The year is 1990. In 1989, the Soviet Union launched a lightning war on NATO. In just a few months, they managed to seize Norway, Sweden, Denmark, Iceland, as well as all of the Rhine–Meuse–Scheldt Delta and a part of Bavaria. Desperate, NATO signed a white peace, allowing the USSR to hold onto their freshly gained territories. It wouldn’t last long, however.

After being unable to prove themselves sufficiently to their allies, America loses the confidence of their overseas allies, and drifts into isolation, leaving NATO. In the wake of Russian overextension, the world market collapses, and the Soviet Union fragments, as does the rest of Eastern Europe.

The Berlin Wall falls, but each side meets the other with arms, wanting to shape the country in their image. Due to the lack of western unified strength, no one country stands ready to restore order, and all of Europe lights ablaze. NATO can only interdict, their own squadrons being insufficiently sized to project power over every theater. Russia is stuck reorganizing itself, entire divisions and air wings go rogue, for one reason or another. Border conflicts are small, but the age of the jet continues to change everything.

Most smaller air forces are insufficient, allowing mercenary groups to pop up in every conflict, acquiring planes from derelict stockpiles the world over. You were in flight lessons at the time, with dreams of flying commercial. With the market crash, however, your eyes drift to the news coming out of the skies of Europe.

You could’ve chosen any other life, been a good husband to any, worked any other honest job. But you differ from your peers, a young man, in search of glory and wealth. You take newspaper clippings and any information you can get on how to get into the fight. It’s taken some time to finally get your instrument rating and hours, the basic requirement for any mercenary air wing in need of warm bodies to put in cockpits, but you’re finally ready. With your loans weighing the back of your mind, you prepare an application packet, and hope they’ll take you.

Name
>[Write-In]

Nationality
>[American]
>[English]
>[West German]
>[Russian]

Conflict
>[Central Europe]
>[Balkan]
>[Nordic]
>[Baltic]

Alignment
>[NATO-backed]
>[WARPAC Remnants]
>[Rogue Nation]

Name
>Alex Wendell

Nationality
>English

Conflict
>Balkan

Alignment
>Rogue Nation

I hope this is good.

God, I would love to see ourself use an English Electric Lightning. They retired in 1988 in our timeline, but I am sure that in this alternate timeline, even some older yet speedy fighters can be of use. I suppose we shall see...

>>6229631 (OP)
>Zachary O'Callahan
>American
>Nordic
>Rogue Nation

Name
>Manfred Hartmann
Nationality
>Argentinian
Conflict
>Central Europe
Alignment
>Rogue Nation
Sieg Heil

>>6229631 (OP)
Name
>Arthur Kay
Nationality
>British
Conflict
>Nordic
Alignment
>NATO-backed

>>6229631 (OP)
Name
>Yurii Televenko

Nationality
>[Russian]

Conflict
>[Baltic]

Alignment
>[NATO-backed]

>>6229631 (OP)
>Name
William Eugen

>Nationality
East German

>Conflict
Central Europe

>Alignment
WARPAC Remnant

We can defect later. Let's secure that sweet sweet MiG-29 first.

>>6229631 (OP)
A combination of >>6229651 and >>6229726 seems fun, After all East Germans can be characterized as both communists and Nazis. How about

Manfred Eugen
East German, former Stasi informant against his squadron.
Central European conflict
Rogue group backed by Argentinian Space-Nazis

>>6229827
Sounds crazy enough to fit in Ace Combat. I like it.

>>6229827
So damn goofy. Let's go for it.

>>6229642
+1, sounds cool as shit

>>6229651
>>6229827
+1

>>6229631 (OP)
Name
>Hyosuke Ito

Nationality
>Japanese

Conflict
>Pacific

Alignment
>Rouge Nation

我は官軍我敵は
天地容れざる朝敵ぞ

Character Loading…

…

…

…

Your Character:
[Manfred Eugen]
[East German]
[Central Europe]
[Rogue Nation]

The son of a coal miner and a librarian, Manfred Eugen came into the world on June 19th, 1970, in a small town in the German Democratic Republic. You found escape in the local aeronautical club from an early age. Air raid drills, classroom excellence, and the occasional jaunt around the countryside were synonymous with normal life, and it stayed this way until the year after you had finished with secondary school, when you went to work with your father to make ends meet with flight lessons.

You remember the columns of tanks rolling towards the border, the rationing, the victory, and then the chaos. You had dreams of the air force, but they dissolved after too many weeks of worrying for your family. Ends weren’t being met, and maybe if you risked it, you could help them more than how you already were. You left a note, and went quietly into the night. You silently promised yourself you’d see them again, under better circumstances.

In your search, you were hard pressed to find a reputable company worth working for. It wasn’t the guns and glamour you had dreamed of, but a job was a job, and you’d be damned if you traded the skies for the coal mines of East Germany. You’ve been contracted by…

Contractor
>[Wulfpak, a group backing the Independent East German Movement, a group seen as “rebels” by other nations. Always on the front, and always hurting for pilots.]
>[Der Valkyries, a small air wing supported by an unknown benefactor, fighting for the Entente, a faction made up of the U.K., France, and West Germany. You’d think they’d be NATO-backed, but they stay out of opportune conflicts, unnecessarily prolonging the war.]
>[Flaming Angels, backing the German Unification Front, who has declared a Fourth Reich, claiming parts of Czechoslovakia and Poland.]

You were told to show up to your local Aerodrome at 100 hours, bring only a change of clothes and an overnight bag. You stole through town, trying to make good time, but you daren’t use the family car for this one way trip. As you walk, the thought of money and debt comes back into your head. As a signing bonus, your company had given you a sum of money and a catalog to pick a starting aircraft. Most of it was cheap, American models that were improvements on each other, and were decades old at this point. But they still flew, and you’d need something to start in, anyhow.

Money in this quest will be handled in terms of “points.” You received 9 Points of money. Your current flight school debt is 1 point of money. If at any point, your debt is negatively equal to your money points, you will automatically spend all your current savings to clear your debt. Debt will appreciate if left unpaid. At any point where you spend or earn money, you may also send money back to your family.

Starter Aircraft
>AT-37 Dragonfly Trainer/Light Attack, 8 pts
>MiG-15bis, 8 pts
>F2H-2 Banshee, 8pts
>F-86A Sabre, 8 pts
>F9F-2 Panther, 7pts
>F-80C Shooting Star, 7pts
>AD-4 Skyraider, 7 pts
>F-84E Thunderjet, 8 pts
>F9F-6 Cougar, 9 pts
>Write-In [Beware, you may incur high debt]

Expenses
>Money Points: 9pts
>Family Donations: 0pts
>Personal Savings: 0pts
>Debt: -1pts

With your aircraft picked out, and your money worries subsiding as you focus on , you turn down an alleyway, close to the outskirts of town. Only a fool would want to stay out in the open, and risk getting caught, you’re almost there, you can taste the adventure-

“What are you doing out this late? Turn around, young man, and show me your identification.”

The voice came from above and behind you, a quick glance revealed a towering policewoman, features indiscernible in the night. Time is ticking, and you only have a moment to choose what to do.

You…
>Book it. You’ve stayed in shape, you can surely get out of this.
>Turn and comply. Maybe she’ll send you on your way?
>Freeze. You neither run, nor give into her demands.
>Write-in Dialogue

>>6230209

Cannot wait for the mig 21
> Der valkyries
> Mig 15 bis
> Book it

>>6230209
>[Wulfpak, a group backing the Independent East German Movement, a group seen as “rebels” by other nations. Always on the front, and always hurting for pilots.]
>F9F-2 Panther, 7pts
>Turn and comply. Maybe she’ll send you on your way?
Book it if things look sour.

>>6230209
>[Der Valkyries, a small air wing supported by an unknown benefactor, fighting for the Entente, a faction made up of the U.K., France, and West Germany. You’d think they’d be NATO-backed, but they stay out of opportune conflicts, unnecessarily prolonging the war.]
If the mystery men behind this company AREN'T going to do some fucked up warcrime shit to ensure this conflict gets out of control for money or power I would be shocked.

>>Write-In [Beware, you may incur high debt]
>Horten Ho 229
A ww2 jet wing that only has a couple cannons and no missiles or modern countermeasures? What sort of dipshit would fly one of these? It'll be dirt cheap at least. Maybe we could drill some holes in it and stuff some flares in at least. Upgrades, people.

>Book it. You’ve stayed in shape, you can surely get out of this.
A woman? We gotta get out of here guys.

>>6230209
>Der Valkyries, a small air wing supported by an unknown benefactor, fighting for the Entente, a faction made up of the U.K., France, and West Germany.
We all love mysterious benefactors, though I think the original Entente would have conniptions about Germany being here. I predict some tasty future drama with these guys.
>AD-4 Skyraider, 7 pts
Fighters are so overdone, I want to pound that ground. Vote Spad!
>Book it. You’ve stayed in shape, you can surely get out of this.
uh oh, vroom

>>6230209
>Flaming Angels
>AD-4 Skyraider
>Write-in Dialogue
Turn and say that we are a pilot, and have an early morning flight to prepare for. The best lie has a kernel of truth.

>>6230209
>[Wulfpak, a group backing the Independent East German Movement, a group seen as “rebels” by other nations. Always on the front, and always hurting for pilots.]
I'm the guy who originally voted for Argentinian Nazi, but the Flaming Angels is a bit too much. They're going to get blown to hell for declaring the Fourth Reich right away.
I don't like the Valkyries since whatever they're planning probably won't be good for Germany in the long-term.
Inb4 they're old royalists trying to rebuild their empires.
>MiG-15bis
MiG my love.
>Book it. You’ve stayed in shape, you can surely get out of this.
Gotta go fast.

>>6230209
>Wulfpack
>MiG-15bis
>Write in: "Apologies officer, I have an early morning flight to attend." (Hand over identification papers)

You guys do remember that East German police had guns, right? If we run she'll shoot us and then we won't be able to fly.

>>6230209
>[Flaming Angels, backing the German Unification Front, who has declared a Fourth Reich, claiming parts of Czechoslovakia and Poland.]
>AD-4 Skyraider, 7 pts
>Turn and comply. Maybe she’ll send you on your way?
baby A-10 time

>>6230209
>[Der Valkyries,
>MiG-15bis, 8 pts
>Turn and comply. Maybe she’ll send you on your way?

>>6230209
>Wulfpak
>AD-4 Skyraider
>Turn and say that we are a pilot, and have an early morning flight to prepare for. The best lie has a kernel of truth.
I hope we can stick a stuka siren on our plane too to honour grandpa.

>>6230209
>Wulfpak
solely on the basis of "Der Valkyries" being flagrant butchery of "die Walküren"
>F-84E Thunderjet
Certified Alexander Kartveli banger.
>Turn and comply. Maybe she’ll send you on your way?
we're good boy and dindu nuffin (yet)

>>6230209
>[Der Valkyries, a small air wing supported by an unknown benefactor, fighting for the Entente, a faction made up of the U.K., France, and West Germany.]
So… war profiteering? Works for us.
>F-86A Sabre, 8 pts
>Write-in Dialogue
>>6230226
+1

Rolled 3, 3 = 6 (2d4)

Roll 1 Tiebreaking MiG-15/AD-4 at Odd/Even
Roll 2 Tiebreaking Der Valkyries/Wulfpak at Odd/Even

>>6230869
F for our ground pounding homies

>>6230877
Migs are pretty gay ngl. RIP the dream.

Contractor
[Der Valkyries]
Aircraft Chosen
[MiG-15bis]
Debt
[0pts]
Savings
[0pts]

Ah, the MiG-15. You remember seeing them and their brothers in training flights overhead. There was many an afternoon in which you sat with friends, lazing on hillsides, and looking to the sky as they practiced. You would point, and promise the others, saying that would be you someday.

You snap out of your daydream. Fingers fumble for your papers, your pilot’s license among them. As you turn your back to the path you were taking, you hear footsteps. Another officer, cutting off the escape, backing her up. If you had tried to run, they would’ve been on you in moments, you realize.

“I-I’m headed to the a-aerodrome,” you manage to say. She takes the identification. Slitted eyes, hidden underneath her cap, look through your things. She doesn’t speak for a moment, reading, looking to you, then back to your papers, and repeat. “I wanted to-” She holds her hand up, halting you. You look closer at her uniform. It bears no rank, just a flat, grey coat. Your breath hitched.

“Mr. Eugen… Yes, I remember you. The little boy, in his little aeroplane…” She looked hungry, like she was searching between the lines of your identification like something was hidden, that would give them reason to arrest you. “Germany’s next top flyer, for sure.” She hands you back your things. You stuff them deep in your coat, afraid to let them go until your license and documents are deep in a pocket. “This hour isn’t safe. Saboteurs and enemies of the State roam around this time. No more early flights, understood?”

“Of course-” You nod rapidly, and she waves you off. “Be safe, then.” You make your way past the other policewoman, leering at you. You give a polite not, but when they’re out of sight, you break into a run through the fields towards the airstrip. When you chose the MiG, you had had just enough to pay your debt after making your choice, and you chuckled with glee. You ran under the moonlight like a free man.

Your first mission was to make it to Der Valkyries’ base alive, plane intact. But they had wanted to test you, make sure you wouldn’t simply go rogue once you got your hands on the stick, and the air under your wings. You had to choose from the options they gave you…

Mission Type:
>Recon Interception (Easy)
>Strike Interdiction (Medium)
>Combat Air Patrol (Hard)
>Ground Attack (Can Write-in Easy, Medium, or Hard for this)
>Write-in

Der Valkyries covered the gas and ammo, and gave you the choice of what to bring. Depending on the mission, you had to watch your weight.

Loadout
Payload Weight
>Clean (No Payload)
>Medium (Situational Payload)
>Dirty (Heavy Payload)

Payload Preference
>Bombs
>Large Rockets
>Rocket Pods
>Fuel Tanks
>None

You had barely seen the interior of one of these planes before, and as you approached the hangar, a wooden, dilapidated thing in need, yours came into view. It had been left running, practically warmed up for you. A fuel truck stood nearby, indicating things had already happened to prepare this plane before you arrived. A single technician, armed with a gun slung over her shoulder beckoned for your papers over the whine of the engine. Nervously, you protruded them for a second time that night, and when things were in order, she led you to the cockpit.

She pointed out the indicators. Altitude, attitude, heading, altimeter, the list went on for another minute. She pointed out the throttle, flaps, and the fuel. Everything else would be up to you to figure out, however. She gave you your flight plan, and the thick operator’s manual, and you eased into the seat. She wasn't even around to taxi you, having already disappeared into the night, taking the truck with her.

You eased on the throttle nervously, turning onto the runway. You punched it, and worked the plane up into the air.

How hard could it be?

>>6230898
>TWO women cops
How the hell did we survive that?

>>6230901
>>Strike Interdiction (Medium)

>Medium (Situational Payload)

>Fuel Tanks
Use the extra fuel to burn harder to get to engagement faster, more time to get their strike craft out of the air. Push the frame hard, but not so hard as to overheat before we even see any action. Shame the 15bis doesn't have an afterburner, then we could really haul ass. But having the extra fuel to get there means we can use more throttle for longer to do maneuvers in combat as well.

>>6230901
>Strike Interdiction (Medium)
The Mig-15 was designed as an interceptor, it was made for this. While it was meant to shoot down heavy bombers, it can prey on strike aircraft just as well.
>Medium (Situational Payload)
>Fuel Tanks
Hopefully these are drop tanks so we can jettison these for the combat after using the fuel for extra loiter time and to burn harder for the target We need the extra speed and agility in this museum piece if we might be encountering significantly technologically superior aircraft.

>>6230879
This is ultimately just our starter aircraft, I imagine we'll be trading up from this hunk of junk fairly soon. While I doubt we'll see the Ho, there are many cool attack and bomber aircraft of the Cold War on the list to choose from in the future.

>>6230901
All these chicks. Should have hit on one of them.

>Recon Interception (Easy)
>Clean (No Payload)
>None

>>6230903
To be fair I never expected the Horten to get any traction. Dumb thing barely had a functioning prototype. It would have been sick as a ground attacker had it been completed. I was 100% in it for kraut space magic aesthetic. kek Flying wings are so cool looking. I am a huge fan of American ground attack aircraft, too. They are also cool as fuck. Primarily because they all look so meaty and imposing. They look substantial. And the truly ABSURD amount of ordinance that American air doctrine slaps onto things delights my heart.

I do look forward to updates and upgrades. It always feels good to iterate.

>>6230909
Ordnance, you say?
I have glimpsed The List of aircraft and we are quite spoiled for choice
Wit enough cash, we could be dropping 60,000lb of pain, making supersonic special deliveries or listening to the song of a GAU-8 someday

>>6230901
>Recon Interception (Easy)
We’re just getting started.
>Medium (Situational Payload)
>Fuel Tanks

>>6230901
>Strike Interdiction (Medium)
>Medium (Situational Payload)
>Fuel Tanks

>>6230922
The REAL pipe dream is air dueling a nuclear powered fighter-bomber armed with gauss cannons in our custom designed twin-avenger-toting hyper-interceptor over an apocalyptic hellscape while debating ideals on open comms neither of us are surviving and it's all to settle the score

Truly the US air force is something special.
>"Oh you want an interceptor? Cool well let's just take off the ten thousand pounds of rockets and guided bombs from this and there you go."
>"CAS? Just put some AtG missiles onto our workhorse."
>"HEAVY CAS? For sure, take this gun with wings. Fuck it, put an entire bus' worth of weight in extra shit on it, too. It'll fly."
>"A bomber? Well you'll have to be specific, you want it fast with a scary bomb or slow with an entire supply depot worth of ordinance stuffed into it?"
>"Scout craft? Huh? Well, we have this old crop duster that has a radar dish on it, that work for you? Might we interest you in this flying E-WAR suite instead though? It also has missiles. Come on, take it."
Just do a line of coke and think "boom". It's great.

>>6230901
This: >>6230928
Let's keep things simple for now.

>>6230901
>Strike Interdiction
>Medium
>None

>>6230956
I had no idea Raith Sienar was based on an American.

>>6230964
Build me some shit, spaceman. Make it scream as it flies. WWWWOOOAAAAAHHHHHHMMMMM. He might make deathtraps but at least they're iconic. I always thought he had more in common with Japanese design philosophy of WW2.

>>6230901
>Ground Attack (Medium)
>Dirty (Heavy Payload)
>Bombs

>>6230901
>Strike Interdiction (Medium)
>Medium (Situational Payload)
>Fuel Tanks

>>6230901
>Recon Interception (Easy)
>Clean (No Payload)

Rolled 3 (1d4)

Roll 1 Tiebreaking Interception/Interdiction at Odd/Even

>>6231384
Disregard, mild bout of Schizophrenia. Strike Interdiction won.

You took a deep breath. This was just another solo. A solo with guns on the front this time.... The whine of the jet whistled outside, and the countryside rolled down below, the terrain all mixtures of grey and black. Tracers ripped, far below, miles away. Ground combat, you ascertained. You weren’t in your sleepy little village anymore.

You practiced adjusting your eyes by working on the shapes that formed around you, trying to sharpen them, so your “night vision,” could be better used.

Your Vision was… (Roll 1d10)
>Excellent (1-2.4 AVG)
>Average (2.5-9.4 AVG)
>Poor (9.5-10 AVG)

Eyesight still worked, at least. Better than being blind, anyhow. You took a few more deep breaths, trying to keep your blood flowing at altitude. A free hand tightened your jacket, trying to keep the heat in. As the prospect of combat drew nearer, you practiced your breathing some more.

Your Fitness was… (Roll 1d10)
>Excellent (1-3.4 AVG)
>Average (3.5-8.4 AVG)
>Poor (8.5-10 AVG)

Exercises out of the way, the very thought of shooting someone down made you giddy once more, but it was quickly overcome with the fear of being shot down yourself.

Your Confidence was… (Roll 1d10)
>Excellent (1-3.4 AVG)
>Average (3.5-8.4 AVG)
>Poor (8.5-10 AVG)

(For anyone confused, roll 3d10 to determine stats, rolls will be averaged)

[Starting Fuel]: 5
Almost a half-hour into the flight, your tanks emptied. You let them free, and they fell to the earth. You would have substantially more time over the area, and you breathed a sigh of relief. (+50 Fuel)
[Current Fuel]: 55

You had picked something simple, relatively. You weren’t sure how your employer got this information, though. Flight plans, target, ETA, it was all there. They would be somewhere around 4000FT. A strike craft, with its escort. You had to damage it enough for it to wave off, or shoot it down entirely.

There would be a flight nearby, taking photos of any incurred damage, but they weren’t your focus. You put yourself on a heading and counted the minutes.

You leveled off at…
>3000FT (+2 Fuel)
>4000FT (+0 Fuel)
>5000FT (-2 Fuel)
>6000FT (-4 Fuel)
>Write-In (Must be in 1000s of feet) (+/- Fuel will be determined based on altitude)

You fiddled with the throttle a bit, holding the operator’s manual in your lap, reading the critical bits of information you’d need to stay alive. You looked at the ammunition counter. You only had a few bursts, so you’d have to be smart, and make them count.

[Ammunition Total]: 3

Not before long, you came over the area. The ground below was alive with tracers, little flashes in the dark. You looked at the enemy’s projected flight plan once more. They were somewhere off your nose, in the dark. It was a clear night, the moon still giving a bit of visibility.

Looking for your target, you searched…
>Your front
>Your front-left
>Your front-right
(Choose up to 2 options)

You heard the low hums, but couldn’t see them… Not yet.

Rolled 6, 7, 3 = 16 (3d10)

>>6231481
>6000FT (-4 Fuel)
Stay high, stay out of sight and get ready to dive.
>Your front-left
>Your front-right
We have to find a target in the dark with no radar? Urk.

Rolled 6, 1, 4 = 11 (3d10)

>>6231481
>6000FT (-4 Fuel)
>Your front-left
>Your front-right

Rolled 4, 9, 3 = 16 (3d10)

>>6231481
Flight Level:
>3000FT (+2 Fuel)

Search:
>Your front-left
>Your front-right

We don't have a radar or missiles, so let's keep low to avoid detection and keep our heads on a swivel.

OP will rolls be the average of all replies, or a limited number?

Rolled 4, 7, 4 = 15 (3d10)

>>6231481
>3000FT (+2 Fuel)
>Your front-left
>Your front-right

>>6231522
All. Have faith, surely you'll all average out.

>>6231527
I'm not really sure what the point of rolling for it is then since the chances of getting anything outside of a narrow median range is statistically very small considering the number of replies this vote should get.

Rolled 9, 4, 3 = 16 (3d10)

>>6231481
>>6000FT (-4 Fuel)
Altitude is potential speed. Speed is evasion and attack. And we brought extra fuel, may as well use it. And hey, if they attack us, we'll see them pretty quick! kek

>Your front-left
>Your front-right
Lots of open sky.

>>6231527
>inb4 below average in everything except confidence

>>6231481
Are you the same QM as the other Ace Combat quest?

>>6231587
I am not

Rolled 9, 9, 1 = 19 (3d10)

>>6231481
>>5000FT (-2 Fuel)
>Your front-left
>Your front-right

Rolled 4, 5, 10 = 19 (3d10)

>>6231481
>6000FT (-4 Fuel)
>Your front
>Your front-left

Rolled 5, 6, 7 = 18 (3d10)

>>6231481
>6000FT (-4 Fuel)
>Your front-left
>Your front-right

>>6231481
>6000ft (-4 Fuel)
>Your front
>Your front-left

Rolled 9, 3, 1 = 13 (3d10)

>>6231888
whoops, fucked up the roll

Your head jerked back and forth, searching the sky. Shadow danced all around you. Movement off the nose. No, wait, no, was there something even there? You weren't sure. Then the enemy, down and off to the right!

It was a Panther. An F9F-2. You’d seen it in the catalog. Another relic from the American stockpiles. It was a bit over a kilometer away, soon to be crossing your nose. It headed onward at a diagonal, towards the target, which was ahead to the left. Unpainted, the moon's glint was easily seeable in the night, bouncing off its skin.

Strange, this didn't have any ordinance, it must've been the escort. You grit your teeth, it hadn't spotted you yet, else it would have engaged. You were above it, and must've blended in with the night sky. You still had the advantage, and could control how things went. You weren’t sure where the enemy attacker was, but this escort would be crossing your nose shortly.

You…
>Stayed above the escort, using its heading as a reference point to match your vector and find the attacker, and attack that!
>Dived onto the escort. Maybe if you wounded it, it would wave off, and you'd have some breathing room to find his buddy, still out there, somewhere.


You had to control your breathing through the first turn. You weren’t used to the G-forces. Your free hand rested on the throttle, gripping it and the stick tight.
[Current Fuel]: 51
The power setting was on…
>Military (-1 Fuel)
>Normal (-0.5 Fuel)
>Idle (-0 Fuel)

When you came in for the attack, anticipation drove you wild, but you kept yourself controlled. You shivered, the altitude getting to you. For some reason, your back remained hot and slick, the stress causing you to sweat profusely. As you dove, freezing droplets ran up your brow, your eyes sizing the Panther. You must've looked mad.

You waited to get close. You had the privilege of coming up right on the six, and you didn’t dare waste it.
[Total Ammunition]: 3


Your burst was… (Roll 1d10, DC 4 or less)
>A Full-pull (Uses 1 Ammunition per Attack)
>A Half-pull (Uses 0.5 Ammunition, lowers personal DC roll from 4 to 3)
(A single player DC roll must succeed on either kind of pull for it to be considered a hit, other players do not need to roll if their voted pull has already succeeded. If the DC has been met, see below, instead of hitting, players who have yet to respond will be rolling damage after a hit is confirmed.)

You looked back for a moment, to see if you had done any damage.
(Roll 1d10 only if a hit has already succeeded. The highest player roll will count.)

After the attack, you…
>Slipped into the night, trying to lose the escort before reengaging
>Turned to engage the escort
>Turned to engage the strike craft
>Climbed to prepare another attack
>Continued diving, building speed to prevent the counterattack
>Disappeared, to go find your base
(Any reasonable combination of the above maneuvers allowed)
>Write-In any maneuvers you'd like to attempt (GLOC/Disorientation possible)

Also, forgot to mention;
>Average Vision
>Average Fitness
>Average Confidence
Not much special or bad about Manfred. But that's okay, most are average anyways.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>6232079
>Stayed above the escort, using its heading as a reference point to match your vector and find the attacker, and attack that!
>Idle (-0 Fuel)
>A Half-pull (Uses 0.5 Ammunition, lowers personal DC roll from 4 to 3)
>Slipped into the night, trying to lose the escort before reengaging

Rolled 3 (1d10)

>>6232079
>Stayed above the escort, using its heading as a reference point to match your vector and find the attacker, and attack that!

>Idle (-0 Fuel)

>A Full-pull (Uses 1 Ammunition per Attack)

>Slipped into the night, trying to lose the escort before reengaging
>Continued diving, building speed to prevent the counterattack
Boom and zoom. Use the speed to disengage and get separation. All we need to do is knock out the primary target. Once we're sure we did we can think about taking on the escorts or just bailing.

>>6232118
Full-pull burst attack succeeds! Any subsequent full-pull voters can now start rolling for damage. Half-pull voters still need to roll to hit until their hit succeeds.

>>6232119
Does damage follow the same rolling standard or is it high=good instead?

>>6232120
High = Good. Since you've rolled to hit, however, you cannot roll for damage. Good job, though!

Rolled 2 (1d10)

>>6232079
>>Stayed above the escort, using its heading as a reference point to match your vector and find the attacker, and attack that!
>Military (-1 Fuel)
>A Full-pull (Uses 1 Ammunition per Attack)
>Turned to engage the escort

Where the hell did everybody go? kek

>>6232303
Not sure, I'm sorry for the slow start. This is my first quest and I'm still figuring everything out :))

>>6232305
It happens. Some times people just poof for a minute. Could be a lot of morning/noon voters and fewer afternoon/evening voters. Don't worry about it.

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>6232079
>Military (-1 Fuel)
>A Half-pull
>Write-In any maneuvers you'd like to attempt
Climbing turn to engage the strike craft. Depending on the orientation, maybe a High Yo-Yo would be ideal.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>>6232079
this: >>6232323

Rolled 9 (1d10)

You…
>Stayed above the escort, using its heading as a reference point to match your vector and find the attacker, and attack that!
The power setting was on…
>Military (-1 Fuel)
Your burst was…
>A Full-pull (Uses 1 Ammunition per Attack)
After the attack, you…
>Continued diving, building speed to prevent the counterattack

>>6232563
A full-pull attack confirmed with good damage, this will lock in unless half-pull manages to score a hit and damage, and has greater votes.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

Rolling Climb/Dive tiebreaker at Odd/Even

You follow the escort, banking to the slight left. Then, just ahead, you spot it. Another Panther, this one equipped with plenty of rockets. It’s a risky move, but you come screaming out of the sky, just off the escort’s wing. You power through, throttle locked at MIL. (-1 Fuel) The earth comes up at you, as you put the tail of your enemy in your sights. You inhale, hold, pull trigger, exhale.

Twin 23mm and a single stream of 37mm tracers rip through the centerline of the aircraft, then you dive below it. Behind you, it bursts into flames and lumbers towards the ground. You don’t keep your head turned around long enough to see the crash, but you heard the low roar as something exploded.

[KILL CONFIRMED]
Kill Tally: 1

Your airspeed rises, almost reaching red. You keep going. The tracers rip around you, the escort you passed, finally catching up, overshoots. It chases you, firing, then crossing to your left. You don’t pull into it, instead continuing to speed away. (-1 Fuel)

[Current Fuel]: 49

Dawn is starting to break, and as you look back and right to the burning wreckage, miles away, the glint of another fighter comes into view. A wingman! Coming to help the Panther who was back and to your left. You reassessed the situation, if you turned to engage, the wingman would surely catch you in its guns, having lost all your energy. You knew they wouldn’t be able to out-speed you, but if you dared to turn back now, you’d lose all energy, and be caught up in their game, not yours.

You…
>Disengaged. You weren’t sure if more were coming, and even with the extra fuel, you wanted to land safely. You got a lucky kill, you weren’t ready for the rigors of air dueling.
>Turned to engage. You had fire in your soul. That was enough to match your enemy!

Something on the avionics panel blinked, then you saw it. Your radio! You hadn’t noticed the headset in the night, hidden behind part of the cockpit paneling, but something was hailing you now, and you donned it the headset.

“-on Manta 2, let’s-.... turning, these kids don’t know when to quit… Hang on… I think they’re listening.”

A female voice, calm and collected, spoke to her wingwoman, the escort who had just missed you. Your chest heaved, your lungs in your throat. You tasted blood. The sun glared into your right eye. The sun was rising.

“Manta 1, he’s right there! Go and get him!”

“Shut up-! ….Oh little pig~ I can see you now, are you listening? That was some show you put on! Sneaking up on us like that, well done! Please, come back and play… I’ve been waiting for more fresh meat to butcher!”

Her voice was sick and sultry, full of malice.

You…
>Clicked the receiver, and held a heading that kept you close, but out of interception range. (Write-In Dialogue)
>Continued your heading silently, not acknowledging the strange voice on the radio at all.
>Wagged your wings, showing you could hear, but didn’t respond.

>>6232686
>Disengaged. You weren’t sure if more were coming, and even with the extra fuel, you wanted to land safely. You got a lucky kill, you weren’t ready for the rigors of air dueling.
>Continued your heading silently, not acknowledging the strange voice on the radio at all.

>>6232686
>>Disengaged. You weren’t sure if more were coming, and even with the extra fuel, you wanted to land safely. You got a lucky kill, you weren’t ready for the rigors of air dueling.
Lightning strikes and vanishes in a calamitous sound. No bottle can catch it.

>>Clicked the receiver, and held a heading that kept you close, but out of interception range. (Write-In Dialogue)
>"Auf wiedersehen"
It's rude not to say goodbye.

Not really, let's get outta here!

>Continued your heading silently, not acknowledging the strange voice on the radio at all.

>>6232686
>Disengaged. You weren’t sure if more were coming, and even with the extra fuel, you wanted to land safely. You got a lucky kill, you weren’t ready for the rigors of air dueling.
>Continued your heading silently, not acknowledging the strange voice on the radio at all.
Mission accomplished, let's get out of heeeeeere. I'm not interested in ye olde trope of rival enemy ace pilots who keep showing up to be fought repeatedly and annoyingly. I will note though that we are actually the superior aircraft here with greater agility and speed than the F9F so we can both outrun and out-turn them, but I don't fancy the skill matchup here with us still a rookie on their first mission and Migs For Dummies on our lap.

>>6232729
Repeat antags in a flight combat game is probably the most realistic thing though. If you don't immediately blow them up without warning or nail them in the cockpit they'll probably successfully eject. And shooting pilots bailing from their aircraft is a warcrime. Also a little hard to do. I'm sure we will never commit a single war crime.

>>6232726
Anon, are you combining both interactions, to speak before continuing in silence? Just want to make sure I'm understanding it right.

>>6232749
Pilots do have decent odds to survive being shot down, though raking the cockpit with bullets or scoring a centre mass hit with a missile should be game over for any pilot without the plot armour designated nemeses have. It's not inconceivable that we could meet enemies on more than one occasion but it's a big sky with many thousands of pilots so continually bumping into the same person and being the one to repeatedly shoot them down with them escaping alive every time would start to get contrived.
That said, this is literally our first outing and it's a bit soon to introduce a serious recurring antagonist, no?

>>6232789
Nah I was just being silly. I'm voting to leave quietly. I feel like our boy is a bit too jittery and high strung to be quipping at the mo.

>>6232793
Oh I just meant in comparison to other forms of warfare. The likelihood of finding recurring opponents in descending order is air/armored/naval/ground as far as I can tell. For naval warfare it's more that sinking a ship can take potentially years to replace so it's just less likely to see them, even if they have decent odds of survival in the modern era with all the safety and detection advancements that have been made. Armored combat has slightly less odds of survival but that's more because of getting shot to hell bailing out of a borked tank than it is a catastrophic failure of safety features. Otherwise the majority of the crew is probably fine or only moderately injured after taking a hit that effectively removes the vehicle from the playing field.

And while it is maybe a bit quick to have a designated antag, it never hurts to introduce characters in general. Besides, they may get hit with a Sparrow the very next mission after all. I think the guy in the strike craft is fucking dead though. Straight up perforated the centerline up the fuselage. Probably has a few holes in his back, armored seat or no.

>>6232815
Come think of it, considering the boneyards and storehouses are being emptied of all their old junk, someone in this war is probably going to suffer the terrible ignominy of being shot down by a Blowpipe

>>6232823
Maybe there's an arcade wizard out there good enough with a joystick to make that shot. A real cabinet hero.

>>6232686
>>Continued your heading silently, not acknowledging the strange voice on the radio at all.

>>6232686
>Disengaged.
>Continued your heading silently, not acknowledging the strange voice on the radio at all.
Enemy ground control radio direction finding gear. Don't respond to trolls.

Going to start experimenting with the formatting tools due to being new. This is a test. :)

You checked your map, you were headed in the right direction. The skies were clear, and as you sped away, you could hear the last of the enemy’s cries, growing weaker as you made distance.

“Damn-....-Come back and-...”

Then, nothing. It was peaceful for another hour. You watched the sun rise, keeping low to the earth. You had tangled, albeit for a brief moment, with the enemy, and lived! You chuckled, petting the metal frame of your MiG.

Then you laughed, and hollered, screaming to yourself, no one else knowing your glee. The plane had seen you through it, and you were grateful. Grateful to be alive. Grateful to still be on your way to something new, astounded at your own ability. You’d be coming up on the airfield soon. Your new home.

The radio crackled to life, breaking the silence, taking you out of the dream. Back to reality.

“...-kyrie Tower to Eugen. We’re tracking you inbound. Nobody else in the pattern, boy. Go ahead and bring him in easy.”

You wondered at how they knew it was you. There was a logical explanation, one too far for your strained mind to reach now.

You brought her in, as easy as you could…
>Roll 1d10, DC 7-10 to land safely, DC 3-6 to land and damage something, DC 1-2 to fuck up your landing. Highest roll will be counted.

“...I’ve seen better, I’ve seen worse, kid. Hangar 4.”

You took instruction from the tower on where to park, and shut down the engine. The whining that had been in the back of your mind for hours now had disappeared. Life was so very quiet. Long off, the dull roar of a jet echoed. You shivered uncontrollably, all the excitement coming down to a halt.

You were already longing for that fleeting feeling again. That dance on the knife edge, another kill. The way the Panther had limped and burned flashed in your mind. You wanted it again, you wanted… some fucking water, and a bite to eat. Fingers fumbled for the latch, pushing it open, your body finally regulating its movements.

When you tried to exit, your legs wouldn’t move at first. They almost stuck to the pedals, like magnets. You reached for the open side, trying to drag yourself up and out. Your legs wobbled, and went weak underneath you. You almost slipped and hit your head, but you didn’t. A gruff technician already had a ladder set and took you by your armpits, looping her elbows under them.

You let out a sigh. Hair had clumped to your forehead, and your eyes closed for a second while you were lifted. For a moment, you were back home. It was a late summer evening, years ago. You had stayed out all night, looking at the stars. Your father carried you to bed, your head resting on his shoulder, then. You wished for it again. Someday.

Your legs dangled, and clumsily found their way out. Then, you realized what your face was actually resting against, and your legs had no problem standing you upright. Embarrassed, you planted your feet on the wing, extending your arms away from her, leaning back. You pulled from her chest, and she could instantly see your look, and stammered to explain herself.

“I-I just meant to catch you, h-honest!”

Her arms popped out of rolled coverall sleeves, a sign of abundant strength. Broad shoulders, imposing figure, you had to avert your eyes, before you blushed harder. She mumbled under her breath, a moment, before addressing you.

“They didn’t say Eugen was a man… I-I’m Rika, one of the mechanics. Here, let me help you!”

She eased you off the wing and onto the ladder, making sure you could get down it yourself, before planting her hands on her hips.

“They told me to tell you-”

Rika pointed to the far corner of another hangar, across the runway, the doors to a small backshop were visible.

“Your crew chief is back there, he wanted to see you…”

She then points further down the tarmac to some buildings.

“But the ops center is over there, so’s the cafeteria! Oberst Hanna wanted to meet you, too, she mentioned. You’re the only newcomer this week. I don’t think you’d step on any toes if you did things how you wanted! Especially if they knew you were a man… Anyways, you’d better get going!”

She turned around, probably to make sure you hadn’t fucked up the inside of the cockpit, and you looked out to the flight line. It was a beautiful morning, you could tell, despite your worn condition. Oh well, plenty of things to do before you sleep.

You…
>Went to get breakfast. You needed some food in you before you could use any more brain power. With luck, you’d run into other pilots.
>Went to debriefing. You’d get to meet your commander, probably. It’d be good to get the formalities out of the way.
>Went to see your crew chief. The MiG was nice, but you wanted to know if anything else was available, better than that dated clunker.
>Write-In any dialogue you’d like to say to Rika before leaving.

Rolled 4 (1d10)

>>6233298

Rolled 9 (1d10)

>>6233298
>>6233300
>Went to see your crew chief. The MiG was nice, but you wanted to know if anything else was available, better than that dated clunker.

>>6233308
Nice, unfucked landing confirmed, players don't need to roll anymore. Get dem votes in!

>>6233298
>>6233300
>Went to debriefing. You’d get to meet your commander, probably. It’d be good to get the formalities out of the way.

Boss lady first, then we can find the chief and get some safety from all these lecherous women.

>>6233301
are you going to vote?

>>6233300
>>Went to debriefing. You’d get to meet your commander, probably. It’d be good to get the formalities out of the way.
It is good to be punctual. The faster we make a report the faster new plans can be made, or existing plans adjusted.

Also damn how bloody were the previous wars if they're surprised to see a dude behind the canopy? We need to get back in the sky. At least up there is a layer of steel, armored glass and a whole lotta sky and cloud to keep between us and them. Women scare me.

>>6233345
My most dedicated anon, my GOAT, you may find this timeline is alternate in more ways than one...

>>6233412
Father of God. kek

>>6233437

>>6233300
>Went to debriefing. You’d get to meet your commander, probably. It’d be good to get the formalities out of the way.
Get this out of the way while it's freshest

I guess we'll see her around. The real enemy secret weapon against young hotshot pilots - fit female mechanics

>>6233300
>Write-In any dialogue you’d like to say to Rika before leaving.
Yell out a thanks to Rika. Geez where are your manners, anons? Then
>Went to see your crew chief.
At least let him know nothing is out of order.

>>6233483
>Geez where are your manners, anons?
I left them in my other jumpsuit. The one we wear when we're killing people. Not the one we wear when we're full of spaghetti.

>>6233300
>>Went to debriefing. You’d get to meet your commander, probably. It’d be good to get the formalities out of the way.

>>6233300
Y'know with a name like Der Valkyries I should've seen a skewed gender ratio coming.

>Went to debriefing. You’d get to meet your commander, probably. It’d be good to get the formalities out of the way.

And just a quick thanks to Rika

“Thank you!” You gave Rika a wave, and set off, towards the ops center. She beamed you back a smile, which you nodded in response to. You had set the loaner down without any problems, anyhow. There wasn’t anything pressing to talk about, but you still dreamed of bigger, of better.

Operations was a white, crumbling building next to the control tower. Then you pieced it, they were all crumbling. This facility must’ve been on loan, it’s not like mercenaries cared to trim the weeds and cracking concrete.

A bomber crew, all clad in flight suits and jackets, eyed you up as you approached. They stood outside the entrance, on a break. Their cigarettes trailed slowly, the minds behind their eyes forgetting to inhale as they took you in instead. You had known of the world outside of your sleepy village, you had even seen it once, on a trip to Dresden.

Women towered over their male counterparts, were more capable, so society said. (The only other alternate aspect of this world besides Europe ablaze is that traditional gender roles are swapped, and women are taller and larger on average. I do not intend to elaborate deeply.)

>Elaborate deeply
>Don’t elaborate

You bared the crew a smile and hurried inside. The cool, conditioned office area beckoned a slight sigh of relief, and you turned to look at the interior. The main room was some sort of planning area, a solitary adjutant working on paperwork behind her desk. Unt. Schneider, her nameplate read.

Blonde, short hair did nothing to hide her blue eyes, and they looked up to meet yours.

“You must be Eugen.”

“Yes, I was told to-”

“Down the hall.”

She pointed, then went back to her work, quick to dismiss you.

As you walked, you passed some kind of grand control room, that seemed to connect to the tower. A dozen or so displays, each technician buzzing about, more talking and writing on the board. It fascinated you the moment you saw it, then continued on.

The noise of the control room was soon replaced by something else, an argument. Two voices shouted from behind the door at the end of the hall labeled Oberst Hanna. You took a seat, picking up on only what seemed to be the tail end of things.