivors: Gwynevere Bennett (Way of Missed Strike, B-54 K-137, Zephyr1124 (B-53, K-148) ,Fleur Vert (B-44, K-106), Gentlefood (Way of Shadow, B-63, K-118), Kiest (B-47, K-69), Xeoposer (B-58, K-170), Isdar (B-50, K-96), Kaminyan The Blender Cat (Way of Death, B-51, K-155), Tarmph (B-67, K-144), Mittens Leadpaw (B-29, K-47), Catvy (Way of Shadow, B-52, K-102), DoctorRex (B-37, K-37), ArdriKrios (B-49, K-124), NinjaZombie0 (B-36, K-85), SquirrelWizard (Way of Sunlight, B-56, K-80), Mjolko (B-41, K-44), Talemgrandmaster (B-61, K-89) Shirajirajin (B-48, K-64), , Slegex (B-47, K-68), Violeta Kellide (Way of Shadow, B-61, K-137), NictisOfTheMafia (B-54 K-72), Wabbon (B-32, K-74), Sayuri (Way of Claw, B-46, K-72), CGP (B-20, K-23) Krickraken (B-24, K-31) Curechan9 II (B-13, K-9), Rovlemmmhage (B-9, K-15), CaptainOrion (B-7, K-12), Psyentific1 (B-13, K-30), ZebraFinch (B-10, K-13), DJ Grom (B-5, K-12), Scotty297 (B-6, K-3), Atusid (B-10, K-27), GigaShogg (B-10, K-13), Das_Bystander (B-7, K-10)
Died: Jim3798 (B-5 K-8, FAT ZOMBIE WANTS A HUG.), Weed Base Crew x5 (The Government Wants its cut.), Claw Of The North Nyan (B-2 K-27, Half as long, but twice as bright...), BoboBuffalo (B-8, K-10, Murder Mutts Ahoy!)
Deus Ex Machinas: 18 Deus Ex (98 Total)
7 were Spent on The Weed Base. 3 were Spent on The Pogrom. Both were failures.
Sometimes you dont win.
The Good: Catitical Armor has arrived and Not a moment too soon. Having Real Armor protections means that I can actually stand line and Fight. Krazy Hanna is now a thing too, so explosive ordinance is now reliably fieldable. Air Game is Online and with Fausts/Pidgeon combo in a central location, Time for the Cats to prove they are Aces...
The Bad: Well, The government decided my Weed base was going to go- and they hit me right as I was transferring named characters to the main place. Worse, I fought it out. 28/30, so the defense was worth -1000 points. Also I lost everything there. Not the worst situation, but I was writing an Interlude featuring The Claw. That Sucks to resolve that story so soon. I liked her. Everyone else did too. Goverment armor too thick to stab sadly.
Also We had the worst Pogrom spawn today. I really want to pitch the Scorpion at this point- its spawns are weirdly inconsistent, and that's frustrating to deal with.
All and all, a rough series of encounters, and hopefully we'll turn it around soon.
The Funny: The Spartans being the Crews Nemesis is Hilariously in lore for us. Thats two of Two for Pogrom count. Hopefully, the game keeps playing with us on this one. Now we just gotta figure out how the hell to pour water on rocks...
7th of Febuary
Skullday
Melancholy fades away like setting sun when you've got too much to do.
On my desk lies at least twenty five combat reports- and I Know I haven't gone through them all. Im working as fast as I can, but I cant keep my finger on the pulse of every combat action that happens nowadays. I've had to decentralize and trust that my officers know what they're doing- so I can focus on the more important operations. Its been a hell of a reduction in my stress levels to say the least, and the other Claw-Sisters are starting to see the burdens I've been carrying for them in managing field operations (Quite Often from my Hospital bed!) Its been an... Interesting stablizing force here.
Instead, I now face two problems: One, We're not designed for this kind of warfare. Our enemies are starting to counter our tricks with advanced equipment, whilst I struggle to petition Cat Of Nine Tails for even the most basic tactile stealth gear. Hell, I'm not even begging for Unipuma Stealth suits (Though we've managed to scrounge a few up), I'm just looking for the reactor belts. Camouflage only works so well, for so long. But like many things- they deny my requests, citing that a Warrior should be 'Clever enough to adapt' to the changing circumstances.
Right. I can comfort my crew that our fallen Claw-Sisters were simply retarded and that we're better off without them, for the misfortune of being under-equipped for the job. To hell with her.
The only solution I have is to bring in fresh faces- Another Ten join our ranks. Some have had basic training, some are being pressed immediately. There's not enough Veteran sisters, and some are going Stir-Crazy waiting for their chance to get out of the revolving door that is Medical. I need more bodies on the field, and I simply have to accept that not all of them will survive. They'll simply have to trust their Elder-Sisters to lead them out of the fire. Yet such decisions shall influence the crew in another way: That of the ways.
It is no way that many of us are former combat veterans, even before this piracy business. I have made no secret that I follow the way of the missed strike- Opportunity follows in careless attacks. Many of my Claw-Sisters took to The Way of Shadow when we had to smear ourselves with paint and hide in the bush in the buff. There are a few outliers- and whilst survival was our principle concern, ideas of combat doctrine and philosophy were put to the wayside... But now that we are starting to find our footing, entrench and find ourselves growing in comfort: Matters of philosophy soon follow. And with fresh faces and time to argue over which strategies work and which do not...
There will be a growing diaspora of doctrines. A collection of military polities within our own organization that will argue which of the ways are correct, and which shall no longer suffice. But perhaps there is a way to bring these thoughts into line. For all of these Arts are simply interpretations of the Way of trounce. I will never be able to bring them all to heel: For talent often seeks to define itself and stand out- and to grow its strength. But they see me as Captain, and they will *Obey*. In Curating their growth, I shall have officers whom specialize in their fields, and in turn I shall have strike teams that are of a unified mind. It must be that as we grow wiser, that these scattered ideas once again, form the ways of trounce. Each us of, a piece of the whole.
Hah. I speak of being busy, and yet here I am writing prose. Perhaps I am not so far removed from my Noble blood after all. To think I used to detest reading and writing. That I'd rather go play with the other Claw-Sisters, then to look adminastration. Perhaps my father can be thanked afterall. But thats neither here nor there. The second problem I'm facing, is that my Science Team needs to speak to me, and that's terrifying in its own right.
I end this log with a deep breath and trepidation. Its always an adventure to go in there.
Back to School
"Gwynevere De Tylmerade Bennett, Captain Level Access. Authorization Code- SERAPH."
I am not using their codes. I don't need to be laughed at for being 'Horny' again. But with a flick of my Keycard and the gentle hiss of the door, it slides open with a satisfactory ease and a wave of *heat* blasts me in the face. I thank the Stars that I have desert blood in me, or else this would be unbearable. I simply don't get why the 'Brainers' must have things so bloody HOT. I don't care if its their preference to not wear clothes, I swear half of the salary goes to the Power bill so they can keep warm in the nude!
Stepping inside however, the Laboratory is a wonderous display of colors and not so wonderous odious cadavers. A sterile room defiled, but alive with the discoveries and passions of those whom call this room 'home'. Once only operated by the Brainer-Strain, more have joined their ranks; More of their own Castaway kin that we have rescued and brought into the fold- but also Hacan blooded Claw-Sisters whom share in their pacifistic tendency. The Brainers tend to the needs of Violence, explosives and abstract thought- The Hacanites tend to the needs of worldly, Nekomimi concerns- alongside political machinations. Together, they create union of creativity and intellectual capacity. Harmonious however, we could not be further from. Striding forth, my ears pick up a pained, shrill sound- a tone that could only be produced by one of our kin.
"That's my tail, you fucking bitch!"
My eyes drift as melee starts off to my left. Glass shatters and a table smashes as Claw and Fist intermix into what could best be described as a 'Catfight'. Apparently, the Brainer couldn't help but grasp her tail for some odd reason- A lesson these ubers do not seemingly learn. If anything- they only seem inclined to be... Encouraged by our wild reactions to others touching such fluffy tails. Whilst at first i was prone to stopping such incidents- I've come to learn this is how they bond, or work out grievances. It only makes it harder for our Claw-Scientists to garner the respect of their fellow working companions if they cannot prove that they brawl. The hooting and the howling over the spontaneous fight is their entertainment anyway. I have a more important destination in mind.
At the far end of the lab sits a circular table, staring into a incandescent holographic image of the planet. In a shape before the landmasses were split (We've had to adapt the map). At the far end, sits the FBB (Pretentious that, but she wont accept 'Chief Scientist') and the Elder Claw-Matron. A spread of papers and documents. That they called me down here, rather then sending a runner to deliver their report- Means it is something worth my precious time. So I shall not waste theirs. Striding forth, I clear my voice before speaking.
"FBB. Honored Matron. You've called me down here for a Report?" I flit my eyes between them, but it is the FBB whom speaks here. The Matron seeks to speak at the right opportunity- Preserving words for impact.
"Yes, Ma Capitaine. Our investigation is complete, and whilst I *Could* explain matters to you, I suggest you read those papers. You will find elucidation on our labours, and what this means for our organization as a whole... And why of course, you should keep us around."
I roll my eyes at the incinuation. Yes, I know your needs are ridiculously expensive. But I open the documentation in question- and my eyes glaze over the details at first. It takes a few passes before I understand it all: What is presented before me is theoretical concepts. But beyond those such as 'How to Firearms work' and 'Why does the Bikini look good on us'- I see cracking Hyperwave Technology. I see Plastasteel being molded into bullets, alongside many wonderous things. I see Advancements of our tools, and the ability to bring us beyond just merely Humans.
What I see before me, is the makings of Empire. Apparently, the shock spreads across my face- for my ears catch what my eyes do not.
"Impressed, Cap'n? What I present before you is the keys to the Kingdom. You held up your word with our... Agreement, and thus we shall hold up ours. You speak of returning to the stars, but what if we could do something better? What if going as Paupers, we make you the Queen you are supposed to be? Your Kittens have already adorned you with a crown- We are merely formalizing the title... And a Queen such as yourself should have herself a Fiefdom worthy of her status, should she not?"
I look to her, blinking absentmindedly. "You want to take the earth?"
"Heavens no! Unless that is your ambition that is." The FBB smiles faintly, her hands gently clasping together. "My thoughts are that there is no one else you should *Bow* to- and we know the *Star Gods*-" "Ethereals." I try to correct her as quickly as possible, but she merely brushes me off. "-are taking a keen interest to our operations... Twice we've humbled them. And twice, we've had to run. Do not think they will let us go so easily in the future..."
I look to the Claw-Matron. She simply nods in rare agreeance with the FBB.
"Think about your legacy. It is as much Yours as it will be Mine. And what better way to cement your crown, then to slay the gods themselves..." Her lips curl once more, as my hand traces over the papers again.
Despite the warm air, the papers feel cool to the touch. The Air is charged, and my mind races a mile a minute- As I weather Manipulations from the FBB. There is clearly a direction she would see us go in- despite her insinuations to the contrary... and yet she would give us the tools to claim it for ourselves.
In which way, does the road go from here?.. Is such still truly my choice?
Stream is Over!
The Vod is here!
Saaaauce. Ew because of it being Reddit, but its the sauce.
Post Mortem
Why is the image so big? Im legit sorry about that. Most of the time, its pretty small...
Hired: Kildarienhyton (B-2, K-2), VintageMedic (Newly Hired!), Xika (Newly Hired!)
Survivors: Gwynevere Bennett (Way of Missed Strike, B-54 K-137, Zephyr1124 (B-53, K-148) ,Fleur Vert (B-44, K-106), Gentlefood (Way of Shadow, B-63, K-118), Kiest (B-47, K-69), Xeoposer (B-58, K-170), Isdar (B-50, K-96), Kaminyan The Blender Cat (Way of Death, B-51, K-155), Tarmph (B-67, K-144), Mittens Leadpaw (B-29, K-47), Catvy (Way of Shadow, B-52, K-102), DoctorRex (B-37, K-37), ArdriKrios (B-49, K-124), NinjaZombie0 (B-36, K-85), SquirrelWizard (Way of Sunlight, B-56, K-80), Mjolko (B-41, K-44), Talemgrandmaster (B-61, K-89) Shirajirajin (B-48, K-64), , Slegex (B-47, K-68), Violeta Kellide (Way of Shadow, B-61, K-137), NictisOfTheMafia (B-54 K-72), Wabbon (B-32, K-74), Sayuri (Way of Claw, B-46, K-72), CGP (B-20, K-23) Krickraken (B-24, K-31) Curechan9 II (B-13, K-9), Rovlemmmhage (B-9, K-15), CaptainOrion (B-7, K-12), Psyentific1 (B-13, K-30), ZebraFinch (B-10, K-13), DJ Grom (B-5, K-12), Scotty297 (B-6, K-3), Atusid (B-10, K-27), GigaShogg (B-10, K-13), Das_Bystander (B-7, K-10)
Died: Jim3798 (B-5 K-8, FAT ZOMBIE WANTS A HUG.), Weed Base Crew x5 (The Government Wants its cut.), Claw Of The North Nyan (B-2 K-27, Half as long, but twice as bright...), BoboBuffalo (B-8, K-10, Murder Mutts Ahoy!)
Deus Ex Machinas: 18 Deus Ex (98 Total)
7 were Spent on The Weed Base. 3 were Spent on The Pogrom. Both were failures.
Sometimes you dont win.
The Good: Catitical Armor has arrived and Not a moment too soon. Having Real Armor protections means that I can actually stand line and Fight. Krazy Hanna is now a thing too, so explosive ordinance is now reliably fieldable. Air Game is Online and with Fausts/Pidgeon combo in a central location, Time for the Cats to prove they are Aces...
The Bad: Well, The government decided my Weed base was going to go- and they hit me right as I was transferring named characters to the main place. Worse, I fought it out. 28/30, so the defense was worth -1000 points. Also I lost everything there. Not the worst situation, but I was writing an Interlude featuring The Claw. That Sucks to resolve that story so soon. I liked her. Everyone else did too. Goverment armor too thick to stab sadly.
Also We had the worst Pogrom spawn today. I really want to pitch the Scorpion at this point- its spawns are weirdly inconsistent, and that's frustrating to deal with.
All and all, a rough series of encounters, and hopefully we'll turn it around soon.
The Funny: The Spartans being the Crews Nemesis is Hilariously in lore for us. Thats two of Two for Pogrom count. Hopefully, the game keeps playing with us on this one. Now we just gotta figure out how the hell to pour water on rocks...
