What's Junk? (The Mech Touch)

[lost star]

Got the feeling that Ves started designing earlier than Bolt did too. Can Ves still grab that youngest Senior accolade?

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Nah, the dipstick could probably be a senior shortly, but part of the Senior advancement is convincing the backing system behind the mechs that you're worthy of trust. It doesn't take much. Ves is still a pretty large and self-centered dick, so he doesn't do it for years.

 

[Negation]

Can anyone think of pun name to call this tournament format in the future?

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Iron Chef. It's Iron Chef with mechs.

 

[Gilar]

Iron Chef. It's Iron Chef with mechs.

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Eh,i dont know if locals get the joke . I have thought of somethig like "Bolt's Cut out system". There is also "Rats Race" , but it's a bit insulting for noble scions.

 

[OZT]

Maybe "Salvage Scrum"? Its both descriptive and alliterative.

 

[Gilar]

And one missed letter from insult.

 

[Negation]

Eh,i dont know if locals get the joke . I have thought of somethig like "Bolt's Cut out system". There is also "Rats Race" , but it's a bit insulting for noble scions.

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View: https://youtu.be/W8DNmyDDUjw

...you can't tell me Bolt does not look like this right now?

 

[lost star]

The early founding of the Friday Coalition had involved a total of nine separate nations banding together due to mutual interest. Over time that had been dropped down to six. Vermeer, Konsu, Carnegie, Gauge, Vanguard, and Puffer. Of those the Puffer clan was on its last legs. Each organization had their own managing government and way of doing things, united by a hatred of their neighbors and inertia. The particulars of their governing structure weren't that relevant at the present point. What was important was that all the contestants were 'heirs' even if the titles weren't the same. Basically important, usually arrogant, and puffed up young masters.

Every one of them had been briefed and trained briefly before this contest. Bolt hadn't held back the conditions he'd be testing people in. Unfortunately for all of them, the training they'd gone through had been wholly inadequate. It'd been mostly briefings, physical conditioning appropriate, and some navigation courses for heirs. Not a single one was really prepared. Many weren't aware of the inadequacy of their training.

So, when the signal to start happened every contestant revved up their gifted trucks and flew into the fog full of confidence. Two crashed into terrain within seconds. One ended up flying high enough to stall out the hovering technology and nearly totaled themselves in a crash before recovering, praying that no one saw it. (They did.) Several of the contestants swerved to the side in a possible attempt to attack their compatriots early.

The latter action wasn't exactly the best decision. The trucks weren't really meant for offensive movements. Even with Second Rate technology they were rather unwieldy and ungainly vehicles. The makers had not created the salvaging tools for chases or anything related to that. They were meant to recover and carry heavy loads. A singular contestant managed to spot an opponent within the first few minutes, and the ensuing chase resembled a pair of turtles attempting to tip one another over rather than anything else. It was both comical and sad, and ended with both trucks slightly dented before they separated, likely from humiliation.

After the first hour there were no real standouts. The favored heirs of the particular organizations couldn't really show their brilliance in the fog or in salvaging. This was a test of patience, judgment, and will rather than intelligence. Most contestants hadn't even identified appropriate wrecks to salvage yet. A few had picked up some minor parts. Most of them had no initial value at all. Some could be valuable in the right conditions.

"Not sure if that's the best idea." Bolt mused about the current results out loud to the gathered nobles.

He wasn't really happy about it, but he did have to at least make an attempt at being a good host. This meant he was in a small lounge with a half-dozen screens that were displaying the contest. Several prominent nobles were with him. None were 'important' as in they were leaders, but all of them had influence and were considered important enough to be supervising their side.

"Oh?" The Vermeer representative asked. "How so?"

"Small parts are good ta grab quick, but the goal is building a functional mech. We deliberately scattered a lot of mechs around there. They might not pick up something compatible later as a base." Bolt wiggled a hand. "It's a gamble on the future."

"Ah, but a gamble means it can pay off." The man pointed out.

"That's why I'm not sure." Bolt replied with a small chuckle. "Personally. I'd be a bit more conservative, but it's not wrong to take a chance. It's a style choice that we'll have wait and see on."

"Looks like a Gauge candidate is circling. Lost or looking for another target?" The Carnegie representative noted.

"Might be lost. There's no one there."

The Gauge representative in the lounge had a pinched expression on his face as he watched his candidates flail around. Bolt didn't blame the man. The members from his group had started quite aggressive, and it was punishing them harshly. It wasn't as easy as you'd expect to find another person on a battlefield like this.

"Ohh, that is unpleasantly undignified." Someone breathed out.

Bolt looked to the view and winced. "Ah, damnit." One of the female candidates had been wearing a rather lovely looking outfit surprisingly suited for physical activity. Suited or not, it and her were now completely covered in mud. Had it been less than Second Rate it would also had been torn. As it was, it was just shy of indecent now. "Is she hurt?"

"All the contestants have the ability to forfeit on their own. Give them the honor of doing that rather than fretting about their injuries or dignity during the contest. Even warriors stumble can stumble into the most unpleasant situations." The Konsu representative said.

Bolt the man a nod of acknowledgement and sat back to watch. This wasn't going to be a quick contest. It was going to be surprisingly interesting though. The number of contestants allowed for some serious drama to be happening almost all the time. The injuries were making him wince though. All of them were amateur mistakes, but that wasn't surprising really. It was one thing to train and another to actually perform in a active environment.

"Anyone catch your eye?" The question was inevitable.

"At the moment no." Bolt replied honestly. "First few minutes ain't gonna show me anything. Give it say... Twelve hours?" He judged. "I'll give ya my honest thoughts after that.

"That is fair." The man asking the question replied with a nod. "I confess I cannot find anything very noteworthy from even our candidates yet."

"Well, none of em have broken, so I will praise them for that." The Senior said and flinched slightly at the sudden looks he got. "The contest involves driving into a fog-filled battlefield with loud noises of war, a high chance of violence, and a low chance of being killed. A very low chance, but accidents do happen with heavy machinery. If they weren't nervous I'd worry they were drugged."

"Are the precautions are not enough?"

"The drone attending them should be able to keep their heads from getting crushed." Bolt noted and gestured at the cameras they all had. "If one of them are stupid enough to drop a mech on themselves using the tools provided I think they'll go splat. You can't recover from that."

A few mutters and quite words occurred between the representatives before he got some nods of agreement. Accidents did happen after all. It just hadn't really occurred to them that their precious heirs were doing something actually risky. Thankfully anything short of instantly crushing their head was something the people could recover from. The planet had very top notch medical care.

Bolt let his words settle as he examined the contestants again. Like he'd said, no one was standing out. They were all young graduates trying to prove themselves. None of them had anything like experience in this field. He saw plenty of looks of terror and more than a little fumbling.

And then one young man broke and pressed the emergency escape. Bolt exhaled and shook his head as the real drama began from that. This was going to take awhile to smooth over. Fortunately it was recorded. Unfortunately, most of these people were very prideful. No one would be happy with being the first to drop out. Bolt was fairly sure that sort of action was going to linger for the rest of the candidate's life.

 

[Golgotha]

It would be a lot more entertaining than a normal competition, that's for sure

 

[Molder]

Should have had a few mechs stalking through the mist. Making sure to stay away from everyone of course, but a mech in the fog is a scary thing.

 

[Starfall15]

This is the Tony Stark "In a cave with a box of scraps" contest.

It's the here are the scraps make me something that can work. And it's going to be a revolution on how people are tested on making mechs. After all testing grounds can be reused and anything left behind from the first contest is usable in the next ones.

 

[lost star]

A Young Master was a particular archetype. The actual name of it varied based on culture and such, but the core concept traveled across every nation. It was the ur-example of a rich man's child. Spoilt, catered to, wanting for nothing. Typically they were arrogant. 'Do you know who my father is?!' That sort of thing. It took a particular yet surprisingly common set of circumstances to produce one. Very typically they were third or fourth generation children from the original line that had produced them. It required a combination of riches, authority, and insulation from consequences.

Bolt didn't particularly care for the behavior. He also didn't really dislike it either. He simply preferred not to interact with the archetype at all. His contest wasn't necessarily designed to kick them out. It would filter many of the most spoilt ones out.

Most of the students had the following life: Born from a tube, nurtured by a nanny / nanny bot, then introduced to their parents maybe once or twice before they spoke. If their family was loving, they knew their parents from birth, but the nanny was always there. After this they had a sheltered childhood with chosen friends / servants. Injury was in training, if the family had that tradition. They'd never gotten sick, they'd rarely seen pain. They went through the best schooling and personal tutoring, where people had never told them no. Failure was rare, and some of the people had never even been able to fail. Carefully curated education had eliminated that possibility.

Going into a dirty battlefield alone was a shock to their carefully curated upbringing. The smell alone was unique. All of the heirs had been chauffeured as well. Some had driven cars as a novelty. None had controlled trucks. Driving into the fog alone took a surprising amount of resilience, and it was a testament to their training and drive that not a single person failed to do so. Many almost broke several minutes in, but none did immediately, and Bolt was sincere in his praise for that.

Two hours was when the people began to really differentiate themselves. Roughly a tenth of the contestants had outright failed or withdrawn already. The failures were considered 'fine' for a given value of it. Sometimes shit happened. There was no loss in face or prestige when you got what amounted to bad luck. The people withdrawing without cause were less well regarded. Mechs Pilots had a warrior culture. Cowardice was a mark of shame. Designers were adjacent to that. No one that withdrew from the carefully curated contest would be trusted again by any pilot worth his seat. It was a mark of death for any career in the field.

There were a few exceptions to this. One person had to withdraw due to getting impaled through the torso and spine. There'd be a few others similar to them as the contest progressed. Those designers were actually a 'step up' so to speak. It was a mark of honor that they tried and got injured enough that they were forced out. They had the closest thing to battle wounds a designer could get in their line of work. They'd find their careers a bit boosted if they leveraged it right.

After four hours had passed there were clear leaders and clear losers. One loser had essentially gotten so lost they'd hit the edge of the test area three separate times. One winner had already found most of what they needed for a mech and were carefully trying to leverage it into the truck without breaking it. Another loser had been caught by a fellow contestant, beaten, and was very likely going to give up shortly.

The violence wasn't really something Bolt liked, but he also couldn't say he hadn't expected it. This was what it meant to be a scavenger. Also there were enough safeguards that a beating was about all the contestants could get. Their opponents couldn't sabotage the trucks with the tools they had, and there were rules against doing more than just beating them. It wasn't exactly fair. It was another obstacle.

Six hours in the one contestant that had managed to find what they'd needed had also managed to load it up into the truck with, well enthusiasm, if not competence. They likely had a serious repair job ahead of them, but they'd overcome the largest hurdle. Now they needed to find a safe spot, do some field repairs, and then prove their mech could walk.

Other contestants were less lucky. One had decided to do something like a flying mech based on their work. The idea was sound, but it'd be a royal pain dealing with the next round if they didn't salvage more. Another contestant and happened upon a prized part, had been beaten for it, and was now running on spite.

About twenty-five percent of the contestants had either dropped out or visibly given up. At this point it wasn't really a mark of shame to request a pickup in Bolt's eyes. If the contestants hadn't found something, they were rather obviously not suited for the job. Another five percent of the contestants had been cheating or doing things against the spirit of the competition.

One particularly egregious example was one man who'd decided to sabotage a reactor and turn it into a bomb. That had required a ruling from Bolt, who'd then polled opinions on the noble representatives. The consensus was that it was barely against the rules. It was very technically an attack against another contestant using unapproved tools. Sabotaging wrecks with the intent to kill other contestants was something they wanted to discourage. Just sabotaging the wrecks was fine, and several other contestants had already done that to no censure.

By twelve hours, there were five candidates that had distinguished themselves. Bolt had their official names somewhere, but he internally nicknamed them differently. Externally he judged them as the ones most likely to win. They were as follows:

Lucky. This man had managed to get lucky very early and was nearly done. He'd happened on one of the most intact mechs and had furthermore lucked upon several other good finds. His repair job was standard and uninspired though, and in finishing early he'd also finished with the bare minimum of extra parts. This wasn't necessarily horrible, but it would limit his options in the future.

Flyer. This woman had gotten a few good boosters and was just making a flying mech. This was useful in that she didn't require much. Dangerous in that she'd limited herself harshly with that plan. At the same time, this let her browse through the battlefield and find choice parts that others weren't using at all. The poor girl had also been the one who'd fallen in the mud more than once, and was more dirt than girl right now.

Packrat. You sometimes got scavengers that picked up everything. That was what this man was doing. He had no visible plan. He'd just grabbed everything he could. He'd also roamed into the irradiated area and was currently high off meds and might or might not crash out before he finished. At the bare minimum the poor man would need to use the bathroom for an hour or so once the contest was done. (Several of the meds gave very unpleasant side effects.)

Spite. This man had lost a finger, gotten into three separate fights, and seemed to be running off of rage and spite. He was only in the running because he'd looted two separate trucks. He had enough scrap now to make a mech. The question was if he was going to be able to considering the damage he'd taken. Considering the amount of armor he'd found, the man was probably going to make something with a lot of armor at least. Which fit.

Dark Horse. There was a particular style of scavenging where you took your time and took only what you wanted / needed. It was a pick and choose method. This man had been patient and controlled in his work. He'd also nearly crashed his truck and gotten lost at least once. He was only in the running because Bolt had noticed that he'd actually been very careful about what he'd picked up. If he managed to hit one or two more good salvage jobs he might be able to squeak by just in time with a rather consistent mech.

These were of course just the leading ones. There'd been over a hundred contestants. Bolt was quite sure someone would surprise him somehow. There were still twelve hours left as well. A good repairman could probably fix up a mech within one or two hours if they were willing to accept that it wouldn't be a good repair.

 

[Golgotha]

I wonder how the betting pool is going at this point.

 

[Luker number 5]

I get the feeling Spite would do well under Bolt.

 

[xgodxsendx]

I feel flyer and spite both would do well under bolt