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Tempted, but I'm not that good at atmospheric flight, I'd be a terrible pilot.:( Spaceplanes and space fighters, on the other hand...
I deeply apologize for my ridiculously delayed reply, but as suspected, my life has gotten very busy quickly. My replies might be slow to come for the next month, but nevertheless, I will be here, reading through the posts and writing as fast as I can in whatever spare time I will have. Also, congratulations for your success, mister Blade! I hope you will enjoy your new workplace and a fresh start:)
"Asthmatic or not, she needs to get out of here, Edward. If it's in the air here, it will do her no good to linger around." The doctor was undeterred and offered the mask to Esailia, now thinking that she'd might need a shot of epinephrine to loosen her airways up and help her breathe normally. The pain in his arm slowly changed its nature, hurting more and more like someone slammed a full-force blow with a heavy baseball bat and tore his muscles in the effort. Though the pain was excruciating, he could still dedicate part of his brain to his current task, albeit losing his patience. He did catch what the captain managed to mumble through her coughing, but, Aidan refused to listen; Edward only worsened the situation with his stressful demeanor, the doctor feeling his temper being pushed nearly over the edge. His last comment, together with gripping his shoulder, was the last drop. Aidan threw himself on his feet and shot the fox's arm away with his right palm and painted his finger at the tip of Edward's nose; his expression changed from a mildly-concerned frown to a full-blown, enraged snarl, baring his canine teeth baring from under his upper lip. "Stand down, corporal! I may not be your captain, but I am a lieutenant of this unit and if I catch you yelling at me, or trying to prevent me from doing my job, I'll rip that fucking arm off, shove it up your tailhole and make you eat it!" He yelled at him, displaying quite a show for the captives. "I don't know what the shit is going through that dense skull of yours, but I'm here to help last time I checked and if I don't pull captain Sprinstream out she'll-" Just then, the feline captain collapsed on the ground, her throat groaning, her diaphragm shuddering. Aidan turned around to see what the commotion was all about, only to identify the slightly convulsive body laying on the floor was Esailia's. He felt the same feeling all over again from roughly one hour ago, on Ken's chopper; doubt of success was a lingering thought, knowing that he may not be as efficient with the arm that has lost its functionality. In one second, he drew the steps of saving Es in his head: epineph shot, hyperextension of the head, check airways, use either OPA or ventilation balloon, extract patient; having a plan in his head helped him regain his wits and lose some of the panic trying to cut the rational component of his brain completely and started to move. The first thing he did, though, was to turn to Edward again and snap at him. "Superb! Now look what you've done! Don't just stand there, get here and give me a hand." He started to rummage through the kit again, looking for everything that he needed; he threw a one-shot syringe with a transparent liquid in it in Edward's lap while he frantically searched for the OPAs stowed in a compartment somewhere. The syringe itself looked nothing like a classically-shaped syringe, instead, it was a cylinder with a red end and a grey cap on the other, which would arm the injecting mechanism within the contraption "Take off the grey cap and shoot her in the thigh with the red tip, right there, in that spot and hold it for ten seconds. Don't touch the needle!" The dog then pulled out three curbed tubes with a flared end, each colored in a different hue. He rolled the female captain on her back and straightened her head with great effort, every time he would use his arm, or even at the smallest twitch, the tremendous pain would hit him again and freeze his brain and body in place. He took off his helmet and lowered his body down and concentrated on his right ear, trying to hear her breath, or at least, feel the air escaping her mouth brush up against the sensible fur around his pointy ear After he regained mobility, he took the longest of the tubes and compared its length to Esailia's distance from the mouth to the lower angle of her mandible, judging the oropharyngeal airway to be too long for her, so instead he picked the middle-sized one; with another considerable effort, he extended the cat's neck outwards by pushing down her forehead with the barely functional, hurting arm, while he guided the motion by holding two fingers under her chin. He used his left hand, which still had mobility in its fingers as none of the forearm muscle groups were affected by the wound, to pry open Esailia's mouth by pushing with his index and thumb against her upper and lower molar teeth to part them and open her mouth just enough to fit in the OPA; he pushed in the tube with the curvature facing her tongue, to make way for the canal to reach halfway down the throat, after which, he rotated the tube with a precise move of his good wrist and push it down again without forcing it in. He made sure the fox did his part correctly and leaned in once more to hear Esailia breathe some more, catching a small sign of improvement. Next, they had to get out the stretcher, but seeing the corporal's general reluctance, Aidan alone dragged the poor cat on it, using his boot to keep the stretcher from sliding along with her body. Once she was secured, strapped in and on wheels, Aidan urged the corporal to push the stretcher. "I'm sure your sister, Nathaniel and Michael can handle the situation accordingly. If you don't want your superior dead, I suggest you push her out of the cave before she bleeds her lungs out. Get a move on, corporal!" He then turned his attention to the trio they were about to leave behind. "I swear, if someone else gets hurt today, I will murder that one wiseguy. Stay sharp, I won't be available for a while." He told the remainder of the team. He could push the stretcher earlier that day with only one hand, but really, he wanted Edward to do it for him, so he could repair the mistake of talking down to a superior. Aidan felt bad for using his rank as a mean to shut down an argument, but with Esailia's condition, time was a precious resource. Having a bit of time to recollect the events of that day, he could feel exhaustion soak through his muscles and wear down his bones, feel his left arm still hurting like an absolute bitch and realize that it had been a difficult day. Not the worst, but a really tiresome day. Two pilots, a captain and himself got him in the process, one from the group went straight for the morgue. There would be a lot of paperwork ahead and he dreaded working out captain Spinstream's case; by now it was quite obvious she was hiding something and taught everyone else in her team to keep their mouths shut for her and like the good soldiers they are, they all remained silent and try to divert from the problem. It would have been a matter of time before her symptoms would aggravate and draw someone's attention; lucky for her, she caught the right person's attention. Somewhere half the way down the shaft, Aidan grabbed the stretched and brought it to a halt; he didn't communicate to colonel Blade about Esailia's situation just yet and he knew Edward was waiting for the worst to happen. The dog had to chose whether he would tell his superior or become another liability. He pointed his finger at Esailia's chest. "Take it off. The vest, I mean. Now. Under double." He kept uttering, urging the fox to do as he says. "Put the vest down, right over there." Once it was laying on the ground, with no warning, Aidan pulled out his standard issue handgun from its holster tied to his right thigh, flicked the safety switch on the grip and aimed the pistol loosely with a single hand, only to discharge a single bullet at it. Aidan's ears rang as the walls reverberated the sound with like a heavy punch straight into his eardrums and watched the empty shell rattle and roll on the floor; he picked up the evidence and stowed it in his pocket, then asked Edward to pick the vest up and hold it out for him to eyeball where the bullet would have hit if it were on her. He refused to shoot at the woman, as it would have been way too risky, but he still had to leave a nasty bruise, thus, he used the barrel of his PDW to slam it square into the woman's unprotected chest and as if he didn't abuse the poor woman's body, he promptly pulled the OPA out for enough time to force her jaw shut and bite her own tongue, drawing a bit more blood; he wiped some of it with his sleeve and slid the tube down her throat again. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you that this was for her good. You stick close to me and let no one check her, you understand? Keep your mouth shut and let me do the talking, you guard me and help me with my hand, but don't dare to wag your chin. Put her vest back on now, but don't strap it back together, leave it hanging." He then opened his commlink and addressed to his superior and then, the landcruiser. "Blade, I need to pull captain Spinstream out, she's been hit and knocked unconscious. I can't imagine how the situation's on your end, but don't shoot towards the entrance. Me and Ed are pulling her out now, over. Ken, do you read me? Watch for the mine entrance, friendlies coming out!" Aidan then switched channels. "Parvan's Claw, this is First Lieutenant Sykes, I'm pulling out a patient hit with a small caliber firearm; the bullet didn't go through, but she had her wind kicked out and lost consciousness, minor bleeding from a tongue bite and a gunshot bruise on her chest. Requesting transport to sick bay. Ove- no, wait, base, base! About the patient, uh, she-" Back at the sick bay, one of the technicians was pulling the tray out of the CT scanner and helped the patient up, lending a hand for him to get on his own feet. The ferret checked him up and down and used his body as best as he could to provide a fulcrum for the still-dizzy wolf and guided him outside; just after the door, a badger and with his nurse, a female gazelle, were receiving fresh news from the battlefield just outside the cruiser's walls. "-so, it would seem the female patient wishes to be seen only by the corpsman." "He is a doctor, sir." "With an EMT license; so, if he isn't a field medic, he is a field doctor, if that makes you happier. Ah, Aihara, here you are, already walking; I am honestly surprised by your swift evolution towards recovery, even if there were no life-threatening wounds. Still, I need to be sure if you didn't hit your head hard enough to rupture any important blood vessel in-" "CT and MRI scans are clean, sir." Interrupted the ferret, a feint smirk sketched at the corner of his lips. "Good." The badger replied, thinning his own lips while he frowned at the misbehaving runt. "Blood tests were very good too, actually. It would seem that you are quite alright, mister Aihara; now, if it weren't for my utmost respect towards colonel Blade, I'd keep you at least twenty-four hours on a bed here at the bay, but..." he then sighed and frowned, rubbing his eyelids "... given the tragic situation of today's operation, I am more than sure that you'd like to partake with the debrief. Thus, I will give you the green to go and do so, but, I'd much like you to move as little as possible and keep your head level, rest as much as you can and drink a lot of fluids, fluids that preferably do not contain any traces of alcohol. We'd like to check your head tomorrow too, so you're not done with us. As for the dizziness, well, I am sure some meclizine HCL would do the trick. I'm sure Maria here can take care of you. Now, off you go, we've all got work to do, there's more wounded to come." Said and done, the gazelle lead her patient to the examination room and had him sit on the bed while she searched for the box of the needed antihistamines, managing to find it using her intuition and knowledge of Major Reid's habits, the doctor badger. She prepared the tablet, calculating the dosage with Kuraiko's current state of vertigo, poured some cold water in a standard, white cup and popped the tablet into another one, then, offered them to the wolf. "That's it. In about ten minutes, you should feel like yourself again, but like the doctor said, try to not to move too much. Beer won't drown the pain and neither hitting the gym, so stay put. If you feel like it's coming back, come right back, okay?" She smiled to him, making sure she was a good nurse as she had always been. She had a rather comely visage, but most of her beauty was worn out by the horrors of death and mutilation, a dizzy man was quite a relief for her too. She had her hair tucked in a bun, her thorns neatly trimmed not to be too long and made sure her clinic clothing was tidy; she hated them as they would ruin her aesthetic body shape, but she respected her job too much not to sacrifice her looks for it. If she really wanted to look pretty, she would do it far away from a small, enclosed space that had too many hormonal and aggressive men on the hunt for a delicious catch.
Apologies for the delay, my Friday got very busy. Post will be up soon
My reply will be postponed for Friday, I am too busy today and tomorrow to actually sit down and write it. I'm sorry for any inconvenience Shadow, if Blade allows it, I could take brief control over the crash team again and discharge Kuraiko quickly. Maybe you won't see more action, but at least you'd be on your own two feet for the debrief
REVISED

Character Name: Aidan Sykes

Age: 26

Species: Badlands Shepherd

Appearance

Personality: Aidan can be described with a few words: gentle, kind, practical, loyal, dedicated, introverted and self-sufficient. While he shows real passion in his work, he isn't very fond of tying any deep connections with people around him; he is socially competent, sure enough, but he prefers to keep ties with his colleagues professional, thus, his self-sufficiency doesn't necessarily cripple his ability to work in a team. He doesn't push away people that try to talk to him; he greets them with a kind, generous nature and cheeky quips.
Although he suffers from a light form of social anxiety, he manages crowds or groups of people with a half-humorous cordiality, but should the crowd be wounded people, he transforms into a medical machine. He can show empathy to those who are hurt and can lift up their spirits in any way he can. If he’s not treating the wounded and the sick in the infirmary, he’s piloting his “angry ambulance” GEAR. It’s either this, that or silently reading a book.

Personal History: Raised in poverty and civil conflict, Aidan knew hunger, hatred and violence. Although he showed an incredible detachment towards the suffering surrounding him, it affected him enough to harden his personality as he grew up aiding insurgents together with his father. He carried weapons, ammunition and supplies, earning his piece of bread and leftover rations with hard work, bruises, cuts and even one gunshot wound. When the religious conflict subsided, his family could finally move to a more calm life and away from the messy borders, but this life proved to be boring, after having to deal with such ordeals. Knowing nothing else but to fight fiercely for his own life and help others in the struggle, Aidan showed little interest in higher education, as instead, he felt the violence of war pull him back in to the fray and much like a moth drawn to a flame, his wings withered in agony as old scars reopened during military academy high school.

At one point during his boot camp, he decided to study army medicine, wishing to become a combat medic: this way he could truly recreate the childhood sensation of fighting in the civil war. Thanks to a kind high-ranking officer, Aidan was given the chance to enlist for a specialized infantry unit program: GEAR piloting. That is when the shepherd gained the passion of reading books, especially about pathology, trauma management, GEAR catalogs and technical manuals of operating several GEAR models. After twelve years of being in the military (as he joined the academy at age fourteen), Sykes finally graduated, ranking as Warrant Officer; he was capable to pilot a light-type GEAR and proudly bore several badges designating him as a trauma and medical emergency specialist. These two feats combined qualified him as a GEAR Pilot-Paramedic, “angry ambulance” as Aidan once japed.

But putting so much theory into practice was rather tough, though the shepherd proved to be most able on the field during several skirmishes. It was there, out in the wild, where he felt at home, bringing some peace to his inner turmoil. He finally felt he was normal again, that he was back in his natural habitat. Soon, he will find himself right in the grinder, something as simple as a transfer to a certain landcruiser might just change everything.

Personal Weapons and Equipment


Weapons:

  • M-57
    A compact and versatile personal defense weapon, inherently fitted with pistol and rifle iron sights. Aidan acquired a holographic sight matching top rail dimensions. Easy to stow away safely even in the tightest situations and sprays bullets at a scary rate-of-fire.
  • Standard LDF-issued sidearm, nothing particular about it.
  • Black Carbon Steel Tactical Knife
    A pretty blade that, hopefully, it will never serve its main purpose.


Equipment


  • Standard issue GEAR pilot overalls, one set for non-combat, another one fitted with a ballistic vest and armour pads designed to fit perfectly into the seat of a GEAR and protect the pilot from most dangers while on EVA. A pilot helmet with VitaSign Visuals software installed.
  • DATMK – Deployable Advanced Trauma Management Kit
    An advanced all-purpose emergency kit contained in a single duffle-bag-like rucksack. Capable to store copious amounts of medical equipment, such as bandages, gauzes, drugs, collapsible crutches, an emergency surgical kit, etc. What differentiates this portable hospital from the standard issue kits is the VitaSign Monitor, a PADD with included wireless electrodes that reads the vitals of up to four patients at a time; it also includes a defibrillator module and software to be installed on any advanced combat helmet that provides live optical feed from the main PADD's readings.

    Another useful piece of hardware the kit carries is the LAZARUS Automatic Chest Compression System: a strong band tied with a strap that wraps around the back of a victim and provides automated chest compression for cardiopulmonary resuscitation procedures. Very useful if the medic needs to treat additional injuries or other patients; unfortunately, the kit does not carry any automated ventilation systems, thus, the active presence of an EMT remains obligatory. The mechanism works in cycles and in synchronous with the defibrillation module in such way that the LAZARUS device will stop compressing the victim's chest when an electrical charge is prepared to be administered. The kit can carry only one such device, mostly because it drains battery life quickly.

    Although it is an extremely convenient bag of resources to have in handy, it is difficult for a single person to operate with the whole kit; serious training and practice is required to hardwire muscle memory in the trainee wishing to use the DATMK effectively.
    Heavy and susceptible to extreme weather conditions, prolonged sun exposure, excessive punishment and vibrations. Battery life lasts for a week at 100% usage, but it can be recharged with a GEAR’s battery.
  • Emergency flares
  • Glowsticks
  • A ton of books.


Personal Theme: Proxy

Mecha Sheet


Gear Name & Serial Number: “Dartwing” DX-7 Mod. 3/ “Stumpy”

Appearance
Mod. 3 has a wider main body with several extra hardpoints designed to attach the Quik-Ambulance Modular Container on the back of the GEAR. Due to this modification, the GEAR is less capable in combat aspects, but it is fitted for quick insertions and exfil. Its short stature and uninteresting design makes the GEAR harder to notice on the field, a key aspect for its purpose.

Role:
DX-7 family: Hit & run assault GEAR

Mod. 3: Light hit & run, ambulance

Standard Loadout:

  • Primary - M-121 GEAR Auto-Cannon firing 20mm ammunition. Relative high rate of fire, designed for spray’n’pray tactics.
  • Right shoulder: Rocket launch pod holding a barrage of 12 missiles per launch. It holds a total of 36 70mm rockets.
  • Left shoulder: 12.7mm anti-infantry machinegun, holding 500 rounds.

Additional firepower

  • M-89 Battle Cannon, a longer GEAR Auto-Cannon for longer skirmishes. Fires 40mm rounds at a significantly lower rate.
  • Another rocket launching pod


Other Systems & Equipment:

Standard combat sensors and anti-radar measures, IR and thermal sight technology, which all in all are not very effective. The main body of the GEAR had its cockpit stripped from auxiliary and high-tech equipment to leave enough space to act as an ambulance, plus the extra space offered by the Quik-Ambulance Modular Container attached on the back of the GEAR. Once attached, the GEAR can hold up to two wounded persons, plus the corpsman-pilot. The advantage of having such a Container is that it can be easily detached from the GEAR and be transported away by other vehicles if the GEAR is unable to retreat with the wounded. Unfortunately, this leaves the GEAR open to attacks as the pilot needs to bring the GEAR to ground level, detach the container and latch to connecting doors shut. The inside of the container resembles bunk beds, leaving enough space for the pilot to maneuver the stretchers and to monitor the wounded.

The GEAR serves a supportive role if the pilot needs to leave it for tasks that require him to be on foot, becoming a stationary, auto-firing sentinel; thus, the GEAR also has an IFF protocol that very rarely engages the wrong targets. For its medical purposes, the GEAR is able to lower its main body to ground level and extend a ramp, easing patient transfer in and out of the GEAR.
For quick movement, the GEAR benefits of wheels installed in the heels of the GEAR, allowing it to travel at faster speeds, so long the surface is not riddled with potholes, boulders or other obstacles.

Other notes: The GEAR bears a series of small decals on its left shoulder, resembling a red cross on white background, a white caduceus on dark blue background and another dark blue star of life. They have all worn off and are now barely visible, as they are merging with the GEAR’s paintjob.
I wish you the best regards, good luck and have at those interviewers!
Short one this time, but it's there
Aidan found himself yelled at again, reliving the beautiful memories of being in boot camp, with the drill sergeant's voice ripping through his eardrums. He tried to excuse himself and make a promise to be more useful, as if he could talk himself out of a rebuking session; he didn't understand why was she so hellbent over his mistake, after all, he wasn't really part of her team of infantrymen and if he was to die, it wouldn't be her fault. He tried not to look too annoyed in front of the captain and prepared himself for some shaming, but soon, her discourse was interrupted by sudden coughing fit that had her bend over and fight for some fresh air. The doctor, at first, didn't notice the peculiar sound of the cough itself, he allowed the woman a few moments to try to recover from the sudden fit; at first, he blamed it on the coal, dust and anger, thinking that she either choked on her own saliva, or had a sensible respiratory tract. The wet cough continued more than it should have, raising the alarm for the medic, animating him back to life. His first intention was to drag her to safety, so he slid one hand around her shoulders and invited Esailia to move over to a safer spot. With every cough, every attempt of her lungs to catch some fresh air, Aidan became more and more worried; he was waking back up to reality as his mind was racing for a quick fix to at least eliminate the symptom, but along with regaining his full awareness, he started to feel a dull, but large pain in his left arm. Out of the blue, Edward came at him and asked the doctor about his wounded hand, which, surprised the doctor enough for him to stop in his tracks and raise a suspicious eyebrow.

"Excuse me? Your superior is having a coughing fit and it's me you're asking about health?"

Something wasn't right, he felt, but he paid no more attention to twin fox and directed his focus on the feline instead. He knew he had a mask in his kit, but it was for the ventilation balloon, but that didn't mean he couldn't improvise a filter out of some sterile gauze and some alcohol in it, in place of a menthol-based solution to clear her airways. Once the two of them were safe, Aidan placed his weapon aside and let loose of the kit and let it land of the ground, but the left strap managed to jerk his arm which made him jump, curse and suck air in through the crevices of his gritting teeth; the pain certainly felt worse than the last time, feeling as if his muscles just snapped in half and vibrate like a twanging metal string, sending waves of pain down to the tips of his fingers and up straight at the top of his brain. He took a moment to recover from the pain, breathing slowly but heavily in an attempt to regain control over his senses and take care of his patient; it was then when he realized how stupid he was for his move, actually trusting a band of strangers to do no harm. Losing the functionality of his left arm, Aidan clumsily opened the kit with only one hand and rummaged through it until he found some sterile gauze and a bottle of medicinal alcohol. He quickly learnt that he couldn't lift or extend his arm from the elbow, but he could use his palm and fingers to some extent, so long his bicep and triceps remained immobilized; he kept his left arm locked in place and somehow stretched the gauze, then folded it a few times until it was thick enough to form a rudimentary filter. He poured a small amount of alcohol on the side which would face the airways and let the gauze absorb the liquid and once he was satisfied with the spread, Aidan quickly offered it to Esailia, holding the improvised filter himself.

"Easy, easy-" the doctor spoke with a soft tone as he tried to stabilize the captain by forming a shield against the noxious air with the help of his own body's profile. "Spit out whatever's bothering you and breathe slowly."

The sudden emergency nearly made him forget about the tense situation between the members of the Roughriders and the gang of miscreants holed in a barricade at the end of the tunnel, he only managed to throw a glance over his shoulder to make a quick assessment of the situation; that was when he took another look at Edward, which looked more and more anxious for some reason. He left the situation at the hands of the rest of the crew, since he had to treat the leader of it. He yanked the filter away from Esailia to refresh the alcohol in it, managing to catch a glimpse at the evidence of her medical issue she was hiding all this time; in a state of shock, the doctor looked incredulously at the gauze with a nice blotch of rusty blood surrounded by the blue stain left by the medicinal alcohol. He blinked a few times and with this occasion, he also noticed the stain she had on the sleeve of her combat clothing, which looked not too old, maybe a couple of hours or so. What worried him most was that whatever she had in her lungs wasn't caused by the mine's toxic air, since it wouldn't be enough to have anyone cough up blood; it was an old wound, or condition that was left unnoticed. He couldn't believe that it was hidden from him, the medical records stated that she was in good condition. He offered the gauze back and turned his attention to the kit so he could pull out the mask with the balloon and unscrew the two components, clumsily so.

"Ma'am, we need to get out NOW. I cannot leave you with this, we have to evacuate immediately. Leave, I don't know, Nathaniel to take the lead, but YOU have to get out! Here, take the mask and let me carry your gear."

The medic was sure about what he had to do, but, he was unsure of what Esailia and Edward's intentions were. Just becoming aware of the sudden situation change, he took a look over his shoulders and spotted six or seven people dressed up in typical bandit outfits. Enraged, the dog barked at them.

"Ey! Which one of you funny guys shot me, huh? I swear I'll fucking punch you in the fucking throat!"
I understand your wish to terminate this. If you consider that all of this was in vain, then go ahead, eliminate the thread. Bear in mind several things, though:

You have inspired quite an amount of people (complete strangers you have no clue how they look like in real life, nor really had the chance to have nice chat, or a beer with them) with your original setting and no doubt, the story would be even more impressive should it be played through 'till to the end. Even if those people left early on or without notice, you still left quite an imprint on them, since you managed to muster up a handful of players to join in and participate and help write your world. Each with their own vision, skill, experience and writing ability helped to form what GEAR is. Remember, you are working with people, individuals that have their own lives, their own perspectives, visions, ambitions and passions different from one to another, but share these three peculiar interests: roleplaying, anthropomorphic characters and fictive armed robots; of course it is hard to bring together people and keep them engaged in something that, whether you like it or not, may turn into something they didn't like anymore. I for one have considered leaving a few times during my stay, but I pulled through for the sake of the good feeling I would experience after I'd finish one of my gargantuan posts, read it through and see how people react to it and use it to shape their own actions and progress through the story. That is what I find most fascinating about roleplaying with a good group: the ability to adapt, change and write something that ties in together other people's texts while adding their own.

The guild has been extremely unstable during the holidays, people were absent through the holidays too. Everything has its dead times, nothing ever steamrolls without a few hiccups on the road. But, maybe, not everyone has been completely MIA. I've checked daily for any updates, anything new on the IC or OOC. I couldn't possibly reply at the time as I'd have nothing to complete at the moment since I've pretty much conditioned myself to react to both Esailia and HopelessIncubus; maybe there are other people around that check every now and then and I have to congratulate Esailia for being perseverant enough to write a post, even if it is three weeks after the last IC post. It is still a confirmation that someone is still interested and wishes to participate in your world. About the rest, I am not sure, but it is safe to assume that both me and Es are solidly standing our ground and wish to continue, if you also want that.

Think about yourself too. What is the real reason it became a chore? Is it just the external factors? Isn't it also something that comes from within? No, writer's block is not real, it is a myth, a prettier way to say "I'm bored", or "I'm thinking really hard, I may come up with something later". You've rebooted GEARs several times already, was it always the same fault? Were the people involved to blame, was it the hosting site? Like Es suggested, a change is needed to keep people engaged. For people like Es and myself, it is easy to stay connected since we pretty much chose rather weird characters and roles: Es controls not a singular character, but a fire team, which brings a very dynamic aspect on her side of things, while I chose to be a pilot corpsman, a hybrid unit that is constantly on the run to either take lives or save them. Giving everyone the same GEAR? Definitely not. Having a more restricted selection from which other players can choose their own model? Sounds like a better idea, as being too rigid will drive people away. As for those who write CSs and never show up, I recommend making a background check on those people before accepting them in the team, see if they're sudden leavers. At least, you are nice enough to announce the possibility of aborting this roleplay.

You could always write this story on your own, of course, but it is clear that sharing it with an interactive group of strangers sounds more appealing to you than to do everything solo. I am also considering to write a book of my own, yet, I share a bit of it with a good friend of mine to help me with playing as the protagonist of the story so he could give me the chance to learn how to write a character completely different from my style of writing; the process is extremely tedious, me and him both agree, but so far, we are very pleased with the results, even if it is still a very choppy, early draft.

In the end, it is completely up to you what you want to do with it. I don't talk much through the OOC as I always find myself placing stupid posts in the most awkward of times, trying to fit in other people's conversation or trying to keep up with an inside joke so hard that I murder it (the bad way), but I felt like I wanted to share my thoughts here in the open. They may be rambly and lack a logical structure, but English is not my first language and I am also already exhausted, two days into this week. I cared enough to participate, write in my free time and enjoy my stay here, even if I too brought some unpleasant moments for being too late with my posting schedule; with all that, I stood by and like I stated months ago, I will stand until this thread will reach its end. My post will be finished tomorrow night.
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