CatastrophicFailure

That is some first rate Kerballing right there but... um.... his hands are on backwards...

I second both notions above. There's nothing quite like the feeling of putting out a new chapter, seeing it get a bunch of views, then realizing "crap I forgot to include that crucial plot point!" So now you need a couple of paragraphs in the next one to explain what should have been a single sentence. Which need four paragraphs in the next one... That leads to one of the hardest parts in writing, at least for me: FINISHING anything. If you spend more time thinking rather than writing the succinct quickly becomes the grandiose. Based just on chapter numbers, where I am in my second story was about the halfway point in my first, but now I'd guess it's less than a third. And the genre savvy all know committing to a sequel typically obligates a trilogy, so..... ********* on another note, what are some thoughts on referring to female Kerbals now? Like, Kerblettes? Kerbellles? Girbles? Kerwen? I've just tried to avoid it so far.

I was curious to see how far I could get with just unguided solids, after learning about the Japanese Mu series. For a (brief) moment I had visions of massive wedding-cake like launchers made of slapped-together BACC's. Went about as well as you might suspect. There's a reason Mu never launched more than a ton or two. And in the interest of full disclosure, somehow my RealFuels install is broke. The "fuels" part works fine, but only a couple of engines have limited ignititions or ullage requirements. Kinda bummed about it but unwilling to risk borking anything else up trying to fix it anymore.

It appears I may have opened a can o' worms here. And as amusing as the implications of Kerbal dimorphism are, I wonder if this is starting to wander a bit off topic and risks drawing mods...

Aw, man, get y'alls minds out of the gutter. Of COURSE it was a double entendre about tattoos & fossil moulding. What else would it be?

Thankee Altho I think it's largely a case of form following function (and gratuitous use of Procedural Parts). You can brute force your way into space in stock, but in 6.4 scales the tyranny of the rocket equation kicks in hard. It's challenging getting anything into space, let alone something that works well. So once you've put in that effort and finally do, you're naturally encouraged to keep it and just make small refinements. So you end up with something very polished, and ProceduralParts just amplifies that cuz you can dial in *just enough* rocket. Shania_L's designs seem to reflect that too, even tho we seem to have completely different approaches to solving other problems. Much credit also goes to the mod crews like FAR & PP, etc, who keep making them better and better to where even the taper of a rocket affects stability. My first forays into 6.4 scale suffered from alot of aesthetic inefficiency... ... and also, explosions. ETA: Speaking of aesthetics, I actually got to work including futzing around in GIMP and I'm rather pleased with it [/tootingmyownhorn]

The config that comes with KSC switcher has a bunch of launch sites, most of which will probably need tweaking to work on Kerbin, but may give you a good starting place. You want to avoid mountainous "busy" surrounding terrain as it sucks up your RAM = more crashes.

I was hoping someone would say that. Why, Whatever would give you that idea?

Been waiting for a mod like this! Subbed to keep an eye on it, and plz keep doin what yer doin

Chapter 20: Arrangements Valentina jerked awake from the nightmare, disoriented, her skin still burning until she realized it was sunlight streaming in from the window. She was still seated at her small table, her face dry and crusted. She sat a moment longer, just breathing, letting her heartbeat return to normal. It... it was... whatever it was, was gone now. She stared out the window, waiting to feel... something, but nothing came. She thought she should feel angry, sad, helpless, but instead there was just... nothing. Numbness. Not knowing what else to do, she washed, and went downstairs. Valentina took her seat next to Tercella and Dibella at their simple table. They stared at empty plates, eyes red and puffy, just nods to acknowledge her. For a long time, the three simply stared. "What will become of us now?" Dibella finally said to no one in particular. "Back to the factory," Tercella said softly to her plate, "this is the end. They cannot recover this, the program will be shut down." Silence stretched out, before Dibella addressed her own plate, "They say the fires have finally gone out. Maybe the trains will run again soon." "Yes, trains," Tercella shrugged, "maybe I can take a train back to Nusad. It was peaceful there. I did not mind the yaks." She idly played with the edge of her plate, "do you think they would give me papers to go to Nusad?" A faucet over the sink, not quite turned off, dripped a slow staccato. Drip... Drip... Drip... "They say there was a riot in Kernobyl," Tercella told her plate. Drip... Drip... Drip... "No, it was Kerbul," said Dibella to the table. Drip... Drip... Drip... The door suddenly opened, and Igor entered, looking grim. In his hand was a large sack. It looked like it contained something very heavy. He raised an accusing finger. "Tercella... you are--" She threw her hands up, "he asked for it, I swear! Practically begged! I did not know he was under age." The other two turned to her, eyes wide. She looked back and forth, grinning nervously, "the rash, it should have cleared up by now..." They scooted their chairs away. Tercella kept looking back and forth, pleading, "I did give him his money back..." They scooted a little farther. She slammed her hand on the table and glared at Igor, "he should have told me he was allergic to latex!" Now Igor's eyes widened. Tercella leaned back in her seat with arms crossed, accepting defeat, "That was the best tattoo I have ever done! And I did not even get paid." Igor opened his mouth. Igor closed his mouth. Igor put a hand to his face with a loud slap. "No..." he said feebly, "you are it." Tercella blinked, "..I...I am what?" "You go to space next." "But, the fleet is grounded," Dibella began, "how--" "You can't put her in one of those things!" Valentina nearly screamed, "she'll end up like Sergei!" "Arrangements," Igor retrieved the item from the sack, and dropped it on the table with a loud thud, "have been made." His gaze lingered on Valentina for a moment, "you all read." Curiosity cut through the numbness for a moment, and Valentina pulled the object over to look at it. It was an incredibly thick binder covered in foreign letters. Eyes pinched, she tried to sound out the unfamiliar writing, "l... la... laa... w-wooo..." "Bah!" She pushed it over to Dibella, "I don't even know what language it is. You read it." Dibella's lips moved slightly as her eyes scanned over the cover, pinched, and then widened. "Aloud would be nice..." Tercella quipped. Dibella shot her a look, then, "it's a technical manual. LV-T30 'Reliant' kerolox engine and support systems." The other two looked at each other. "What does this say?" Valentina asked, pointing to a stylized series of thin, angular letters. "Produced by Layland Heavy Industries."

Ornithopter humpback whale B-52 @ 31:40 was so graceful! whats the decal mod?

I do try to keep everything synchronized (hence the long delays), but yeah prolly best to come here first, lol. And thanx. - - - Updated - - - .....

For my first real attempt at an edited video I'm pretty happy how that turned out. Now I just have to hope no one comes along claiming copyright (and the irony thereof). You can probably read faster than I can write

... and here I thought a picture was worth a thousand words...

And also, a very special thanks goes out to Ten Key, who's editing advice has been absolutely invaluable. Whatever I'm paying you, consider it doubled.

Chapter 19: Crow A light, cold rain fell from a featureless grey sky. It slid from the top of Valentina's wide-brimmed hat, dripping down the back of her neck, but she took no notice. She stood stiffly, motionlessly, fingertips touched lightly to the edge of that wide brim. She stood in a line with others, but took no notice of them, either. Once again, Crimson Square was filled with people. On a platform before her, rested the coffin. It was more of a formality, really. The capsule had disintegrated instantly, debris scattered over hundreds of square kilometers. They had found just enough to be... sure. It was empty, except for the medal. Hero of the Ussari Union. Awarded on behalf of a grateful nation. The bureaucrat had just finished his speech, as a soldier held an umbrella over him. Some nonsense about duty and courage. At a command, the cadre of Imperial Guard surrounding the coffin, with their mirror-polished breastplates and gleaming helms, began folding up the flag. They moved stiffly, mechanically, with faces like stone. When it had been folded just so, a Guard turned, and handed it to Sergei's father. He didn't look anything like Valentina had expected. He looked old and tired and sad, and very, very... human. He nodded, the Guard saluted, and returned to his place in the sea of black. He, too, took no notice of the rain. She didn't react when the cannon fired, as ancient and scarred as the wall it was mounted on. Like the Guard's armor, it was an anachronism of another age. Then the band began, a somber patriotic hymn older than the Union its self. Valentina just stood, seeing and not seeing. To say the launch was an unmitigated disaster was an injustice, yet better words simply were not there. Over nine thousand liters of hypergolic monomethylhydrazine and nitrogen tetroxide had ignited on contact, creating a toxic cloud of gas that drifted with the shifting winds, poisoning the ground and sickening thousands. Or worse. Smoldering boosters touched off wildfires whenever they landed, many of which still burned days later, including a huge one in the forest near the cosmodrome that nearly required its evacuation. And of course, the rumors. They spread even faster than the fires, despite the Political Corps attempts to extinguish them. That engine was bad. No, it was the other. No, the fuel was contaminated. No, it was an O-ring in a solid booster. No, it was an inherent design flaw. An engineering failure, just waiting for a minor manufacturing defect to cause a catastrophic failure. And it had happened before. Twice. But high enough that it could be kept hidden. But Valentina knew there was no truth to them. She knew the real cause of the tragedy. It was her. She had done this. ...Great power within you... The hymn ended, and on a barked command, the Guards lined the track to the vault in the wall of the Fortress. With more precise, mechanical movements, they crossed their gleaming halberds over the path. A drummer beat a solemn dirge, and the casket slowly made its way along the track, disappearing into the Wall. Another bark, and the massive marble capstone slid down to cover the vault, slamming home with a noise like thunder cracked outside, rattling the window of Valentina's simple room. With the coming of darkness, the gentle rain had become a raging storm. Lightning crashed, thunder boomed and cracked, the roaring wind blew great sheets of rain against the glass. It was as if the very world was aggrieved, and now crowed its condemnation. Darkness... She sat at her small table before the window, staring out at the cosmodrome as the flashes lit up the structures like waiting specters. On the nightstand stood the little bottle. Darnitol, 75mg. Sleep. Sleep, without dreams. There would be no need for that tonight. Valentina knew sleep would come sooner or later, of that she was sure. And knew what it would bring with it. Only here, in the darkness, can you hide... She pushed the voice away again. Rain flowed down the window pane, the world outside wavered and drifted. She hadn't cried for the Director. She hadn't even cried for herself. But now, for Sergei of all people, she wept bitterly.

Chapter 18: For All Kerbalkind The day had finally come. Anyone able to beg, borrow or steal the necessary clearance was crammed into the mission control room, and the warm press of bodies was made that much worse by the thick smell of wet paint and fresh plaster. Construction workers still scurried back and forth, finishing the last-minute renovations to the already brand new building. Few of the spectators noticed the smears and streaks on their fine suits or uniforms, their eyes drawn instead to the far wall, where the three largest video screens ever built stood ready to display telemetry, orbital track, and a live telephoto video feed from the roof of the VAB. Beyond the massive window panes, Empress Alexandra I stood ready on the launch pad, the mirror-polished aluminum skin of her fuel tanks glinting in the sun. Except for the oxium tank in the lower half, where frost from the cryogenic liquid stubbornly covered the "UNION" of "USSARI UNION" painted in large crimson Kerillic letters down its length. The white paint on her six solid rocket boosters and protective nosecone had been buffed and waxed like a fine automobile. Even the launch towers had been cleaned and painted. Surrounding this, all over the grounds of the cosmodrome, were people by the thousands. From all over they had come, or been dragged. Every State in the Union, every ally, every rival. Reporters and correspondents and respected dignitaries, bringing all manner of cameras, now pointed at the launch pad. This, security had expected. But they had not anticipated the people. Entire towns nearby had been virtually emptied, and descended on the grounds of their own volition. The police and security forces struggled to maintain some kind of order. Controlling crowds was something they had more than a little experience with, yet the sheer numbers threatened to just sweep them away. In Crimson Square, the bleachers that had been erected lay crumpled and smashed in a back alley. People filled every square centimeter of the huge space. They hung from light poles, crowded balconies and rooftops, and had knocked over no less than a dozen broadcast antennas trying to get a view of the rocket as it would rise over the Dome of the Imperium. Here, the police had utterly given up on controlling the crowd, and had instead retreated within the ancient walls of the Fortress, hoping they would offer the same protection from this horde as they had in ages past. The Imperial Guards maintained a tenuous balance at the gates, some terrified they might actually have to use their anachronistic ceremonial polearms in ways they'd never learned. In the days to come, statisticians around the world would try and fail to arrive at an accurate count on the amount of people in this one place. They all agreed, however, that the weight of the gathering transcended any mere number. All across the expansive nation, from Kerbelsk to Kerliningrad, from the desert to the tundra, everyone within a day's hard travel of a screen was watching. Whether they wanted to or not. Even beyond the cloistered Union, in hovels and palaces, factories and farms. A sold-out Solpugids concert at Madison Tetrahedron Garden was preempted, a cadre of ranch-hands in east Exast gathered around a fuzzy, barely-working box with an antenna made from a pair of old spurs, the crew of a fishing boat in the middle of the Great Southern Sea listened intently to their radio, the patrons of a tiki bar on Pogagalas stopped their banter, the fighting in Cerima even paused for a few, precious moments, and the transmitter on a brand-new communications satellite burned out from the load. And of course, Her Imperial Majesty Alexandra II watched from her gilded cage, coolly aware of the significance of this rocket named for her predecessor. Indeed, the world was watching. And in the middle of it all, surrounded by an odd little pocket of space in the crowded Mission Control room, stood Valentina Kerman, fidgeting anxiously with a pencil. Whether it was from the look in her eyes, the scowl on her face, or... something else, no one came near. If she moved, the pocket moved with her, like fish evading a predator. Despite her stature, she alone had a perfect view of both the window and monitors. Sergei. All this fuss for Sergei. All this should have been yours... She shook the thought away. She didn't want it, she didn't want any of it, but... just some shred of recognition? All his fault... Most infuriating of all, he was actually good at it. He was completely composed and comfortable before all the attention, thriving even. Already given his second mission, commanding the first flight of the new ship, before even flying this, his first. The PЦTIЙSКI had even given a speech-a speech!-before disappearing into the capsule a couple of hours ago. Some nonsense about duty and courage. Dibella was, again, busily coordinating the final checkouts as capcom, and Tercella was standing by with a dozen Converters in the expected recovery zone, leaving Valentina alone in the throng with her thoughts. Well, not completely alone... They abandon you, now in your time of need. But the darkness is always here... always waiting... She pushed it away, still twirling the pencil between her fingers. "Fifteen seconds, Empress, all systems go," she heard Dibella say. "I am ready! Let's go!" Sergei practically squealed. "Vósem..." "Sem..." "Shest..." "Pyat..." "Main engine start..." Out on the launchpad, the pair of ethanol fueled engines beneath the rocket sputtered and then roared to life, rattling the windows and sending thick clouds of smoke rushing from the flame trenches. "Main engines running, one hundred percent!" The pencil flipped and spun. "Tree..." "Dva..." "Odéen..." "Booster ignition!" The roar of the liquid engines was shamed as the six huge solid rocket boosters thundered and roiled, the sound slamming into the building like a landslide, shaking the windows and even cracking one. The pencil twirled faster. "Liftoff! We have liftoff! Empress Alexandra I has cleared the towers! "Onward! Onward!" Exclaimed Sergei, his smug, smiling face bouncing slightly in the monitor, "For the greater Glory of the Union, in peace for all Kerbalkind!" Valentina's face drew into a sneer as the sheer power of the launch continued to assault the building. There is power in you too... Great power... feel it, burning in your veins like fire... you cannot deny it... "Shut up!" Valentina snapped. Another onlooker gave her a nervous glance and inched away a bit more. The pencil went back and forth across her fingers. Back and forth, back and forth. "Empress, tell me you have a pitch program..." "DД! Pitch and roll! My systems checkout good. It's very smooth, acceleration is building slowly... I can see the horizon now, the landscape below is incredible, even now! I simply don't have the words!" That would be a first. Valentina ground her teeth. They'd actually given him a window. A window! All that was necessary was to cut a hole in the nosecone in the right place! Back and forth, back and forth. The clouds of smoke around the building were finally drifting off in the light wind. The rocket was just visible in the sky as it arced away. "This is but one small step for a Kerbal, but a giant..." Lousy stuck-up no-goodnik. Even now he was still... speechifying. Back and forth, back and forth. Grinning in the monitor, pausing for dramatic effect, enjoying himself. Back and forth, the pencil went back and forth. Bah, she hoped he soiled himself! You cannot escape the darkness... Back and forth, back and forth. She hoped he puked in his helmet! It is always waiting... Back and forth, back and forth. Why, she hoped he... You can only... She hoped he... Back and forth.... Hoped he... Embrace it. He... Exploded. There was no warning, no sound at this distance. A momentary puff of smoke in the monitor, then a cascade of fire. So much fire. Searing, raging, tearing. Beyond the window, the six mighty solid rocket boosters, now freed from their charge, bloomed into a death-flower that mocked in its beauty. In the crowded mission control room, and the grounds beyond, not a sound was made. Billions of people across the globe stood silent as the grave. No sound, save for the soft noise of two bits of pencil dropping to the floor. In the window, the cloud of smoke and fire grew, until finally, after a wheel of eternities, a thin sound like thunder in the distance, and the barest rattle of the glass. Then, chaos broke loose. "Loss of signal, telemetry is null." "Empress, control, do you copy?" "Range now tracking multiple signals." "Empress, this is control, do you copy?!" "Signal still null, abort tower did not fire." "Sergei, do you copy?" "Lock the doors." "All channels still null, no beacons at this time." "Secure your stations." "Sergei...?" Dibella's voice began to crack, "Sergei...?" In a maelstrom of confusion and chaos, of shouts and barks yells, in a little pocket of space, Valentina Kerman fell to her knees.

Very cool, does it have rainbow painted crosswalks too?

Big fffffffff um, FABULOUS Rocket!

Interesting. Well I'm sure not gonna be the one to sit thru 4 hours of video for the details, so I welcome whoever is!

Wait, wouldn't that put it like WAY beyond even the Saturn V?

Well this looks like an interesting read. What's the Explorer-1-looking payload & telemtry science thing from the first launch from?

The panels & most of the top half of the TDEM/MGE are from the SSR Microsat mod, great for lightweight, cheap launches. The solids are ullage motors from KW, probably a bit OP for their size but handy for all sorts of things. And prettier than separations.

Yup, I'm getting this displayed on loading screen & in log: ModuleManager: 14999 patches applied, found 1 error 1 error related to GameData/RealPlume/RealPlume-Stock/Compatibility.cfg I *think* it's from this: [LOG 07:41:08.952] [ModuleManager] Error - Skipping a patch with unbalanced square brackets or a space (replace them with a '?') : @PART [*]:HAS[@MODULE[ModuleEnginesRF]:BEFORE[RealPlume]