Imperator Tempestatium, Prologue

And so, as if I did not have nearly enough projects on my plate, I trade a small, short-term project for a large, long-term one…my cup overfloweth, and yet I continue to pour…

Shichinin no Nezumikishi, Part III

Part three of my series of short vignettes of the history of the Seven Gray Knights:

Shichinin no Nezumikishi, Part II

Part two of my series of short vignettes of the history of the Seven Gray Knights:

Shichinin no Nezumikishi, Part I

I’ve been working on a thorough write-up for my revamped Mecha Monogatari RPG system, which will draw heavily from the ruleset, language, and design of the Fourth Edition of the Dungeons & Dragons RPG.  It’s not a straight conversion, as I am doing away with the core concepts of class and level and even of experience points in favor of a more fluid system.

Part of the style of the write-up is a series of short stories that will appear at the beginning and end of each chapter, bookending the description of the game mechanics and helping to set the mood of the game world.  The short stories will focus around a legendary group of titan pilots from the “past” generation (as compared to the generation of Seki & Company): the Shichinin no Nezumikishi, or in English the “Seven Gray Knights.”

To-Do List

Or: A Not Particularly Long Post Dedicated to Briefly Mentioning the Things I Really Ought to Post About Instead, But Just Lack the Motivation to Do So At Present Time.  This post is going to be almost entirely blah blah blah, so if that’s going to bother you, you might want to relive some of the glory slightly less sucky days of Taedium Edax Rerum, like those Japanese girls singing that really cheery yet incomprehensible song or something.

Serious blah blah blah follows.  You have been warned.

The Mecha Monogatari, Book Two, Chapter V

Finally, we were getting a break.

It felt like a month since classes had started at the Takagi Miharu Titan Gundan Shikangakkō, but according to the calendar on my watch, it was only the ninth of October, which means that it had only been six days since we had all sat through the endless succession of speeches that marked the beginning of our training to become a titan pilot.

And the training… Junior high was nothing like this. Basic training was not even close. Every day was a struggle just to finish the scheduled training events, much less excel at them, and Benkei-sensei and Hijū-sensei had not limited their tortuous regime to the daytime hours, either. Last Friday morning, at about two a.m., we had all been awoken by ear-piercing sirens, and then immediately stuck in a two-and-a-half-hour-long battle simulation. That probably would have been the least difficult sim they had given us, except for the whole middle-of-the-night/being half-asleep business which had turned it into a nightmarish exercise in frustration. To make matters worse, we were still expected to be up and ready for morning PT with Benkei-sensei at 07:00 hours.

Seki was right: Benkei-sensei and Hijū-sensei were sadists.

uoısɹǝʌuı – ıɹɐʇɐƃouoɯ ɐɥɔǝɯ ǝɥʇ

Sun 09 Oct 2016: A Slice of Life in the World of the Mecha Monogatari

Classes at the Takagi Mamoru Titan Gundan Shikangakkō ran for eight to ten hours a day, six days a week. There were proposals from time to time to increase the training schedule to seven days a week, but these rarely gained much traction in the Titan Gundan, where the consensus was that everyone, from the highest-ranking veterans to the newly-conscripted recruits, needed to be able to unwind sometimes.

Thus, Sundays were the trainees’ free days. Most trainees would spend the day out on the town, and Class 275’s Team Three was no exception.

“So, where do we want to go?” Ōhashi Chitose ittō rikushi asked as the four of them entered the subway station. The assigned leader of Team Three, Chitose had little talent for leadership, and knew it. Tall and athletic, he was much happier staying out of the limelight and allowing someone else to give all the orders.

“Shibuya,” Tsuchiya Riku ittō rikushi said.

“Akiba,” Hatsutori Masae ittō rikushi said, almost simultaneously.

The two glared at each other for a second.

The Mecha Monogatari, Book Two, Chapter IV

There was a vending machine that sold Ramune in the basement of the northwestern stairwell of the dormitories. The day I had arrived here, I had gotten lost, and found it by accident. Nobody ever used that particular stairwell, it seemed; there were two doorways there, but both were chained shut and looked as if they hadn’t been used in decades. It was the perfect little hideaway: it was unlikely anyone would find me, and there was a vending machine that sold eight different flavors of Ramune.

I just couldn’t stand being around my team any longer. Especially Ōhashi-san. I wish we could change teams, but I already knew that wasn’t going to happen. Yesterday, Benkei-sensei had said that we could switch teams…if we could beat him in an arm-wrestling match. Right. Benkei-sensei was solid muscle, and I was…not.

The Mecha Monogatari, Book Two, Chapter III

“I can’t believe that Takahashi refused to pay up.” The tray full of food in front of me did not look the least bit appetizing; the simulation had ended almost an hour ago, but I still felt nauseated. The mere thought of eating anything right now just turned my stomach.

“So, what was the bet?” Ōhashi-san asked, in between mouthfuls. She had taken almost twice as much food as any of the rest of us, and had already devoured half of it. Ōhashi-san wasn’t skinny, like Tsuchiya-san, but she wasn’t fat, either. She must have a very fast metabolism.

“Takahashi, Sakurai, Chōda, Hatsutori, and I all bet two thousand yen we would get the highest score on the simulation,” Seki answered. He, too, was eating, albeit slowly, disinterestedly. He had taken his medicine, but so far had refused to say anything about it. “Sakurai and Chōda paid up, but Takahashi said that since Team Two got the highest score, he hadn’t lost.”

The Mecha Monogatari, Book Two, Chapter II

If you’re going to be sick, keep the faucet running. That way you won’t clog the drain.

During basic training, we spent virtually all day doing simulations, but it wasn’t like we were synced up the whole time. Usually, we would start with a short mission briefing where the instructor would tell us what the simulation would be like and what would be expected of us; then we would run the simulation, which would take about ten or fifteen minutes; and after that the instructors would debrief us on our performance for thirty to forty-five minutes. Finally, we would take a break before repeating the process.

Not so here at the Academy. Benkei-sensei’s pre-simulation briefing had not lasted about five minutes, then he had dismissed us to change, for the first time, into our pilot’s jumpsuits, replete with tactical boots, gloves, and helmets that felt like they weighed more than any one-and-a-half kilograms. The class reconvened in one of the Academy’s large simulator rooms, which featured the newer full-motion simulator pods.