-
A notice about Rule 3 regarding sites hosting pirated/unauthorized content has been made. Please see here for details.
-
Staff is working to deal with the problem of synonymous tags. See here for more information and to suggest tag mergers.
-
Due to issues with external spam filters, QQ is currently unable to send any mail to Microsoft E-mail addresses. This includes any account at live.com, hotmail.com or msn.com. Signing up to the forum with one of these addresses will result in your verification E-mail never arriving. For best results, please use a different E-mail provider for your QQ address.
TheDerangedOne
As stated on the tin, mildy insane.
- Joined
- Aug 22, 2023
- Messages
- 1,952
- Likes received
- 35,208
... Iora seems apparently IS the sort to take very well to the KISS (Keep It Simple, Stupid) method and use it to get out of doing too much mech design... while also making above average mechs because of it.
After all, Simple is easy to fix and get back in bed once the work's done.
... not sure ...hmmm... There probably is a long path forward in Simplifying mech designs in ways other than stripping them down... or rather simplifying them without reducing their performance.
After all, Simple is easy to fix and get back in bed once the work's done.
... not sure ...hmmm... There probably is a long path forward in Simplifying mech designs in ways other than stripping them down... or rather simplifying them without reducing their performance.
Waruiko
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2014
- Messages
- 1,355
- Likes received
- 6,565
Efficient just means the biggest result from the minimum effort that doesn't fail.
Jordisk
Experienced.
- Joined
- Jul 10, 2017
- Messages
- 4,231
- Likes received
- 52,558
Less "Xanxia Protagonist" and more "Highschool Romcom Battle Harem Anime Protagonist" (yes, that is actually a common genre of anime), but agreed.
I072
New
lost star
Connoisseur.
- Joined
- Feb 19, 2013
- Messages
- 14,684
- Likes received
- 479,819
Her life was over. Hina Selena of the Vermeer had prided herself on her detachment from earthly matters. Rising above it all was a small passion of hers. It had even tinted her interests as a designer. She'd spent her life working on flight mechanics. Her very childhood had been on the floating cities of her home planet. Drifting above the sands and through the wind, free of everything. She'd been the untouchable beauty desired by all. Sent here to prove the strength of her family and possibly grab hold of the opportunity offered. At a bare minimum her brilliance should have gotten some good marriage prospects from the other candidates that could further her career and family.
Instead, she'd slipped and fallen into the mud in the first hour of this accursed contest. She'd suffered a wardrobe malfunction in the second hour. The third hour had been oil from a rupturing fuel line. All of this on camera. She was now the dirt girl. That one recording would be spread far and wide no matter what her family would say. It was inevitable.
The only thing that had gone right was her mech, and that was just barely. Flight was hard in mechs. Every second in the air required fuel. Even Second Rate mechs required careful allocations of weight versus lift. You could only break physics so much. Third Rate mechs were worse. They were something like ninety percent flight systems and ten percent weapons. She'd ended up creating a flying bird and loading it with as many missiles as she could feasibly have it lift, and even then it was an ungainly, unsightly beast.
Her designs had never been as flawed as this salvaged heap of rusted metal. The fuel requirements gave it an anemic run-time. The missiles meant it had almost no endurance. In any other contest the design shouldn't have progressed past the first round. Yet here it'd managed to get into the top ten, then the top five.
"How is this possible?" She breathed out as she looked at the lineup.
"Ya'll all seem to be wondering that." The voice from behind her made her stiffen up and turn quickly.
The designer she'd been sent to possibly learn from, possibly charm, definitely make a good impression on was behind her. He was in the same room as her and the other contestants! Hina smoothed out her dress and straightened her stance and tried to ignore how she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
"I figured I'd step in and look at the last contestants. We're down to ten, so ya'll are above the rest." Bolt drawled out as he surveyed them. "Do recall that you started at the same spot. If you think your mech's shit understand that the losers had shittier ones."
His words drew nothing but silence as the candidates stared at him. Hina could sympathize. There really wasn't much proper etiquette for situations like this. There were formal conversations designers could have, but Bolt wasn't following them. Everyone was a bit lost. And perhaps a bit resentful. (She still remembered the mud, and the recording. SHE'D HOLD IT AGAINST HIM FOREVER, ahem.)
"Considering everything, I'll let ya know a bit of my thoughts on this test. I don't do anything once, but this one is something fer you to consider. Most designers spend their life behind a design desk, and while that's fine for a career, you all want to be more. That means new experiences." Bolt switched his gaze to the arena. "Picture this. Four days ago there was a battle. Three days ago, you were tasked to bolster your forces with another mech. You have a printer but no feed stock. What do you do?"
Another beat of silence was his answer before Hina sighed internally and answered. "You salvage." She gave the most obvious answer.
"You salvage. Then you get the mech working enough to get back to your bay, and then you make it work." Bolt nodded to the arena. "Most o' you won't bother or be in the position when this is needed, but some might." He shrugged. "Got a friend that got in something like this working for a merch group in Second Rate territory. He's probably gonna be a senior in a year or two. That means he's a step up from most of the galaxy. Lotta masters became masters by doing the unusual. None of them spent their life behind a desk. Thinking you can be safe for the rest of your life in this field is a poison that will kill your advancement. Ya don't always have ta take risks, but you do have to take some." The man turned away and began to leave. "Now, I've probably made a bit of mistake giving ya free advice, so I'm gonna leave before the next rounds begin."
Hina watched him go with a complicated mix of feelings in her breast. She didn't quite agree with him, but it did make some sense. Spending every day designing sounded good for advancement, but it felt like a very easy way to get into a rut. What exactly did she want? It was a very good question and not one she could easily answer.
It also wasn't going to be answered now. There were ten people left. With single elimination that meant nine matches for first and second and a tenth for third. Her current opponent was Iora.
Hina paused as the brackets came up and glanced at the sleeping man. She felt her hands twitch. Iora was the one that slept at her coming-of-age ceremony. He'd stayed in bed during his grandfather's funeral. He'd been 'occupied' at his graduation party. How the hell was he here, and why was he taking up a slot?!
The start of the match had her attention snap back to the arena. Her flier wasn't particularly noteworthy. Just a bird with missiles. It took to the air anyway and she spared a moment of pride. Pride that dropped as the opposing mech began to shoot.
Of course he had a rifleman. One of the better counters to her mech. The only one worse would have been from that Gauger brat who had the wall of weapons. How he managed to reload that monstrosity was a serious question that she'd actually love to know the answer to.
Unfortunately Hina didn't know enough about mech fighting to tell if her pilot was better or worse. All she could see was the mech flying in the air and trying to avoid the rifle shots. It swooped and let loose a wave of missiles as it dodged, and more shots flew out to follow it. The battle became a contest of who could hit the most shots without taking damage. The missiles had the advantage, but not as much as she'd like. Third Rate missiles were horrible.
Eventually a hit managed to strike the bird's wing. The joint seized and the thing lost mobility. Credit to the pilot, he was able to land and even fire off a last volley of missiles. Several hit the dodging rifleman and breached its armor.
The two mechs approached one another and Hina closed her eyes reflexively before she forced them open. The two mechs clashed with stuttering movements from the damages. The rifle was dropped and a small holdout dagger was pulled out. The bird twitched and tried to use its beak.
It was a slow and sluggish battle, but also a rather inevitable one. Very slowly her bird was worn down, and Hina sighed as it dropped to the ground. She lost.
"Damnit!" Iora muttered.
Hina didn't even recall moving to strangle him. She just remembered being held back by her fellow heirs.
Instead, she'd slipped and fallen into the mud in the first hour of this accursed contest. She'd suffered a wardrobe malfunction in the second hour. The third hour had been oil from a rupturing fuel line. All of this on camera. She was now the dirt girl. That one recording would be spread far and wide no matter what her family would say. It was inevitable.
The only thing that had gone right was her mech, and that was just barely. Flight was hard in mechs. Every second in the air required fuel. Even Second Rate mechs required careful allocations of weight versus lift. You could only break physics so much. Third Rate mechs were worse. They were something like ninety percent flight systems and ten percent weapons. She'd ended up creating a flying bird and loading it with as many missiles as she could feasibly have it lift, and even then it was an ungainly, unsightly beast.
Her designs had never been as flawed as this salvaged heap of rusted metal. The fuel requirements gave it an anemic run-time. The missiles meant it had almost no endurance. In any other contest the design shouldn't have progressed past the first round. Yet here it'd managed to get into the top ten, then the top five.
"How is this possible?" She breathed out as she looked at the lineup.
"Ya'll all seem to be wondering that." The voice from behind her made her stiffen up and turn quickly.
The designer she'd been sent to possibly learn from, possibly charm, definitely make a good impression on was behind her. He was in the same room as her and the other contestants! Hina smoothed out her dress and straightened her stance and tried to ignore how she wanted to crawl in a hole and die.
"I figured I'd step in and look at the last contestants. We're down to ten, so ya'll are above the rest." Bolt drawled out as he surveyed them. "Do recall that you started at the same spot. If you think your mech's shit understand that the losers had shittier ones."
His words drew nothing but silence as the candidates stared at him. Hina could sympathize. There really wasn't much proper etiquette for situations like this. There were formal conversations designers could have, but Bolt wasn't following them. Everyone was a bit lost. And perhaps a bit resentful. (She still remembered the mud, and the recording. SHE'D HOLD IT AGAINST HIM FOREVER, ahem.)
"Considering everything, I'll let ya know a bit of my thoughts on this test. I don't do anything once, but this one is something fer you to consider. Most designers spend their life behind a design desk, and while that's fine for a career, you all want to be more. That means new experiences." Bolt switched his gaze to the arena. "Picture this. Four days ago there was a battle. Three days ago, you were tasked to bolster your forces with another mech. You have a printer but no feed stock. What do you do?"
Another beat of silence was his answer before Hina sighed internally and answered. "You salvage." She gave the most obvious answer.
"You salvage. Then you get the mech working enough to get back to your bay, and then you make it work." Bolt nodded to the arena. "Most o' you won't bother or be in the position when this is needed, but some might." He shrugged. "Got a friend that got in something like this working for a merch group in Second Rate territory. He's probably gonna be a senior in a year or two. That means he's a step up from most of the galaxy. Lotta masters became masters by doing the unusual. None of them spent their life behind a desk. Thinking you can be safe for the rest of your life in this field is a poison that will kill your advancement. Ya don't always have ta take risks, but you do have to take some." The man turned away and began to leave. "Now, I've probably made a bit of mistake giving ya free advice, so I'm gonna leave before the next rounds begin."
Hina watched him go with a complicated mix of feelings in her breast. She didn't quite agree with him, but it did make some sense. Spending every day designing sounded good for advancement, but it felt like a very easy way to get into a rut. What exactly did she want? It was a very good question and not one she could easily answer.
It also wasn't going to be answered now. There were ten people left. With single elimination that meant nine matches for first and second and a tenth for third. Her current opponent was Iora.
Hina paused as the brackets came up and glanced at the sleeping man. She felt her hands twitch. Iora was the one that slept at her coming-of-age ceremony. He'd stayed in bed during his grandfather's funeral. He'd been 'occupied' at his graduation party. How the hell was he here, and why was he taking up a slot?!
The start of the match had her attention snap back to the arena. Her flier wasn't particularly noteworthy. Just a bird with missiles. It took to the air anyway and she spared a moment of pride. Pride that dropped as the opposing mech began to shoot.
Of course he had a rifleman. One of the better counters to her mech. The only one worse would have been from that Gauger brat who had the wall of weapons. How he managed to reload that monstrosity was a serious question that she'd actually love to know the answer to.
Unfortunately Hina didn't know enough about mech fighting to tell if her pilot was better or worse. All she could see was the mech flying in the air and trying to avoid the rifle shots. It swooped and let loose a wave of missiles as it dodged, and more shots flew out to follow it. The battle became a contest of who could hit the most shots without taking damage. The missiles had the advantage, but not as much as she'd like. Third Rate missiles were horrible.
Eventually a hit managed to strike the bird's wing. The joint seized and the thing lost mobility. Credit to the pilot, he was able to land and even fire off a last volley of missiles. Several hit the dodging rifleman and breached its armor.
The two mechs approached one another and Hina closed her eyes reflexively before she forced them open. The two mechs clashed with stuttering movements from the damages. The rifle was dropped and a small holdout dagger was pulled out. The bird twitched and tried to use its beak.
It was a slow and sluggish battle, but also a rather inevitable one. Very slowly her bird was worn down, and Hina sighed as it dropped to the ground. She lost.
"Damnit!" Iora muttered.
Hina didn't even recall moving to strangle him. She just remembered being held back by her fellow heirs.
Waruiko
Versed in the lewd.
- Joined
- Aug 17, 2014
- Messages
- 1,355
- Likes received
- 6,565
Passions and fiery tempers abound here. Also some very solid advice that likely papers over some of the oddities of the contest. "My contest is weird because I'm actively trying to force my prospective students to advance without poisoning their budding philosophy even if I don't end up teaching them," is a hell of an excuse for why every stage of this is so messy and had people getting hurt. Similarly its a good excuse for the baby designers that made it this far to have a bad showing. They were literally not trained for this sort of situation and only endurance and stubbornness would let them get to the second round, let alone the third.
