MedwedianPresident

https://gizmodo.com/discovery-of-goblin-solar-system-object-bolsters-the-ca-1829459509 It was reported yesterday that astronomers of the Northern Arizona University have discovered yet another dwarf planet in the outermost reaches of the Solar System. The object, dubbed “Goblin”, has an extremely eccentric orbit with a perihelion of around 65 AU, an aphelion of 2300 and a period of 40 thousand years. While the Goblin itself is too small to extert significant gravitational influence on the planets of our solar system and as such does not explain abnormal orbital pertrubances and the like, its extreme orbital parameters can be seen as a clue to a major, yet undiscovered body - Planet X or Nibiru.

Interesting. As such, Kerbals are separated into castes? How are they structured? Maybe as follows, lowest to highest in standing: Ordinary civilians (farmers, construction workers) < KSC blue-collar workers (the guys you see running around in the hangar) < Military, ordinary engineers, clerks, doctors, teachers, etc... < Astronauts < Mission directors, head engineers, scientists < The Elite

Feel free to post your comments and improvement ideas. I will take them into account when continuing writing.

Prologue The metallic silver of the craft’s hull, various pipes, iron tank elements and unidentifiable mechanic parts formed a clear road of debris stretching from the southeast to what had been left of the once-magnificent, streamlined hypersonic reconnaissance unit’s cockpit. The landing was off by a tad bit. By a goddamn tad bit of twenty kilometers. Jebediah did not know what had caused it - a problem with the flight automation computer, or a problem with himself. Two and a half bottles of lager were not exactly the best breakfast for a reconnaissance pilot. Lieutenant Jebediah Kerman coughed. There was blood. A broken rib - or two, or three. Doc would have a hard time stitching him up again, if he would ever be saved. ”Crap.” He was supposed to land on the Derideaz Airfield, just south of the border, near Semigor. The northernmost tip of Taheireaz, the last bit of the free world, almost completely engulfed by the moloch of the Medwedian border barriers. He had clearly seen the barbed-wire fences, the minefields, the endless hangars, the tanktraps and the watchtowers flashing below him in the last seconds before the crash. The tinnitus of the impact now made way to the distant ringing of alarm bells and barking of dogs. No doubt - you’re in Medwedia, imperialist pig, ready to be liberated from your ungodly sins? Two, three minutes before they would find him. There seemed to be a helicopter up in the sky, he was not sure. Pain. Goddamn pain. Jebediah’s head was exploding. Throbbing pain. Somebody hammering on his head. The burning bush in the background duplicated itself. Everything was double. Jebediah threw up, with more blood. Pain. Pain and Blood. Darkness. The predatorial flapping of the helicopter rotor came closer and closer. — Light. Men in white robes. Men in uniforms. A hospital corridor. A nurse setting up an IV drip. Darkness. A man in a dark suit, accompanied by two uniformed officers. ”Good morning, Lieutenant ...Kerman.” ”He’s not ready yet. Three more hours. Let’s give him some more sedative.” ”I will stay here and wait. Bring me a tea.” Darkness. The man, without the officers, sitting on a wooden stool to the right side of his bed. Jebediah did not recognize the old kerbal, whose hair and mustache were grey. An empty cup of tea was standing on the bedside table. ”Good evening. You have slept for six hours. Ten bones broken. We thought we would lose you. Doctor Soboth thought so, to be honest. You crashed at an incredible speed, my friend. In fact, you have broken at least five different world records.” ”Where am I?” - Jebediah found it incredibly hard to speak; the pain was almost unbearable. They had drugged him up; whatever they had given him was now wearing off. “In a safe place. Nobody will hurt you.” ”Where?” ”The situation is quite...erm...complicated, if you understand what I mean. I must disappoint you with the fact that the negotiations on your behalf have not started yet. You are presumed dead.” ”Please...” “You are safe.” ”Where am I, for god’s sake?” The old man folded a file he was holding and laid it on the table. He stood up and looked sternly at Jebediah. ”Welcome to the Medwedian Democratic Federation, Lieutenant Jebediah Kerman of the International Aerospace Peacekeeping Corps.” He was speaking with a slight rhotic and guttural accent. ”How do you know my name?” ”We have been collecting information on you since you were conscripted. We have pictures of you as a kid. We have copies of your preschool report card. We know everything about you, and everything means everything. We know that you like to visit the Mun, often spend months alone in a keostationary centrifuge outfitted with nothing but basic life support and a decent supply of liquor, and last but not least - engage in covert reconnaissance missions when you are on Kerbin. You do it to find more excuses to drink. You are an alcoholic, a misanthrope and a spy - what a funny combination...” The man laughed loudly and heartily. Something was telling Jebediah Kerman that he was getting into some serious trouble. ”And now back on topic - I really must commend you on the high resolution of that camera. The silo caps of Facility 46 are clearly visible. Even a toddler will recognize nuclear missiles. Seems that you have done a good job for your government.” ”What do you want from me? Who are you?” ”Lieutenant - please do not polemize with me. All I want from you is to do another job, now for us.” ”Another job? I presume that you have already destroyed the data I collected, and that your satellites are good enough to see our nuclear launch centers as clearly as we do yours...” ”You are misunderstanding me, Lieutenant Kerman. This job has nothing to do with missiles, at least not in the way you imagine. It’s a space job. Space is your element, your natural habitat, am I correct? Space is the only place where nobody judges you for literally turning your blood into booze, where your siblings can not aim their watchful eyes at you, right?” ”Why should I?” The man pulled two small injection syringes out of his chest pocket and tightened his tie. Only now Jebediah noticed the restraints that held him in place in the bed, tight belts immobilizing his arms, legs and head. ”You have the choice. Nobody is forcing you to do anything for us. However, remember that you are officially dead, the victim of a tragic accident. In my left hand, I am holding a syringe that contains painkillers and a drug that will guarantee you deep and comfortable sleep for at least two days while your wounds start to heal. The other syringe contains pure benzol. You will choke painfully, spending the last thirty minutes of your life spitting out your lungs.” Jebediah did not say anything. ”Great. I am your mission coordinator and superior officer for the duration of this enterprise. Colonel Herbert Olsen, Ministry of National Security of the Medwedian Democratic Federation.” ”Nice to meet you.” - Jebediah’s tone was undoubtedly sarcastic and full of despise. He was doing his best to provoke the colonel without openly enraging him. ”Now, to the objective of the undertaking...” - Olsen unfolded a large graphic. Jebediah immediately recognized it as a poorly photocopied excerpt from his own orbital mechanics textbook. Some annotations in Medwedian were scribbled all around the sheet. ”Lieutenant - are you familiar with the Kronos Maneuver?” ”Why?” The Kronos Maneuver was a complex Oberth transfer devised by Jebediah’s own physics professor, designed to fling a spacecraft quickly towards Jool, Sarnus or Urlum (or even into interstellar space); it involved performing a power burn while skipping on the outer edge of Kerbol’s atmosphere. ”You will perform it, exactly in three weeks’ time. According to the information avaliable to the Ministry and to the Medwedian Administration of Cosmonautics, you are one of the three men in the world left who are able to pilot the Ikarus-3 spacecraft.” Ikarus-3. The most secret and most dangerous vessel ever designed by Kerbalkind. The Medwedians had a good reason to get to the outer edge of the Kerbolar system as soon as possible. ”We have detected a strange anomaly in the close proximity of Jool. You will help us investigate it. We need to get there before anybody else does. I can not tell you more at this moment, as I have not been fully briefed yet myself. The level of secrecy is higher than for any of your nuclear installations. This might mean your death, Lieutenant. The offer of euthanasia still stands.” To be continued...

Please discuss the following proposal here: The Addon Releases forum will be separated into Plugin and Part-based Addon Releases Forums to serve as a content topic framework for both downloaders and developers. The categorization will occur depending on whether a plugin or major game alteration forms the core of the mod or it primarily consists of spacecraft parts.

Consider me in! Please make the color of my username dark green and use Fraktur font if possible.

Several weeks ago, I thought about how Kerbin would look realistically, under the satellite eye. I decided to create a pseudo-satellite image portraying the presumed vegetation and settlements realistically. I made it by superimposing the KerbalMaps picture of the region with various textures based on real-world mapping data. Enjoy.

If there are any surnames on Kerbin, they should not be limited to Kerman. Especially “civilian” Kerbals (the guys you see working in the assembly hangars) might come from different backgrounds than the Kerman astronaut clan (which seems to be running the whole KSP and form the national elite). If Kerbal surnames other than Kerman are introduced in the future, which ones would you propose? My ideas: Kerbov Bigboom Kernstein Munhardson Duncan Joolidge Blorbskoy Buzzman Krakenson Dangerkerb Wingman Minhard Mohov Dresley Polson Tylorson Kerb

Is his name the shortened version of Korbinian? That’s an old Bavarian name. Would actually be a nice Kerbal name. Korbinian Kerman.

How did you breach Keneva Convention? Abuse Kerbal Rights? Get yourself sentenced to death in the International Tribunal Against Misconduct in Kerbonautics? Post your torture machines, mean weapons and gruesome contraptions here.

https://www.change.org/p/nasa-name-the-trappist-1-planets-after-the-kerbol-system-from-ksp Seeing that they actually somewhat resemble the Kerbol system, I recommend that you sign it. It is 2 years old, but who knows...

I wonder if it would be possible to export the planet Kerbin into Outerra, an open-world hyperrealistic sandbox platform. Does anybody want to help and/or do it?

It would be nice if you added a framework for the slides to be changed so that custom PowerPoint presentations/pictures can be used, for example in videos.

How important are the (working) poor to our society?What do a cleaning lady, a supermarket cashier, a temporary worker and a hospital janitor have in common?They do jobs nobody wants to do.They buy and consume things nobody wants to buy and consume (second-hand clothes, low-quality food, used cars and electronics).They use services nobody else wants to use (watching soap operas on TV, spending holidays in motels and youth hostels).They allow society to spend money in an alturistic way without being outright beggars (by claiming state support and consuming surplus money).They occupy housing nobody wants to occupy.But wait, I know some middle-class or even rich people who do one or more of the afromentioned things. How can you say this?There are only few middle-class or rich people doing the above. And they all do this because of their personal beliefs. They wear cheap clothes because they deem them to be the most comfortable ones and use second-hand cars or buy used laptops because they want to do the environment a favor by decreasing production need. Poor and working poor people do the aforementioned things because they need to, having no other choices due to their low financial, cultural and social capital.While this may sound nonsensical, consider the fact that low-quality goods, jobs and services are not always created "on purpose" to target the poor but often as by-products of high-quality goods, jobs and services. Every pig carcass contains fatty or tough yet edible meat that can satisfy one's hunger. Every baker needs somebody to oil the oven. Every busy doctor, engineer or lawyer needs somebody to clean his home while he and his wife are working and the kids are in school. Everybody who wants to take a walk in the park needs somebody to collect the leaves. Every exclusive penthouse building has at least one crappy, small, oddly-shaped, damp and dark apartment nobody wants to have. Every good car becomes worthless after ten or twenty years, still working and driving swiftly and reliably but showing honorable scratches and indentations. Every famous screenwriter will start his career producing proletarian plays.While universities are becoming more and more cramped, vocational schools training for lowly-paid, repetitive, "ordinary" jobs are being closed due to lack of interest.As long as robots will not replace menial jobs and replicators will not allow everybody to magically materialize every desired item or food, the problem will persist. The poor have no other choice than to mitigate its implications by consuming what others might consider waste - in contrast, many academics rather stay unemployed for years than taking up simple jobs and gourmets go hungry for a day instead of eating fast food. It's all a question of personal mindset and values, of hereditary factors and upbringing.The middle class is expanding in some countries. In short metaphorical form: servants are now demanding servants by themselves. Fewer and fewer people are there to serve more and more people.It might sound inhumane, capitalist and ignorant, but the poor, and especially the working poor are and have always been the backbone of our society. They are not the waste of the society but the cleaners and janitors of the society, taking care of its waste.In my opinion, not only the theory that the middle class must expand indefinitely, ultimately absorbing the lower classes is wrong but also the downfall of the middle class in countries like America is a natural symptom of its oversize.What do you think? Please discuss in a civil and polite way.

Seeing that there is no such thread yet, I have given myself the liberty to create one destined for the discussion of the Lunar Eclipse scheduled for today. If you want to check whether you will see it go to this link: https://www.timeanddate.com/eclipse/globe/2018-july-27

A guy named John St. Clair filed this patent for a triangular, electrostatically powered aircraft that is eerily similar to the TR-3B used by the US Armed Forces, 14 years ago. https://patents.google.com/patent/US20060145019A1/en Abstract: A spacecraft having a triangular hull with vertical electrostatic line charges on each corner that produce a horizontal electric field parallel to the sides of the hull. This field, interacting with a plane wave emitted by antennas on the side of the hull, generates a force per volume combining both lift and propulsion. What do you think?

The United States of America already have a "space force". The existence of vessels like the TR-3B or the Solar Warden Program is an open secret by now. The only thing that prevents full, official disclosure are the propulsion systems. It would make the oil corporations angry. TR-3B patent: https://patents.google.com/patent/US20060145019A1/en

A fellow veteran! My most embarassing launches from the old era? Well...I forgot parachutes on numerous occasions. Imagine returning from a successful Mun mission, realizing that your crew is doomed, about to crash. More-or-less embarassing are also my attempts at building laterally-symmetrical spaceplanes in the VAB (there was no SPH back then). BTW: SAS used to be a simple torque-applying stabilizer module back then; ASAS (usually added by means of the MechJeb mod) could follow simple orders like "prograde" or "retrograde".

You think so? Okay. But this was unintended.

Hello. The request I am making is simple: to transfer cockpit props (both stock and RPM/ALCOR ones) into part format, e.g. make them placeable in editor and to create functioning placeable RPM GUI's. This would be nice for making custom cockpits and bridges. Can anybody help?

As some of you might know, myself and another user of this forum are desiring to compose a Kerbal Space Program-themed opera. I have written up a libretto proposal and request feedback on the story and ideas on its musical realization. Table of Characters: Jebediah Kerman, Bill Kerman, Bob Kerman - Tenors Wehrner von Kerman, Gene Kerman - Basses Mission Control choirs Alien choirs Conspect: Act I: The few peaceful days on Kerbin between two missions. Slightly drunken Jeb, Bill and Bob, already in their fourties/fifties, are having a night walk through KSC, remembering the heroic days of the first advancements of the Kerbal Space Program. They are due to conduct a routine flight to the Mun the next day. Suddenly, Gene Kerman appears with happy news: a Jool probe has found an anomaly on Vall. The trio agrees to partake in the mission, seeing it as reminiscent of the old times. Wehrner and Gene warn them throughoutly of the fact that the ship they will be flying in is untested and there is only a limited possibility of return to Kerbin. The warnings are ignored, and the brave Kerbonauts board their rocket as a triumphal farewell march plays. The music is calm, concentrating on woodwinds and strings in the beginning, becoming more and more dramatic towards the end of the act as percussion and brass sets in. I wonder how a rocket launch can be pictured by an orchestra... Act II: The long flight to Jool. The trio spends the time recalling their youths once again and maintaining the spaceship. They speculate about the nature of the anomaly. Everything is normal and boring in the beginning. One night, Jeb has a dream. He dreams of alien choirs welcoming Kerbalkind into the greater community of the Galaxy, starting a new age of peace and prosperity for the race. The hymns are suddenly interrupted by a great explosion - Jeb awakens and realizes that a meteorite has hit the module Bill and Bob were working in during his own sleeping shift, killing them both. The communication antenna is also destroyed - funeral choirs in the background symbolize Mission Control, which declares that the ship is lost. Jeb breaks down morally, knowing that he will not be able to return to Kerbin. He cries out in a dramatic aria, longing for his home planet and his mother. Jool and his moons appear in the window, and Jebediah understands that the mission can still be completed, that there is still the possibility of landing at the designated site on Vall and finding out its secret. Jeb inspects the lander and retreats to the bridge of the ship to do the last calculations and write the autopilot program. Here, I picture that the music will have some "imperfections" in order to symbolize the claustrophobia and stress of a long interplanetary voyage. The meteorite collision could be pictured by a strong percussion impact, with chaotic, maybe even completely disharmonic music underlining the moments thereafter. Jeb's aria should be extremely sad, driving the listener to tears so that he can comprehend the Kerbal's pain. The finale could be happier, maybe a march again, but fatalist. Act III: The landing on Vall. Jeb bids farewell to his ship. Due to the impact-induced change in trajectory, the lander only has enough fuel for landing, not for takeoff and return; every chance of seeing home again is forfeited. Jebediah's soul is broken, the first signs of mental trauma set in as he begins singing of looking forward to seeing the aliens. His mourning for home wears off slowly and is replaced by the anticipation of the landing as the icy desert of Vall gets closer and closer. The lander touches down hardly, on the last drops of fuel, and Jeb sets a flag on the surface of the moon. Jool is watching over the scene like a fatherly figure, standing high in the sky. The stage lights should have taken on a green tone by now. Jeb begins to walk towards the presumed location of the anomaly. He finally enters Vallhenge, a magnificent formation. As Jeb's oxygen is already running out, he begins to hallucinate. For a moment, the brave explorer realizes that the creators of the anomaly are long-extinct - but suddenly, the alien choirs appear once again. The final climax comes. The "aliens" appear on stage; Jeb is lifted off and presumes that they are going to take him to their planet. In reality, they are angels who are going to bring his soul to Heaven, for the Kerbonaut is dead. The alien choirs merge with the Mission Control choirs, forming a last heroic elegy, louder and more magnificent that all prior music of the opera. The finale would end gradually, with the choirs slowly receding, a string chord symbolizing the real end. The music of the third act should synthetize the elements of the last two acts at first, then superseding them with a new tune that signifies Jeb's sacrifice. I would be happy if at least the finale of the third act included church organ as an instrument of adding boldness to the music. What do you think?

I have recently been playing around with the idea of an opera set in the KSP universe. Is anybody else interested? If yes, we can draw out a rough libretto, maybe some of the most important verses. As I'm not a professional composer, anybody who is good in the field of music is welcome.

There is a mod that turns Kerbals into Ponies, if I recall correctly. Perhaps you can speak to the owner about xenomorphs.

Hm...publishing by way of spacedock is a good idea.

I mean deciding on the countries and regions.