It’s a week early, but who am I to question it? At least it dropped on a Friday, right? Anyway, standing behind Wargaming’s Art team are the people who make and edit WG’s promotional videos. This is a very well done video. If I hadn’t been playing the game for as long as I have, they could have even sold me on Saipan B.
Very well put together, especially if you’re not looking at this WG video with blood tinted glasses. So, am I going to buy the Yoshino B like I really, really, really want to?
No.
When all’s said and done I’ll never have a valid reason for purchasing a tier X ship from Wargaming directly, certainly not a variant. I don’t even like playing at that tier so why invest so much for so little value? In a few months I’ll have enough to buy the normal Yoshino with in-game currency, so that’s definitely the better option. Don’t get me wrong, the paint schemes are drop dead gorgeous on some of the ships. If this set came out a year ago, I might have grabbed Pommern B while I was at it.
Having said all of that, I’m probably going to get some of the Black Friday containers. I did that last year specifically to stock up on Shadow Lurker camos. This is the only time I can do that. While I was in protest with the community over Wargaming’s handling of the community contributers and a hefty list of other issues, any and all purchases were off the table, including the BF containers. Like I said before, my beef with them is over, so I’ll stock up on Shadow Lurkers if life permits. If I get lucky and get a ship as well, great, but a 12% drop rate is only decent in dedicated gacha games.
Well, I’m not surprised that the scenes are still blocked, but it does mean that I’m going to have to find a different approach for my follow up article on Code Fairy. Even the simulator menu is considered a blocked scene, so they nailed me on both my plan A and my plan B for today’s article. On the bright side, the longer this takes, the more I have to talk about, and the more things I can take another, more objective pass at. Until then I can look around for some screenshots of the blocked chapters, since I’ve seen some of them around while doing a bit of research. I’ll just have to grab some of the best ones.
It’s a shame but otherwise today’s been a pretty good day.
Since Fleeing Victory #9 is done, I’ve got tomorrow and Sunday to hammer out FV#10. Even so I’m going to try to have FV#10 done or close to it by tomorrow. With Clan Battles on Sunday I can’t really risk trying to write the whole thing in one sitting. I’m not quite at that level yet. Sometimes you have to get up and pace around, reorganize a few bits of characterization and events in your head, omit this, add that, etc, etc.
One thing that makes these pantser sessions a little hard to predict is the size of them. They’re not that big, not especially long reads, but they do tend to be about three scenes most of the time. Sometimes I feel like they should be longer, and times like today I feel they work better if they’re shorter, but there’s no set wordcount or scene count that I stick to. Usually, I just reach a point where it feels like a good time to end that chapter and start another one. That usually takes three scenes, so that’s how most of these turn out.
It’s neat. I like looking back on what I’ve written and picking out those kinds of habits and patterns.
Doctor Alfred Gil found the note addressed to him in the middle of the Cordoba’s field tests. He hadn’t told anyone about it, figuring others might write it off as a prank, just like he had at first. Later, when Fort Baldi came under attack, the Doctor somehow found himself with that little note in his hand, again. Things always seemed to be going poorly for him. Ever since his combat stimulant research–along with many other programs–had its funding pulled and diverted to Munica’s new colossus, things had been going extremely poorly. Smiling and quietly enjoying the misfortunes of his peers and the spoiled officers of Fort Baldi was all he could do to keep his spirits up these days.
Who was coming, though? Doctor Gil didn’t have a clue. His first thought was someone on the Cordoba project, some group that found out he was still working on his combat stimulant in secret. Maybe they planned to expose him to General Cruz and the others. It wasn’t too long before bigger concerns took over. What if it wasn’t his own people, but Cordaean special forces? They might have spies in the Munican army that knew about his work. That seemed worryingly more likely than some petty researchers trying to shut him down for good. They had all the funding they wanted, and Gil himself had to keep his research going almost entirely out of pocket. Scrounging up materials when he was supposed to be working exclusively on improving the prosthetics of allied soldiers made things even more difficult.
There was just one thing that didn’t add up for Gil, and that was the note itself. Why leave something like that for him to find? The sender had to know there were a number of actions he could take in response, actions that didn’t serve whatever their plan was. That was why Gil had been ready to dismiss the note out of hand when he first found it. Dangerous people with eyes on the doctor wouldn’t sneak into his office only to warn him they would be coming back for him later. Dangerous people would just come inside and have their way with him and his research material. So maybe this was just a petty prank after all?
No, that couldn’t be it.
Doctor Gil had wracked his brain for hours trying to figure it out. He only took a break from mentally running in circles when Captain Fran Sandoval was brought in, unconscious, but otherwise alright. Seeing the mighty brought low and hearing about flaws in the design and battle damage to the Cordoba had been the highlight of an otherwise grim day. Once the captain left, it was back to the mystery, and the longer Gil thought about it, the more he felt he would never find the answer.
There was no time left to think about it once the Cordaeans attacked. All the doctor could do was make a decision. He could either wait for whoever was coming to arrive, or he could take what was left of his research and run.
“No,” Doctor Gil shook his head as he surveyed his own office, “you’re being irrational.” There was no mistaking the danger that the best of a foreign power’s armed forces posed, but even with Fort Baldi under attack and the doctor awaiting some mystery guest, he didn’t need to abandon everything. While it was true Gil was pressing on with his research against the ‘strong suggestion’ of his superiors, he was more than on top of his regular duties. If someone came with the intent of harming him, or shutting down his personal laboratory, his fellow countrymen would protect him. They didn’t need to like him in order to do their duty, just like the doctor didn’t need to like them in order to keep pursuing ways of helping them fight the Cordaeans.
There was no need to run, Gil decided, but he was going to make certain his research, as well as all of his working samples were safe. It would be simple enough to keep his personal endeavors hidden, even in the rising chaos, buried beneath his notes on medicines and prosthetic nerve bridges. Most of it was interrelated to at least some degree, even the combat stimulant. What had once merely been an attempt to reduce a soldier’s need for post-procedural treatments and enhance the integration of their new prosthetics had nearly blossomed into a serum that could push that same soldier’s combat capabilities far beyond the witless mechanical hordes of the Cordaean army. Doctor Gil was so close to a breakthrough, but things were always going poorly for him, and today was no different.
As Gil grabbed his most important notes, he scanned the office again. Something felt off. It was too quiet. The odd rumble from an outdoor explosion was to be expected from time to time, but this was the main HQ building. Why weren’t there men running around out in the halls? It felt like that entire wing of the building had been abandoned, which put him on edge. If no one was around, who was going to protect him?
“Blast,” the doctor hissed, opening his desk’s front drawer and pulling out a small pistol. He would just have to protect himself. He was no fighter, but he had no intention of becoming a victim while everyone else was distracted. With everything he needed from his office, Gil carefully peeked out into the hallway. No one was out there, not even a custodian drone. Once he was sure the coast was clear, the doctor started running. His next stop was the Laboratory Wing.
When Doctor Gil made it to the labs, he quietly slipped into the room set aside specifically for him and his assistants.
“Danger,” one of the assistants warned Gil with its a scratchy, artificial voice. The automaton was dressed like a lab assistant, but little else about it seemed pruden. Its face was little more than an array of cameras. Its arms could somewhat mimic the shape of a pruden hand, but in that moment they were branching out from the elbow, multiple tools and pliers ready to handle whatever Doctor Gil needed. “Please proceed to the shelter.”
“Ah,” Doctor Gil muttered, recalling a minor detail he’d forgotten. There were procedures in place should Fort Baldi come under attack. Under normal conditions, if the Cordaeans or anyone else tried to reach the base, nearby assets would swoop in and handle them. The civilians and noncombat personnel would only need to hunker down where they were and stay out of the garrison’s way. If the fortress walls were being shelled or otherwise compromised, noncombat personnel and the like were to head deep into the underground facilities, assuming they weren’t already there. The explosions Gil heard definitely implied Fort Baldi was being hit directly.
Doctor Gil had two mechanical assistants assigned to him and both were there in the lab. Neither were privy to his combat stimulant research, nor were they allowed to interact with any of the materials. Gil always managed to keep them both busy with the work the higher ups actually wanted done. They were just machines, and far from questioning. With them here, Gil could secure his research materials and then get to safety. Whoever left him that note wasn’t going to get the chance to get to him.
“First, I want you both to scour the lab,” the doctor let slip a faint grin, “Anything referencing-”
A noise that sounded almost like metal clashing hard against concrete made Gil swallow the instructions and make a gesture at his assistants. He wasn’t alone after all. The Doctor quietly made for the door and peaked outside. He looked west, the direction he came from, and the main route out of the laboratory wing. Nothing. When he looked east, down the far end of the Laboratory Wing, he froze in terror. The lights were out, save for the ones at the T junction. Standing there was a dark figure that, even standing under the light, was as black as a shadow. The doctor almost couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was it the one who wrote that note and left it in his office? No Munican soldier wore all black, nor did they set such a twisted and grim scene to try and intimidate people. Gil gulped hard, finding it nearly impossible to look away. There was no chance the figure was just standing there, oblivious to the lone scientist in the area. He knew the doctor was there and watching him.
With greater effort than he could have imagined, Gil pulled his head back through the door and closed it. “No time left. They’re here.”
The doctor’s knees were shaking uncontrollably. He wished that note had been a prank, but things were undeniably beginning to bear out.
“Doctor, please repeat your instructions,” the assistant chirped.
“They’re here for me. There’s no way out of here.” Gil put together and dismissed half a dozen escape plans in the space of a heartbeat, quickly realizing that his only way out of this situation was to create a diversion. Running was useless without one. Briefly, he eyed both of his assistants. “Your instructions, of course.” The doctor’s grin returned as he thought of a way out. He could make this work, if only because his assistants were good listeners and knew know fear.
While he didn’t know how much time he would have to prepare, Gil wasted none of it. He relayed each assistant’s orders even as he helped them gather his battle stimulant research and a briefcase to put it all in. The plan was quite simple. One assistant would come bursting out of the lab running to the west, and the other would be going east in the direction of that imposing black figure. Even if they had him blocked off at both ends of the hall by the time he made his escape, all the doctor had to do was gauge the situation as the assistants charged and take the better looking route out of the laboratory wing. He still had his pistol, so he was far from harmless. He could and would defend himself if they tried to stop him.
Doctor Gil kept checking his watch, expecting his plan to fall apart at any moment. It was taking far too long to get everything ready, but they were nearly done. His assistants approached him and handed over the final documents they could find, and Gil quickly put them in the briefcase along with four metal cylinders and a small chemical storage unit. “There!” He slammed the briefcase shut and motioned for the door. “We’re leaving. Now. Start running to the shelter ahead of me and tackle anyone you can’t identify. I’ll be right behind you.” One of them, anyway, the doctor shrugged in amusement.
Just as his assistants reached the door and one of them tried to open it, mana tinged a splendid blue rushed up from their feet and overtook them both. Both automata fell to the floor as a tall black figure materialized out of the mana behind them. The only thing the doctor could make out at first was the faint blue light coming from the eyes of the figure’s mask. Blue colored mana was rare among mages, but even more so among soldiers, which made Gil fear the worst. He clung to the briefcase with one hand while the other grasped desperately for the small pistol in his coat.
“Doctor Gil,” the masked figure spoke, his voice deep and almost morbidly inquisitive, as if he’d found exactly the person he was planning to …
“Stay back,” Gil jutted his gun at the man. The doctor knew exactly what he was. He was a Blue Ghost, one of Calig’s most powerful field agents. Trained soldiers were like children throwing rocks to them, and Gil didn’t even want to imagine how helpless he was compared to a soldier. His assistants hadn’t even gotten the chance to attack. All he had left was a gun that probably wouldn’t do much.
Just as the masked man took a step forward, Gil panicked and pulled the trigger. By some miracle, he managed to keep his eyes open, but by another, this one favoring the masked man, the bullet passed harmlessly through his body. The only sign that magic had been involved was the brief but noticeable flicker, as the masked man’s body vanished in a faint blue haze and just as quickly returned.
Blue ghost indeed.
“Stay away from me!” Gil fired another shot, but he only hit the door. He fired again and stumbled backward as yet another bullet phased through the masked intruder. He caught himself on a counter, but just before he could fire another shot, a hand appeared out of the corner of his eye. In the time it took for the second blue ghost’s body to fully appear, the doctor’s pistol, his only means of defending himself, had been ripped out of his hand with practiced ease. He dropped his briefcase as the second ghost twisted his arm around his back and pressed him face first down onto the counter.
“No, stop! Please!”
“It’s him,” the second ghost said, his voice not quite as deep as the first’s. His tone was impatient, irritated, as if the doctor wasn’t worth the trouble. Gil feared that if he was going to be killed in a moment, this second ghost would be the one pulling the trigger.
“Good,” the first said.
“What do you want? Please just tell me,” Gil pleaded, “I’ll answer any questions you have, just please don’t kill me.”
The second ghost suddenly pulled the doctor up and turned him to face the first ghost. He released him, but Gil was paralyzed in shock and fell onto his rear with his back against the counter. He almost didn’t feel the pain from such a hard landing; his own fear had him by the throat as much as either of his attackers.
“Even better.”
Gil could tell this blue ghost was smiling, even behind that mask and the mana that was churning up around him.
Due to a weird issue on Wargaming’s end, the NA servers for World of Warships weren’t ready for Clan Battles. Wednesdays and Sundays are the normal days for my clan, so we’ll most likely be waiting until Sunday before having our first go at Clan Battles.
Instead–and I’m glad I waited before heading off–we did some training in the Training Room mode. Very stupid, very fun, 10/10. The last match was especially fun for me because I may have finally clawed my way out of dedicated destroyer duty, which was something that felt inevitable with all aircraft carriers being banned this season.
I just wish Yamato and Shikishima had consistent performance compared to each other. I do much better in the former ship than the latter. (I swear, any time I pick Shikishima, the gun sound temporarily lowers the IQ of everyone near me, myself included, making us more likely to lose. The horrific dispersion doesn’t help either). Either way, it’s nice to be able to take both ships into modes besides Randoms. They’re also doing the snowflakes now so it’s a good time to gather up coal and steel. So far it’s been a very good update.
In other news, since I’m falling behind on a couple of things I have planned for later this month, I’m aiming to have Fleeing Victory #9 done by tomorrow and FV#10 done by Sunday. The sooner the relatively easy things are out of the way, the less distracted I’ll be for the hard things. Emancipating Blade is outlined now so I just have to find a good nine or so hours spread over a few days to write it all out.
Clan Battles is back, Season Narwhal, this time. Aircraft carriers were banned outright and well in advance, so nearly all team compositions are going to have two battleships in them.
This leaves me in a somewhat awkward position as one of my clan’s CV mains. I tended to main destroyers in my early days of clan battles, but thanks to some weird timing, that got put on hold depending on the season and which DD players were available. For this season, I ran out of time to get my hands on a better variety of tier 10 destroyers before the start. I’m sure we’ll make it work, but if I’ve got more time to play on my own during the season I’m going to try to get a couple more tier 10s to round out my DD roster.
It probably wouldn’t hurt to be able to dust of my Hindenburg once in a while either, but I’m not getting my hopes up.
On the bright side, I’ve got a 21 point DD commander that can farm commander xp for the others. That’s always nice.
As for recording, I don’t know. I’m not sure if it’s worth the effort or not, since I don’t have the time or energy to spare for making World of Warships clips, at least none that would have much editing.