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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 12, 2005 22:23:13 GMT -5
"alright then. I'll use my own."
I open the hatch to one of the sims, and throw in a smoke grenade. It starts to fume, and the pilot panics, flailing his arms about.
"You've sprung a fuel leak! What are ya gonna do?"
The pilot, panicking still, hits the eject button. His screen grows blank, then he turns to me.
"What the hell was that for?!?!"
"Sit down, kid. I probably saved your life. When that happens, hit this."
I point to the vent fuel selection on the computer in front of him, then hit it.
"Then select which is the problem area. It will be highlighted in red."
The man looks at me, bewildered, then his anger resumes. He storms off.
I turn back to the pilot in the TIE suit.
"Not real enough. He probably would have gotten run over, or suffocated."
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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 12, 2005 22:24:29 GMT -5
"Your pilots should go through hazard training. Or get a "baptisim by fire." Low-danger though. Against uglies, with support craft waiting."
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Post by Wedge Antilles on Dec 12, 2005 22:28:11 GMT -5
"Exactly, it would be highlighted in red. The thing you just simulated involved no alert, no alarm, no visual evidence or change in the flight control. It was plainly smoke, and there was no way for him to tell that quickly what to do. There's quite a difference from having the cockpit fill up with the engine smoke and having a smoke grenade thrown in your cockpit. Plus in a real situation he wouldn't have a grizzly man staring in his face and barking strange things at him.
Thank you very much for ruining this simulation for him, and you've just started yourself off negative."
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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 12, 2005 22:32:58 GMT -5
"In a real situation, he probably would have died. I've had plenty of fuel leaks, and they all involved no alarm, no warning. Just instinct and guts got me through it. You are raising a crop of lambs, and the empire's wolves will have no problem destroying them. You need hard men for a hard time."
I walk off, then look back.
"In space, there is no warning. Just alot of dying. I will come back when ya'll decide to train your boys to be killers, not rely on "simulators" and their computers."
I then walk out of the room.
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Post by Wedge Antilles on Dec 12, 2005 22:43:09 GMT -5
*Two TIE simulators hiss open and some laughing pilots walk up to the one sternly staring at a doorway.*
"What's wrong, Boss?"
"Nothing, I just sometimes wonder if the Empire's morals are beggining to mix with our's . . . I certainly hope not. How'd you guys do?"
"Haha, the two of us scored almost a whole squadren before the Boss and his wingman zapped us. He gave us quite the uglies."
*He winces* "Bad?"
"Yeah, slaughter. After all, it is the first week. Remember?"
"All too well . . ."
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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 12, 2005 22:44:27 GMT -5
(non-rp) (wolves man, wolves) (;D)
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Post by Wedge Antilles on Dec 12, 2005 22:46:04 GMT -5
(We like to keep the training casualties down . . . We don't do it like the empire, and it's been successful so far.)
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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 12, 2005 22:49:40 GMT -5
(hire a hobo to jump on the canopy every now and then. That'll freak em' out. or he can walk by, demanding change for cleaning their windsheild.)
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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 12, 2005 23:02:38 GMT -5
I walk outside of the sim room, striding into a nearby cantina. The bartender gives me a scowl, and I return it.
"whiskey."
I continue to stare at the bartender, and he does the same. Then we both break off, laughing. he slaps me on the back, and hands me the drink.
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Post by Wedge Antilles on Dec 12, 2005 23:12:23 GMT -5
Still in his flight suit, Tycho strides into the bar and approaches the ragged stranger. He simply glares at him and speaks.
"I really hope that is not your strategy for moving up in the ranks. I don't care how much of a hotshot you are, out here you follow the orders of your superior or people die. Now are you going to join the Starfighter Corps. or washout early and find another arrangment?"
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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 12, 2005 23:18:41 GMT -5
"Didn't I already tell ya'? I'm not gonna go into the starfighter corps unless you turn those sheep into wolves. I'm no use to ya'll there. Put me in infantry. I've had my fair share of gun battles with the imps."
I raise the glass to my lips, then drink.
(gotta go, see ya tomorrow.)
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Post by Wedge Antilles on Dec 13, 2005 16:35:08 GMT -5
(Sorry if I was unclear, I'm in the sim.)
*Wedge sticks close to the carrier as the rest of the fighters launch. He sees six Corvette-sized ships deploying fighters. As they form up, one squadren for each carrier, he notices they are uglies, ships made with strange combinations of parts.*
"All squadrens form up, S-foils in attack position!"
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Post by Wedge Antilles on Dec 13, 2005 16:56:10 GMT -5
(whoops . . .)
*Tycho nods and enters a few things into his datapd.*
"Alright. Best of luck then, wherever you end up. May the force be with you."
*He leaves for the sim room.*
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Post by Hettar Magruder on Dec 13, 2005 16:57:39 GMT -5
I take another sip of the whiskey, and it burns it's way down my throat, stopping when it hits my stomach.
"Thank you-
I look at the man's nametag-
"(rank) Celchu(sp?). You want one of your groundpounders to check me out first? Where do I need to go?"
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Post by Wedge Antilles on Dec 13, 2005 17:02:25 GMT -5
"Madine's office is already being notified, and they are usually pretty lenient. You could be seeing action at any time, really. The next transport out of here is in twelve hours, and the next one three Coruscant days after that."
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