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/tg/ - Traditional Games

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>Pastebin: http://pastebin.com/u/Raptor-Chan
>Twitter link: https://twitter.com/Raptor_Chan
>Archives: http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Muv-Luv%20Alternative%20Quest

You are 2nd Lieutenant Samuel Fischer of the USMC Second MEU, and you are currently deep below the surface of the frigid North Sea playing grabass with a Soviet Nuclear Ballistic Missile Submarine, as he dives deeper and deeper to try and hide from you. But hey, at least you’ve sort of scared him a bit, even if you don’t know exactly where Ivan is at the moment. Your passive sonar systems are tracking him, your RIO Foss in the back of the Avenger keeping your HUD relatively updated on the probable position of the Delta-class boomer you’re tailing to the best of your abilities.
The Avenger’s waterjet propulsion systems and your relatively small size will keep you safe as long as he doesn’t ping, and you’re not about to start using the loudspeaker again and let Ivan pinpoint you – a torpedo anywhere near you at this depth would likely be fatal.

There’s no sound but Foss’s and your own breathing as you silently try to stay in the much larger boat’s baffles as he keeps getting fainter and fainter in your hydrophones, killing his speed to try and hide from you – a risky gamble because all you’d need to do now if you really wanted to fuck his day up is toss a couple of fish in his direction.
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As you wait, the only thing you can really do is go over your systems to make sure nothing is wrong. A single malfunction this deep could prove an instant trip to the bottom of the ocean. God, you hated this underwater operation garbage. The Avenger, the wonderful Cancer Coffin, was no amazing acrobat out above the water, but it was a hell of a lot less anxiety inducing in comparison.

Your HUD wasn’t even able to display much of what was outside, the pressure and depth sensors having covered the majority of the cameras leaving you almost all alone in the deeps.
“Fischer. I think he’s trying to climb back up again. Hear it?” Foss whispers. The throat mikes on the fortified suits are rather sensitive, and as much as you wanted to shush him there wasn’t much chance that Ivan Ivanov would be able to listen in.

“I think.” The faint thrum of props was barely distinguishable from the typical ocean sounds – and even better, there wasn’t even a backdrop of BETA activity you’d usually expect closer to the channel. Perfect for keeping your ears on the target.

>[ ] Drop some buoys, back off a bit. Let’s see what he does next
>[ ] Keep up the pursuit. Ivan isn’t getting away.
Aw yiss, we back!


Go back to your own waters Ivan.
[X] Keep up the pursuit. Ivan isn’t getting away.
Fuck off Ramius
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Votes called, writing.
Full wartime America economy would be interesting to see in this day and age.
>>[ ] Keep up the pursuit. Ivan isn’t getting away.
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You’re not quite sure how fast the Delta can go underwater, but you should be able to shadow him at least, and he’s trying to hide right now. He won’t move too fast, at least unless you decide to give him a high explosive surprise present. Taking slow deep breaths, you gently increase the speed of the Avenger as you both climb into the layer, the Soviet boomer obviously trying to sniff you out even as you close the gap on him. He’s easily three or four miles away by this point, if he’s running as slow as you think he is. Foss adjusts the hydrophones to key into that telltale noise of props, as you slowly move closer.

You yourself keep listening out for other noises, the layer confusing your sensors quite a bit. There’s no telling exactly where Ivan Ivanov Ivanovitch happens to be at the moment. As is though, you’ve got the general area he’s in down pat, as long as he stays in the layer. Now it’s just the waiting game once again. God you hate doing this sort of shit.

“Hey, Foss, why the hell aren’t the Brits handling this? Don’t they have anti-submarine planes and shit up in Scotland?” You softly say, as the mindlessness starts to grind on your nerves after the first ungodly slow hour of this kind of tail.

“Probably because they’ve gotta fly high or something, I dunno if the LasJaegs have cleared the coast up north yet.” Foss shifts his seating as he says this, scratching his head. The noise almost breaks your concentration as the Russian starts to turn somewhat. Maybe. It's hard to tell in the layer.
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“Yeah, but we should have cleared Jutland enough by now right? The Navy must have or we wouldn’t be doing this shit.” You counter, wondering where the fuck Ivan is headed. Not being able to see shit outside the Avenger cockpit is really fucking annoying, especially when your HUD is reduced to the bare minimum of sensors this far underwater. Depth, temperature, heading, and a generalized ‘last contact’ area Foss is probably working on keeping updated the best he can, are all you have to work with. Just fucking great. At least you’re not claustrophobic, that would really make this all a hell of a lot worse.

“Fuck if I know Fischer, maybe the Norwegians haven’t cleared their coast enough for the limeys to feel safe flying out here. Pussies.”

You nod in agreement, but you put a hold on replying as the Russian submarine cuts his engines, about three nautical miles or so away. Fuck.


>[ ] Drift, he might not have spotted you yet

>[ ] Fish might be in the water, hit the gas!

>Captcha is boats
>proof of America's secret plan to rule the world once the BETA are defeated
Why else would the TSF with considerably lower scores in testing against the BETA, but higher scores when tested against other TSFs, be chosen for fighting a war against the BETA? Because the Americans aren't thinking about or planning for THIS war, but for the next one! The war of conquest that they're going to start!
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>Low scores against BETA
What. It's basically an improved F-15 in that regard.
>>[ ] Drift, he might not have spotted you yet
Become a hole in the water.
>comparing it to an older TSF
>not comparing it to the one it was chosen over for mass production as the Americans' next-generation TSF
The Advanced Tactical Surface Fighter program found that, Northrock and McDaell Doglam's joint-designed YF-23 Black Widow II achieved a higher kill count and deeper Hive penetration percentage during a standard Hive infiltration JIVES simulation than Lockweed's YF-22 design.
And yet Lockweed got the contract. Because the Americans don't WANT the best anti-BETA TSF they can get. They want a TSF they can use to take over the world!
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Writan then, nice to see you again /k/ripple.

He might be readying to lob a torp up our ass

It didn't have even remotely lower scores against BETA. Both the YF-22 and 23 did amazingly well, pretty much 100% improvement over 2nd gen.
I could say the same, you should duck into the IRC again, we don't bite...hard.
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No prob. Kinda got off the beaten track due to work, I'll see ya soon.
>[ ] Drift, he might not have spotted you yet

You kill the engines as fast as you can, the waterjets dead as you drift, both you and Foss barely breathing as the pair of you strain your ears to find wherever the hell the freaking Soviet submarine went. Adjusting the dive planes, you slowly let the Avenger dip below the layer, searching for that god damned motherfucking goblin that you just KNOW is going to try and torpedo you given the chance. Fucking Christ. The sounds of the open ocean fill your ears as you listen.

Every little creak of background noise makes your heart jump slightly, as you wrack your brain for anything that could cause it. You really weren’t trained for something like this in depth; and not against whoever the hell was in charge of that boomer. Either you’re total trash, or he’s pretty good. Hopefully the latter.

There’s a suspicious lack of noise really, almost like he’s disappeared. A total void in the ocean. Hopefully you’ve done enough to not have any torpedoes headed your way, because there’s no way you’re outrunning those fuckers in this.

You keep drifting, slowly twisting the Avenger around in order to cover more area with your sensors, trying to find Ivan before he sends you a nice gift of torpedoes. You maybe hear something, off to your left. And it doesn’t sound too good.


>[ ] Don’t blink. His vision is predicated on movement.

>[ ] Go active. Better he knows where you are and you can see him, than being blind.
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>[ ] Don’t blink. His vision is predicated on movement.
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>Liking Dog of the Stasi
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So that's how those work.
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>[ ] Don’t blink. His vision is predicated on movement.
Nice try, but it wasn't that drastic a difference as you're putting it.

Also, the YF-23 TSF was a hangar queen. I'm a Widowboo in both ML and real life, but there are merits to how it was here.

Don't blink. Comrade Comradski Comradovich is firing blind!
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Vote called, writan.
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The noise gets a little louder, as you silently keep drifting closer towards it with the Avenger approaching your test depth yard by yard. It’s unnerving, as you slowly rotate to get a better listen. It’s hard to distinguish it at first, but then it clicks. It’s the Delta. Ivan McIvanov von Vodkavinzky is starting to move again, and he’s moving towards you at a god damned crawl. You and Foss don’t even dare to start to make a sound, your finger hovering on the trigger of the torpedo launchers as you mentally calculate the detonation range compared to around where the boomer is. Head on towards you, it’s hard to get a good range on him with the slim profile he presents.

Every second passes agonizingly slowly as you keep waiting, watching your Oxygen levels inch downwards pixel by pixel, but he’s not even close to passing you over yet. 700 yards away is the best guess the computer can give you. Then 600. Then 500. Then 400. He’s inside the minimum arming distance now. You can’t even think anymore, and all you really can hear is your heartbeat as you wait and pray you don’t collide. 300 yards. Moment by moment by moment he approaches. 200 yards. Every fucking instinct you’ve honed fighting BETA is screaming for you to hit maximum power and bug out, to move and not let him get any closer. 100 yards. The hydrophones are dampening the noise now, because this close to him you don’t need the sensitivity all the way up, even with his props on the other side of the boat. 50 yards away, you start to worry if he’ll hit you. Even a tap might cause the Avenger to crumple like a pop can getting stepped on. 25 yards. 10 yards. The noise of his engines is loud, and you swear you can hear soft Russian voices through the water and you tense your entire body preparing for impact.
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Five yards. Four yards. Three yards. Two yards. One yard.

Less than twenty yards above you, the massive Soviet boomer passes, headed back towards the North at an ever increasing pace, probably thinking you lost him in the layer, or some crazy shit. Your hands shake as you look at the depth meter, noting how dangerously far you’ve gone below test depth. The hydro-magnetic drives press water through again, gently and slowly raising you back to a reasonable depth.

Jesus Motherfucking Christ almighty, that was too close for comfort. Your hands jitter a little.

[ ] Tail him

[ ] Get the hell out while you're still alive.

Very nice writing that terror in the deeps.

>Tail him

I want to know what the fuck the Soviets are doing all the way out here, when they barely hold onto Kamchatka. Probably dangerous, but still.
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[ ] Tail him
>[ ] Tail him
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>I'm going to have to write even more submarines
Votes called. T-thanks guys.
Bullying is always the best option.
Even if it's bullying the QM.
especially if it's bullying the QM.
S-sorry...I'm just curious.

It's a chance to do over.
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Irisdina a best.
QMs are for bullying, Y/N?
>Best bismark
In a row?
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You turn around to Foss, the Avenger creeping along at a snails’ pace as it turned back towards the direction the Soviet boomer had left in, the skipper apparently deciding he could cruise along under the layer safely now.

“Fuck this motherfucking shitshow of a mission in the goddamn ass mother of fuck son of a bitch fucking holy shit!” It came out a little differently than you’d intended it to but Foss didn’t really disagree.

“Gonna put my boot so far up the old man’s wrinkled shithole that cocksucking faggot motherfucker fucking pubic hair away motherfucking Ivan fucking hell!”

With that you slipped back up, keeping an eye on your oxygen levels. You had enough for another few hours before you’d need to switch to the suit’s supply, but that’d last you more than long enough to get out of the water. Fortified suits were after all, originally designed for EVO in space if necessary, and the Avenger was the closest thing to a space craft you’d ever been in.

Carefully, you made sure you kept in the relative safety of the baffles of the Delta class as it made a couple of hard turns to keep going back out the way it originally was headed, making towards what you at least somewhat reckoned was the Greenland-Iceland-UK gap. Son of a bitch was making a run for the Atlantic. Well, that was at least somewhat better for you. Worst case scenario at the moment was that he’d spot you again, but this time you were maintaining a healthy distance and keeping quiet as possible. Best case was that he’d slow down a bit and let you creep up to the surface to get a message off about his location and let some crazy Navy pilot in a chopper keep chasing him, or the Brits. Shit was still fucking not great though, not in the slightest. You'd rather be back at base after that close of a shave that was for fucking sure.

Ivan Ivanovitch Sergov Vodkaovitch was far easier to track now, his props spinning at a good clip and easily making enough noise that you had something like a fifty yard ‘range circle’ guess-temate of his actual location. Foss was keeping tabs on a few other sound contacts as well, as off in the distance one of the convoys moving back towards the UK after depositing troops and supplies on the mainland could be heard quite clearly. Hell, there were even one or two whales singing to each other far to the north. The noise other than the props though quickly filtered itself away in your mind, as you followed the submarine.

Eventually though, you would have to swap over to suit oxygen, and there was no real guarantee how long you could last on that if something went wrong.

[ ] Drop a passive buoy here, and climb up to get the message off
[ ] Get oxygen fast, and keep an eye out for anything that might indicate you’ve been had
[ ] Stay on his ass as long as possible
>[ ] Drop a passive buoy here, and climb up to get the message off
>[ ] Drop a passive buoy here, and climb up to get the message off
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>In a row?

Do you doubt the efficiency of the Kriegsmarine?
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Well shit if he's running for the Atlantic, we could be at this mission for months?

>Stay on his ass

Something just isn't right.
>[ ] Stay on his ass as long as possible
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>Months at sea
>With Foss, no chicks or booze
>Nothing but shitty emergency rations
>Foss controls the radio and his taste in music is shit

Congrats, you've summed up Sam's worst nightmares.
And no Commisar to bully either!
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[ ] Drop a passive buoy here, and climb up to get the message off
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Alright votes called. Gonna start writing up our goblin funtimes.

>one off of trips

On the other hand 6889 looks the same upside down.
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If he’s making a run for the Atlantic, there’s no way you’ll be able to follow him. You can’t stay submerged for more than sixteen or so hours without going up for air, and you don’t have near enough food with you for more than a day or two chasing him. Best leave this to the ASW flyboys and the Navy. Still, you’re not going to let the Soviet slip away that easily. Pushing yourself forward a bit faster, you drop a SONAR buoy here below the layer, and start to head for the surface at a 45-degree angle from the heading of the Soviet submarine. Hopefully you’ll stay in his baffles long enough to surface undetected.

It’s a slow crawl back up towards the surface, but when you make it you kill the engines for now and breathe a sigh of relief. That shit’s over with for now. The sensor you left behind still has a clear fix on the submarine and is broadcasting it loud and without issue to anyone who wants to tune in. You yourself flick the comms on and start talking. “Silver Three to Goblin Patrol Control?”

A distinctly British voice chimes right back at you. “This is Control, we read you. Do you have anything to report?”

“Silver Three here, we’ve been tailing him for the last…” You check your watch real quick. “Eight hours or so. Red Goblin is running for the gap. We’ve dropped a buoy at our coordinates and it’s picking him up nice and clear. Requesting return to base, had a close shave back there.”

“Control to Silver Three, copy. Permission granted, good hunting out there lads.”

You spool the jump drives up as soon as you think the Delta-class is out of hearing range and get airborne, breathing a sigh of relief.

[ ] Head back to Helgioland

[ ] Well, if you’re this close to the UK, it’d be a shame not to visit…
>[ ] Well, if you’re this close to the UK, it’d be a shame not to visit…
>[ ] Head back to Helgioland
I needs muh fix.
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Well now, I don't remember this option from last time.

>visit Britain

I'm really fucking curious.

Is this what I think this is Raptor? You're usually in the ML threads, right?
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Must check up on the waifus.
Occasionally I'm in them. I usually lurk and shitpost without my trip on.

I'm curious as to what you think it is though.
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Are we visiting any clubs?
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Well then, votes called. I have to get up a little early tomorrow, so next post will likely be my last.

That's assuming you could manage to somehow get a bit of leave, which would have to go through your CO's desk. You know, the guy who kinda chewed your ass out yesterday for being a fucking moron.
Damn it all.

Is there any hope this will be more regular?
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Fresh off the TE 4koma manga I recently acquired.
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Yes. I'll be running again this Friday.

>[ ] Head back to Heligoland
In the distance, you can see the lights of the English coast reflecting off of the clouds overhead as you start the long journey back to base, tempting you to report some kind of potential malfunction so you can pick up more booze or something new to read off the soldiers stationed there. And hopefully Foss could get beaten up by some British MP’s for groping a nurse or something as karmic payback for being the worst kind of buddy fucker. A man could dream.

Shaking your head, you look at the poster now adorning that little section of your cockpit. Anje’s little propaganda poster you’d ‘liberated’ from her communist room. The words on it still strike you somewhere, make you feel something.

“Someday, we will go back there.”

Someday, you’ll get to go home. Someday, you might not. But you have a home, half a world away and one that will be waiting for you as long as it takes. But first, you’ll have to help the Euro’s take back their homes. And bully the Commissar about it. A slight grin slides across your face.

“Yo, Foss, can you tune into the civvies’ radio stations for a while? Might be something good on there that isn’t your shitty boybands.”

Foss scoffed. “You’re just jealous that I was into them before they were cool.”
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Yui is really cute.
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>And bully the Commissar about it.
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Still, he started browsing through the radio channels, pointedly ignoring the BBC commenting about ‘great victories in France today’ as you buzzed the water. Finally, he settled on a station, the sound of punk rock music filling the cockpit with angry guitar chords and a singer who sounded a little bit stoned, but pissed enough to make up for it.

“What the fuck was the Russian doing out here, do you think?” Foss asks you, in the middle of a commercial for a new type of laundry detergent.

You shrug. “Anything. Maybe the Soviets want a closer look at what’s going down in France.”

“Nah, why would they do that when the same shit is going down around us or further north? I’ve got a bad feeling about this shit Sam.”

“Yeah. But no use worrying about it right?” You say, and after that is silence from your RIO, as the band plays on. Helgioland beckoned, and with it a brief reprieve from the hell you were about to rejoin on the mainland. But that would be another day, and right now you had better things to care about, like a hot meal and a shower, and further bullying of Communists.
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And that's it for tonight, hope everyone enjoyed it as much as I loved typing it.

Which I did actually, despite the hell that is trying to make submarine grabass fun to read.
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>and further bullying of Communists.

Oh also, so this is picking up from where we left off? I thought we were redoing the story, since there was a sub hunt in ch 1.

>“Someday, we will go back there.”
And now I'm feeling, thanks a fucking lot.

Thanks for coming back comrade.
>Subhunt in chapter 1

You're thinking of the Beach Storming where Silver-4 used to be a pilot like us, until he took a Destroyer to the face. I'd considered rebooting the quest, but decided against it. It'd be unfair to people who'd been here since the beginning, and even more unfair to new people due to archive confusion.

Plus I had the intro written out months ago but I just never had the time or energy to get to questing due to my job hours being absolutely insane and the work extremely draining.
Thank goodness you're back Raptor-chan. Will look forward to resuming our journey.
When do you think you'll be running on Friday? And will it be a regular thing again or only time willing? I understand you don't have time much these days, and I'm in the same boat actually.
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ITT: post your town quest OC
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