remember, remember, this day in november, the night that our world, changed forever, the day that they lost, the night that we fell, the day that we tore the imperials down, the day that we fought, the night that they won, the day that the arctic knew a new sun, the day that we conquered, the night that we fled, the day that became a hollow victory instead, that day we won the arctic tundra, that night we lost our republic and crumbled pfc jacob allen of the jekotian 83rd aad arctun will be coming sometime before i die go back to the 83rd and get the story from the beginning
Remember, remember the Fifth of November, The Gunpowder Treason and Plot, I know of no reason Why the Gunpowder Treason Should ever be forgot. Guy Fawkes, Guy Fawkes, t'was his intent To blow up the King and Parli'ment. Three-score barrels of powder below To prove old England's overthrow; By God's providence he was catch'd (or by God's mercy*) With a dark lantern and burning match. Holloa boys, holloa boys, let the bells ring. (Holla*) Holloa boys, holloa boys, God save the King! And what should we do with him? Burn him!
I wish we had the manpower for a singleplayer campaign Beautiful, good work mate. //edit: off topic etc sorted by the request of the jessiah.
Chapter One Death Rains Sixty Thousand Feet “Listen up ladies, we’re approaching drop airspace. So shut up, suit up, get a friend to shove a cork up your ass so you don’t shit yourself, and prepare for an arctic drop,” blared over the speaker in the bombers retrofitted bomb bay. The quarters were very cramped; the space was intended for dropping bombs, not soldiers. Yet, here they were, the forty men and women of the Jekotian 9th Arctic Warfare Division, scattered throughout the bomb bays of four high altitude stealth bombers. The soldiers worked together, helping each other into their oversized and burly arctic drop suits. They would jump with nothing but these suits and the integrated parachute packs, retrieving their personal equipment and belongings from the crate drop. They finished and waited for what felt like hours as the pending tension reached its peak. “Flight to cargo, we are over your dropzone. Grab a railing and prepare to drop,” crackled over the speaker, this time the pilot. After giving the soldiers a few seconds to grab an overhead railing, the bomb bay doors slid open under their feet, revealing clouds and the night sky. One by one they released their hold on the railing and plummeted into the night, falling through layers of cloud cover and praying recon drones didn’t pick them up. The last to release was Sergeant Fitz Sidhimer, as some troublesome news reached his ears through his personal COM. “Sidhimer to platoon, one of the bombers released its cargo early. Watch where you land or you’re gonna’ break something, and I doubt it will be a crate.” As he fell feet first towards the planet, he eased his body into a normal freefall position, ready to release his chute. IFF tags streamed over his goggles integrated HUD, pinpointing every man and woman in his platoon, but quickly vanished from sight as his goggles iced over. He cursed under his breath, and a few seconds later, a heating element within the goggles frame activated and melted the obstruction. Without his normal mobility, which the arctic drop suits compromised, the only control he had over his FCOM system was his personal radio. Once he hit the ground, he would disable remote access to the unit. Until then, anything he wanted on his HUD, he had to make a radio call for. “Sidhimer to Control, give me the IR beacons on the cargo, same for the rest of the platoon.” Dozens of black points lit up on the planet below him as his goggles activated its IR sensor. Each dot was a crate loaded with supplies for the coming operation. He glanced at the altimeter in his HUD; two-hundred twenty-three feet. Moments later, his field of vision was flooded with white canopies as at two hundred feet, the platoon pulled their chute releases. Sidhimer continued for a few more seconds to accelerate ahead so he could hit the ground first and establish a rally point. At one-hundred eighty feet he released his main chute, spraying ice everywhere as the small ejection charge broke apart the ice that had formed during the drop. Moments later over his COM a recruit started to panic. “Shit I can’t open my chute!” “Calm down rook, give it a tug and tell me if the charge goes off.” “Nothing, oh god, SOMEBODY HELP ME!” “Calm down and yank the line for your reserve chute! You're running out of altitude!” “No it's not working! OH GOD IT’S FROZEN! “Keep your head together- “I’M GONNA DIE, I’M GONNA FUCKING DIE!” “Control, cut his fucking channel, we don't need to hear this!” “OH GOD, OH GOD, HELP, SOMEONE HEL-“
okay, but it looks rather silly to me, but that could be because my monitor is kinda wide example http://dl.dropbox.com/u/1415325/example.JPG
if you are, for some ungodly reason, skydiving by yourself, then your only real chance of survival is to land with as much humanly possible surface area at the same time on whatever surface your landing on in order for this to work, the surface you land on would have to compress a meter or more other than that, you might just want to come to terms with life also, if you can, land on something steep and soft, like a snowy mountain side. You definitely don't want to land on water, because that would be almost the same as landing on cement you would probably explode in a watery bloody splash of death. so don't skydive without a buddy, and always pack your own chute don't let somebody else do it if you do, watch and make sure they're not trying to kill you or something prevent neck, spine or back of head hitting the ground directly try to fall away from trees or small bushes, try to fall on flat surfaces and try to fall near people (because you need someone to call the ambulance, or possibly reanimate you on the spot) also, if your chute fails, try to fix it, if you are too low already, cut it and use reserve, if that one fails as well try to manually pull out the reserve chute and toss it (even at low alts, to break your fall)
It's nothing to do with how the chute was packed, it's the fact that this is a para-insertion in the arctic. There is a risk of water condensing in the pack and freezing during the drop.
i don't think you want to have as much space as possible, that would mean you would need to be horizontal, which means there is no way you could protect your head from the smash. surviving a high fall is all about keeping the head alive. you want to be standing straight, possibly with your legs locked, and hope that your legs concertina, absorbing much of the damage.
that seems great if you want to snap your spine people will find your leggs ether in pulp or drilled in the ground, and your spine snapped like a twig at the center point is you are putting all the gravity on 1 stick of 3 cm diameter, and it WILL break
Just a heads up that the next chapter might be a while. This storyarc is fixed at 14 chapters; one per day of the operation, beginning with the insertion of reinforcements. Because this is arctic warfare, some days may be uneventful compared to others, and thus shorter. I'll probably post longer chapters in parts for the sake of readability.
I agree. I'd recommend not skydiving in the first place. I recall a show on discovery about someone surviving a high velocity impact with the ground by being slightly off-center and falling to the side and having and arm raised to protect the head. The person broke a crapload of stuff, but lived.
