Aircraft Design Company- Matsura's Planes Are Always Fastest!

[open_sketch]

[x] Let's try something really radical. Twin fuselages with the engines on the front and the pilot in one side, as per picture 5. Twin boom style control surfaces.

After many sketches and discussion, the eventual conclusion was made that, to get the most out of both engines, the best solution was basically to build two planes, put a pilot in one of them, and connect them together at the wing.

Basic sketches of these hull sections were drawn up, taking care to keep track of everything the aircraft needed. The section opposite of the pilot would hold an extended fuel tank, allowing the aircraft enough endurance to make the race. The question now was wings.

On the plus side, the twin frame configuration was a boon for structural stability. A monoplane might be possible.

Right now, your plane weighs 25 mass. That means it has a mass penalty of 5. To get off the ground, you need your plane to produce 6 lift.

An aircraft will have 6 lift at 190kph with 3 wing area, 140kph with 4 wing area, 110kph with 5 wing area, and 100kph at 6 area. Your engines can get you between 210 and 150 kph if you are careful with drag.

Wing area works like this; you pick how much Drag the wing inflicts, from a minimum of 1 per Area. Each Area of wing also reduces the plane's Structure by 4, decreased by the amount of drag per area. So an area of wing with 2 drag reduces your overall structure by 2.

Your design currently has 32 Structure to play with. You'll take your finished Structure and subtract your Mass Penalty and Drag Penalty from it to get your do-not-exceed speed.

Adding a new Wing Deck (past the first) gives +3 total Drag and adds +3 Structure to your aircraft. It also lets you mount Wing Struts, the most efficient form of reinforcement.

Remember you'll have a shot at reinforcing and optimizing much of this later.

How many wings?
[ ] Monoplane
[ ] Biplane
[ ] Sesquiwing
[ ] Write In

How Much Wing
[ ] Cut it close with 3 Area.
[ ] 4 Area.
[ ] 5 Area.
[ ] 6 Area.​

 

[open_sketch]

[X] Let's be a little cautious (4 area monoplane)

Within four days, the basics of the racer's design had been drafted, but difficulties remained. For one, it almost certainly couldn't make it to it's top speed without putting itself in considerable danger; a small adjustment at that speed and it would probably disintegrate on the spot. Furthermore, it wasn't going to reach it's max speed because propellers big enough to move it's bulk would slow it down.

Fortunately, you had some wiggle room to reinforce the plane, smooth out the wrinkles, and get everything in tip-top shape.

It's time to reinforce the plane! This is where we add bits to it to make it smoother, stronger, and less shitty. Everything costs 1 per dot. You can spare 4 of both Mass and Drag before performance is affected.​

- Wires: +1 Drag, +2 Structure. □ □ □ □ □​

- Bracing: +1 Mass, +1 Structure. □ □ □ □ □​

- Fairings: +1 Mass, -1 Drag. □ □ □ □ □​

​

(Also, I know there was some talk about other shapes for the wings, but I went with this because it opens up some new optimization options and that is important to me test-wise. Also, you can see some of this has already changed from the last plane. Improvements!)​

​

[ ] Write In​

 

[open_sketch]

[X] 3 Wires, 4 Fairings

The design had reached a point where further refinement required construction, so construction began in the factory and in the yard outside the window, the wingspan being far too large to fit the factory floor. The twin hulls went together fairly easily, while the fuel tanks were simply the same model that were used in the Type 1, admittedly with the addition of new hoses and a pump to supply fuel evenly through the plane. Mountings were made for the engines and the wing started to take shape as a confusing mass of wooden slats and spars. This provided a good chance to do load testing, with sandbags competing with straining wires to test the load-bearing rig. The result was a spiderweb of criss-crossing wires between the two frames, much of it cleverly hidden around the wing to reduce drag.

As the result started coming together, the team started seeing places where improvements could be made to the prototype even as it was being built. It was just ahead of schedule to be ready for the test; surely a little bit of of tinkering couldn't hurt?

Select all you wish to pursue. Each costs 1 Stress.​

[ ] See if you can make some radical changes to reduce drag.​

[ ] Work to lighten the frame as much as possible.​

[ ] Improve the design's stability.​

[ ] See if it would be possible to retract the landing gear inside the aircraft after takeoff. The mechanism might be heavy...​

[ ] Improve engine power.​

[ ] Improve engine reliability.​

[ ] Improve fuel economy.​

[ ] Write-In​

 

[open_sketch]

[X] See if you can make some radical changes to reduce drag.
[X] Improve engine power.
[X] Improve engine reliability.

In the two weeks before the deadline, the company was abuzz with work. Everyone was working late, and nobody more than you; more than once you fell asleep at your drafting table or in the work yard. Every improvement that could be found needed to be exploited.

The most success was found with drag reduction, which involved a lot of radical changes. The previous landing gear, which had consisted of two sets of conventional gears on each frame, were replaced with a triangular model, using sturdy and very narrow tires from army bicycles. The engine housings were reworked to smoothly taper, from which the five cylinders of the engine would protrude, and a spinner finished the design to a fine point. Tezuka, who was apparently an avid birdwatcher, suggested the addition of a small fin to the end of the each wing which would, he claimed, reduce turbulence, and Kobayashi even spent a few hours in the factory herself, cutting holes in the canvas to recess protruding elements. One of Hasegawa's contacts in the Kobayashi chemical works turned out a small, curved sheet of a transparent material derived from acrylic acid; it was slightly foggy but very lightweight and served to smooth the cockpit profile. Even the exhaust was reworked to run backwards out the rear of the plane, the pipes running under the pilot seat and fuel tank, in order to keep it as streamlined as possible.

Work on the engine was less promising. Kibe and the mechanics spent many hours alternating the machines on test rigs, trying to coax more power of them and do something about the oil leaking. A slight performance increase was possible through some simple tuning, and the secretive addition of new Dysklandian spark plugs, which she carefully filed the serial stamp off of before installing.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be able to be done about the constant oil leak both engines suffered. Neither was good, but the future no. 2 engine, nicknamed "The Beast" by the floor crew, was particularly bad, occasionally shuddering violently and spitting smoke and oil all over observers. With three days to the deadline, Kibe came into the design room, covered in oil from head to toe, pulling up her dirty goggles with a disappointed look on her face.

"It's not happening Matsura. Those idiots at Kobayashi just don't know how to build an engine, not that Akibara are any better. The tolerances are just not acceptable. I'd kill for a decent western engine right now."

"What can you do?" You asked.

"Well, I can add something to thicken up the oil a little, so it doesn't leak as badly. But we can't push the engines like we were going to; we'd be back to where we started."

[ ] Thicken the oil. Reliability is more important. (+2 Reliability)
[ ] Leave the oil as it is. We'll just have to finish the race first. (+1 Power)

That drag reduction you just did earned you 90kph more speed. This thing is revolutionary... and i might need to look into some of the engine stats. But I'm not going to yank your victory out from under you. Learning experience!​

 

[open_sketch]

The last night of work on the plane was furious, working by dim lightbulbs and laterns to detach the wings for transport the next morning. Even Mr. Ohara was out there with the work crews; he wasn't an engineer, but he could help, helping heft the custom, high-pitch propellers into place and detaching the wings for transport the next morning. By the time it was lined up on the wagon and ready for transport, the plant had been working more or less non-stop for several days to get the plane ready, and you hadn't gone home for the better part of a week. You were cutting it close; you had a day for a perfunctory safety test and then the plane, if it worked, had to be shipped immediately to the evaluation field.

You don't really remember falling asleep. You just remember being awoken by Mr. Ohara, shoved onto a boat, and being ferried to the field. You were so exhausted you felt like you could simply fall asleep on the field. Only about half the team was present at the test, everyone else haven't punched out completely.

Today's test pilot was Mr. Ohara's neice, who you had only seen from afar. She seemed cheery enough, though you were in no state to maintain a conversation. She climbed into the seat, the engines started with a pop-pop-pop-pop as the props were swung in tandem, and the blocks were pulled. The plane started rolling and picking up speed, the tail leveled out... and it was clear of the ground. Fast. Fast like a plane half it's size.

It was clear she had disadvantages. It buzzed off and began a long, long turn back, and you winced at the tail wiggle as it banked. It did not climb well and you were pretty sure a climbing turn would cause an instant stall. But when it passed back over your head, the engines firing like a machine-gun and the air roaring from the heavy edge of the propeller, you realized you were watching history. She was fast.

The plane did two more passes and then spiraled down for a clumsy landing. Your exhaustion forgotten, you rushed to the plane as it stopped, pointing to the anemometer. The ground observers would have a more precise speed, but they had to calculate it first. "How fast?" You blurted.

"I saw a hundred fifty. And I was not pushing it." She said. She looked shocked, eyes wide. "I'm going in the history books."

Mr. Ohara looked proudly at her, they exchanged a few words, and then your boss turned to you.

"Matsura, you're a genius, but you look like shit right now. Go get some sleep."

Roll me 2d10+4​

 

[open_sketch]

After sleeping for about fourteen hours, a bath, and some fresh clothes, you returned to work, and in short order was off to the navy's new evaluation field by car. The facility was located on a stretch of nearly perfectly flat field just a few kilometers from the coast, and it was pristine and rock-free. Considering the Navy had only purchased seaplanes as of yet, you were confused as to why this facility existed, but grateful your design would have plenty of room to stretch its wings.

The Ohara Type 2 Racer was rolled up onto the field where the other three competitors already awaited. One was obviously some kind of benchmark entry, as it was a Lucanian racing monoplane from maybe a year ago and obviously not valid for the contest. Kobayashi's racer also had two Goblin engines, but they were arranged in a pusher format on a squat biplane design, resembling the Sears Sparrow with aerodynamic improvements, carrying a foreplane and a larger centrally mounted rudder. Akibara was obviously banking hard on their brand new F-series engine, as their plane seemed to be built around it, with two large, birdlike wings in a shoulder mount to lift it's bulk and a long, curved tail structure terminating in large, round elevators and a stubby little tail.

Both planes were painted beautifully, Akibara's in Imperial blue, and Kobayashi in the company's green and eggshell. Your own plane's bare canvas was embarrassing; there hadn't been time to paint her.

You were pretty far away, but you could tell the crews from the rival companies were amused by Ohara's entry. It did look a lot like you'd just glued two planes together, and you started to get nervous. What if these other companies had already shattered your record? You looked nervously at the huge Akibara engine with dread.

In the distance, a pair of vehicles were making their way across the field, a pristine white car and a truck flying the national flag. Mr. Ohara was in good spirits as he pointed them out.

"That'd be the Navy's guys, and probably some reporters. I wonder who they dragged up to judge this thing."

As the last plane and the farthest to the edge of the line, the vehicles stopped close to you, and their passengers disembarked close to your plane. An admiral in a white uniform, laden with gold trim and medals, followed by junior officers, one of whom had a strange uniform and boots that made him look like an aviator. From the truck, a gaggle of soldiers, some with cameras and others with rifles. No reporters.

The admiral strode up to the plane, looking it over with a detached air. You couldn't help notice the slight sneer that passed over his face as his eyes settled on Satomi Ohara in the pilot seat.

"An interesting design, Mr. Ohara." He said, and he strode off down the line.

"He seems pleasant." Kibe said, and smiles broke out among the design team... except for Kobayashi Ayao.

"I know him. From high society parties." She said simply. "And the kid beside him. That's Admiral Akibara Toru and his son Shinzo. His brother owns Akibara Company."

---

The evaluation was cold-start, just like the race would be; you started your engine at the starting gun. So when the report echoed through the air, the crews rushed to throw propellers and pull blocks.

The Kobayashi machine started without a hitch and began rolling down the field, while the Lucanian almost purred to life. One of the Type 2's engines started, but The Beast was feisty today, choking out on the first and second throw before roaring to life. The crew threw themselves aside as the blocks came out, and your machine started rolling up the field, the throttle pushed. The Kobayashi racer was already in the air while it was rolling, with the Lucanian not far behind, and your heart sank.

Meanwhile, the Akibara engine was apparently misbehaving pretty badly. After the fifth throw, it started suddenly and with a roar, and it began rolling fast. Even with its time loss, it was rapidly catching up to the Type 2 and quickly gaining the air. It was off the ground at almost the same instant... and then there was a horrible crack and a huge tongue of flame leapt from the exhaust pipe. The plane bucked hard in the air, twisted, and plowed back into the ground barely a dozen feet below. Fire began spreading from the ruined machine, and soldiers and crew ran to rescue the pilot.

And the Type 2 was in it's element. It was catching up to the Kobayashi biplane and the Lucanian racer like a demon on their tails, and your heart soared along with them as it buzzed past them both with a graceful ease. As it pulled away, both planes sank defeated to the earth, recognizing their inferiority.

Good thing too, because this evaluation had turns in it.

Your beautiful little racer turned and sailed back to the finishing line, touching down gently on the grass field. It hadn't even stopped rolling before you saw hand signals from Satomi, a series of numbers.

One. Six. Five.

You forced your attention away from your plane and towards the judge. The Admiral looked like he was clenching his jaw so hard something might break, and his son didn't look much happier. They turned to confer for a very long time, then turned back to face the assembling crowd of pilots, designers, and executives.

Roll a d10.​

 

[open_sketch]

"No racer qualifies. The Imperial Akitsukuni Navy will not send an aircraft." The admiral said simply. He turned and began stalking back to his car.

The Kobayashi and Akibara staff were silent. Around you, the Ohara staff were swaying uncomfortably, trying their best keep quiet.

What do you do?

[ ] Speak Up. (Write in. 2 Stress, Social Check)
[ ] Say nothing. It's not worth confronting an Admiral.​

 

[open_sketch]

[X] Say nothing. It's not worth confronting an Admiral.
-[X] Send Cpt. Arita a wire.

You pulled on Mr. Ohara's sleeve, subtly holding him back when you felt him shift forward to launch a protest. The teams dispersed back to their planes and began wheeling them away. The Kobayashi team looked shocked, the Akibara team ashamed, but your own team was clearly furious.

Once the Navy team had left, you got Mr. Ohara's attention, and signaled the team to gather around. "This isn't the end. If the Navy doesn't want to send a plane, maybe the Army will. And worst comes to worst, we go ourselves."

Mr. Ohara's face lit up. "That might work. It'd piss off the navy, but if this is what the procurement process looks like, fine by me. I'll set up a meeting with my procurement guy, maybe we can get through procedures quickly enough."

"You should do that, sir, but I have a contact that might be faster."

"Perfect!"

---

You sent a wire for Captain Arita to meet you at a sake bar not far from the office. He met you in in his simple blue uniform, which had a new symbol on his lapels that looked like a propeller. He greeted you with a charming smile, and you took a seat near the bar. You explained the situation, watching his face closely. He was pretty unreadable.

"Shame this isn't a social call." He said. "But I think we can help with that. I'm part of the new Air Artillery office, and anything we can do to convince the higher ups to expand the program beyond our support company would be wonderful. If your plane goes as fast as you say, well... not only do we want that oversees for the race, but that might go a way to expanding the spotter program. Not to mention it'll piss the Navy right off." His smile broadened at that. "I'll talk to General Horikoshi in the morning. If there's any justice in the world, we'll have you on a boat to Albia by the end of the week."

You gathered up the few notes you had for the meeting and stuffed them back into your folder gleefully, but Arita put a hand on it before you could pull it away.

"Say, I'm not due back on base until morning. Was this just a business meeting?"

[ ] I'm afraid so, I need to get back to work.​

[ ] ...it doesn't have to be.​

 

[open_sketch]

...it doesn't have to be." You say, a smile creeping over your own face. "What do you have in mind?"

"I dunno, we could take in a show?" He said. "Walk a park? It's Tokei, the Imperial Capital! House of our people's grand culture or whatever! Have you done much sightseeing?"

"I've barely been anywhere but the four roads between my apartment and the office." You said. And Miss Yukaku's. "I haven't even seen the Imperial Palace."

When you were in university, you never left Horonai U's campus either. Wasn't any point going to the trains, seeing as you weren't going back home. Between your workload and how intimidating the city was to your country upbringing, you felt much safer in study halls.

Arita set his cup down, shocked. "Seriously? People come from every corner of the country to see it, and you've been here, what, like two months almost? I can't believe it. Come on, I'll show you."

"You mean like one of the viewing galleries?" You asked. Nobody was allowed inside to even set foot on the bridge leading to the palace without official business. The buildings surrounding the palace had balconies on the roof with telescopes so you could catch a look, for a fee.

"I think I can get you a little closer."

He finished his drink, and you yours, and headed out. To your surprise, resting on the curb was a motorcycle, a brand-new Schrötter from Dysklande. "You like it? I got a pretty considerable pay bump when they moved me to the Air Artillery. Bought it off the dock. Climb on!"

You clamoured onto the back of the motorcycle as he pulled on a pair of goggles. "After that first flight, I was smitten. The motorcycle's the closest thing I've found to flying one of your planes!"

"Have you been up again, since the demonstration?" You asked.

"Just once, with one of our western advisors. We're planning to start going up behind the pilot seat in a few more weeks. They have us training on the ground right now. Hold on!"

The engine started loudly and the rumble sent shocks through your body. You gripped him closely as he started down the street, dodging pedestrians and wagons. The engine was too loud to hold a real conversation over, so after a moment you relaxed and started watching the streets wiz by. As you got closer to the mountain looming over the city, the muddy roads became less common than the paved ones, and finally gave way to stone as you rolled through the government sector. The sky was a crisscross of banners, lanterns, and electrical wires, and the buildings grew larger and more solid, an eclectic mix of traditional architecture and western influence. At one point you glimpsed the red stone of the Diet Building, under construction atop a hill. A gaggle of Navy cadets spotted the motorcycle and gave chase, waving their umbrellas like clubs, and Arita laughed as he gunned the throttle to escape and you pulled yourself closer to him.

You came to a stop at the riverside, at the head of a beautiful, traditional wooden bridge. The longest wooden bridge in the world, Arita declared. On the other side, over a kilometer away, the massive gates and a pair of tall guard houses. People moved in rows back and forth across, often stopping the peak over the edge or resting from the cold autumn air behind one of the support pillars. Below the bridge passed trade boats and a Navy monitor with it's masts pulled down to slip under.

The two of you crossed the street to a little guardhouse placed near the entrance, walking the motorcycle along the road. "Private, could you watch this for me? I'm giving my friend here a tour." He told one of the young soldiers, rolling the bike to his side and flashing his identification papers. A second later, he drew a pistol from inside his jacket and handed it butt-first to the young man. The soldier, in his bright blue dress uniform with plumed cap, saluted enthusiastically and rolled the bike behind some bushes. "Have fun, sir! They've cleared the eastern wall for repainting." He said, a massive shit-eating grin on his face.

"What was that?" You asked, as the two of you started across the bridge.

"As long as there's been an army, we've been allowed to cross the bridge as long as we surrender our arms. Old tradition." He said. "It's, um... 'A soldier has to always be allowed to see his master.' We don't need to give a reason to cross the outer walls."

Indeed, as you walked the bridge, you started to notice most of the other people walking it were either government officials with party armbands, or off-duty soldiers in uniform. Not just officers, but private soldiers as well, maybe with partners or family in tow.

"What a privilege." You said.

"Yeah, it makes the hours worth it." He said with a goofy smile. "The Navy still can't cross, and it steams them something awful. I had a friend who lead a watch on the bridge, and he told me sometimes sailors throw rocks and eggs at the sentries!"

The gates on the other side were imposing, even standing open, and you walked into what looked like a small courtyard sandwiched between two walls. Inside were beautiful gardens and water features, and a soft path. You started walking a circuit until you reached a secluded guard tower, and Arita beckoned you to start up the stairs.

When you reached the top of the tower, you realized with awe you were looking into the inner palace, closer than you could have imagined. The castle itself, a beautiful blue building with a stark white roof, sat resplendent in the middle of a resplendent natural scene. You could make out white uniforms from a group of admirals descending the steps and heading back towards the gate. Everywhere you looked was art and beauty.

"It's quite something, isn't it?" Captain Arita said, sweeping his hand across the scene. "You see that little balcony up there, held up by that sculpture? The Empress is out there most mornings to survey the grounds."

"You've seen her?" You said, shocked.

"Yep. Maybe we should get you here around then. I heard seeing the Empress is supposed to heal your eyes." He said teasingly, and you reflexively pushed your glasses back up your nose.

You both laughed, and Arita leaned back against the wall with a sigh. "I love it here. Any part of the wall, actually. Really sums it up."

"How do you mean?" You asked.

"It's beauty, tradition, strength, and grace." He said, a patriotic quiver in his voice. "The height of our culture. But it's also..." He frowned, that charming smile vanishing from his face. "It's old. Falling behind. Look."

He started pointing, and you started noticing details you had missed before. Worn paint. Missing tiles. A crack in a foundation stone, a bit of scaffolding hidden artfully behind a tree. The setting sun was revealing details you missed.

"This palace is maintained by ancient positions, and the bureaucracy is slow. I heard the Empress needed to personally appoint a plumber, and it's still not electrified. An engineering company could make this place rival the Western palaces in a week! But no. This is our country. It's beautiful and sacred, but it's held back by bureaucracy and poverty and stupidity. Because we're spending everything we have playing catch-up."

There was real bitterness in his voice.

"But it's still beautiful. One day, the Army will parade victorious through the walls. Then it'll change."

[ ] Respond: Write In.
[ ] Stay quiet. Move on with the date.
[ ] It's getting dark. Let's call it a night. (Continue downtime tomorrow.)

This might be a chance to define your character's politics and worldview. Or to just make out with our angsty army boy.​

 

[open_sketch]

"I know how you feel." You said. Memories of the foreign advisers and experts in engineering school came to the surface. "When I see the way that the foreigners laugh at us behind their hands I get so... so angry. They think of us as primitives--more people they can exploit and colonize like they've done with others. One day we'll have a truly modern country, with modern ships and modern planes and modern thinking that will change everything and free us from the fear of foreign intervention in our lives. I want a country where children are able to be educated, where no one goes hungry. A country where others come from around the world to see how we innovate."

Arita looked a little shocked. Definitely impressed. You leaned a little closer.

"And if we happen to work together more closely during the process, I wouldn't mind that at all either."

"I... I think I'd like that too." He said. The two of you came even closer; you could feel his breath.

Nothing for it. You kissed him, and he leaned in, placing a hand on your side and holding you a moment.

--

The two of you continued your tour of the inner walls, watching orange leaves fall and marveling at the beauty, until it became too dark to see. You went back across the bridge and drove a ways upriver to a dance hall, which seemed to be populated mostly by off-duty army officers and their partners. It was an odd blend of the traditional and the modern, with men in their western style army uniforms and women in lovely kimono. The music was a fast rag on piano with accompanying instruments, and it wandered and meandered as patrons seemed to just throw themselves around.

You had no idea how to dance, but Yachi seemed confident, holding out a hand to guide you to the floor. You confessed your confusion, and he simply said, "Follow my lead."

Not all the vices need to be debauched! Sometimes its just a ragtime dance with a cute army boy.

Roll 2d20. No matter what happens, this quality time and the dancing is going to get rid of 3 stress points for you.​