ResonantWaves

Thanks for the support guys! Especially @DarkOwl57- looks like those endless Discord chats weren't wasted after all!

CHAPTER I Thomasville, Vertica 2037 I rubbed my eyes, adjusting to the temperature and light as I climbed out of bed, dust particles blowing past me illuminated by the ray of light arcing through my curtains. I allowed myself the luxury of a stretch before a shout shook me from my lethargic state. “Arky! Breakfast, now!” Sigh. Mum, being the relentless pursuer of morning exercise that she is, insists on forcing me out of bed a good few minutes before I’m actually, properly awake. “Coming, Mum- what’s for breakfast?” A reply, tinged with impatience, drifts down the hall. “Kerb-O’s if you hurry, an empty stomach if not! Get down here, don’t care if you’re still in nightwear!” I trudge down the hall and moodily twist the handle of the kitchen door. Mum’s there in her eye-searingly yellow exercise stretchfit- looking mutinous with a bowl of Kerb-O’s in her right hand. I slide into the bench seat behind the table and Mum plonks the bowl in front of me; the impact is so hard it splashes milk into my face. I spoon the multi-coloured rings into my mouth at a rate that should be impossible by anatomical standards, Mum shaking her head half in annoyance, half in mirth: the quirks of her mouth betraying her stony facade. The Kerb-O’s are the cheapest cereal on the market, delivered almost solely in fluoro-green boxes that smack of cheapness and flimsiness. Mum briefs me on this morning’s routine as I finish off my sweet, crunchy breakfast. “Right, Arky, you’ve got yourself a big day today. Home race at the Speedway, and the talent scouts will be out in full force. You’ve gotta impress- your underdog status might give you a bit of sentimental value, but that’ll only take you so far. First, your daily jog to the cemetery and back- bring these flowers for the grave, please- then sim training, lunch and off to the race.” I nod, concentrating on the wood fiber walls. Today was gonna be tough. Grabbing my coat, I spun around, gave Mum a hug and slipped out the door. At the end of the drive, I looked back at the home I’d grown up in for eleven of my seventeen years. Our modest bungalow was made of two types of wood- a beachy yellow tinge, and blue foundation planks. It was only five minutes from the Thomasville Speedway, and another ten from the center of town- a modern-ish city of 60,000 kerbs, nestled on the shores of the Equatorial Ocean. A prickle of tears formed in my eye- salty and stinging. I blinked them away and began to jog: after half an hour, I’d reached Thomasville Rural Cemetery, flowers in hand. Debris littered the overgrown grass, from chipped stones, silent as the, well, grave. I hurried forward, my shoes crunching debris into pebble-y rubbish, my emotions a wet, heavy lump of recurring sadness, my throat a tightly coiled, painful blockage. I place the flowers down, disturbing the gray dust that seems to settle at the foot of every gravestone. I hurry away; I really don’t want anything to do with this place, no matter what my heart tells my head. Nope. Then, a shaft of bright, sharp pain as my world spins around me: I’d tripped over a chunk of stone. Cursing my luck and uncomfortably aware of the tiny, sharp pieces of gravel stabbing into my cheek, I realized, with an internal groan, that running away from my past was literally sending me into the dirt. And as a racer, the last place you want to be is in the dirt, wheels snapped, nose cone mangled into the fence, dreams of victory behind you. An hour later, I’m booting up the TV and simulator. Mum’s cooking lunch: I’ve got maybe half an hour before I have to, sit at the table. Opening the case of my favorite game K1 2036, I’m reminded of how much I train by the spine of the disc case being bent and damaged from so much use- not a great look, to be honest. I slide the disc in, press start and navigate the options menu. Selecting Formula K and the Ozitec Circuit, I move to car and driver selection. After a moment’s deliberation, spurred on by my pride, I select OTech GP, then my own virtual recreation- it gets me every time, seeing my name in a popular sim-game. The game loads, and I switch off all the assists, the HUD and tweak up all the settings to their hardest levels. Driving like this is ridiculously difficult, probably harder than real life. And believe me- I’d know. Meanwhile the game starts and I grab the controller wheel. The Ozitec circuit, located in the sands of Shadab, is my favorite- last year’s race there had been my rookie year, first race on the circuit, and I’d loved everything, from the glittering sands to the glass skyscrapers, not to mention the huge glass dome section hosting the famous Quantic Chicane. It had been the race where I’d gotten my first top five: fifth place. That year I finished ninth out of twenty-two in the championship- this year I was fourth after three races. A fourth in Marcolo and my second place in Aptur had been followed by a dismal eighth in Eradica- I was hoping to get back on form for my home race. Meanwhile, the ingame equivalent of Rinno Kerman runs me into the gravel trap. I smile inwardly at the unexpectedly accurate portrayal of Rinno’s driving- a little older and a hell of a lot stupider than me, Rinno was on tenterhooks with his team, Radical Supersport. A promising second place at Marcolo had turned into a tyre blowout and huge collision at the Apturian SP- dead last. After a mechanical failure and collision with another driver put him in eighteenth in Eradica, Radical have been pretty closed-off regarding Rinno’s future with the team. A collision jerks me back to the game- Rinno’s virtual car had rebounded into the track, colliding with a Plutonia Engineering car and causing a Centurion driver to fly into the air. I winced- my car had a flat tyre, preventing me from rejoining. I restart, trying to suppress a giggle at the flying mess of cars. A second attempt goes better- I manages to last nine laps before a stupid mistake sends me off into the grass at 250 kerblometers per hour, pretty close to the top speed of about 280. The car spins in a 180 before burying its rear-end in the barrier, still traveling at roughly 160 k. The car flips over and rebounds into the path of two cars, prompting heavy braking and a safety car. Finally on my third attempt, I finish all thirty-one laps, crossing the finish in second. A last-lap overtake around Quantic probably was the cause; the pit strategy that saved me nearly 30 seconds probably helped, too. Louis from Ferram Manor Racing had won, of course- he was in his fourth year in Formula K, and rumors were abound that he’d be moving to Ferram’s K1 team mid-season if he kept up his form- winning at Marcolo, fourth in Aptur and second in Eradica. He was easily my biggest rival, but the worst thing about having him as a rival was the fact that he was simply too hard to hate- super-nice and friends with everyone, except yours truly and probably the rookies, Louis was the definition of ‘cool guy’. He was my biggest motivation to win, to show everyone that I could be just as good as him, and not just the scrappy underdog. Switching off the sim and heading into the kitchen, I thought to myself, Well, maybe if I win, the stupid grin is gonna die on Louis’ face. One sandwich later, and we were off to the Speedway. Formula K races are obviously less famous than the several K1 Grand Prix dotted all over Kerbin- anything less than half a million spectators was seen as a poor showing there. While Formula K races still were less popular, the number of spectators was growing each year as cheaper tickets and more hectic racing appealed to more people. Thomasville was unique in that it was the only ‘speedway’ oval track in both Formula K and K1 (no ovals in K1, leave that to the boxercars). Most people wanted it gone from the roster, mostly racing purists who thought ovals were boring. I disagreed: taking the banking at 260 k and slipstreaming other cars was both a challenge and fun, not to mention that Vertica didn’t have a K1 track yet- I had to support my home, after all! Arriving in the pre-race room, I glanced at the race order. Having already qualified seventh, with teammate Saul (an older, semi-retired GP Course racer) in thirteenth, I was feeling pretty good. My best performances had all come from mid-pack or back-of-the-pack situations- I’d qualified ninth in Aptur to finish second, and fourteenth in Ozitec to finish fifth. I recognized a few faces- Dre, fresh off his win in Eradica, Melcan, who’d battled from a last-place puncture in Marcolo and battled up to tenth and of course, Louis (with his stupid, glittery smile) who fist-bumps me. “How’s it going, bro!” Louis grins when he sees me. Shut up. You aren’t my ‘bro’, you’re just an idiot. Out loud, I say: “Yeah, Louis man, cheers.” through gritted teeth. “Hey, sorry ‘bout your finish in Eradica. Must be tough, having to fight back.” Louis replies. Not as tough as my fist when it knocks your stupid teeth out, amazing person. Seeing the tension, everyone else starts to back off. “Yeah, well, I don’t exactly have millions to throw around, buying my way into the best team money can buy…” I whisper through gritted teeth. Louis narrows his eyes and raises his hands in surrender. I want to punch him, but he’d fall on Carlos. Hoping to distract me, Carlos gets between us and says: “Hey, I heard through the sunfruit vine that Jebediah Kerman will show up with the talent scouts.” This sparks a good twenty minutes of idle chatter about Jeb- we’ve all been fans of the way his skilled driving got him the 2036 championship and his success story. Charles- the quiet-spoken rookie in his first year- says that his lucky helmet was signed by Jeb himself, and we all crowd round to read the signature. Fly high Charles- Jeb Kerman. “I was wearing it the day I got sixth in Aptur, and tenth in Eradica when I dodged that huge wreck on lap 17. Guess Jeb guided me through that one.” He shrugs, and I pat him on the back. Charles is obviously new to the scene- him and Brendon being the only rookies in Formula K at the moment- but he’ll hopefully mature as a driver. The tannoy crackles to life, and the announcer’s voice whispers sibilantly out. “Can all drivers please move to the grid?” I nod at Charles. It was time… for the Thomasville Superprix. “We’re a few minutes from lights out here at Thomasville, and the crowd seems to be wild with anticipation- I’m here in the commentator box with Jeremy Kerman. Jeremy- what’s all the fuss about? “Well, Jim, I’m hearing rumours that Jeb Kerman has showed up here at today’s race. Jebediah Kerman is the 2036 K1 champion and a former racer of this very series: a star of the racing world.” “Seriously, Jeremy- anyone would think you were Jeb’s press secretary the way you consistently rabbit on about him.” “Getting back on topic, Jim, The Thomasville race proves to be a true test of speed and endurance. Forty laps of this four-corner oval is demanding both on the car and the driver, and with 450 kerbpower engines and low downforce settings, today may well see a new speed record for the sport. “Well, Jeremy old pal, I’ll be setting a speed record for running out of the booth if you keep up this statistical rubbish-” “SHUT UP, JIM! Welcome, kerbetts and gentlekerbs, to the Thomasville Superprix.” I relax my grip on the steering wheel, flex my fingers and breathe deeply, flicking the comm switch in my helmet. “Arcazon, this is Teddy in the pit box. We need some points today, bud; try and make some opportunities in the early laps. You’re scheduled for a stop to supersofts on lap 13 from super softs then pitting on lap 25 for softs to end the race.” “What about Saul?” I mutter into the comms unit. “Saul will go on the softs until lap 24, then run those softs until the end of the race.” “What!?!” I explode. “But that’ll put him ahead on pit time!” “Um...Arcazon, Saul’s tires will be depleted by the end of the race- your newer supersofts will catch him early on, and you’ll be able to overtake more readily with faster tires anyway. Please stop these outbursts, you’ll give the techs a headache.” I sigh, “Fine, fine. Whatever makes you happy, boss.” “Don’t you forget it. Thirty seconds ‘till start- You’re good to go.” The first red light blinks on. Twenty-two engines fire up together, the engine notes building to a screeching roar. Second red light. The heat haze from the cars encompasses the tarmac, blurring the cars ahead. Third light- I snap down my visor, hand hovering over the paddles each side of the steering wheel. Fourth light. I redline the engine- cheers erupt as my home fans cheer me on. Fifth light. Breathe. Exhale. And- “GREEN LIGHT, GREEN, GREEN! Go, go, go! Slipping the clutch, I get a decent launch off the line, roaring up to Turn 1 in time to block ninth place from flying up the inside. My tires cling on to the tarmac as the lateral G’s pull at them. as I settle in behind sixth place, Jason from Plutonia Engineering. The radio crackles as myspeed climbs. 210. 225. 245. “Good start, Arcazon- try and get round Jason if you can, no pressure.” “Roger roger that, Teddy.” The scream of engines pumps my blood a little faster as I rocket across the line for Lap 2. The glowing position board tells me Saul has moved to eleventh and Charles sits in thirteenth. Louis, Dre and Carlos are battling heavily for first: Dre is leading with Carlos a quarter second back and Louis alongside him. I let off the accelerator, slingshotting round the outside of Jason into Turn 1. Jason closes the door on me, our wheels millimeters from each other and the solid concrete walls. “Arcazon, you’ve gotta get him into Turn 2.” screeches my technical head, Joe, into the comms. I don’t answer, but keep accelerating. 250, 270. 280… Jason backs out, and I slide past into Turn 3 for an easy sixth. “Yes, yes, yes buddy- go, go, go!” radioes Teddy. I flick the drink button, and chug- the cold water soothes my throat. From some obscure overhead region, I hear the commentators. “What an overtake there from young Arcazon Kerman- Plutonia will be replaying that over and over after the race today!” It’s Lap 9, and I’m still sitting in sixth- half a second out from Nathan, driving the Ravenwest car in fifth. Charles has moved to eleventh in a daring double overtake, while Saul hangs on in eighth. “OK, bud, Nathan’s had a lockup into Turn 2- your chance to catch him on the back stretch.” “Thanks, Teddy- heading in for the pass now.” I radio back. “No problem: watch the grit into Turns 3 and 4.” I slide right to the innermost section of track, brushing the grass. Nathan’s car in all it’s black and grey glory is right beside me as we exit the banking onto lap 10. Two laps later, and I’m a lap from pitting. Me and Nathan are still alongside; as I pull into Turn 1, a black fleck catches my eye; I’m going way too fast right now to register it. I skid a little into Turn 2 and Nathan pulls away- but then his car shudders and slows, and I realise in horror that the black fleck was rubber from Nathan’s damaged tyre. I slow down, but at that moment Nathan’s tyre blows in a shower of sparks, catapulting him sideways into the wall. He spins, and catches me as I try to avoid the crash. A maelstrom of sparks, a piece of debris under the car, I’m heading for the wall! All these facts are smashed into my mind at once, and I instinctively tilt the wheel. A gasp rises from the crowd as I drift into the infield, coming to a stop. The commentators are squawking on in the box. “Nathan Kerman of Ravenwest is out in a huge collision- he seems to have taken Arcazon Kerman with him, and Arcazon is limping back to the pits.” Safety car hasn’t been called out- what the Kerm? Then the radio hisses, as I accelerate back onto the track. “Arcazon, are you OK? You’ve lost the front wing, pit now please. Are you OK?” “Yeah… yeah, I’m fine.” But I’m not. I’ve busted my hopes of being scouted for K1- I’m numb. It’s over. Steam rolls off my tires as I brake for the pits- the crew is out with wheel guns and front wing in hand as I pull in to the box. I flip up my visor, close to tears. “Teddy, Teddy, I’m so sorry. Kerm…” Teddy looks at me forlornly. We’ve got almost no chance of a points finish, and his face says it all. The car is lowered back down, and as I leave the pit lane in fifteenth, I catch a glimpse of Louis’ glittering silver Ferram gliding into Turn 4. I tighten my grip on the steering wheel, and I can feel my resolve hardening with it. I can’t lose my reputation to that idiot. Not now. Not ever. I gun the car out of the pit lane, angling into Turn 1. I’ve got a hell of a lot of catching up to do. “It’s Lap 18 of the Thomasville Superprix, and Louis Kerman leads with the Ferram into Turn 2, with Dre and Hansibald Kerman two seconds off. Nathan Kerman is out of the race, and Arcazon Kerman is making a comeback from fifteenth. He’s tenth right now, battling with his teammate Saul Kerman for ninth. Rookie Charles Kerman is battling Rinno Kerman for twelfth, while Brendon Kerman sits three seconds back in thirteenth. Palugi Kerman has also pulled out with engine failure, slowing backmarker Kelsie Kerman and the V12 Racing car of Sambal Kerman in seventeenth and eighteenth, respectively. It’s been a hot first half here at Thomasville, and it’s only gonna get quicker.” I’m slipstreaming Saul into Turn 2 as we shoot along the back straight. I’m faster- so I pull out to overtake. Saul blocks me, forcing me to jerk the wheel to the left, to avoid putting us both into the wall. Furiously, I pull off the Velcro strap and yell into the comms. “Teddy, what the Kerm is Saul doing! He won’t let me past!” I implore. A few seconds of silence as Teddy presumably reasons with Saul. Then Teddy drops a bombshell on me- crushing with the weight of hatred it carries. “Arcazon...he...he refuses to let you pass. Says you’ve gone too long upstaging him.” Right. This is nuts. “Teddy, TELL THAT MORON TO BACK OFF, or I’m not going to be responsible for what happens in the pits!” “Sorry, bud. Radio silence from Saul.” Eight laps later, and It’s time to pit for softs, my last stint of the race. Saul flies on past as I brake for the pits- I flip a rude hand gesture at his car as the brakes burn up my tires, flashing rubber into smoke. “Gogogogogo!” The words sort of tumble out, my voice tripping over itself in haste. Then the car is lowered to the ground for the final time, and I’m off. Saul’s limping- blocking me for an extra two laps has strained his tires to the breaking point. However, the undercut puts him in the lead, three seconds ahead of Louis and Carlos. I fly out the pits in tenth, locked onto Rinno’s rear bumper as I shoot up the inside into Turn 2. Charles is ahead in seventh, with Dre in fifth and Louis catching Saul at lightning speed. I feint to Rinno’s inside, and jerk the wheel to the outside as he turns to block me, flying past. Lap 30. Saul is literally being mobbed by Louis, Carlos, Dre and two or three other cars: his threadbare tires have literally seconds left. I'm a comfortable second off Charles, sitting behind him in eighth. As I watch the other side of the track, I see Saul’s car wobble, as black rubber bounces off its undercarriage. The commentators seem worried. “Jeremy, Saul Kerman in the lead is five laps past the soft tires’ pit window. Are we about to see another tire blowout, like Nathan on lap 9?” This isn’t gonna end well... “Well, Jim, Saul is an experienced driver, but even the learned make bad calls.” Damn right they do. Saul’s stupid ego cost me a chance to win. While I ruminate in the sweaty cockpit of my car, Saul pulls in- six laps extra on the tires must’ve killed them. I whizz past and take seventh, swerving to try and pass Charles. He blocks me skilfully as I try my old ‘dive and swerve’ trick. Hehe, nice one Charles. Pulling out of his slipstream, I pull alongside Charles, his hard tires not giving him enough straight-line speed. See you later, buddy. I dive down the inside to defend as the commentators’ voices permeate my helmet. “Another overtake from Arcazon Kerman- the guy is unstoppable today!” “What a comeback- fifteenth to sixth in 21 laps is amazing! The guy just won’t give up!” I grin, racing past the line into Lap 32 and chasing down Kantor in the HRM car down to Turn 1. The end is in sight- I’ve done everything I can and I’ve still got so more to give. I’m not happy with sixth, but it’s my best under the circumstances. Lap 38 is half gone by the time Teddy’s voice blasts through the radio, his voice sibilant with the hiss of radio chatter. “Kantor in the number 33 car has an aero problem. I repeat, number 33 has a aero problem. You’re four seconds back and gaining at a rate of two point three seconds per lap.” “Roger roger, Teddy.” I reply. Working out the quick maths as I round Turn 3, I realise that I’ll catch Kantor right at the finish line, perfect drama for the end of the race. I boot the accelerator across the line into lap 39 and take the most aggressive apex-hugging path into Turn 1 that the car can manage. Meanwhile, Kantor is round Turn 2, limping as his damaged back wing holds up his car’s progress. I’m locked on like a heat-seeking missile, gaining so fast on the straight that it almost seems like a cartoon. The first group of leaders has crossed the line; with a groan, I see that Louis has won by just half a car length ahead of Hansibald. Gritting my teeth, I fly into the outside on Turn 3, my tires screeching as I fly into the turn about forty kerblometers per hour faster than was necessary. Kantor exits Turn 4- eyeballing it, I’m roughly one and a half seconds behind. “Well, with the podium decided, we’ve still got a race going on here… particularly between Kantor and Arcazon Kerman. Kantor’s one point two seconds ahead, but Arcazon’s undamaged car is catching up at a ridiculous rate…” “Yes, Jeremy- young Arcazon will be hoping to add another overtake to his incredible race tally today- double that of any other driver on the track.” Teddy’s voice hisses into Turn 1. “OK, Arcazon: just catch him on the last turns- no heroics though, we want you and the car back home in one piece.” I don’t reply. Doing so would only waste time- time that I don’t have right now. We’re heading up the back stretch, I’m a second behind but gaining quick. Sensing this, Kantor floors the car ahead- grass streams past, the mesh on the gate blurs and the scenery begins to merge together. Then it’s all thrown into reverse as the car’s brakes yank me back to reality. I’m almost touching Kantor’s bumper, the engine is screaming, the crowd is going nuts and the commentators are shouting their heads off: a cacophony of raw sound. Kantor pulls wide into Turn 4 and I pin the car to the apex, two car lengths behind. My vision tunnels. Me and the finish line. And just a few hundred meters. All or nothing. I’m… Then the finish line blurs past, the official waves the flag and I clench my eyes shut in triumph. “YES GUYS! YES! YES YES YES YES! THANK YOU SO MUCH GUYS, WHAT A COMEBACK!” I scream into the comms. The sound of cheering and clapping fills my helmet. Against all odds, it’s over. I’ve battled to the top five from a seemingly unrecoverable position, and I couldn’t be prouder. I wave my hand to the crowd, scooping up the adulation; it feels great! Half an hour later, I’m chatting with Charles in the post race room, as the results screen flashes. He placed seventh: another bunch of points for his tally, making him enormously pleased. Saul finishes twelfth- serves the moron right. Suddenly Louis saunters over: a horrible, smarmy, grin on his face and his arms folded. “So you two, near the back again...can’t say I’m surprised to see you there, Charles, but Arcazon… I thought you were better, seems I was wrong.” “So a points finish is ‘at the back’ now is it?” I say coolly. “If that were the case, then I guess you'd like it ‘at the back.’ Louis scrunches his face up in anger as people start to stare. I don't care anymore: I'm so angry I could burst. “You're both rejects!” shouts Louis. “The fatherless wonder and the talentless loser- boy, you guys make a great team!” he spits voice dripping with sarcasm. He pokes Charles in the chest and I rear up. “Go back to the sims and the junior league karts, talentless wonder. You're not welcome here.” he hisses menacingly at Charles's face. In response Charles stands up to his full height, and calmly spits in Louis’ face. I burst out laughing, then stop abruptly as Louis raises his fists. Melcan, Louis’ teammate, puts his hand on Louis’ shoulder. “This ain’t the place for that. Take it to the track, not your damn fists.” Melcan says calmly but firmly and steers Louis away. I catch some of the conversation as they walk away. “totally unprofessional, Louis… how are you supposed to get a K1 seat if… snarl at every annoying driver… “ Well, if Melcan thinks we're annoying too, then Kerm damn him. Kerm damn them both. I rise up to go after them, but Charles yanks me down. I’m bristling with anger, and I can’t curb it. Next time, Louis… next time. END OF CHAPTER ONE

I love Formula One, and KSP. Never would I have thought you could fuse them. Bravo!

Considering I only just got KSP (March), I've pledged to myself that I will not buy KSP2 at least for another year. KSP is a game I look forward to growing with

I'm surprisingly sad (and not because I just bought the first one a couple months ago.) KSP is not meant to have a sequel. It is a neverending game of amazing possibilities. Skip the trailer hype and what have you got? A shameless perversion of KSP's spirit, made with sci-fi glitter and beautiful music to distract from the the fact that Squad's masterpiece isn't Squad's anymore but a cash grab from T2, exploting the game's 'persevere and succeed' originality in the name of Benjamin Franklin's cold hard dollars.. I'm sorry for being so cynical but this is too much.

I get back September 1st. Whether or not I will get my install ready and working before school on the 5th remains to be seen.

This is a genius idea for a challenge! I love it and will be entering when I get back to my PC in September. Looking forward to it, @dire!

If RSS/RO and RP doesn't bug out, count me in! I'll be in New Zealand without my PC until September though...

@HansonKerman A challenger to your name has appeared!

*Reader 6 (or maybe 5) has joined the chat* I think this comic format is super interesting and I can't wait to see where you go with it!

THE THREAD HAS REACHED 2001 PAGES! 'My god...it's full of posts...'

Thanks for the tips! I knew a wee bit about writing beforehand (not my first rodeo, haha) but this'll come in handy, cheers!

Holding down the Windows key and tapping Print Screen (or Prt Sc on some keyboards) is a very easy way to do so. I've actually been thinking about writing a darker, sadder version of KSP fanfiction featuring the original four, or rather, their absence. Not much of a writer myself but it does intrigue me... I've got a friend that's not on the forums but maybe he'd help me write it, and a few others around Discord and Steam. Interesting.

I would most certainly consider! Depending on amount of free time, version and mod collusion, and/or the complete overhaul of Imgur into something quick and easily usable, I think it would be quite fun!

Ah.. the famed terrain bugs... I only started KSP in 1.0.5, so I never experienced that, thank the Kerm

Welcome to the forums! I see you have already undergone the emotional trauma gut-wrenching sobbing saluteable funerals with sad music the pain of losing several kerbals to failures. No worries! I killed Bob and Val before successfully landing from orbit so I'm not giving the greatest advice.

Title says it all. My first kerbal died when I accidentally released a lunch clamp prematurely. The solid boosters got cut off, but it was too late to stop the Astro 1 from destroying the pad in a ball of flames, killing Val. Bob died when I forgot to add a decoupler to the service module from the pod on reentry and he burnt to a crisp. Bill and Jeb along with newcomer Bartlin were killed when my first Mun flyby suddenly became a 700m/s sample collection mission... CLASSIFIED [REDACTED] How about you?

"Hello sir/siresses/gloobknorbs! Do you have a moment to talk about our lord and saviour Jebediah Kerman?" aliens share a frightened look as one's eyelid twitches, then they shoot as far away from Earth as they can get. "For god's sake, can't you read? The wild game reserve 'Earth' is closed! Are you coming back later?" Cheese or bread? You can't have both you know! Seriously, aren't these visits getting boring for you?

A fic that I've really enjoyed. It's been dormant for a wee while but the creator of this fic, @SiriusRocketry, is a close personal friend of mine and yesterday he sent me a draft for the second chapter! A fic that I've really enjoyed. It's been dormant for a wee while but the creator of this fic, @SiriusRocketry, is a close personal friend of mine and yesterday he sent me a draft for the second chapter!

It's a real shame this has been abandoned. I really enjoyed the writing.

That's perfectly fine, if it's to protect the forum then I understand. Thank you.

Hi! I'm new here, from Wolverhampton in England (outskirts actually) and I only recently got into KSP: played the 1.0 demo in early 2017 before falling in love and buying KSP 1.3.1 in August of that year. I have a few forum questions: 1. Why can't I change my profile pic? 2. What's with the first post approved by mod rule? Lastly: how can i customise my profile? Thanks for listening and goodnight from me!

That's pretty awful... Mental health is unfortunately such a problem for youth today. I've been reading a couple of other KSP fics, but permit me to say none have hooked me in like this. Wishing him a speedy recovery from the British Midlands.

Hey guys, I made an account just for this story! Picked it up while searching for KSP fanfiction, and I gotta say it's one of the best things I've read, KSP or not. Where is this guy? @SiriusRocketry are you gonna finish this off? Anyone know why he hasn't written?