For professor Arthur Crowning, today had been a rather difficult one. Even as he slowly picked...
Rebooted Battleships
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01: Garden State Troubles
CompassJimbo
Where’s Your North?
- Location
- The former Rubber Capital of the World
For professor Arthur Crowning, today had been a rather difficult one. Even as he slowly picked at his slice of apple pie, he couldn't bring himself to actually eat it. Not after what happened. The sounds of glass being swept up filled the chilly air behind him, each brush and crinkle cutting him further.
Just a few blocks down had been one of the greatest symbols of American military might, and one that was needed again. After the Bush went down, the public needed something to restore their faith that the Navy could keep their shores safe. Indeed, across the street, he could see a family packing their bags into their car, uncaring at how the windows on it had been blown out, as well. Hundreds of 16" shells cooking off at once did that.
Of course, nobody expected suicide boats to get this far upriver, nevermind past Norfolk.
But that family was one of many, most around here making their way to the Rust Belt. Such was the nature of the war. An enemy purely from the sea itself, without borders to cross, nor factories to bomb, nor leaders to pick off. They just popped up, attacked, and were either destroyed, or slipped away. Once-shining cities like New York were becoming ghost towns as a result.
"Everything alright, professor?"
Crowning's eyes rose up. It was one of his students, who he knew worked in this diner. "I was hoping to see her one last time, before she got sent off to the breakers."
"Yeah. I feel you. My grandfather served on her, back in the eighties. Said their biggest fear during a shooting war with the Soviets were their subs and Moskits."
"Mmm…"
That battleship had such a storied history, and now all of it had been reduced to scrap metal, courtesy of the Abyssals. Those creatures seemed determined to destroy or consume everything mankind had built, and if the rumors were true, even people suffered the latter fate.
"Hey, at least there's a chance she'll come back. Nobody expected something as ugly as Yamashiro to return as someone easy on the eyes. Fuck, even Nelson's hot." A pause from the kid, as they realized their use of rather foul language. "Uhh, sorry, professor."
A chance. Crowning snorted at that. America had a few of its ships return, yes, but none of those graceful, powerful sea queens, those castles of steel. The biggest one back was Alaska, and she was described as more of an oddball above all else.
Crowning barely even noticed the little jingle of the bells on the front door. Of course, why someone would open it instead of slip through the shattered glass pane was beyond him. But something about this new person's raw presence caught his attention. He could even tell, without even looking around, that everyone else in the diner was also staring at the new arrival.
Turning around, something hit him, as he laid eyes on the woman, as tall as she was bruised and bloodied. "I have a couple questions," she began. Even though it sounded somewhat hoarse, there was still a noticeable contralto to it. Authoritative, silencing. "First, what's the fuckin' date?" She held up a finger, uncaring that it had been cut open, before a second flipped up. "Second question: Who? In the fuck? DISTURBED MY FUCKING SLEEP!?"
Without pause, and ignoring his widened eyes and gaping mouth, the woman— no, the battleship —swiped Crowning's plate, tipped it over her mouth, and swallowed the apple pie whole, before the stool she was sitting on collapsed from her weight, suddenly realizing it had been supporting over 50,000 tons of Special Treatment Steel, and sending her sprawling all over the floor.
Well, one didn't simply argue against hungry battleships.
As Crowning stared at her passed-out form, mouth agape, he knew that while many like her had made memorable entrances, this one was going to stand out— for its lack of dignity, if nothing else. Ironic considering New Jersey was supposed to be a graceful queen of the oceans. Perhaps her namesake state had rubbed off too much on her.
Belated Battleships (A Reboot)
"Firepower for Freedom!"
–Motto, USS New Jersey (BB-62)
The sound of a soft chiming woke New Jersey up, a groan escaping her as she felt the warm and curiously-soothing waters part with each motion. A few things still fucking ached, as was expected when her magazines cooked off. Jersey let out a bitter laugh. Woken up only to get blown up, just like poor Arizona. Couldn't have been from an air raid, though, considering she was sitting still in the middle of a river, and the hits she felt were definitely around the waterline, not her deck.
And somehow, she wasn't surprised that she and her physical hull shared the same form now. As she looked at her reflection in a mirror above, she knew that a lot of boys and men, and hell, probably a few women, would find her much easier on the eyes. Strawberry-blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and a well-toned body with some definite muscle in her arms and torso. Definitely took that kind of strength to wield naval rifles as awesome as hers.
A smile crept across her face, before she noticed a tiny figure, no doubt one of the dockworkers, run up to her, clipboard in hand. Looking over the papers, she saw damage reports and a list of fixes, including the restoration of her secondary battery and anti-aircraft suite.
"Dammit, I fucking liked my Tomahawks…" she groaned to the worker.
"Hey!" It replied.
"Yeah, fuck you, too."
"Hey!"
"It sure as fuck ain't meant for the enemy we're expecting nowadays."
With a huff, the worker marched off, all while she felt her crew make their way to their posts. On the plus side, she did like the fireworks show she could put up back then. Wouldn't mean jack shit against anti-ship missiles, though.
Last she remembered, with Ivan passed out on the floor and looking unlikely to get up anytime soon, the Chinese were looking to be the next big threat. Wouldn't be her fight, though. Everyone, including herself, knew she was at the end of her ropes after Desert Storm. Whatever fight the Navy found must've gotten fucking nasty if they tried to get her back up and into fighting shape.
Something like that shouldn't have happened. The Navy was better than this. Better than the enemy, too. A low sigh escaped her. Americans like her weren't meant to mope around and instead do something.
Looking around herself, Jersey noticed a towel and a set of clothes, clothes that were uniquely hers. It was the outfit she had last left off with. Navy Whites, matching short shorts, and that black 'BB-62' ballcap she had a fondness for. She sighed. Better than that fucking gown.
Drying herself off and throwing her clothes on, Jersey found the exit in short order, as people snapped to salute. "New Jersey?" Someone called out. Looking behind herself, the battleship noticed someone with stars on his shoulder boards, combo cover in hand. Middle-aged man, definitely shorter, too, but they were all shorter. Snapping to salute, the Admiral smiled before waving her along. "At ease, sailor. Now come along. There's obviously a lot to discuss."
Following him at an exact distance, she felt herself duck her head below the doorframe, before standing at attention. She knew that while there was a chair there, it would snap and break.
"Afraid of breaking another?" The Admiral asked, seemingly picking up on her thoughts. A chuckle escaped him as Jersey raised her eyebrow. "Surprised you don't remember, nor that poor college professor's apple pie you swiped."
"I got fucking blown up, sir."
"Indeed." He said, before taking his seat. Jersey saw the nameplate on both his chest and desk. 'Michael Black.' He grabbed what looked like a clipboard, before tapping it a few times, like one of those… things from Star Trek… fuck, she couldn't remember the name! "I'm gonna lay it out, Jersey: shit's fucked. Our navy got hit hard over the past couple of years, and not by the Russians or Chinese, either." He handed the thing over to her, before making a swiping motion with his finger.
Jersey imitated the gesture, as pictures came up on the display. Warships, from her day. But they were all fucking wrong. Blackened and twisted and crusted over. "THE FUCK ARE THOSE!?" She roared. "AND WHY DO I WANT TO NOT JUST SINK THEM, BUT VIOLENTLY MURDER THEM!?"
Each breath of hers was heavy, as her grip tried not to tighten and break the computer-thing displaying those unholy images.
"The others like you share those exact sentiments." Black remarked. "We call them 'Abyssals.' Bastards popped up a few years ago and began giving us trouble. Nothing we couldn't handle, 'till they decided on launching a massive blitz attack." He pointed over to a map, marked with all colors of pushpins.
He explained the details. New York. Miami. LA. Portland. And that was just in America alone. Across the world, twenty million people were killed in the course of a week. The Navy's counterattacks were blunted, but others like her came and held the line when it seemed nobody else could.
"You're the first battlewagon of ours to return, Jersey." The Admiral said, before looking out his window. Looking past him, Jersey could see the form of Wisconsin in a drydock, next to a Nimitz under repair. "The plan was to scrap you, Iowa, and Missouri, and hope that was enough spare parts to get Wisconsin back online. We didn't expect to find your magazines fully stocked, though. EOD techs were trying to clear them out before those suicide boats broke our cordon and got you."
Jersey felt herself tense, as emotions churned within her. "Suicide boats, sir?"
"Like the ones deployed against the Cole years back. Abbie didn't summon anything, either. Instead they grabbed a couple of speedboats and packed them full of things that go boom. We're still not sure how they slipped our pickets, especially Ranger, considering that you girls can tell where they are from miles away."
Brought low by such cowards. At least the Kamikazes were willing to brave the flak, but this? Jersey clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. This was not how someone like her should go out.
"I'm getting the feeling you want to go out and kill something?" The Admiral asked.
"An understatement, sir."
He grinned, before leaning forward, hands clasped. "We've had someone giving us trouble off the Carolina coast. They haven't threatened us yet, but they made an attempt against Wilmington a week back and managed to put a hole in one of North Carolina's turrets and another through her bridge. While she's not exactly in danger of being blown to pieces, the less local problems we have to deal with, the better."
Fucking hell. Showboat was as bland as a loaf of bread, but she was a good ship regardless. Girl earned her rest, even if Wash was the one who deserved the museum spot for nailing that crazy-ass Japanese battlecruiser. But it was better that she not wake up just as angry. "When do I leave?"
"As soon as you assemble a task force. We've got a few of our girls here, and a Royal Navy squadron that might be willing to help. Pick who you need. I'll handle the paperwork. Dismissed, and godspeed, Jersey."
On Jersey, Reboots, and My Take on the Setting:
Since the original author lost interest, but I had invested time and energy into trying to expand upon the worldbuilding (the TVTropes article mentions an "exploration of issues in a Post-Abyssal world," and I'm fairly sure I was the only one trying to do that), I've taken upon myself the task of redoing the whole thing, hopefully without repeating too many of the mistakes.
As stated, America has its own shipgirls, including carriers, but none of the important ones like the Yorktowns or Essex horde. Meanwhile, Jersey is still Jersey, outfit aside. Highly brash and unashamedly patriotic, but still prone to fuck-ups and with her fair share of baggage. For now, she's the only American battleship back, but nobody's complaining. She's an Iowa— the pinnacle of American battleship design —with years of experience and the finest rifles ever put to sea.
Meanwhile, things are a little different in this take, when it comes to the War. America's taken much more direct hits, which I'll expand upon in due time. Suffice to say, things are far from cozy.
And finally, the other characters. Richardson and Jane are still in play, as is Gale, and also the characters Admiral Corgi and I came up with. They'll be introduced and expanded upon as this whole thing moves forward. Crowning, however, is very much a one-off, hopefully avoiding the mistake that was shipping Crowning/Jersey when it was clear they didn't have the chemistry for it.
Just a few blocks down had been one of the greatest symbols of American military might, and one that was needed again. After the Bush went down, the public needed something to restore their faith that the Navy could keep their shores safe. Indeed, across the street, he could see a family packing their bags into their car, uncaring at how the windows on it had been blown out, as well. Hundreds of 16" shells cooking off at once did that.
Of course, nobody expected suicide boats to get this far upriver, nevermind past Norfolk.
But that family was one of many, most around here making their way to the Rust Belt. Such was the nature of the war. An enemy purely from the sea itself, without borders to cross, nor factories to bomb, nor leaders to pick off. They just popped up, attacked, and were either destroyed, or slipped away. Once-shining cities like New York were becoming ghost towns as a result.
"Everything alright, professor?"
Crowning's eyes rose up. It was one of his students, who he knew worked in this diner. "I was hoping to see her one last time, before she got sent off to the breakers."
"Yeah. I feel you. My grandfather served on her, back in the eighties. Said their biggest fear during a shooting war with the Soviets were their subs and Moskits."
"Mmm…"
That battleship had such a storied history, and now all of it had been reduced to scrap metal, courtesy of the Abyssals. Those creatures seemed determined to destroy or consume everything mankind had built, and if the rumors were true, even people suffered the latter fate.
"Hey, at least there's a chance she'll come back. Nobody expected something as ugly as Yamashiro to return as someone easy on the eyes. Fuck, even Nelson's hot." A pause from the kid, as they realized their use of rather foul language. "Uhh, sorry, professor."
A chance. Crowning snorted at that. America had a few of its ships return, yes, but none of those graceful, powerful sea queens, those castles of steel. The biggest one back was Alaska, and she was described as more of an oddball above all else.
Crowning barely even noticed the little jingle of the bells on the front door. Of course, why someone would open it instead of slip through the shattered glass pane was beyond him. But something about this new person's raw presence caught his attention. He could even tell, without even looking around, that everyone else in the diner was also staring at the new arrival.
Turning around, something hit him, as he laid eyes on the woman, as tall as she was bruised and bloodied. "I have a couple questions," she began. Even though it sounded somewhat hoarse, there was still a noticeable contralto to it. Authoritative, silencing. "First, what's the fuckin' date?" She held up a finger, uncaring that it had been cut open, before a second flipped up. "Second question: Who? In the fuck? DISTURBED MY FUCKING SLEEP!?"
Without pause, and ignoring his widened eyes and gaping mouth, the woman— no, the battleship —swiped Crowning's plate, tipped it over her mouth, and swallowed the apple pie whole, before the stool she was sitting on collapsed from her weight, suddenly realizing it had been supporting over 50,000 tons of Special Treatment Steel, and sending her sprawling all over the floor.
Well, one didn't simply argue against hungry battleships.
As Crowning stared at her passed-out form, mouth agape, he knew that while many like her had made memorable entrances, this one was going to stand out— for its lack of dignity, if nothing else. Ironic considering New Jersey was supposed to be a graceful queen of the oceans. Perhaps her namesake state had rubbed off too much on her.
Belated Battleships (A Reboot)
"Firepower for Freedom!"
–Motto, USS New Jersey (BB-62)
[=]
The sound of a soft chiming woke New Jersey up, a groan escaping her as she felt the warm and curiously-soothing waters part with each motion. A few things still fucking ached, as was expected when her magazines cooked off. Jersey let out a bitter laugh. Woken up only to get blown up, just like poor Arizona. Couldn't have been from an air raid, though, considering she was sitting still in the middle of a river, and the hits she felt were definitely around the waterline, not her deck.
And somehow, she wasn't surprised that she and her physical hull shared the same form now. As she looked at her reflection in a mirror above, she knew that a lot of boys and men, and hell, probably a few women, would find her much easier on the eyes. Strawberry-blonde hair, icy blue eyes, and a well-toned body with some definite muscle in her arms and torso. Definitely took that kind of strength to wield naval rifles as awesome as hers.
A smile crept across her face, before she noticed a tiny figure, no doubt one of the dockworkers, run up to her, clipboard in hand. Looking over the papers, she saw damage reports and a list of fixes, including the restoration of her secondary battery and anti-aircraft suite.
"Dammit, I fucking liked my Tomahawks…" she groaned to the worker.
"Hey!" It replied.
"Yeah, fuck you, too."
"Hey!"
"It sure as fuck ain't meant for the enemy we're expecting nowadays."
With a huff, the worker marched off, all while she felt her crew make their way to their posts. On the plus side, she did like the fireworks show she could put up back then. Wouldn't mean jack shit against anti-ship missiles, though.
Last she remembered, with Ivan passed out on the floor and looking unlikely to get up anytime soon, the Chinese were looking to be the next big threat. Wouldn't be her fight, though. Everyone, including herself, knew she was at the end of her ropes after Desert Storm. Whatever fight the Navy found must've gotten fucking nasty if they tried to get her back up and into fighting shape.
Something like that shouldn't have happened. The Navy was better than this. Better than the enemy, too. A low sigh escaped her. Americans like her weren't meant to mope around and instead do something.
Looking around herself, Jersey noticed a towel and a set of clothes, clothes that were uniquely hers. It was the outfit she had last left off with. Navy Whites, matching short shorts, and that black 'BB-62' ballcap she had a fondness for. She sighed. Better than that fucking gown.
Drying herself off and throwing her clothes on, Jersey found the exit in short order, as people snapped to salute. "New Jersey?" Someone called out. Looking behind herself, the battleship noticed someone with stars on his shoulder boards, combo cover in hand. Middle-aged man, definitely shorter, too, but they were all shorter. Snapping to salute, the Admiral smiled before waving her along. "At ease, sailor. Now come along. There's obviously a lot to discuss."
Following him at an exact distance, she felt herself duck her head below the doorframe, before standing at attention. She knew that while there was a chair there, it would snap and break.
"Afraid of breaking another?" The Admiral asked, seemingly picking up on her thoughts. A chuckle escaped him as Jersey raised her eyebrow. "Surprised you don't remember, nor that poor college professor's apple pie you swiped."
"I got fucking blown up, sir."
"Indeed." He said, before taking his seat. Jersey saw the nameplate on both his chest and desk. 'Michael Black.' He grabbed what looked like a clipboard, before tapping it a few times, like one of those… things from Star Trek… fuck, she couldn't remember the name! "I'm gonna lay it out, Jersey: shit's fucked. Our navy got hit hard over the past couple of years, and not by the Russians or Chinese, either." He handed the thing over to her, before making a swiping motion with his finger.
Jersey imitated the gesture, as pictures came up on the display. Warships, from her day. But they were all fucking wrong. Blackened and twisted and crusted over. "THE FUCK ARE THOSE!?" She roared. "AND WHY DO I WANT TO NOT JUST SINK THEM, BUT VIOLENTLY MURDER THEM!?"
Each breath of hers was heavy, as her grip tried not to tighten and break the computer-thing displaying those unholy images.
"The others like you share those exact sentiments." Black remarked. "We call them 'Abyssals.' Bastards popped up a few years ago and began giving us trouble. Nothing we couldn't handle, 'till they decided on launching a massive blitz attack." He pointed over to a map, marked with all colors of pushpins.
He explained the details. New York. Miami. LA. Portland. And that was just in America alone. Across the world, twenty million people were killed in the course of a week. The Navy's counterattacks were blunted, but others like her came and held the line when it seemed nobody else could.
"You're the first battlewagon of ours to return, Jersey." The Admiral said, before looking out his window. Looking past him, Jersey could see the form of Wisconsin in a drydock, next to a Nimitz under repair. "The plan was to scrap you, Iowa, and Missouri, and hope that was enough spare parts to get Wisconsin back online. We didn't expect to find your magazines fully stocked, though. EOD techs were trying to clear them out before those suicide boats broke our cordon and got you."
Jersey felt herself tense, as emotions churned within her. "Suicide boats, sir?"
"Like the ones deployed against the Cole years back. Abbie didn't summon anything, either. Instead they grabbed a couple of speedboats and packed them full of things that go boom. We're still not sure how they slipped our pickets, especially Ranger, considering that you girls can tell where they are from miles away."
Brought low by such cowards. At least the Kamikazes were willing to brave the flak, but this? Jersey clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. This was not how someone like her should go out.
"I'm getting the feeling you want to go out and kill something?" The Admiral asked.
"An understatement, sir."
He grinned, before leaning forward, hands clasped. "We've had someone giving us trouble off the Carolina coast. They haven't threatened us yet, but they made an attempt against Wilmington a week back and managed to put a hole in one of North Carolina's turrets and another through her bridge. While she's not exactly in danger of being blown to pieces, the less local problems we have to deal with, the better."
Fucking hell. Showboat was as bland as a loaf of bread, but she was a good ship regardless. Girl earned her rest, even if Wash was the one who deserved the museum spot for nailing that crazy-ass Japanese battlecruiser. But it was better that she not wake up just as angry. "When do I leave?"
"As soon as you assemble a task force. We've got a few of our girls here, and a Royal Navy squadron that might be willing to help. Pick who you need. I'll handle the paperwork. Dismissed, and godspeed, Jersey."
On Jersey, Reboots, and My Take on the Setting:
Since the original author lost interest, but I had invested time and energy into trying to expand upon the worldbuilding (the TVTropes article mentions an "exploration of issues in a Post-Abyssal world," and I'm fairly sure I was the only one trying to do that), I've taken upon myself the task of redoing the whole thing, hopefully without repeating too many of the mistakes.
As stated, America has its own shipgirls, including carriers, but none of the important ones like the Yorktowns or Essex horde. Meanwhile, Jersey is still Jersey, outfit aside. Highly brash and unashamedly patriotic, but still prone to fuck-ups and with her fair share of baggage. For now, she's the only American battleship back, but nobody's complaining. She's an Iowa— the pinnacle of American battleship design —with years of experience and the finest rifles ever put to sea.
Meanwhile, things are a little different in this take, when it comes to the War. America's taken much more direct hits, which I'll expand upon in due time. Suffice to say, things are far from cozy.
And finally, the other characters. Richardson and Jane are still in play, as is Gale, and also the characters Admiral Corgi and I came up with. They'll be introduced and expanded upon as this whole thing moves forward. Crowning, however, is very much a one-off, hopefully avoiding the mistake that was shipping Crowning/Jersey when it was clear they didn't have the chemistry for it.
- Location
- Central Standard Time
And with not much of a delay, comes Jersey, again.
New admiral. Interesting.
And a new nickname.
This is a massive humanitarian crisis too. How many of those were from injuries, otherwise survivable, but unable to be treated? How many more will die from starvation?
RIP techs, then.
It looks like we're jumping right in.
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
Definitely watched. Though...
I wonder if a certain British heavy cruiser is around on convoy duty and will get pulled into this...
- Location
- Central Standard Time
If you only follow one, follow SV. The lower quality ones don't get posted here, usually. Less toxicity, too.
- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
Sounds like the new thread is off to a good start. It'll be interesting to see how the returning characters are introduced and what new ones come along for the ride.
Skywalker_T-65
Writer with too many ideas.
- Location
- United States
- Pronouns
- Plural/They/He/Her
I'd also say to use the SV thread since, if I do more omakes again, they'd only be here 
(Unless I decide to crosspost the plen-girl thing. That's not horribly likely considering why I left SB in the first place, tho)
(Unless I decide to crosspost the plen-girl thing. That's not horribly likely considering why I left SB in the first place, tho)
SeismicGuide
The Quakiest of Quakebotes
- Location
- A usually Warm, Southern state of the US
Well, shoot. MSAB?
Also, yay! I'm not the only one to use the "Abby" insult for Abyssals anymore! AFAIK, Ping!
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- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
Not sure Abyssal BS is classed as "sparkly", but they seem to be more capable of outside the box thinking....even more good news...
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SeismicGuide
The Quakiest of Quakebotes
- Location
- A usually Warm, Southern state of the US
MAB, or MABS, then?(I still prefer reading MABS as "Magical Abyss Bull crap"...)
Lady Darkhound
Haha, tanks!
- Location
- My very own personal hell
- Pronouns
- She/Her
MSAB still works. You just have to sub 'spooky' in for 'sparkly.' Magical Spooky Abyssal (grade A genuine) Bullshit.
- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
Maybe even "Malevolent Abyssal Spooky BS"... Or MASB (pronounced Mass-Bee)
ijnfleetadmiral
CinC Rengo Kanmusutai
- Location
- Admiral's Bridge, HIJMS Kongo
While I'm disappointed to see Crowning as a one-off (as I think CrownShima would've been quite humorous once it got going), I can understand why you chose to scrap it. Fingers will remain crossed for Derp!Cruiser, Taffy craziness, and Gale-suffering galore! 
...and hopefully, the appearance of Admiral Irons and the Pearl Harbor Standards (again, that had so much potential for hilarity!), as well as the eventual appearance of The CheeseWeeb.
...and hopefully, the appearance of Admiral Irons and the Pearl Harbor Standards (again, that had so much potential for hilarity!), as well as the eventual appearance of The CheeseWeeb.
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- Location
- Pacific Northwest
While I'm disappointed to see Crowning as a one-off (as I think CrownShima would've been quite humorous once it got going), I can understand why you chose to scrap it. Fingers will remain crossed for Derp!Cruiser, Taffy craziness, and Gale-suffering galore!
...and hopefully, the appearance of Admiral Irons and the Pearl Harbor Standards (again, that had so much potential for hilarity!), as well as the eventual appearance of The CheeseWeeb.
With cat ears!
deathzealotzero
Mecha Guru
- Location
- Las Vegas, NV
I think @CompassJimbo mentioned on the older Belated Battleship Thread that Crowning will have a role to play in this story but not as large he had in the beginning of the older Belated Battleship. Or something like that anyways.While I'm disappointed to see Crowning as a one-off (as I think CrownShima would've been quite humorous once it got going), I can understand why you chose to scrap it. Fingers will remain crossed for Derp!Cruiser, Taffy craziness, and Gale-suffering galore!
Admiral_Corgi
The Admiral of the PT Boats
- Location
- The Strange land of Florida
Excellent start~
Can't wait to see the next chapter.
While I wait though I'll be going through things and drafting up stuff for the Doggos! story line.
Can't wait to see the next chapter.
While I wait though I'll be going through things and drafting up stuff for the Doggos! story line.
- Pronouns
- She/Her
So haven't checked on BelBat in a while, what's the story with the reboot?
- Location
- San Diego
Avoid the power creep, too many plot lines, and the Author ran out of steam for the story.
Battleship Iowa Museum Livestream Schedule
Nicholas
No longer teaching battlethings on a battleship
- Location
- Ashore again
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Hey everyone, the Battleship Iowa museum has a weekly gaming stream, NovemberEchoPapaMike! Usually running on Thursdays at 2PM Pacific time, we stream World of Warships while talking about the game, historical trivia, cool stuff going on the battleship, interviews with veterans and museum staff, and more.
Follow us on Twitch to be alerted to new streams, check out our Facebook page for announcements and cool stuff about the ship, and look up our YouTube channel to watch old interviews.
Join us!
Follow us on Twitch to be alerted to new streams, check out our Facebook page for announcements and cool stuff about the ship, and look up our YouTube channel to watch old interviews.
Join us!
- Location
- Minot, North Dakota
Date- not anymore relevant than time itself
Location- beyond the veil
She slumbered fitfully in the ice. Darkness and light crossed her dreams and voices called for her, invited her and those like her to return. She had fought her country's enemies and earned her rest. But still...the voices...
++++++
So many more seemed to have joined her. It reminded her of when she had first arrived, sensing the presence of her sisters as they arrived at the hands of the enemies bombs and torpedoes. These new ...spirits...who brushed her sleeping mind were far more advanced, but confused, like they didn't know how they had lost....
++++++
She didn't know how long she had been here. She was surprised to have begun to sense a change in the balance of this place. She was among the first from her young country to venture to foreign lands to punish her enemies. She heard calls going out, in English, in French, in languages she only heard fleetingly in the Pacific and could not recognize. She did not think she could help. Though there was no time here, surely time had passed. But she would go if they called her name....
Location- beyond the veil
She slumbered fitfully in the ice. Darkness and light crossed her dreams and voices called for her, invited her and those like her to return. She had fought her country's enemies and earned her rest. But still...the voices...
++++++
So many more seemed to have joined her. It reminded her of when she had first arrived, sensing the presence of her sisters as they arrived at the hands of the enemies bombs and torpedoes. These new ...spirits...who brushed her sleeping mind were far more advanced, but confused, like they didn't know how they had lost....
++++++
She didn't know how long she had been here. She was surprised to have begun to sense a change in the balance of this place. She was among the first from her young country to venture to foreign lands to punish her enemies. She heard calls going out, in English, in French, in languages she only heard fleetingly in the Pacific and could not recognize. She did not think she could help. Though there was no time here, surely time had passed. But she would go if they called her name....