Er, climate change would so greatly affect vegetative life cycles that the ensuing stress would result in massive species die-off that itself would lead to widespread desertification, especially in areas bordering the already volatile Gobi. In addition, glacial melting, especially in the northernmost extremes of the Atlantic, would introduce enough freshwater to diluting the surrounding area's seawater to a point where there would be no water dense enough to sink underneath the surface brine and continue forcing warm water from the south to replace shifted currents, thereby eliminating the possibility of warm surface winds meant to prevent Europe from reaching ice-agetemperatures...
Brink_ Member
- Last Seen: 6 yrs ago
- Joined: 10 yrs ago
- Posts: 196 (0.05 / day)
- VMs: 0
-
Username history
- Brink_ 10 yrs ago
Status
User has no status, yet
Bio
User has no bio, yet
Most Recent Posts
first chapter of the franco-iberian war epic is up.
Just outside the north-easternmost borders of Franco-Iberia's North African holdings.
Suddenly a violent, staccato roar of rifle-fire opened up ahead. It was the kind of barrage which would have been terrifying in daytime, and at night it was far worse. However, the fire was not aimed at them; no one fell, no bullets whistled past them, and for some reason the flashes could not be seen. But it was obviously not far ahead f them and before long they were likely to be walking into it. Loud, urgent orders were given to deploy into skirmishing order, some to the right and some to the left of the road. After stumbling down a steep roadside embankment, they found themselves squelching blindly across marshy ground, water chilled a crippling drop in temperature pouring into their boots; after a patch of tussocks, they crossed a few shallow ditches and blundered across what seemed like a kitchen garden; by the time the order came to lie prone, the firing ahead of them had died down completely. New orders came to rejoin the road and form up in a line of march. Back they stumbled once more, tripping over the ditches and wading through the same marshy ground until they clambered back on to the roadway.
For a long time there was more shouting, re-forming, lining up. Then off they went again. Dark though it was, they were able to make out that the road was leading into a thick expanse of scrubland, identified by the towering, leaning groves of wild palms that lined its perimeter. Up overhead the tree-line, silently and quickly skimming over monstrous, black puffs of flak and low-lying clouds alike, the twin engines' glow of a jet fighter illuminated the thick haze descending onto much of the approaching forest. As they eventually marched through it, even the occasional flashes of far-off gunfire were blotted out. The battalions marched on down the road until once again the men were made to slither down the embankment - this time on to the dam of a mill-pond, then across a stream. From there they trudged uphill across open fields in between the eroded grooves in quantity great enough to amount them to a sizable half-track convoy, but on firm ground.
It seemed to be getting lighter, but the viability did not improve: even though they were on high ground, the darkness of the night had only given way to more thick mist. They struggled onward across rough paths and open fields, where the crop, whatever it was, caught at their boots; the main feature of the ground was that it was cross-crossed with little gullies and ditches, and so dotted with potholes, mounds, and makeshift earthwork that it was the obvious site of a previous border dispute. All at once, less than a kilometer to their right, another fusillade from several hundred rifle barrels and machine gun encampments opened up. But still no bullets came their way: the fighting was lower down and away to the right, and their orders were to get to the top of the high ground as fast as possible. Then, with a roaring and whistling, the gun-flashes flickering dimly through the mist, the Berber artillery they'd been promised opened up, to the delight of the advancing troops. Shrapnel shells burst with a fain glitter in the milky fog, and soon Egyptian guns began to reply, their shells falling a short distance away to the right.
While he had no desire for victory, Ibrahim could not help noticing with satisfaction that the Berber artillery was getting the better of this duel. There was undoubtedly a king of horrible beauty in the thunder of gunfire that was coming from one's own side. Although it was growing lighter, it was so foggy that visibility was no more than a meter, and the gun-flashes were even harder to see than they had been in the dark. And still they were driven through the thick, milky mist, across the treacherous gullies, rifles at the ready - faster and faster, lest they reach their objective too late. They ran panting uphill, then down a slope, up again and down again. It would have been safer to have crouched as they ran, but at that speed to run crouching was too much strain on the legs. So they ran upright. A few shells burst directly overhead, but so high that the shrapnel fell like a harmless shower of dried peas. The order was given to deploy into skirmishing order and fire from the shoulder.
They fired, although their target was completely invisible, and then ran onward again once their cartridges warranting reloading. No Douleur fell killed or wounded. It seemed as if they were making an outflanking movement around some Egyptian position. The hillside grew steeper and steeper. Ibrahim's heart was thumping, his lungs bursting; it was impossible to keep up this pace, all the more so in the damp, foggy air of the mid-morning Egyptian brush. It was now completely light and for all they knew the sun might be out,but nothing around them could be even vaguely seen in the dense, all-enveloping fog. Just as the slope began to go slightly downhill, the invisible enemy struck at them, the unseen attackers. Although they could barely see his muzzle-flashes, the bullets were whistling very close; one of them struck a stone and sent up a bright spark.
Suddenly a violent, staccato roar of rifle-fire opened up ahead. It was the kind of barrage which would have been terrifying in daytime, and at night it was far worse. However, the fire was not aimed at them; no one fell, no bullets whistled past them, and for some reason the flashes could not be seen. But it was obviously not far ahead f them and before long they were likely to be walking into it. Loud, urgent orders were given to deploy into skirmishing order, some to the right and some to the left of the road. After stumbling down a steep roadside embankment, they found themselves squelching blindly across marshy ground, water chilled a crippling drop in temperature pouring into their boots; after a patch of tussocks, they crossed a few shallow ditches and blundered across what seemed like a kitchen garden; by the time the order came to lie prone, the firing ahead of them had died down completely. New orders came to rejoin the road and form up in a line of march. Back they stumbled once more, tripping over the ditches and wading through the same marshy ground until they clambered back on to the roadway.
For a long time there was more shouting, re-forming, lining up. Then off they went again. Dark though it was, they were able to make out that the road was leading into a thick expanse of scrubland, identified by the towering, leaning groves of wild palms that lined its perimeter. Up overhead the tree-line, silently and quickly skimming over monstrous, black puffs of flak and low-lying clouds alike, the twin engines' glow of a jet fighter illuminated the thick haze descending onto much of the approaching forest. As they eventually marched through it, even the occasional flashes of far-off gunfire were blotted out. The battalions marched on down the road until once again the men were made to slither down the embankment - this time on to the dam of a mill-pond, then across a stream. From there they trudged uphill across open fields in between the eroded grooves in quantity great enough to amount them to a sizable half-track convoy, but on firm ground.
It seemed to be getting lighter, but the viability did not improve: even though they were on high ground, the darkness of the night had only given way to more thick mist. They struggled onward across rough paths and open fields, where the crop, whatever it was, caught at their boots; the main feature of the ground was that it was cross-crossed with little gullies and ditches, and so dotted with potholes, mounds, and makeshift earthwork that it was the obvious site of a previous border dispute. All at once, less than a kilometer to their right, another fusillade from several hundred rifle barrels and machine gun encampments opened up. But still no bullets came their way: the fighting was lower down and away to the right, and their orders were to get to the top of the high ground as fast as possible. Then, with a roaring and whistling, the gun-flashes flickering dimly through the mist, the Berber artillery they'd been promised opened up, to the delight of the advancing troops. Shrapnel shells burst with a fain glitter in the milky fog, and soon Egyptian guns began to reply, their shells falling a short distance away to the right.
While he had no desire for victory, Ibrahim could not help noticing with satisfaction that the Berber artillery was getting the better of this duel. There was undoubtedly a king of horrible beauty in the thunder of gunfire that was coming from one's own side. Although it was growing lighter, it was so foggy that visibility was no more than a meter, and the gun-flashes were even harder to see than they had been in the dark. And still they were driven through the thick, milky mist, across the treacherous gullies, rifles at the ready - faster and faster, lest they reach their objective too late. They ran panting uphill, then down a slope, up again and down again. It would have been safer to have crouched as they ran, but at that speed to run crouching was too much strain on the legs. So they ran upright. A few shells burst directly overhead, but so high that the shrapnel fell like a harmless shower of dried peas. The order was given to deploy into skirmishing order and fire from the shoulder.
They fired, although their target was completely invisible, and then ran onward again once their cartridges warranting reloading. No Douleur fell killed or wounded. It seemed as if they were making an outflanking movement around some Egyptian position. The hillside grew steeper and steeper. Ibrahim's heart was thumping, his lungs bursting; it was impossible to keep up this pace, all the more so in the damp, foggy air of the mid-morning Egyptian brush. It was now completely light and for all they knew the sun might be out,but nothing around them could be even vaguely seen in the dense, all-enveloping fog. Just as the slope began to go slightly downhill, the invisible enemy struck at them, the unseen attackers. Although they could barely see his muzzle-flashes, the bullets were whistling very close; one of them struck a stone and sent up a bright spark.
Am I to be envision that isolated portion of the Nile Delta that's been divvied up amongst @Taeryn, @Willy Vereb, and I as an obvious analogy of East/West Germany with Franco-Iberia and the Hungarians having had established separate occupation zones following the Great War that eventually culminated into a single republic, with the USHR controlling some sort of proto-satellite state after each of us had occupied and eventually relinquished control of the island amongst one another, or am I taking this analogy too literally?
Ok, so since you changed our entire history like that, what is our updated status? is the nations still good friends? allies? gotta communicate with me here.
Pre-history is imperative for an nrp that is past the whole first contact stage.
Sorry for the inactivity.
I don't mean for this to sever ties between the NAU and Franco-Iberia. Instead of having a government dominated by a party itself dominated by a pro-NAU regime, I decided to utilize this opportunity for political intrigue by having the political party in control of much of my nation's government be allied to a nation that might seem better off as an ideological rival, thereby setting the stage for some potentially interesting scenarios regarding arms trading, et cetera. As for your nation, I see no reason why our combined histories should change an awful lot; after all, we seem to be the two democratic superpowers of the world at the moment and it would only make sense for us to be closely bound, both culturally and politically/militarily, without necessitating the inclusion of some backroom politics typically reserved for more controversial and, frankly, interesting international dealings. After all, there is no point for France and the U.S., wether it be of today or during the Korean War, for instance, to not be both allies and rulers of the free world, whereas France getting jet fighters or intercontinental missiles from something like Iran or Russia warranting the use of much stricter and secretive cooperation...
@Taeryn
Nation sheet wise: changed Franco-Iberia from being covertly allied to the NAU to the USHR instead, seeing as it would make much more sense for the the Franco-Iberian political system to seek to maintain secrecy of this sort of union rather than with another, similarly democratic state whose real-life parallels practically modeled their governments after each other.
Nation sheet wise: changed Franco-Iberia from being covertly allied to the NAU to the USHR instead, seeing as it would make much more sense for the the Franco-Iberian political system to seek to maintain secrecy of this sort of union rather than with another, similarly democratic state whose real-life parallels practically modeled their governments after each other.
On second thought the world history you suggest does make more sense with the overall feel I imagine the RP to be centered around, not to mention just how much it aligns with other nations' own histories. thanks for clarifying.
@Isotope
I was under the impression, judging from what Sigma had established this as in his first few OOC posts, that this was a take on the world as if the science and culture of the 1950s, defined by postwar extravagance and just overall optimism for the future that had lied ahead, advanced to the point of what they had envisioned the next fifty years or so to be rather than having technology and the like progress at the rate and points of divergence it actually had, meaning that I'd seen all technology as being some sort of retrofuturism tied in with the inherent the sci-fi that accompanies that movement, if that makes any sense. As for the lore specifically, I'd assumed that after some cataclysmic nuclear war the world's population and ecological integrity alike degenerated to a point of, as you'd mentioned, iron age levels that eventually progressed to the aforementioned Fallout series-esque themes which itself owed much its incarnation to our civilizations managing to maintain remnants of what they'd considered the epitome of human development - our pre-cataclysmic technology that serves as a defining factor in differentiating our varying nations and their cultural, technological, et cetera identities...
I was under the impression, judging from what Sigma had established this as in his first few OOC posts, that this was a take on the world as if the science and culture of the 1950s, defined by postwar extravagance and just overall optimism for the future that had lied ahead, advanced to the point of what they had envisioned the next fifty years or so to be rather than having technology and the like progress at the rate and points of divergence it actually had, meaning that I'd seen all technology as being some sort of retrofuturism tied in with the inherent the sci-fi that accompanies that movement, if that makes any sense. As for the lore specifically, I'd assumed that after some cataclysmic nuclear war the world's population and ecological integrity alike degenerated to a point of, as you'd mentioned, iron age levels that eventually progressed to the aforementioned Fallout series-esque themes which itself owed much its incarnation to our civilizations managing to maintain remnants of what they'd considered the epitome of human development - our pre-cataclysmic technology that serves as a defining factor in differentiating our varying nations and their cultural, technological, et cetera identities...
yeah i was thinking just that for the ones I have in mind for Africa, something along the lines of former protectorates of franco-iberia that had forcibly seceded and serve as the only semblance of civil society or reliable infrastructure in the region.
Seeing as most everyone has their plots laid out and there seems to be more than enough nations to get this going, I was wondering if anyone was willing to discuss the establishing of NPC states...
© 2007-2024