CatastrophicFailure

Naw, it's gotta be something closer to 2km/s at least, there's an awful lot of moon up there.

Hmm. Y'know, I think landing on the moon is gonna take a teensy bit more than that...

Aerodynamic dis-assemblies lead to some very impressive debris clouds... It's rainin' rocketshipparts! Halleluja it's rainin' rocketshipparts! Amen! CЯДP, ЯЦЙ!

Are there any stats on the D2s delta v?

Because you've got a surplus capsule nearing the end of its life span, a perfectly workable off-the-shelf system to deliver it, and someone offering you money to do so (why? University research, commercial exploration, Poland really can to the moon, who knows?) SEP...? Maybe Bezos starts to see some commercial success with his New Shepherd, and some other outfit wants a piece of that pie. Again, once you've got the hardware available at a greatly reduced cost... Same theme here... low-cost "immediately" available hardware with a demonstrated track record. If the Red Dragon works, and works well, I'm sure SpaceX and others will begin to find more uses for the platform. See @Rakaydos's comment above. Even if his numbers are rather, um, optimistic. As a parallel, there's tons of operations out there using old, surplus aircraft in ways they were never intended.

It seems to me once you've gotten that far, shutting off crossfeed early enough for the core to use enough of its own fuel is a simple engine management software issue. Even without doing that, I, and I'm sure many others, have designs similar to this in upscaled KSP, and it works quite well. Like @softweir said, once you've got the core that high and that fast, it adds much to the usefulness. On a different note, why would it not be good to have the boosters feeding directly into the core tanks instead of the engines?

Ok, bit late to the game here, um.... how did you manage this??

If you do not start your engines... you will not be going to space today....

Oh, you don't have to buy it again, unless you just don't like it on Steam. You can download from the store as much as you like and just plop it into different folders.

Yup. My 1.0.5 save is as updated as it's ever gonna get now. This is why I have like two dozen KSP folders scattered randomly about my hard drives.

They can't exit directly, you have to use the "transfer crew" option from the right click menu to move them to a part with a hatch. There's no actual hatch on that tiny hab unit.

Ah, the easy way. For a minute there I was wondering if you moved the whole station or did a kinda backwards "line up & toss it that way then get the heck out of the way & pray" thing.

Um... that dint work... but always amusing to see where you've wound up after leaving KSP up all night... and wondering what a spectacular explosion you must have missed...

adsf asdf

Wait, how'd you dock the clawed science package if it has no control of it's own? Also, how's your framerate doing with a good-sized station like that?

Interesting idea.... Perfectly usable rocket bits just "laying by the side of the road," as it were. Opens the door to all sorts of potentially Kerbalish experiments at very low cost. An F9 core could easily send a D2 capsule on a suborbital flight, hmm...

And rockets that land on boats. And robotic invasion force on Mars. What a time to be alive, eh? ETA: I just pulled it on on my iThing™ instead of the PC. Never actually tried one of those 360 videos like that before. Brings a whole new perspective.

The noise! The NOISE! Never realized just how far it bounced to the side, either. Is there a better quality one anywhere?

Since you mentioned it, what would happen to kerosene after six months in space? I'd always understood it stores and transports pretty well, hence it's popularity with militaries (also why I drive a diesel ).

Remains to seen if it would enter orbit first, but probably not. Landers usually make direct landings from beyond escape velocity.

Traditional Kerbal medicine has always involved injecting the victim patient with explosives and seeing what works. Sooner or later something had to.

I had exactly the same thought. They've touted the precision landing capability of the design, we know where most of the failed missions are, so land near by, plop down a rover, and go examine one! I think the word you're looking for here is "prototype" The first flight may be a custom one-off thing, but it's intended that many similar ones will follow...

Really, of all the engineering challenges posed by this mission, this is probably the least. Precision landings are one of the main points of the Red Dragon concept, so simply landing with the door pointing south (or north) should be comparatively simple. And kerballing up a solar panel to pop out of the door isn't exactly unproven technology... Realistically, this is probably what will happen. But as earlier, I'll stick to optimism until circumstances dictate otherwise.

Yup, had entirely too much fun on this one. With apologies to @KSK... and Gloria Gaynor Chapter 55: The Kerb of the Hour "....anything for love... Oh, I would do anything for LOVE! ...I would do anything for love... but I won't do that... No, I won't doooooo thaaaaat..." As last few bars of piano rang to silence, the room exploded. Every Kerbal in the building was on their feet cheering at the top of their lungs, whistling and shouting, and Valentina was pulled right along with it. Though the lingering soreness in her hand kept her applause somewhat less enthusiastic than she would have liked. The stout technician had been, as they said here, 'killing it' by halfway through the song. Then Lolli Kerman had joined him on stage for a final duet, and for a brief moment the cheers had completely drowned out the powerful sound system. Once she had begun singing the crowd had quieted down, again hushed into awe by that deep, penetrating voice that was far too large for such a small frame. The fellow Valentina didn't know had brought it home at the end, and now the cheers went on and on. Instead of glassware, the crowd threw roses at the bowing, blushing pair. Which, Valentina noted, looked awfully similar to the ones in the shrubbery outside. Eventually, the tide subsided and the singers were able to make their way off the stage. Yet... something bothered her... "What is 'that'?" She asked Edmund. "What?" He blinked. "That." "What?" "That thing he won't do." "Who?" "Him." "Him who?" "Him in song." "Oh. Yeah, he won't do that." "Do what?!" "He just said." "When?!" "After every verse." "But what is that?" "That's what." "What is what?" "What?" "What he said!" "Who?" "Isn't he on first?" Jorrigh offered. "Gah!" Valentina threw her arms up, "you people really are mad." "What??" Edmund said innocently. "No, who," corrected Jorrigh. "What?" "He's on second." "Who?" "What? Where?" "No where, he's--" Their argument was interrupted by the regular beat of Valentina thumping her head on the table. "What's with her?" Jorrigh asked. "Wait, I thought what was on third?" "No, I don't know." "But you just said he was?" "Who?" "No, what." "What?" Valentina clapped hands to their mouths, "SHЦT ЦP SHЦT ЦP SHЦT ЦP! I ШILL КILL УФЦ! I SЩЗДЯ, I ШILL КILL ЧФЦ ЬФTH." Edmund and Jorrigh shared a glance, then shrugged. Edmund carefully removed her hand, "what'd she say?" "I'm not sure," said Jorrigh, scratching his head, "I think I'm messing up the declensions. Something like 'close... the attic door, my yak sings... a hairpiece.'" Valentina gaped at him for a moment, then put a hand to her face, "I need a cheeseburger." "Hey, you did it!" Edmund gushed. "Did what?" She asked with resignation. "Used an indefinite article!" "What?" "'A.'" "Uh?" "No, 'a'." "Uh what?" "An 'a.'" "Anna who?" "Uh uh, an 'a.'" "I do not know this Anna." "No, an 'a!'" Valentina's mouth worked silently as her brain quietly overloaded. Then, at the very moment she was sure she would go mad, and welcome it too, another cheer from the crowd distracted the three from their linguistic merry-go-round. It surged toward the newly opened door, whistling and clapping, to greet a very bedraggled looking Burdous Kerman, partially supported by Gene. Burdous put on a weary, bewildered smile at the sudden frenzy of attention, and gave a weak 'thumbs-up,' sending the throng into more cheers. He looked like he hadn't slept or eaten in days. And based on what Valentina knew about spaceflight, that probably wasn't far from the truth. The debriefings alone would do that to a person. Led by Ol' Sam and assisted by Gene, Burdous made his way to the picture case behind the bar. Ol' Sam unlocked it, and Burdous added his own picture to those of Chadvey, Jorrigh, and that young face no one would speak of. Another round of whoops and hollers, then Ol' Sam poured a strange-looking concoction into something that resembled a small rocket nozzle and handed it to Burdous. He downed it with some difficulty, held up the upturned cup for the audience to see, and shrank bank a little as cheers roared again. They charged the bar, seized Burdous and raised him on their shoulders in a triumphant procession down to the main floor. Here, the tables and chairs had been quickly cleared away with military-like efficiency, leaving a wide open space before the stage that was shortly filled with waving, cheering Kerbals. Burdous somehow found himself atop a chair held high by the crowd, bouncing and waving this way and that. The way it swung and tilted, Valentina wasn't sure if the people were trying to give Burdous a ride or throw him to the ground, and by the look on his face, neither was he. The chair rose and fell as the crowd chanted: For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fel-LOW...! We're all glad he didn't die! Burdous maintained a nervous, slightly terrified smile as the serenade continued: We're all glad he didn't die, in a fireball in the sky! Scattered before the eye, no remains to identify! His smile faded when the macabre routine didn't cease. Or get crushed by gee-force high, and his body liquified! His bloodshot eyes grew ever wider: Or land in the desert nigh, where his corpse would mummify! A nervous laugh escaped his lips. They were joking, right? Or a jungle swarm of big bot flies, what a tragedy to decry! But it just went on and on: Or a windswept mountain high, his bones all bleached and dry! Or a Badlands farm to buy, with hungry critters nearby! Or crash 'fore the public eye, and get smashed into Kerbal pie! And finally, when Burdous looked near to tears, they swung back around: For he's a jolly good fe-eh-looooooooooow! We're all glad he didn't die, HEY! Some disappointed-looking Kerbals finished in a perfect four-part harmony: We had a poooooooooooooool. Valentina shook her head. And she thought they had a morbid sense of humor back home. Yet... something still bothered her. "Where is Mister Jerdous?" She asked Edmund, "should he not be here for such celebration? Is his brother after all..." Edmund looked like he was either desperately trying to contain a laugh, or had just swallowed something unpleasant. He pointed to the stage as suddenly a crystal clear piano rang out. The noise of cheers rose to ear-splitting levels, the air now filled with lurid cat-calls and whistles. Valentina strained for a view, to see what could have possibly driven the crowd into such a frenzy. Incredibly they parted, and when she saw the figure poised in the spotlight, her jaw fell like lead. There was Jerdous, wearing a sparkly gold-sequined dress, a huge frizzy wig, ill-fitting heels, and sporting a pair of enormous, bouncy, fake... eyelashes. He waggled them at the crowd, and the clamor became deafening. "Ladies and germs!" He said, waving them down to a dull roar for a moment, "let's hear it for the Kerb of the hour, back from a stunningly successful spaceflight, my own brother Burdous!" The cheering raged to a fever pitch, Valentina clapped her hands to her ears in a vain attempt to drown it out. "This one's for you, bro!" He winked. Behind him, a significant live band had gathered, led by... "Play it again, Sham," Jerdous pointed, and Ol' Sam played another flourish on the piano. Jerdous raised a hand... "At first I was afraid, I was petrified, kept thinking I could never live without you by my side..." Jerdous sang in a nasally falsetto oddly reminiscent of his brother, "but then I spent so many nights thinking how you done me wrong, and I grew strong, and I learned how to get along..." He grinned slyly as the pause drew out, the silence filled by the cries of the crowd. He let them call on in mounting antici........pation. Then the drummer tapped out a syncopated beat on the hi-hat, and Jerdous jumped into the music with both feet. "And so you're back, from outer space (WOOOOOOOOO!), I just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face! I should have changed that stupid lock, I should have made you leave your key, if I had known for just one second you'd be back to bother me! "Go on now go (STOMP)! Walk out the door (POINT)! Just turn around now (SPIN), 'cause you're not welcome anymore (HAND)!" As they said here, Jerdous could not carry a tune in a bucket, yet what he lacked in pitch he more than made up for in zeal, cavorting and pantomiming to the lyrics, and, as they also said, shaking his grooved thing. "Weren't you the one who tried to hurt me with goodbye? Did you think I'd crumble? Did you think I'd lay down and die?" "Oh no not I! I will survive!" WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO "Oh as long as I know how to love I know I'll stay alive! I've got all my life to live, I've got all my love to give, and I'll survive! "I will survive!" HEY! HEY! The crowd threw their hands up to the beat, and soon the open space before the stage became a dance floor. Over a hundred green, sweaty bodies bopped and bounced and... pointed to something on the ceiling... and the floor... and the ceiling, though Valentina couldn't see what. And as she sat there, feeling her shoulders inexorably pulled along to the beat, a green hand appeared before her. "May I have this dance?" Jorrigh said brightly. Valentina threw her own hands up in panic, "oh nonononononono I cannot-EEEEEK!" As it turned out, Jorrigh couldn't dance either, and didn't seem to care much, which made dancing with him very easy. All she had to do was move her own feet trying to avoid his, and occasionally flail her arms for balance, which oddly enough seemed to fit right in. She still couldn't figure out what was so interesting on the ceiling, though. The bassist slapped and popped, the horns rang and the violins sang, while the guitarist strummed a staccato wacka-wacka rhythm. Valentina bumped and grooved and tried to avoid getting kicked in the shin, but the part of her mind that was always alert, always wary, honed by years in the dense and unforgiving taiga, picked bits out of the lyrics and filed them away for later: It took all the strength I had Not to fall apart Kept trying hard to mend The pieces of my broken heart wacka-wacka And I spent oh so many nights Just feeling sorry for myself I used to cry But now I hold my head up high dirnt-dirnt-dirnt And you see me Somebody new I'm not that chained up little person... wacka-wacka-wacka And now I'm saving all my loving For someone who's loving me... A soulful sax blew into a solo, and the music played long into the evening. Songs about staying alive and hustling and burning someone's poor mother, it all seemed quite morbid despite the catchy, uplifting beats. It goaded her, but Valentina had to admit to herself she was having, well, fun. Even Burdous seemed to be finally enjoying himself. But a distressing thought lingered in the back of her mind as she danced the night away avoiding Jorrigh's tibial onslaught. Jerdous Kerman, dressed in drag, singing "I Will Survive," chilled her to her very core. Far more than it should have.

May 4 @05:22 GMT