GiovanniBlasini
Transhumanist Nutcase from Niops IX
- Location
- San Diego, CA, USA, Sol III
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Yeah, shoulda read those in greater detail before I started posting my own story here, which I am now reconsidering.
Kant-O-Celle Quest [a Kantai Collection game, transcribed from 4chan]
- Thread starter Trace Coburn
- Start date
- Pronouns
- He/Him
They're pretty boilerplate, to be honest. This, for example, comes from the TOS of the Xenforo forums themselves:
Functionally we need the publication rights in order to actually operate as a forum, because by stuff being posted on here we are publishing it. It's irrevocable (and likewise, we won't be forced to remove content on request) because otherwise you're opened up to griefing. Pretty much every forum that cares at all about the legalities is going to have some version of those conditions. (EDIT: Even 4chan does, at least in part)
Also, outside of the actual legalities, we're not unreasonable people. The existence of a deletion button ought to suggest that the "worst case" scenario of "you could construe this like Trace here isn't allowed to remove stuff at PF and co.'s request" is very silly, and, further, this was actually up for discussion earlier in the staff IRC:
Functionally we need the publication rights in order to actually operate as a forum, because by stuff being posted on here we are publishing it. It's irrevocable (and likewise, we won't be forced to remove content on request) because otherwise you're opened up to griefing. Pretty much every forum that cares at all about the legalities is going to have some version of those conditions. (EDIT: Even 4chan does, at least in part)
Also, outside of the actual legalities, we're not unreasonable people. The existence of a deletion button ought to suggest that the "worst case" scenario of "you could construe this like Trace here isn't allowed to remove stuff at PF and co.'s request" is very silly, and, further, this was actually up for discussion earlier in the staff IRC:
Last edited:
Doesn't SB run off of Xenforo as well? So the Same Boiler plate should be there as well.?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
SB used to have similar conditions, though they don't seem to have them up any more. Why that is, I can't say; it's their business.
EDIT:
FWIW, here's the default terms XenForo provides, and that SB used when it first swapped over:
It kept those from May 2012 through to July 2014, when their administration changed.
Last edited:
Hmm they run on Xenforo servers so they should,probably an oversight when they moved to Xenforo.
Last edited:
- Pronouns
- He/Him
No, it's a deliberate change on their part. When they moved to XF the default XF ToS would've been provided, but SB changed their terms stuff to point to their rules thread (which AFAICT makes no mention of getting publication rights or who has copyrights). Simply using XF doesn't mean you need to clone xenforo.com's legalese (though many do); I was just providing it as an example.
Last edited:
Thanks for clarifying was wondering on that.
- Location
- Void of Observation
And Foamy shows himself to be the best of the Triumvate again.
Information: this is a large modbox to catch your attention please take note kthx
this is a large modbox to catch your attention please take note kthx
Aside from drawing more attention to foamy's excellent post above, I'd like to direct everybody's attention to posts which the SV admins made when someone started panicking about the ToS previously:
Also, given posts like this I'd like to mention:
Since issues like this have cropped up several times before, I'd like to give everyone a little general advice to hopefully head off yet another round of "people yelling at each other that I might have to do something about." (i.e. proactive laziness on my part lol) When you see some scary-sounding lingo or hear something ominous from a site owner, start by asking yourself "does [this thing I'm worried about] sound like something that an average schmuck might do?" Because trust me, SV's owners are waaaay too boring to risk their IRL careers with skeevy shit like "try to exercise control over someone else's copyright with sneaky legal-jitsu." That's the sort of shenanigans which you'd expect from ambulance-chaser lawyers desperate to make a buck, and none of the site owners are anywhere near that financially desperate.
I'm not saying "don't ever assume anything bad about SV's owners," but at the very least, don't start by assuming that it's likely. Start by asking the admins for what their intent was with the ToS (through the Ask A Private Question subforum, PMing a mod or admin, opening a thread in the Forum News subforum, etc.), not by assuming that they're planning to deliberately screw you over, and you'll save everyone a whole lot of unnecessary drama. As someone who's had to clean up a lot of forum drama, I can assure you that the truth is pretty much always waaaaay more boring than you think it is, lol.
Last edited:
- Location
- The Hague
- Pronouns
- He/Him
'Why is Nuts! quoting me in this thread,' I wondered as I checked my alerts this morning ...
As has been described, our Terms of Service are pretty ordinary. We don't use the standard that comes with XenForo, but with the exception of some recent updates we made to reflect user subscriptions our ToS does basically the same thing. It was redrafted largely because we thought the boilerplate was kind of ugly. These kinds of provisions aren't usually relevant in the day to day but they underpin our capacity to operate.
There is an unusual situation here in that a great deal of material in this thread is from elsewhere and was written by non-members. My understanding is that Trace only posts things which he has permission to post - an example I wish more people making reposts would follow, honestly - and that is, I think, sufficient to constitute a use of the service under the ToS, even if the original author is not a member here. If you are knowingly using our platform to promote and distribute your material, then somewhat unsurprisingly the material is our concern. It would be a different matter if the original authors didn't know that Kant-O-Celle was being republished here.
I understand that might sound scary, particularly given the strictly legal nature of the Terms of Service, and particularly given the implications of the word 'publish.' At the basic level it's just saying you agree we can host your content, such as your posts, on the forum. At another level is allows us to say no when you ask us to permanently delete content from the forum. There are two levels of deletion available through XF, one of which is reversible and one of which is permanent, and the latter has been described to me as being 'a huge pain in the ass.' And, yes, there is a connection to money. We now sell subscriptions, and the ToS allows us to do so, given that subscribers will be reading your content. It would also allow us to advertise if we wanted to pursue that.
It doesn't go so far as to give us a controlling right over content. I cannot go to an author on this forum and tell them that I'm going to sell their material. Frankly we've tried our best to preserve the capacity of users to financially exploit their works. The Private Fiction forum, for example, is intended to allow a user to post original content without giving away their right of first sale.
Obviously that's getting a little away from Kant-O-Celle, which is a fanwork. What it boils down to is that posting here constitutes an agreement that allows us to host your posting. That agreement is irrevocable. If you ask us to take something down then we don't have to. In the absence of a very compelling reason otherwise we are not likely to say no. If Trace edits things out of his posts then we aren't going to revert them to earlier versions. Every user has access to a delete button on their posts, and in the past we've been pretty relaxed about requests to remove content. We try not to delete too many threads but if that's the best solution to an issue then we'll do it. It's no skin off our nose.
We know that the author is, or perhaps more accurately was, not particularly fond of us, and I'm willing to assume that people who mostly make their main home on 4chan probably think we're kind of ridiculous. I've been personally badmouthed on /tg/ which I consider a high watermark achievement (
). Anyway, we don't really feel any personal enmity towards anyone involved, we're just trying to run our forum according to our standards. We also try to do it in the way which is most legally viable, so we've kept our Terms of Service to best cover our collective asses.
Being concerned about the Terms of Service of any website is perfectly normal. I haven't used Steam for something like ten years because of a fairly minor ToS issue. If you look at our ToS and decide that it makes you uncomfortable to post here then I understand. While I think some of the stuff said about our ToS here is largely alarmist, if that's how you feel about it after reading the document yourself and thinking about it, then that's okay.
As has been described, our Terms of Service are pretty ordinary. We don't use the standard that comes with XenForo, but with the exception of some recent updates we made to reflect user subscriptions our ToS does basically the same thing. It was redrafted largely because we thought the boilerplate was kind of ugly. These kinds of provisions aren't usually relevant in the day to day but they underpin our capacity to operate.
There is an unusual situation here in that a great deal of material in this thread is from elsewhere and was written by non-members. My understanding is that Trace only posts things which he has permission to post - an example I wish more people making reposts would follow, honestly - and that is, I think, sufficient to constitute a use of the service under the ToS, even if the original author is not a member here. If you are knowingly using our platform to promote and distribute your material, then somewhat unsurprisingly the material is our concern. It would be a different matter if the original authors didn't know that Kant-O-Celle was being republished here.
I understand that might sound scary, particularly given the strictly legal nature of the Terms of Service, and particularly given the implications of the word 'publish.' At the basic level it's just saying you agree we can host your content, such as your posts, on the forum. At another level is allows us to say no when you ask us to permanently delete content from the forum. There are two levels of deletion available through XF, one of which is reversible and one of which is permanent, and the latter has been described to me as being 'a huge pain in the ass.' And, yes, there is a connection to money. We now sell subscriptions, and the ToS allows us to do so, given that subscribers will be reading your content. It would also allow us to advertise if we wanted to pursue that.
It doesn't go so far as to give us a controlling right over content. I cannot go to an author on this forum and tell them that I'm going to sell their material. Frankly we've tried our best to preserve the capacity of users to financially exploit their works. The Private Fiction forum, for example, is intended to allow a user to post original content without giving away their right of first sale.
Obviously that's getting a little away from Kant-O-Celle, which is a fanwork. What it boils down to is that posting here constitutes an agreement that allows us to host your posting. That agreement is irrevocable. If you ask us to take something down then we don't have to. In the absence of a very compelling reason otherwise we are not likely to say no. If Trace edits things out of his posts then we aren't going to revert them to earlier versions. Every user has access to a delete button on their posts, and in the past we've been pretty relaxed about requests to remove content. We try not to delete too many threads but if that's the best solution to an issue then we'll do it. It's no skin off our nose.
We know that the author is, or perhaps more accurately was, not particularly fond of us, and I'm willing to assume that people who mostly make their main home on 4chan probably think we're kind of ridiculous. I've been personally badmouthed on /tg/ which I consider a high watermark achievement (
). Anyway, we don't really feel any personal enmity towards anyone involved, we're just trying to run our forum according to our standards. We also try to do it in the way which is most legally viable, so we've kept our Terms of Service to best cover our collective asses.Being concerned about the Terms of Service of any website is perfectly normal. I haven't used Steam for something like ten years because of a fairly minor ToS issue. If you look at our ToS and decide that it makes you uncomfortable to post here then I understand. While I think some of the stuff said about our ToS here is largely alarmist, if that's how you feel about it after reading the document yourself and thinking about it, then that's okay.
Kerashana
Warden
- Location
- The Outer Gate
foamy, Nuts!, Ford Prefect. Thank you these posts have been very interesting and informative.
This said, I hope this calms down and that people will do the same. That said, I personally feel that those tripping over the ToS are making too much of a fuss about what is needed to run a forum.
Still, life.
Cheers.
This said, I hope this calms down and that people will do the same. That said, I personally feel that those tripping over the ToS are making too much of a fuss about what is needed to run a forum.
Still, life.
Cheers.
Hey, everyone - I'm "planefriend," aka Demetrious, aka Fap Angel, KCQ's author. Thought I should say something, if only to ensure nobody catches undue flak.
The boilerplate legalese is indeed boilerplate - in fact, it's because it's bog-standard boilerplate that it's written so broadly, I suspect. Some lawyer hired by the company that sells this forum software sat down and banged out something to cover every conceivable ass in every conceivable situation, no matter who the customer was. And many of the customers are probably running Naruto fan forums or something, so they're not gonna go hire a lawyer to customize the ToS or write their own - so the boilerplate has to be, well, like boiler plate - boring, dingy, common, large and very very thick and tough. As Ford observes, if you're not familiar with legalese it's perfectly normal to be wary of ToS that looks too broad or questionable, but given that the ToS explicitly keeps its paws off copyright, I don't think that alone would've spooked my friends and participating writers.
Rather, I think it was this:
Now, to be careful, I went and double-checked the rules of SV, checked for any board-specific rules (didn't find any stickied posts to that effect,) and I also read the Terms of Service and the board's mission statement. I couldn't find anything that explicitly or implicitly forbade reposting content to SV (with permission, of course, which I explicitly granted Chains,) or the discussion of fiction from outside the board (which is evident enough from the existence of a few subforums focused on just that, of course.) The use of Sufficient Velocity as an archive (i.e. a resource for many people to view and read who are not SV users) can certainly be seen as an excess not in line with the mission statement (which is focused on serving the boards users, not the whole internet.) That function, however, is already filled by multiple sources - there's an existing board-specific archive maintained at suptg.com, someone has been compiling a running e-book of the threads with just the actual writing content of the main story included, and there are also several auto-archives in existence, several of which archive /tg/, such as the one at desustorage.org. I've taken to linking Chains Spacebattles thread as the go-to archive in my opening posts every time I run a thread, but that's out of recognition of his superb effort: copy-pasting the text is one thing, but he also saves relevant images, fan-art, and even records the more amusing or enlightening conversations that take place during the thread, allowing people catching up to get the full "experience" of a /tg/ quest thread (which moves very fast, and is typically written by the author in "real time" instead of taking a day or a week to produce a long, polished chunk of prose.) This is in addition to cataloging and maintaining links to the side-story work, which would otherwise be lost in a morass of pastebin links buried at the ends of threads somewhere on the suptg archive. Chains work is a great boon to those who want to enjoy the story, and I hope everyone appreciates his efforts as much as I do.
It's possible that Ford Prefect et al. were unaware of the multiple redundant archives, which alone would imply that the content being posted here was primarily a matter of convenience for Sufficient Velocity users and not an exploitation of board resources for a purpose lying outside the mission statement. It is unlikely, however, that they were unaware of the simultaneous existence of an identical thread on SpaceBattles. I am not a "user" on SV, to be sure, but I am a reader. I do lurk here. I am well aware of the history of the two boards and the strong cross-board traffic that exists (which includes some moderators, one of which has actually posted in that SB thread.) I'm also aware of the thoroughness that SV mods tend to apply to their appointed jobs, and given the SB thread was being discussed only two pages back, well, I doubt they languish in ignorance of it.
With that in mind, Ford's post speaking of begrudging tolerance (of something neither in violation of rules or mission statement) carries a strong tone of disdain for the blighted works of the rude barbarians of 4chan. That's nothing new or particularly worrisome - it is 4chan, after all, and those of us who frequent it are well aware of how it's perceived by others, to say nothing of how it's been presented to others in the past. And we don't blame anyone for those impressions, either, or find it particularly surprising when imageboard cultural norms confuse and dismay the uninitiated (for instance, my 4chan "user"name.) When the guardians look down from their walls and see this, it's understandable that they won't immediately appreciate the rich and nuanced culture of the barbarian tribes.
But.
When there's broad legalese involved, and avoidance of potential problems from it depends heavily on the reasonableness and goodwill of the patricians whom you know regard you as barbarians... and you have no interest or investment in the site in question, there's no reason to take the risk, or expend an iota of effort on working it out. Thus, my co-writers pulled up stakes.
For me, it's a little different. My bachelors degree was a double major in Journalism and Political Science, so I naturally have strong opinions on topics like censorship and speech. But as I observed above, SpaceBattles and SufficientVelocity share a significant chunk of their userbases with one another, and many of them are Good Posers whom I like (for instance, they guy who made this thread!) If there was nothing of value here, I doubt they'd be here. And I have a strong personal disinclination to making messes in other people's homes. Thusly I'm tempted to follow my co-writers leads and request that Chains pull my content from this thread as well - it's all archived and available on SB, a single link away, and that would leave this thread as a pure fiction discussion thread, which is squarely inside the intent of the board's mission statement and won't "rustle any jimmies," as they say in the vernacular.
But.
My work is the stuff Chains has expended real effort on "cleaning up," as well as cataloging amusing conversations in the threads themselves. Linking some pastebinned documents is one thing; but the "main story" I've written reflects a lot of Chains work as well. He's put hours into it, many, many hours, and there's only so many hours in a day. Disrespecting his right to agency over the results of that effort would disrespect his labors entire.
Thus, I'm leaving the decision to Chains. He is a regular user here, it is his thread, and it is his work, so I think he should be the one to weigh the value of posting the content in this thread against the apparent needs and desires of the board and its administrators as a whole. I'm in a tight spot here, and this looks like the best solution.
The boilerplate legalese is indeed boilerplate - in fact, it's because it's bog-standard boilerplate that it's written so broadly, I suspect. Some lawyer hired by the company that sells this forum software sat down and banged out something to cover every conceivable ass in every conceivable situation, no matter who the customer was. And many of the customers are probably running Naruto fan forums or something, so they're not gonna go hire a lawyer to customize the ToS or write their own - so the boilerplate has to be, well, like boiler plate - boring, dingy, common, large and very very thick and tough. As Ford observes, if you're not familiar with legalese it's perfectly normal to be wary of ToS that looks too broad or questionable, but given that the ToS explicitly keeps its paws off copyright, I don't think that alone would've spooked my friends and participating writers.
Rather, I think it was this:
Now, to be careful, I went and double-checked the rules of SV, checked for any board-specific rules (didn't find any stickied posts to that effect,) and I also read the Terms of Service and the board's mission statement. I couldn't find anything that explicitly or implicitly forbade reposting content to SV (with permission, of course, which I explicitly granted Chains,) or the discussion of fiction from outside the board (which is evident enough from the existence of a few subforums focused on just that, of course.) The use of Sufficient Velocity as an archive (i.e. a resource for many people to view and read who are not SV users) can certainly be seen as an excess not in line with the mission statement (which is focused on serving the boards users, not the whole internet.) That function, however, is already filled by multiple sources - there's an existing board-specific archive maintained at suptg.com, someone has been compiling a running e-book of the threads with just the actual writing content of the main story included, and there are also several auto-archives in existence, several of which archive /tg/, such as the one at desustorage.org. I've taken to linking Chains Spacebattles thread as the go-to archive in my opening posts every time I run a thread, but that's out of recognition of his superb effort: copy-pasting the text is one thing, but he also saves relevant images, fan-art, and even records the more amusing or enlightening conversations that take place during the thread, allowing people catching up to get the full "experience" of a /tg/ quest thread (which moves very fast, and is typically written by the author in "real time" instead of taking a day or a week to produce a long, polished chunk of prose.) This is in addition to cataloging and maintaining links to the side-story work, which would otherwise be lost in a morass of pastebin links buried at the ends of threads somewhere on the suptg archive. Chains work is a great boon to those who want to enjoy the story, and I hope everyone appreciates his efforts as much as I do.
It's possible that Ford Prefect et al. were unaware of the multiple redundant archives, which alone would imply that the content being posted here was primarily a matter of convenience for Sufficient Velocity users and not an exploitation of board resources for a purpose lying outside the mission statement. It is unlikely, however, that they were unaware of the simultaneous existence of an identical thread on SpaceBattles. I am not a "user" on SV, to be sure, but I am a reader. I do lurk here. I am well aware of the history of the two boards and the strong cross-board traffic that exists (which includes some moderators, one of which has actually posted in that SB thread.) I'm also aware of the thoroughness that SV mods tend to apply to their appointed jobs, and given the SB thread was being discussed only two pages back, well, I doubt they languish in ignorance of it.
With that in mind, Ford's post speaking of begrudging tolerance (of something neither in violation of rules or mission statement) carries a strong tone of disdain for the blighted works of the rude barbarians of 4chan. That's nothing new or particularly worrisome - it is 4chan, after all, and those of us who frequent it are well aware of how it's perceived by others, to say nothing of how it's been presented to others in the past. And we don't blame anyone for those impressions, either, or find it particularly surprising when imageboard cultural norms confuse and dismay the uninitiated (for instance, my 4chan "user"name.) When the guardians look down from their walls and see this, it's understandable that they won't immediately appreciate the rich and nuanced culture of the barbarian tribes.
But.
When there's broad legalese involved, and avoidance of potential problems from it depends heavily on the reasonableness and goodwill of the patricians whom you know regard you as barbarians... and you have no interest or investment in the site in question, there's no reason to take the risk, or expend an iota of effort on working it out. Thus, my co-writers pulled up stakes.
For me, it's a little different. My bachelors degree was a double major in Journalism and Political Science, so I naturally have strong opinions on topics like censorship and speech. But as I observed above, SpaceBattles and SufficientVelocity share a significant chunk of their userbases with one another, and many of them are Good Posers whom I like (for instance, they guy who made this thread!) If there was nothing of value here, I doubt they'd be here. And I have a strong personal disinclination to making messes in other people's homes. Thusly I'm tempted to follow my co-writers leads and request that Chains pull my content from this thread as well - it's all archived and available on SB, a single link away, and that would leave this thread as a pure fiction discussion thread, which is squarely inside the intent of the board's mission statement and won't "rustle any jimmies," as they say in the vernacular.
But.
My work is the stuff Chains has expended real effort on "cleaning up," as well as cataloging amusing conversations in the threads themselves. Linking some pastebinned documents is one thing; but the "main story" I've written reflects a lot of Chains work as well. He's put hours into it, many, many hours, and there's only so many hours in a day. Disrespecting his right to agency over the results of that effort would disrespect his labors entire.
Thus, I'm leaving the decision to Chains. He is a regular user here, it is his thread, and it is his work, so I think he should be the one to weigh the value of posting the content in this thread against the apparent needs and desires of the board and its administrators as a whole. I'm in a tight spot here, and this looks like the best solution.
Delta Green
Big Boss
- Location
- Classified
This is why I really respect Demetrious. When there's a point to be made, he explains it thoroughly and rationally.
See you tomorrow, friend.
See you tomorrow, friend.
Trace Coburn
BattleTech Starfighter Analyst
- Location
- NDBBM, New Zealand
Good to hear from the man himself. 
Now, for my own two cents on the matter:
Ultimately, I post this archive to both SpaceBattles and SufficientVelocity for two main, interrelated reasons: redundancy, and reaching the maximum possible readership. There have been numerous occasions when one of the two boards has been down for various reasons while the other remained reachable, so having KCQ on both allows people to keep reading during such outages with a minimum of inconvenience. This is not a small issue: even a cursory glance at the Creative Writing/User Fiction boards will tell you that Kantai Collection is a franchise that's exploded in popularity in the last year or so, both with writers and readers. The readership gets strident about getting their fix of fan-fiction whenever they want it, preferably with fresh doses on a routine basis.
Related to this is the fact that many of those readers are catching up with their favourite projects from places whose IT policies block certain sites, including 4chan itself, and sometimes including one of these forums (but not the other). True, there are significant overlaps between the SB and SV memberships, but even so there are people who visit only one on a regular basis. The reader commentary does vary between the two — as I type, the SB thread is some two hundred pages longer than this one — but having the content mirrored between the two allows KCQ the maximum possible exposure to their respective fan-bases, which helps build word-of-mouth about it and its creators. Demetrious has mentioned in at least one KCQ thread that the lessons of writing SWQ and this quest have given him the confidence he needed to try his hand at professional paid writing, and any budding author will tell you that having a pre-existing fanbase is rarely a bad thing.
Still, for all the effort I put into the transcription, ultimately it's done as a service to the readership and the creators. I don't own the creative writing involved in KCQ itself (except for a few scattered comments in the voting periods), nor do I own the write-ups or artworks. Those remain the property of their original creators, and if they ask me to take their content off one or both archive threads, I will do so at first opportunity. A number of them have so asked, and this has been done. Others have asked me to leave pre-existing posts of their material to SV as they are, but to refrain from any further updates; this decision, too, I will abide by. Much as I may hope those folks change their minds and ask me to restore their content/resume updates, ideally some time soon, if and when they ask for that is purely up to them.
So, here it is:
Main KCQ threads:
I will continue to update this thread with the main KCQ sessions, as I get them ready for transcription. As demetrious has noted, that process is time-consuming and painstaking, not least because it requires balancing preservation of the, erm, original spirit and feel of the session — including the humour, informative asides, random insights and analyses, and sometimes vicious debates of side-posters — against meeting the community standards deemed acceptable here and on SB.
Even so, for all the headaches it causes me, demetrious has put his skills, time, and not some degree of his physical well-being into running these sessions, and in doing so has turned a game of herding anonymous cats on 4chan into one of the benchmarks of the KanColle fandom, one that has received (and is well-worthy to keep and expand!) a wide readership and recognition.
Support material, including write-ups and artwork:
Again, these people are putting their creative works out there for the enjoyment of KCQ readers, who often use the anonymity of 4chan to offer criticism unfettered by the faintest hint of courtesy or any fear of consequences. Whatever the strengths or shortcomings of their work, they deserve some form of recognition for having that creative courage.
(Yes, even fluffbringer. I agree the Native American piece was dire and deserved to be declared non-canon, but goddammit, he wrote something and put it out there on /tg/, and that's more than many others have dared to do. Including me: I tried to do a write-up of my own, but I ran out of steam, and nerve, at the end of the first page.)
I will continue to archive those supporting works to this thread as well, subject to the creators' wishes; if they don't want their material posted here, that's their right.
Now, for my own two cents on the matter:
Ultimately, I post this archive to both SpaceBattles and SufficientVelocity for two main, interrelated reasons: redundancy, and reaching the maximum possible readership. There have been numerous occasions when one of the two boards has been down for various reasons while the other remained reachable, so having KCQ on both allows people to keep reading during such outages with a minimum of inconvenience. This is not a small issue: even a cursory glance at the Creative Writing/User Fiction boards will tell you that Kantai Collection is a franchise that's exploded in popularity in the last year or so, both with writers and readers. The readership gets strident about getting their fix of fan-fiction whenever they want it, preferably with fresh doses on a routine basis.
Related to this is the fact that many of those readers are catching up with their favourite projects from places whose IT policies block certain sites, including 4chan itself, and sometimes including one of these forums (but not the other). True, there are significant overlaps between the SB and SV memberships, but even so there are people who visit only one on a regular basis. The reader commentary does vary between the two — as I type, the SB thread is some two hundred pages longer than this one — but having the content mirrored between the two allows KCQ the maximum possible exposure to their respective fan-bases, which helps build word-of-mouth about it and its creators. Demetrious has mentioned in at least one KCQ thread that the lessons of writing SWQ and this quest have given him the confidence he needed to try his hand at professional paid writing, and any budding author will tell you that having a pre-existing fanbase is rarely a bad thing.
Still, for all the effort I put into the transcription, ultimately it's done as a service to the readership and the creators. I don't own the creative writing involved in KCQ itself (except for a few scattered comments in the voting periods), nor do I own the write-ups or artworks. Those remain the property of their original creators, and if they ask me to take their content off one or both archive threads, I will do so at first opportunity. A number of them have so asked, and this has been done. Others have asked me to leave pre-existing posts of their material to SV as they are, but to refrain from any further updates; this decision, too, I will abide by. Much as I may hope those folks change their minds and ask me to restore their content/resume updates, ideally some time soon, if and when they ask for that is purely up to them.
So, here it is:
Main KCQ threads:
I will continue to update this thread with the main KCQ sessions, as I get them ready for transcription. As demetrious has noted, that process is time-consuming and painstaking, not least because it requires balancing preservation of the, erm, original spirit and feel of the session — including the humour, informative asides, random insights and analyses, and sometimes vicious debates of side-posters — against meeting the community standards deemed acceptable here and on SB.
Even so, for all the headaches it causes me, demetrious has put his skills, time, and not some degree of his physical well-being into running these sessions, and in doing so has turned a game of herding anonymous cats on 4chan into one of the benchmarks of the KanColle fandom, one that has received (and is well-worthy to keep and expand!) a wide readership and recognition.
Support material, including write-ups and artwork:
Again, these people are putting their creative works out there for the enjoyment of KCQ readers, who often use the anonymity of 4chan to offer criticism unfettered by the faintest hint of courtesy or any fear of consequences. Whatever the strengths or shortcomings of their work, they deserve some form of recognition for having that creative courage.
(Yes, even fluffbringer. I agree the Native American piece was dire and deserved to be declared non-canon, but goddammit, he wrote something and put it out there on /tg/, and that's more than many others have dared to do. Including me: I tried to do a write-up of my own, but I ran out of steam, and nerve, at the end of the first page.)
I will continue to archive those supporting works to this thread as well, subject to the creators' wishes; if they don't want their material posted here, that's their right.
Last edited:
- Location
- Over the hill and far away
Well, I really appreciate the efforts of all involved in this one, and I also really appreciate the heads up as to the changing location of a not insignificant amount of the content. I've marked the SB thread now, so I could catch up on the continuing adventures of the Titanic and the Queen Anne's Revenge, and my goodness, that's certainly a phrase I never thought I'd use ever
GhostStalker
Jeopardy! contestant
- Location
- NYC
So I take it that all this take down stuff from the authors was coordinated through the KCQ IRC channel? Honestly doesn't surprise me.
Why does this kind of drama seem to happen every time I try to catch up to PF quests. . The Naka archives literally went down when I was flipping back and forth between it and the main story, trying to read them in chronological order, so I was confused as hell when I couldn't find the post after tabbing back to it(Thanks, Android browsers.)
Anyways, I FINALLY have caught up on the main story and Naka, and holy hell has there been some awesome shit since I fell off the quest. I started laughing uncontrollably at the Kongoupocalypse, started having trouble breathing from all the laughter at point where SecNav went 'Fuck China', and ended up laughing loud enough to wake half the the house when I got to the ArmyNurseCorpsAnon transcript.
Someone send help, my sides hurt.
. The Naka archives literally went down when I was flipping back and forth between it and the main story, trying to read them in chronological order, so I was confused as hell when I couldn't find the post after tabbing back to it(Thanks, Android browsers.)Anyways, I FINALLY have caught up on the main story and Naka, and holy hell has there been some awesome shit since I fell off the quest. I started laughing uncontrollably at the Kongoupocalypse, started having trouble breathing from all the laughter at point where SecNav went 'Fuck China', and ended up laughing loud enough to wake half the the house when I got to the ArmyNurseCorpsAnon transcript.
Someone send help, my sides hurt
.
Last edited:
Trace Coburn
BattleTech Starfighter Analyst
- Location
- NDBBM, New Zealand
Update cycle in progress. Status:
Back in the Saddle by Central — Part 3 — COMPLETE!
From Akigumo's Sketchbook by LurK — New! — COMPLETE!
Kant-O-Celle Quest by demetrious et. al. — Session #73 pt.1 and pt.2 — COMPLETE!
Back in the Saddle by Central — Part 3 — COMPLETE!
From Akigumo's Sketchbook by LurK — New! — COMPLETE!
Kant-O-Celle Quest by demetrious et. al. — Session #73 pt.1 and pt.2 — COMPLETE!
Last edited:
Session #73 pt.1
Trace Coburn
BattleTech Starfighter Analyst
- Location
- NDBBM, New Zealand
ARCHIVES: Kant-O-Celle Quest [a Kantai Collection game, transcribed from 4chan]
So.
That was lunch.
You and Hate exit the Officer's mess rather chagrin, having just been firmly and conclusively shut down by the least likely of manlets. Dragging yourselves to the parked SUV, you both look at it listlessly, minds still reeling with recent events.
Hate's little pack of corgis are the first to notice the sound; a kind of polite purring that rolls down the sidewalk. They spring to their feet, flipping their muzzles up. Thirty-odd little white caps tumble through the air before landing squarely between sixty pricked ears. Covered and ready to rock, they watch the curve of the road intently as the purr approaches -
- and cock their heads curiously as the riding mower comes around the curve. Usually a destroyer girl on a riding mower would have them barking and farting for all they were worth, but there's something about the rider that gives even canines pause. The big, broad-brimmed Stetson covering Yuudachi's face is the first clue. The big coil of rope wrapped around her is the second. She tilts her head up to scan the sidewalk, squinting her eyes through shutter-shades - then she guns it past you and Hate, intent on her mission.
You're still looking at her retreating ride when you see Shimakaze strut past. She's hugging a big white metal canister to her chest; it looks vaguely like the bastard child of a milk bottle and a propane tank, and has some sort of mounting lugs on it.
Before you can quite finish processing that, you see Willie go past at high speed, her long, loud wail of horror undergoing doppler shift as she zips by on the sidewalk opposite. A few seconds later, you see -
"What the fuck is that?" Hate asks as something metallic, quadrupedal and fast rips by, hot on Willie's tail, its loud rattling racket fading as it turns the corner.
"... Big Dog?" you ask.
"You're a fucking riot. What WAS it?"
[ ] Pursue Yuudachi. She's up to no good.
[ ] Pursue Shimakaze. She's up to worse.
[ ] Pursue Willie. You just gotta see this shit.
[X] Pursue Willie. You just gotta see this shit.
"A robot, you god damn cockgobbling asshole!" you snap as you leap into the SUV. Hate yanks the back door open and slings himself in with his hands gripping the top doorframe, leaving room for the corgis to swarm in beneath his dangling feet. "Just because they put a globe on your goddamn uniform doesn't mean the world revolves around Marines!" Stomping the accelerator, you send the SUV screeching backwards out of its parking spot. You remember to punch the button on the console to disable traction control just in time, then spin the wheel hard left while stomping your foot on the parking break, swinging the nose around in a sharp J-turn.
"WAT," Hate demands from the back seat. You ignore him, as you're busy with all hands and feet; disengaging the brake, shifting into forward drive and flooring the accelerator. Smashing the unfamiliar console beneath your left hand you start trying to lower your driver's side window, succeeding at last in getting it down. Flicking your eyes at the rearview mirrors shows a harried Hate desperately trying to wrap himself in two safety belts while little wagging Corgi ends cram into every window, piling atop one another to get their heads out in the windstream. You take the corner hard, jerking the wheel hard left, then right to powerslide around, keeping your nose lined up with the long downhill straightaway you know's coming up. Sure enough, you spot Willie and her metallic pursuer.
You floor it.
The SUV accelerates like a leaden sled - but now it's a leaden sled on greased rails heading straight downhill. You're gaining on them fast when Willie cuts left, across the road, trying to climb up a brick retaining wall that's holding back the hilly slope the road was cut through. With one foot on the brakes, the other on the e-brake and the third downshifting the engine, you manage to come to a screaming, smoking halt near enough to Willie that she looks up at you with desperate hope.
The robotic dog comes galloping around the end of your SUV, and with a sudden flash of horror -
- you see that it is armed.
RDML Settle: "I'd say 'fuck my life', but that would imply this isn't par for the course by now."
[ ] FLOTILLA ATTACK!
[ ] FLYING CRIPPLE BOUNCES METALLIC MARINE!
[ ] DOGGY CHASES THE STICK
[X] DOGGY CHASES THE STICK
Your hand moves of its own accord - there's no time for anything else. One moment the CROWS mount is swiveling its lethal muzzle towards Willie, and the next the whole thing is going down on its "head," skidding along the blacktop on its roll-cage before the muzzle of the machine-gun catches on the curb and tips it over. Your black ebony-wood cane rolls to a sedate stop nearby.
Within seconds Hate has managed to extract himself from the SUV, and his pack of little dogs are surrounding the Big Dog, snarling and foaming at the mouth as they circle like a small furry cyclone. The CROWS mount opens fire -
- *phoot phoot phoot* -
- causing you and Hate to squint as wax bullets smack into the retaining wall wide of Willie. You've got just enough time to contemplate that before Willie herself slaloms into your thigh, hugging it tightly as she buries her face in your pantleg.
"Don't look now, skip," Hate murmurs, "but I think the eggheads are coming to collect their dog."
"Hate?"
"Yeah?"
You point at the panting men in white shirts who are jogging down the hill towards you, remote-controls in their hands. "Go fine those fuckers for walking a dog without a leash."
Hate blinks. "I'm not an MP."
You stoop to the pavement, pick up your cane, twist it just-so to unsheathe he blade, and tap Hate on both shoulders. "Rise, Sir Asshole."
Up the hill, the two techie-looking types have paused for some reason. Hate is giving you a rather curious look, but the Corgis, you note, are all up on their feet and quite attentive.
Hmm.
You swish your cane-sword all fancy-like, ending with a pokey thrust up the hill. "CHARGE!"
As one, the Corgis take off uphill, barking like mad. The techies turn and start running like mad bastards - uphill - making very little progress as the pack closes in on them. They barely make it thirty yards before they're penned in by a chaotic circle of overexcited dogs, their frantic barking blending into one long, tinny cacophony.
"... sir?" Hate ventures. "Are you feeling okay?"
"They made my destroyer cry," you grump. Willie hasn't looked up since she latched onto your thigh. As you pat her head, pondering all the awful things those other two girls could be up to at this very moment, and who should be dispatched to stop them, sudden inspiration strikes.
For you have recently discovered the true and terrible power of good PR.
Producing your smartphone from one pocket, you aim it at your face and start recording.
"My name is Ryan Settle. Moments ago, I saw a destroyer riding a lawn mower with a rope pass by me. Then I saw a destroyer carrying something that looked suspiciously like a RATO bottle go past. But then I saw Willie, exiting stage left, pursued by a killer robo-hound. There I stood, facing three different flavors of utter bullshit."
You turn the camera down and tap Willie on the shoulder. She turns her tear-stained face up to you for a moment, lower lip quivering. You turn the camera back to yourself.
"Let no man criticize me," you intone darkly, "until he has stood in my shoes."
You end the recording.
You get Willie into the SUV (still clinging to your arm, sitting on the center console to keep close,) and trundle up the hill to collect Hate, who's having a little chat with the harried-looking techs. He sends them on their way as you pull up, then pops open the rear door and starts loading Corgis into the back two at a time - the little animals have worn themselves out so completely, and so fast, that they're just lying on their backs on the hot sidewalk, tongues lolling from their mouths listlessly. They give Hate a weak wag of their tails as he loads them in like cordwood, almost a little listless salute.
"They gonna be okay?"
"They suck diesel like you suck down toast," Hate replies. "They just need to eat, or drink, or rest a little, that's all." He tosses the last two onto the rear seat, then crawls in after. "How's Willie?"
"Still not talking," you say. Willie's got both arms wrapped around yours now, which makes shifting the SUV into drive tricky. She's still shaking a little bit, and she seems incredibly disinclined to detach from you.
You turn over your left wrist and check the time - you need to get ready for your baking session pretty soon.
[ ] Take Willie with you - she seemed to have quite a fright, and you *are* her Admiral.
[ ] Leave Willie with someone else - you doubt Arizona will be happy having her around, even if she *is* quiet. She does tend to be a walking disaster.
Session #73 pt.2
Trace Coburn
BattleTech Starfighter Analyst
- Location
- NDBBM, New Zealand
[X] Take Willie with you - she seemed to have quite a fright, and you *are* her Admiral.
The rush-hour traffic is already ebbing by the time you step out of your apartment, freshly attired in some unobtrusive civvies - a navy-blue, short-sleeved polo shirt and dark jeans. The steel-shod end of your cane clicks against the concrete sidewalk with each step; the sound almost lost in the rising and falling thrumming of the cicadas lurking in the landscaping. After going absolutely gibbering nuts during last night's battle, nobody blinked an eye when you "called in sick" and took the rest of the workday off. Now, at 1830 hours, everyone's settling down to dinner or after-work pursuits, and the dormitory area of the base is relatively quiet. Elsewhere, though, you know work continues - at the JMSDF docks, and the commercial shipyards not far away in Tokyo harbor, and elsewhere in Japan, the second shift is just warming up. And for the intel analysts buried deep in their bulletproof cubicles and cramped little offices, stale coffee and dry donuts fuel the upteenth hour of strained, driven data crunching, sifting and sifting for the little golden speck that might finally turn the tide of war.
You stumble as your toe slips into a hole in the sidewalk you hadn't noticed, bringing your attention back to Earth. Shaking your head to clear the cobwebs, you sigh - maybe you *do* need a break.
At your side is Willie, one hand twisted into your pantleg for guidance, the other clutched defensively over her chest. She hasn't said a single word since you tossed your cane in-between the robo-dogs legs to save her, though she did stop bawling a few hours ago. Now it's just intermittent sniffles. You tried to get someone to stay with her for a while, but she spurned every candidate, opting to stay on your couch, wrapped up in a blanket under the AC vent.
You haven't thought about Willie for several days - just too much going on, too fast. As usual. Naka's words about crumbling mountains come back to you. Grinding your molars, you push them away. Willie's made tremendous progress, thanks in large part to Hate's shenanigans. Naka didn't get her instant fix either. Real life's not like the movies; things don't all sort out nice and neat after the big climax. It's a long, slow slog, and *that* is where real Duty lies. Someone once said that a hero is no braver than an ordinary man; he's simply braver for a few seconds longer. You've always thought that much the same could be said of duty - except it's measured in months and years.
You drop your big hand onto Willie's hat and roll it around a little, letting her know you're paying attention as she limps along with you towards Arizona's apartment. It describes the battleship perfectly - that quiet, composed dignity, always ready, always willing, and possessed of seemingly infinite endurance for any sort of toil or trial. It goes unremarked and unappreciated, and yet it's what truly underpins the safety of the millions that depend on military force for protection. For all the ads showing men stabbing CGI dragons with NCO swords, it's the guys that spend twelve hours a day fixing turbine gears and helicopter engines that really keep a Navy in fighting trim.
Or for that matter, little destroyers. Coastal patrol, anti-submarine warfare, convoy escort, et cetera - the smallest, cheapest and most overlooked units are often the ones you find yourself needing the most desperately. Those are the day-to-day operations you've had little time to concern yourself with; especially with the war kicking into high gear almost the instant you touched down in Japan. Willie's certainly gained confidence in her inherent fighting prowess, but you've no idea what her life is like amongst the other ships - she's the lone American of her class on this base; Sammy nonwithstanding. And Sammy isn't the best wingman in the world - she's more of a tank, with a cautious Willie crouching behind it as it snorts and roars its way through an urban area.
You wonder if the cliques and camaraderie that form amongst combat units in high-stress situations have already crystallized long ago with the Japanese DDs, leaving Willie a newcomer, an unwelcome interloper, an outsider. You wonder if it's just plain, old-fashioned grade-school bullying. You wonder if Willie's channeling her past experience, or if she was just scared shitless because she's a little girl that was chased down by a fucking killer robot. You think and think and think, trying to untangle the child from the combat ship right up till you knock on Arizona's apartment door.
Or try to. Before your knuckles make contact, the door springs open to reveal Arizona. Her usual small smile is smiled, but her blue eyes are dazzlingly bright. She's wearing a dark t-shirt and shorts - and her duster, tied around her waist like one might tie a sweatshirt. You haven't seen her wearing it since you landed two weeks ago; but given the heat of a southern Japanese summer, that's no big mystery.
She fixes you with that blazingly happy expression for a moment, then notices Willie. Willie might be a walking disaster zone, but it doesn't make her stupid - the way she turns her face downwards tells you she knows exactly what she's interrupting. Shame seems to radiate off the girl like waste heat.
[ ] You know Arizona might hate you forever for this, but you couldn't abandon her. You could *not.*
[ ] She just had the ever-loving shit scared out of her, and you know there's nowhere she'll feel as safe as here, under the protection of the big guns.
[ ] Just pat Willie on the head and smile politely - take us both, or take nobody. If "personal time" with any one person is going to require you shirk your duty towards another, you may as well cut it off right here.
[X] You know Arizona might hate you forever for this, but you couldn't abandon her. You could *not.*
[X] She just had the ever-loving shit scared out of her, and you know there's nowhere she'll feel as safe as here, under the protection of the big guns.
"She was chased down by some damn killer robot-dog... thing some geeks were trying to test," you explain. "It had a remote weapons station on it - machine gun, and everything. It was loaded with simunitions, but she didn't know that." You silently mouth "scared shitless" to Arizona. "She's a bit spooked..." you shrug. "And you *are* a battleship, so-"
"N-no," Willie mutters, reluctantly loosening her death-grip on your pantleg. "I'm-" a sniffle - "fine. I can p-p-protect m-myself." She shies away from you and turns to slink down the hall. "Gun go t'my room-"
She yelps with surprise as Arizona just grabs her by the waist and lifts her airborne. Turning, she walks back past you into her apartment, holding Willie in front of her like she might bear a flowerpot towards the windowsill. You let yourself in, closing the door and locking it behind you. Arizona deposits Willie on the couch - a carbon copy of your own, naturally - and steps into the kitchen. She returns a few seconds later with a glass of milk and a few donuts on a plate. Setting the plate on the Ikea end-table, she sits next to Willie on the couch and coaxes the milk into her hand. The small girl sips at it slowly, her miserable eyes on the carpet straight ahead. She seems to have no appetite for the donuts.
Arizona quirks her mouth, looking concerned, and gives you a glance.
You lean forward, hands on knees, to intercept Willie's LOS. "Hey. Willie. You ever bake anything?"
"B-b-bread...." she confirms with a little nod. "S-s-store bread r-ran out after a f-few d-days, I mean-"
Arizona smiles again, standing and tugging at Willie's sleeve till she rises and follows. Leading you both into the kitchen, Arizona picks up a big plastic bowl and hands it down to Willie. The girl looks down and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand - but she knows what to do with a bunch of dough. Standing on tiptoe to wash her hands in the sink, she sits indian-style with her back against the counter and starts to knead it industriously, mouth pursing as she focuses on her task.
Arizona nods, satisfied, then turns to you. Picking up a recipe book, she flips between a few pages, offering you a selection of choices.
[ ] Donuts look good.
[ ] Cupcakes.
[ ] Sweet bread.
[X] Cupcakes.
"Cupcakes look good," you offer. "Donuts require - do you even have-"
She points over your shoulder at a small deep fryer on the counter - from the shape of the plug, it seems to be a rather antiquated one. "I'm afraid I'm all thumbs in the kitchen; we might want to stay away from that." You twitch your eyes towards Willie.
Arizona's smile slides to one side of her face - almost like a smirk. She opens up a cupboard and produces a box of pink sprinkles; then a pack of cupcake... liners? Wrappers? The paper. She makes a point of showing you the pattern on them - little hearts on a pink background. Flourishing her hand foppishly, she caresses her own cheek and bats her eyes at you.
"Oops, should've remembered my cookie pan with the missile-shapes on it," you retort dryly.
Arizona blinks. Then she tilts her head, one eyebrow just barley twitching higher, as if to say... *missiles?*
"I've also got one with battle-axes," you return smoothly. There. Go ahead and imply a phallic shape from THAT, sweetheart.
Arizona purses her lips thoughtfully. Then she takes your hand, pulling it in front of you and turning it palm-up. She plucks a pastry thing (you're sure the huge syringe-looking thing has a proper name, but you'll be damned if you can remember,) and, with a squint, she starts drawing a battle-axe on your palm in pink frosting. First one side of the axe-head... then the other... and then, extending from their middle, the long, rather thick-looking shaft.
She analyzes this for a moment, eyes focused in serious study - then she gives you another searching look.
[ ] Surrender.
[ ] Lick it off your hand.
[ ] Take the pasty "thing" and modify the drawing (suggestions welcome.)
[X] Lick it off your hand.
You smirk at Arizona knowingly. "I see you've been paying attention to Hate. But you've got a lot to learn about playing gay chicken." Lifting your hand to your mouth, you lick the suggestively-drawn axe off your palm with relish - no matter who you are, frosting is frosting is frosting. Arizona gives you that little lopsided smile that says she doesn't believe you.
You chuckle. "Yeah, ask Hamp about that."
A raised eyebrow.
"Kissed 'im."
Arizona draws herself up to her full height (still a few inches below yours) and crosses her arms, fixing you with a firm expression that says Repeat Signal.
"Kissed Hamp. Yep."
"H-he did," Willie volunteers quietly from the corner of the room. "E-e-everyone w-w-was talking a-a-bout it..."
Arizona squints at Willie, as if trying to read a lie in the little destroyer's face, but she's studiously kneading away at her bread dough, expression set with concentration. Then she turns back to you, openly suspicious.
You grin. "You should've seen Kirishima's face. It was *sublime.*"
Arizona raises her hands, closes her eyes and shakes her head in surrender - you are indeed too gay for her to best. Handing you the recipe book, she motions at the counter, then around the room.
"Collect ingredients?"
She nods, then crouches to pluck a muffin pan from beneath the sink. As you search around collecting what's needed, she retrieves two more and starts greasing the cups one-by-one with deft little dabs of a rubber spatula, tucking paper liners into them as she goes. Eyeballing the pans, you do some quick mental multiplication and fish out the measuring cups you'll need, and a large bowl. The default accouterments of the apartment is just as sparse as yours - aside from a microwave and that awful goddamned percolator, there's almost nothing you need in a well-appointed kitchen, not even a blender - or, for that matter, an electric mixer. Arizona is unfazed; she simply takes the measured (and carefully leveled) measuring cups with butter, sugar and brown sugar from you, dumps them into a metal bowl and tucks it under her arm. Taking up a spatula with the other, she begins to mix steadily, whipping it around in small, fast, and very precise circles.
You watch her curiously. "You get tired?"
She shakes her head, and rolls her shoulders a little as if shrugging. She nods towards the egg carton meaningfully.
"Sure." You pluck out four eggs, two in each hand and squeeze them gently till you feel the shells crack. Flexing your hands just so, you let the yolks run into a measuring cup and toss the shells into the sink. Rising your left off as you pluck the last two eggs out and crack them with your right. you feel a sudden sense of foreboding - like a man who's just heard the forest go silent around him. Glancing over your shoulder, you find Arizona staring at you like you've just grown horns, her spatula stilled.
"... what?"
She nods towards you.
You look down at yourself.
"What!?"
She pokes at your right hand, where the last two eggs are still draining.
"What, this? My father owned a restaurant." You toss the empty shells into the sink and finish washing up. Arizona points at a drawer to one side, but you go right for the one where you found the scant silverware allotment in your own apartment. "Fork works better than a whisk, I've found, if you know how. Too much egg gets caught on the whisk."
Arizona nods - her old "affirmative" gesture - and goes back to stirring silently as you beat the eggs into a nice uniform slurry. You can feel her eyes on your back. For some reason the silence is grating on you, as if...
[ ] Tell her more about the restaurant. It's not like she can ask, or anything.
[ ] Leave it be, for now. You're facing over the sink, through the little cut-out window to the main living area - study the room!
[ ] Ask Arizona something generic - how's she liking Yokosuka so far? How's she liking Japan?
[ ] Tell her more about the restaurant. It's not like she can ask, or anything.
[ ] Leave it be, for now. You're facing over the sink, through the little cut-out window to the main living area - study the room!
[ ] Ask Arizona something generic - how's she liking Yokosuka so far? How's she liking Japan?
With the measuring cup in hand, you turn towards the corner all casual-like, overtly checking on Willie's progress, but covertly watching Arizona from the corner of your eye. You catch her gaze flitting away from you as you turn, and feel rotten almost instantly.
It's strange how Arizona's muteness never seems noticeable to you - every time you need to communicate, you seem to do so naturally and without hesitation. It almost never takes you two tries to guess her meaning. For the first time you wonder how much of that is due to her own restraint - it'd be just like a quiet, dutiful servant of the nation to stifle the questions not easily reduced to pantomime or yes/no queries. You remember the realization that overtook you yesterday, just after you'd fired off that question to Mare Island's PR department - how Arizona had become a comfortable presence in the background; always there, always with you, a constant.
Just like your own warship had been.
But Arizona's not a warship, not solely - she's also a human, now. A woman. And people, they want to talk, and be talked to. You wonder if she's some sort of Dark Naka; bearing her burdens in silence as Naka bore hers beneath a loud, spun-sugar shell-
- Arizona looks up and you flick your gaze away from *her,* feeling foolish - when did you just start staring? She's still watching you watch her in your peripheral vision with *her* peripheral-
"Yeah, I started cracking eggs at home for practice, because my father had me washing dishes, and that's the worst damn job anyone can ask for," you tell her. She blanches and nods in agreement. "So I spent my own allowance - well, pay, I guess - and practiced till I could crack eggs good and fast. Negotiated my way onto the morning shift, just making eggs for all the breakfast orders. Getting up early wasn't fun, but god did it beat dishwashing." You raise the glass measuring cup to eye level. Arizona nods at you through it, and you bring it to her, pouring the whipped egg into the mixing bowl slowly as she continues to stir, letting it mix thoroughly. "When I found out that they had people hand-washing dishes in the Navy I decided that Annapolis couldn't possibly be worse than that."
Arizona tilts her head, looking curious.
You chuckle. "Yeah, I was wrong. I mean, Annapolis doesn't have windows on the second story that don't open, like the ChairFarce academy, and we don't have cadets packing helmets into their pillowcases like West Point's last annual pillowfight-" you catch her expression - "yeah, that happened. It's nothing like your day, sure, but don't think it's just up and vanished entirely, either." Arizona nods thoughtfully as she continues mixing steadily, her small hand never seeming to tire. "Hell, we even have women at sea n-"
Arizona's spatula clanks against the bowl's side suddenly. You turn in surprise; so steady and regular has her motions been till now that the sudden sound seems like a purring engine suddenly coughing. A bit of batter has splattered all over; some on Arizona's shirt, and some on her folded duster - which she seems to be using as an apron, now that you think of it.
"You okay?"
She blinks, then nods hastily.
"Guess the whole women aboard thing-"
- the spatula rattles a tiny bit -
"-really surprised you-?"
She stares straight ahead, a little too composed, before nodding almost mechanically. You hand her some paper towel to clean up with.
"I can finish that, if you want."
She nods, handing you the bowl and spatula. Your efforts are far less efficient and co-ordinates, but there's not much beating left to do. Arizona wets the paper towel at the sink, wipes off her plain dark t-shirt, then pops the oven open. As she leans over to adjust the rack spacing inside, you take the opportunity to study her stern. She's wearing plain khaki shorts, nothing fancy - but her small rear fills them out surprisingly nicely anyways. You think back to the glimpse of her underwear you caught a few days ago -
- well, that was more than a glimpse, wasn't it? That was an all-out stare. You turn away swallowing quickly, because the last thing you need is Arizona straightening up to catch you blushing like a schoolboy at the memory. It wasn't your most chivalrous moment, was it? Looking out over the sink, you study Arizona's small apartment for something to do... except there's not much to study. Yours is no mansion; it's still filled with boxes and boxes of stuff you've never had time to unpack, but this room is literally empty. There's not so much as a dog-eared Reader's Digest discarded on an end-table, or a forgotten glass of dusty water on a coaster. For that matter...
... you use your toe to hook the underside of the under-counter trash-can slider, and pull it out a quarter-inch. Sure enough the bag is filled with cellophane packaging. The muffin pans cost 15.95 each at the PX, it seems -
- a smaller foot hoves into view, pushing the trash can shut with its toe. You follow it up to find Arizona beckoning you towards the counter opposite, where the pans are waiting. She has you pour half the batter into another bowl, and then you both start carefully filling the waiting cups, half pouring, half scraping.
Glancing aside, you see Willie's finished one loaf - she rolled it into two long pieces and neatly braided them together to make a pretty pattern. She's carefully making more dough from scratch, using a thick cutting board in her lap as a surface to work upon.
[ ] Ask about the empty apartment. No room-mate? No decorations? Nothing?
[ ] Ask about the activity. Is this... this really what she wanted? Just you standing around, whipping batter... doing nothing? You're starting to feel guilty - not just for taking her for granted, but for how she's done nothing for herself that might counterbalance it.
[ ] Just stay quiet. If she wants something, she'll tell you.
[X] Just stay quiet. If she wants something, she'll tell you.
A lifetime in the Navy has not well-equipped you for peaceful social encounters, so you follow what you know, and one of the prime maxims is - when you find yourself in a hole, *stop digging.* You keep your mouth shut and let Arizona steer the evening - she's not stupid, and she's probably got a plan.
And maybe she really does like baking.
With the cups all filled, the time has come to bake. The oven's already making that discreet little "boomp" sound as the auto-igniter kicks in to maintain temperature. The door opens to flood the room with warm, dry heat. You hand the muffin pans to Arizona one at a time as she stoops to slide them in carefully. As she crouches, her duster falls away from her legs. A flash of flourescent light on blued steel draws your eye to her revolver, pushed far forward of its usual spot just behind her hip, to conceal it behind the duster. It's also riding high in a belt holster, not the usual drop-leg rig that straps to her thigh when she's in regular uniform.
The sight sobers you for a moment; and for the first time you really *look* at Arizona. Absent the clean, crisp lines of the uniform that usually frame her blank, serious expression... she just looks like a girl. And not a big one, even - unlike Yamato's amazon-like build, or Kongou's rather boxuom one, Arizona is downright petite. Taller than most, but "most" are mostly Japanese - Naka doesn't even stand five feet, she's practically a dwarf. She looks like a young coed in her dorm - which makes the heavy revolver on her hip all the more incongruous.
Incongruous. On a girl who can be wielding twelve fourteen-inch guns within a few seconds, each one hurling a shell that weighs more than half of Willie's full displacement - fourteen hundred tons a shot. You pinch the bridge of your nose. It's just you, getting all starry-eyed because she looks delicate and -
- except it *is* incongruous on a girl who's literally bulletproof. The revolver isn't a manifestation or anything; it's just a gun she purchased on her own, after some pantomime was exchanged and a government ID and credit card were flashed at a confused young funstore clerk in Hawaii. It's utterly superfluous - but you have never, ever, once seen her without it; even when she apparently wished you would.
It comes down on you all at once - the small, delicate girl in front of you, and the heavy burden she is most certainly carrying. You almost chuckle at your theoretical wandering of a half-hour prior - the girl does not *speak,* and there you were, pondering the possibility of her Hidden Issues. For all the armor, all the firepower, at the end of the day, she's still alone with herself when she pulls the covers over her head - just like you are.
No wonder, you think. No wonder Naka focuses outward, on helping everyone but herself...
... hell, isn't that what you do?
You don't like this, this standing about in a kitchen in your civvies like a geek. You feel like a crab sans shell, exposed and clumsy as you scuttle sideways over the beach. Arizona slams the oven door shut and straightens up, unconsciously tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear again - and some wild impulse makes you want to reach out and pluck it out of place again.
You turn towards the counter and start mopping it clean with a spare tablecloth, even though your careful efforts have left it perfectly clean anyway. A familiar feeling is creeping over you; one you haven't felt since your cadet days - the awful, brooding suspicion that despite doing everything right and by-the-numbers, you're glowing like the dumb halfwit asshole you are, not even knowing what you missed. Any minute now the bark of an upperclassmen will -
- when the sound comes you actually twitch, you were so primed for it. But it's just a yelp of surprise from Willie. She's sitting on her butt, looking completely stunned; the better part of a package of flour completely covering her. Her lower lip begins to tremble as she feels everyone's eyes on her - despite her best efforts, she's become a problem again.
Arizona stares at the little destroyer girl, eyes squinched shut, completely covered in white powder, a little pyramid of it piled atop her bare head...
... and then she begins to giggle.
It's silent - for the most part. She's doing her damnedest to stifle it, but they come anyway, a quiet, muffled sound that slips out from between her slender fingers as she clamps them tighter over her mouth. When Willie blinks, the flour sticking to her eyelids makes her eyes vanish completely, like some sort of cartoon of a polar bear hiding in a blizzard. This just sets Arizona off worse. She leans against the counter with one hip, her sides visibly shaking as the laughter creeps deeper into her diaphragm. Watching her laugh makes *you* start to laugh. Willie turns an utterly perplexed look upon you, and that knocks you down as well, your Sensible Chuckle rising into mad girly giggles as you wipe your eyes dry of mirth. Arizona tries to curl around it, still trying to smother any audible sounds as you pick Willie up and help dust her off, ruffling her hair affectionately and laughing at the cloud of flour dust that floats into the air.
You can't say why, exactly - but somehow you just feel better, and the heavy thoughts more distant than they were heartbeats ago. Willie plays with the end of her braid nervously as you dust off her shoulders and back, expecting some sort of commentary, but you just nod at her two finished loaves on the countertop.
"I like how you braided those. Looks neat."
"... you like it?" she asks shyly.
"Yeah. Learn that from braiding your hair?"
She looks down at her thick, tightly-woven braid. "Yuh."
Arizona's wetting a washcloth to finish cleaning off the hapless destroyer when your cell phone rings. You shrug apologetically as you reach to silence it, but when you glance at the screen, your heartbeat beings to race.
Mare Island.
Tenryuu. Tatsuta.
A solution.
"I've got to take this!" you exclaim, pressing it to your ear and stalking into the living area to avoid being too obnoxious.
"Hello?"
"Admiral Settle?"
"That's me. Mister Baker?"
"Yes-"
"Excellent, excellent - can you handle my two ships?"
"We've got the room, if the Navy pays the contract penalties for bumping some civilian sh-"
"We will," you reply hastily, excitement filling your chest. "We can have them over there inside of 24 hours, give-or-take. We'll need on-site security of our own and such; you'll need my secretary's number, I-"
"Admiral-"
"Time is of the essence," you say quickly, excitement flooding through your veins. You've done it. You've saved them! "Arizona, bring me a notepad, please!" You begin fishing through your pockets for a pen.
"Admiral!" Baker objects. "I called to tell you something very important-"
"Nothing more important than this."
"It's about Higgins."
You take a quick breath, steeling yourself - and then you shoulder those old emotions aside. They'll be back, later tonight, when you lie alone in bed, as always - but for now, the fate of two loyal shipgirls lies on your hands. "Higgins had her day, sir, but these girls-"
"No!" Baker says. "That's just the thing. She hasn't."
You chuff disbelievingly. "I was on her when she was opened up like a tin can, sir. She's had it."
"It's... we're not used to dealing with government contracts, you see," Baker apologizes, suddenly abandoning his rush to testament. "We bought the facilities when the government closed the base; we've been strictly commercial, never taken a military contract, not that we could compete with Bath or anyone anyways, we didn't- anyways-"
You feel your eyebrows warping in that kind of edged amusement that can quickly cross the line into flat-out anger - the kind of expression that scares the spines clear out of shivering seamen during Captain's Mast. "Are you going to tell me the Higgins just grew legs and walked away on her own?"
"All that coy bullshit!" Baker confesses with a cry. "You just can't use certain words in e-mails unless you're in the secure server chain or something, I don't understand it, I follow the rules I'm told to follow. We're a good, honest company. I used to work for a newspaper. I'm not used to talking around the truth!"
A cold, knowing chill floods through your body, damping your emotions and focusing your thoughts - something is Happening. "I'm listening, Mister Baker."
"You e-mailed to ask about Higgins museum berth. Where she'll be sent, after we're done stripping her for spares for the rest of the fleet and patching the holes to make her pretty."
"Yes."
A miserable sigh. "We're not doing that."
Your heart sinks. "... the breakers?"
"No."
"Saving a chunk of superstructure?"
"Admiral Settle," Baker says. "Mare Island Drydock accepted a *refit* contract."
"... what."
"Latest standard. COTS systems, SEARam mounts and integration, structural reinforcements, powerplant overhaul, the works. And we're almost done."
A soft flappy sound draws your eyes to your side, where Arizona's just dropped a memo pad on your toes. Her wide blue eyes are staring at you in complete shock as Baker's strong, confident voice rings through the cell phone's little speaker.
"Higgins is coming back, sir."
From Akigumo’s Sketchbook: Brave New World (by LurK)
Trace Coburn
BattleTech Starfighter Analyst
- Location
- NDBBM, New Zealand
Clannad OST ~ Shining in the Sky
Alternatively, Clannad - Town, Flow of Time, People
I love this naval base.
I remember when I first came here after I returned. The old crane gantries, sentry outposts, flak pits and administration buildings that I know from back then were gone. So much has changed over the years; at first I didn't recognize that this was, in fact, my old home. But as soon as I went into the docks, the old familiar memories started rushing back: the light waves washing against my hull while I was docked, the hum and bustle of dock workers doing maintenance on me and my sisters, the flurry of supply trucks ferrying fuel and provisions across the base's paved roads, and the measured steps of the officers and enlisted men that went about their way across the base. Suddenly I was back in 1941, back when things were so simple, and the war was a fire in the distance that I didn't care about.
I hated going back. It reminded me of my humiliating defeat at the hands of a submarine. I dreaded thinking how my countrymen would judge me as a failure. I was a Kagerou-class, one of the finest destroyers ever made for His Imperial Majesty's navy. I helped sink the Hornet, the carrier that dared to strike our home at a time when we ruled the Pacific waves. I was certain that I wasn't really welcome at Yokosuka anymore, but what I saw caught me by surprise.
Admiral Goto was there at the docks. He was the first to greet me as I anchored. He was a really big guy, and very intimidating to boot; I was certain that he would give me a thorough dressing down. Oddly though, he sounded very relieved to see me, like a father waiting for his daughter who was late in coming home from school. He was patient enough in listening to the circumstances of my return, and instead of giving me a disciplinary action he gave me my new orders as a member of the modern Maritime Defense Forces. Throughout the whole debriefing, he had this tired but content smile on his face.
Everything about the new Yokosuka was alien to me. I was shocked to find that the Americans now share the port with us, and what's more, Japan is relying heavily on the United States for defense assistance. The Old and Proud Navy is gone, I remember telling myself so many times on my first few weeks here. I felt so detached from everyone here, and I spent most of the time outside sorties to myself. I didn't feel like I belong at the base anymore.
It's funny when you realize that wallowing in your own self-pity keeps you from seeing the people who are worried about your well-being. The Admiral has been very professional with me, but I can feel his concern. Kongou and her sisters always invite me for tea, and it's only recently that I've actually come to enjoy those small breaks. I get words of encouragement from Akagi whenever she passes me in the cafeteria, and her sister Kaga does so too, in her roundabout way. The other destroyer girls have been helping me to adapt to the changing times, and now I fully appreciate the help they've extended to me.
I guess I managed to make a full recovery after being able to meet up with the girls of Carrier Division 5 again. Shoukaku was warm all around, and even after how many times I brushed her off with my gloom-and-doom attitude, she would still be there with that warm smile of hers. Her sister, meanwhile, tended to pick on me good-naturedly, and was actually the one who suggested I pick up a hobby to help me get along. I then remembered when my crew drew sketches of Hornet's demise, and suddenly, inspiration struck.
I started out sketching the dockside to get a feel of it. Before long, I moved on to adding more detail to my work, accentuating colors, adjusting shadings, even personally applying beta inking. Eventually, I leveled up to adding people in my drawings, and slowly but surely I started to do my own coloring as well. I saw Yokosuka in a whole new light thanks to this, and the people in it are no longer just 'people' to me. They've become my family, and I've learned to appreciate their company more. Little by little, I've come to appreciate their company, and now I feel much closer to everyone here.
It's always refreshing to go home from a successful escort mission and be able to spend time alone at my desk, scribbling away something interesting that caught my eye during the day. Like a pod of dolphins racing and jumping across the water, the short-lived dusk of a January day at sea, or people waving at us while we pass by a fishing boat or a beach. At times, people would catch me while I'm still sketching, and I'd feel pretty embarrassed whenever they praise me for what I'm doing. I've actually received a couple of compliments from the local SDF sailors who suggest I should get into the doujin manga business when I can. Following that, I've actually managed to score a spot as an artist for a small circle that does shoujo manga. Maybe I can go do that full-time when the war is over?
Being able to immortalize these memories with my drawings helps me appreciate the value of being able to return to Yokosuka after any sortie. I'm glad that I have a place to call home. The times may have changed, the old Yokosuka may have come and gone, and the people that I used to know may no longer be here, but it is still my homeport all the same. The docks, the facilities, the ships, and most importantly, the people, make it beautiful. I will fight tooth and nail to make sure it stays that way. After all, I can't leave this place until I've completed my greatest masterpiece, right?
Alternatively, Clannad - Town, Flow of Time, People
I love this naval base.
I remember when I first came here after I returned. The old crane gantries, sentry outposts, flak pits and administration buildings that I know from back then were gone. So much has changed over the years; at first I didn't recognize that this was, in fact, my old home. But as soon as I went into the docks, the old familiar memories started rushing back: the light waves washing against my hull while I was docked, the hum and bustle of dock workers doing maintenance on me and my sisters, the flurry of supply trucks ferrying fuel and provisions across the base's paved roads, and the measured steps of the officers and enlisted men that went about their way across the base. Suddenly I was back in 1941, back when things were so simple, and the war was a fire in the distance that I didn't care about.
I hated going back. It reminded me of my humiliating defeat at the hands of a submarine. I dreaded thinking how my countrymen would judge me as a failure. I was a Kagerou-class, one of the finest destroyers ever made for His Imperial Majesty's navy. I helped sink the Hornet, the carrier that dared to strike our home at a time when we ruled the Pacific waves. I was certain that I wasn't really welcome at Yokosuka anymore, but what I saw caught me by surprise.
Admiral Goto was there at the docks. He was the first to greet me as I anchored. He was a really big guy, and very intimidating to boot; I was certain that he would give me a thorough dressing down. Oddly though, he sounded very relieved to see me, like a father waiting for his daughter who was late in coming home from school. He was patient enough in listening to the circumstances of my return, and instead of giving me a disciplinary action he gave me my new orders as a member of the modern Maritime Defense Forces. Throughout the whole debriefing, he had this tired but content smile on his face.
Everything about the new Yokosuka was alien to me. I was shocked to find that the Americans now share the port with us, and what's more, Japan is relying heavily on the United States for defense assistance. The Old and Proud Navy is gone, I remember telling myself so many times on my first few weeks here. I felt so detached from everyone here, and I spent most of the time outside sorties to myself. I didn't feel like I belong at the base anymore.
It's funny when you realize that wallowing in your own self-pity keeps you from seeing the people who are worried about your well-being. The Admiral has been very professional with me, but I can feel his concern. Kongou and her sisters always invite me for tea, and it's only recently that I've actually come to enjoy those small breaks. I get words of encouragement from Akagi whenever she passes me in the cafeteria, and her sister Kaga does so too, in her roundabout way. The other destroyer girls have been helping me to adapt to the changing times, and now I fully appreciate the help they've extended to me.
I guess I managed to make a full recovery after being able to meet up with the girls of Carrier Division 5 again. Shoukaku was warm all around, and even after how many times I brushed her off with my gloom-and-doom attitude, she would still be there with that warm smile of hers. Her sister, meanwhile, tended to pick on me good-naturedly, and was actually the one who suggested I pick up a hobby to help me get along. I then remembered when my crew drew sketches of Hornet's demise, and suddenly, inspiration struck.
I started out sketching the dockside to get a feel of it. Before long, I moved on to adding more detail to my work, accentuating colors, adjusting shadings, even personally applying beta inking. Eventually, I leveled up to adding people in my drawings, and slowly but surely I started to do my own coloring as well. I saw Yokosuka in a whole new light thanks to this, and the people in it are no longer just 'people' to me. They've become my family, and I've learned to appreciate their company more. Little by little, I've come to appreciate their company, and now I feel much closer to everyone here.
It's always refreshing to go home from a successful escort mission and be able to spend time alone at my desk, scribbling away something interesting that caught my eye during the day. Like a pod of dolphins racing and jumping across the water, the short-lived dusk of a January day at sea, or people waving at us while we pass by a fishing boat or a beach. At times, people would catch me while I'm still sketching, and I'd feel pretty embarrassed whenever they praise me for what I'm doing. I've actually received a couple of compliments from the local SDF sailors who suggest I should get into the doujin manga business when I can. Following that, I've actually managed to score a spot as an artist for a small circle that does shoujo manga. Maybe I can go do that full-time when the war is over?
Being able to immortalize these memories with my drawings helps me appreciate the value of being able to return to Yokosuka after any sortie. I'm glad that I have a place to call home. The times may have changed, the old Yokosuka may have come and gone, and the people that I used to know may no longer be here, but it is still my homeport all the same. The docks, the facilities, the ships, and most importantly, the people, make it beautiful. I will fight tooth and nail to make sure it stays that way. After all, I can't leave this place until I've completed my greatest masterpiece, right?
SKsniper128
22050 kg of ordinance per minute
You guys wanna bet that one of the actions/choices in the next naval battle would be:
"DRIVE ME CLOSER, I WANT TO HIT THEM WITH MY SWORD!"
-SK
"DRIVE ME CLOSER, I WANT TO HIT THEM WITH MY SWORD!"
-SK
Last edited:
SKsniper128
22050 kg of ordinance per minute
Eh, it's a sword-cane, so it works.
-SK
-SK