File: Perk Tree- Accessories.pdf (11 KB, PDF)

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>>34695482
The first Perk Tree - Accessories. Most of these slightly improve the combat ability of your pieces. At the end of each branch lies a new weapon, and since every branch splits in two twice...

That's 20 different and very useful weapons. The tough part is that you can only buy what you see. You can't use 3 points to suddenly purchase a new gun right away, in case you stockpile them, like you did up to now.

Nevertheless, cumulative upgrades on the STAGE I tree, if combined well, can lead to very overpowered combinations. With unlocked weapons, that is. Applying these accessories to your current weapons will "only" make them much more deadly and accurate.

File: Perk Tree- Weapons & Expl(...).pdf (29 KB, PDF)

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>>34695537
The second Perk Tree - Weapons and Explosives. This tree deals majorly with auxiliary weapons such as mines and grenades. It also features upgrades to the Engineer's rocket launcher. Here, some branches intertwine and give you the option of other weapons, like grenade launchers. You have to buy certain upgrades to unlock that, though.

At the end of each branch are four vehicles, for a grand total of 20. That's quite a bit. Most of them are (significantly) better than what you can get out of STAGE III - but by the time you get them, you might be outmatched already.

Choose your upgrades on this tree wisely. More useful upgrades lead to more conventional vehicles at the end, but less valuable upgrades lead to much better vehicles.

File: Perk Tree - Vehicles.pdf (47 KB, PDF)

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>>34695618
This is what saving the best for last means. The third and final Perk Tree rewards you with the greatest, most noticeable improvements in squad fighting ability - new vehicles.

Keep in mind that if you go for vehicles ASAP, you will end up only getting your upgrades at the end of each Cup, making your choice of Cup in the future much more important. There's only one Cup coming up right now, so nothing's keeping you, but keep it in mind.

Each new tier of vehicles is a definite step up from the last. One could easily say that each next tier of vehicle would have no issues defeating any previous-tier machines. Carefully weigh the advantages and disadvantages of new tactics you will be able to employ and how your purchase will fare against the most likely opponents you will face - after all, most people will beeline through either the Ornithopter of Goodfella tree.

At the end of each branch, a surprise awaits. It's always been something different, so your experience won't help you any in determining what it will be. It was things like artillery support, airstrikes, mortar shelling, orbital scouting and other forms of off-field support two years prior. Last year, it was huge, titanic vehicles.

You wonder what this year has in store for you and the rest of the Operator tribe.

Impetus plz

how many perk points do we have?

>>34695899
[Anything else to go with that? You've got 2 PP left.]

>>34695939
[You have a total of 3 PP to spend. Go wild.]

Closing the interface, and with it, the main source of entertainment in your life, you get up and off the bed. This time, at least, you can have some peace.

The corridors are empty by the time you get through them, but that comes as no surprise. After all, time does not stop while you peruse the upgrades. But the time for worrying about that is over. You have your peace at last, which means a bit of time for reflection.

You could reminisce about the good old days, when you ran roughshod through the battlefield without a care in the world - and somehow, it worked. It all worked out. Even though you were being dumb and whimsical, you were having fun. And you won, whilst having fun. People in the War Palace could see that, and they quickly grew envious and condescending. But they didn't have the last laugh they so wanted. You not only bested them, you bested everyone there.

Good times. Especially the last time you took a flame tank to a rocket fight.

You could, instead, remember the older days, the days of old Babylon. Old New Babylon City, as ironic as that name sounds now, was a different place. It was a real melting pot of cultures, both Ruthenian and Mesopotamian, and the mixture was hazardous indeed. Rampant crime, hard revenge, violence in plain sight. But in spite of that-

No. It was because of that, that people stuck together. Your neighbor was your best friend, and the kid next door would stand up for you if somebody gave you a tough time of it. Everyone knew that crime wasn't a force of nature, it was systematic. People were behind it, and no matter how drunk or how high they got, they were no different from other people. And if they came for your neighbor and nobody stood up for him, that was a sign that your neighborhood would house and feed the sycophants. These parasites. This scum. So people fought back, together, and bonded.

>>34695989
"Nobody remembers old Babylon." That's a saying that has never gone out of style, because no matter how new you are to the city, even a couple of months is enough for it to change completely. It was like a town out of the wild west when you were just 5, then like the New York of old by the time you were 9, with coat-wearing gangsters and drug traffic and neon signs...

Those were the days. Stick around long enough, you'll be an insider one day.

Or you could just walk back home and clear your mind. No need to go through the parks - even these parts of the city, so close to the downtown area, are lush and verdant. It's been a while since you were last free of your worldly worries. Maybe something might dawn on you. Who knows?

>[] 'The fire tank battle in the War Palace was fun. I want to feel that once more.'
>[] 'Nobody remembers old Babylon. But I do.'
>[] 'I want to clear my head. Reflect. It's been a while.'

>>34696043
>[x] 'The fire tank battle in the War Palace was fun. I want to feel that once more.'

W-where is everyone? It's lonely out here..

HE-grenade and extended mag
'I want to clear my head. Reflect. It's been a while.'>>34696043

i too am here fellow anon>34696243

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>34696143
>>34696247
Alright, 20 minutes have passed, so it's time to begin writing!

The olden days have long passed. Now, you must focus on what you have. And what you have is the rest of the day off. Mostly.

The functional, dutiful hallways glide past you as you drop through the empty space devoid of people and through the glass front doors into the sea of greenery. The sun beats down on you, you can feel its warm caress. And just before it starts to really heat up your body, you step into the shade. You take a quick look around: the glassy dome that houses countless millions of Imperial currency in technology and a wide walkway running from the entrance that morphs into a boulevard. Moderately tall buildings, like out of another era, line the trees and grass that line your path forward. Like golden coins, streaks of sunlight pierce through the leaves and dance on the ground. You see them at your feet. You feel them on your face and on your eyes, making the whole world glitter.

It's always like this in Babylon. Looking at buildings all day long can get you down, but no matter where you're going, you can get there through these streams of nature. You hear a rustle nearby and glance aside, to find a small dog running in that skipping manner, a stick in its little jaws. You follow its path with your eyes, and sure enough, there's a little boy and his sister. He's wearing a yellow shirt and beige shorts, while his sister, not two years older than him, has a sundress on her. A little more eye-wandering and you spot their mother and father a ways away, the former resting against the latter's firm shoulder. He has a newspaper in his hands. He pays it no mind, running it over with distracted eyes while he and his wife chirp away about something. Sweet nothings, was that the phrase?

Watching the family is a little slice of heaven.
[Part 1/3]

You think back to your own family. They weren't much. Your parents went away somewhere when you were just 5 - then they didn't return to claim you. You stuck around with Ashley's dad, who had to raise her by yourself, and it wasn't long before you noticed that you became a burden.

Uncle Sam grew more and more weary by the week, and your conscience was eating at you. Ashley noticed it, too, probably earlier than you did. And when she noticed that you realized it as well, she grew cold.

You wanted to get out of that house. By any means.

So you went outside, first often, but soon always. The streets didn't judge you. The dusty 8- and 10-floor housing complexes stood as they always had, preoccupied with just standing there. Just trying to weather the storm. Just trying to keep their shaky footing.

The streets had a strong smell of decay. Not literally, of course. But it was in the air. A sort of quiet despair, a silent acceptance of one's fate. Solemn. So solemn. And you had settled into that pace, when now and again street gangs would yell and holler. You hated them for breaking the silence, by now so comfortable, but knew that it was not for everyone to bear. They couldn't. They had to scream, so long as they had mouths to do it with.

You had a bit of trouble in the streets, once. Once, of course, and then you knew the score. Your bruises and cuts, especially the ones on your face, served as painful reminders that the streets were for the strong. The weak and the lonely had to stay out. Or at least out of sight.

You were oppressed enough at home. You ate and slept there, quietly as you could, and left when you could. Uncle Sam, didn't get it, but Ashley knew. She knew and never stopped you.

However, if you had to hide when outside, if you felt stress in the place you ran away to from stress, what was the point? The gears in your head started working double-time, and later, next day, you overheard something in class.

The library.

>>34697185
The library was there for anyone to visit. At first, you just sat there, but that got real boring real quick. So you did your homework there. But still. it was not enough to waste your whole day. So you started going through the rows of books, the tall shelves baring themselves to your scrutiny.

One book, another. One closed, another. You took them and opened them, then closed and returned them. Many, most didn't catch your eye. A couple of them did. A book with a lot of words, then some kind of formula. Arrows and stuff pointed at the letters and the words below explained them.

It looked like math. You were good at math.

"'Rationality in Macroeconomics'... Well, I don't get it. Might as well."

What followed was indescribable. Everything in there was interesting. Every last thing. You didn't care much for history and you certainly didn't care about flowers and animals - but this! This, you understood. True, after a certain point you began keeping a dictionary by your side full-time, but it was so worth the effort.

After you had read it, you looked for others. Macroeconomics, microeconomics. Economics and everything around it. Finance, too. Statistics, a little. The librarian had to tell you to leave so she could close the place a few times.

Then, one day. Ashley came to get you, for some reason. You don't remember what it was for, since she wouldn't say once you got home, but when she tried to drag you out (you were still in elementary school, that was okay), the librarian stopped her.

"Can't you see he's studying? He's trying to make it for the entrance exams to Markov's School," she had said then.
"What? What the heck's that?" Ashley asked, and you both looked at her with surprise.
"It's a school for gifted children, with a focus in economics."

You made sure to remember that name.

The next day, you asked her all about it. She was surprised that you didn't know, but helped you figure out where the school was.
[Looks like there's a little more.]

>>34697347
yay a little more!!

WE'RE BAAAAAAAAAAAACK!

You got there, though it was pretty far. Behind a tall, black fence and big, foreboding gates, stood a red brick building. Four stories tall. Four entire stories. It was the first school that tall. You were amazed, because the fence seemed to go on forever to the left and the right. The guard let you through, over the speakerphone. Though he gave you the stinkeye when he saw you, you paid it no mind. Some adults did that.

But then you knew why.

Everyone in there was so nicely dressed. You felt incredibly out of place, in the clothes battered by time that you had grown so used to wearing. You knew the procedure, though. You held your chin up high. Not even twenty minutes passed before you found the administrator and asked them all about the entrance exams. They didn't feel like telling you at first, but you wouldn't let up. So they told you the day and time. And to be better dressed.

The next month went by in a flash. Every day you put in the hours to study. Not just leisurely read as you had before, but really study. The librarian helped you. One of the teachers found out, and helped you too. And the other teachers seemed to look at you nicer from then on.

In a month, you aced the exams. You gave out lengthy, exhaustive answers to every free-form question and concise, exact ones to every simple question. The other students were stunned. And not just because you were still in your worn-out clothes. The examinators called other exam-takers over just to listen to you tell them about Adam Smith and mercantilism. And logistics and national strategy. And to paragraph-long quotations from The Capital.

You remember one student clearly. She wore a dark green dress and had long hair. And her examinator, the one that set next to yours, was completely ignoring her. The girl looked rich and very angry. In fact...

She looked jealous.

You always hated the rich.
[Choices next!]

Back home, Uncle Sam looked at you in disbelief when you told him you passed the exams. "The exams to Markov's School of Economics!" you said, desperate to garner excitement for yourself. Excitement and praise. You thought he'd be so proud of you, for making it into a school for the rich, but his mood soured.

He asked you just one thing that day.

"Do you really want to study there?" Uncle Sam asked, looking at his bowl of soup.
"Definitely," you answered instantly. Without even pausing to consider a different answer. Without a drop of hesitation.

Markov's School of Economics was a boarding school. What Uncle Sam had really asked you that day, three months before you left their household for the last time, dawned on you one October afternoon.

"Do you really want to leave?"

That's what he wanted to know. And you didn't even doubt it. Not one bit.

It was a month and a half since you began studying in your new school, and you couldn't have been more excited. You had a uniform, like everybody else. You had the same treatment as everybody else. But you were smarter than everybody else. You thought life would be good.

You couldn't have been more wrong. And you couldn't have noticed the girl from exam day in your class. You couldn't have, because she didn't matter to you. But you mattered to her.

Well, that's enough of a trip down memory lane for today. You look around you, and notice you've almost reached home. A woman walks past you, chattering on her phone.

That's right! Somebody has to take Duva and Darida shopping.
>[] Ashley.
>[] Ayumi.
>[] Ishvara.

>>34697635
oh dear, i dont know anyone. umm ishvara.

>>34697678
What's the matter, Darius? Can't keep track of all the women?

How could you possibly keep a harem?

I'll start writing unless somebody else votes in the next 10 minutes.

>>34697635
Ayu

>>34697635
Ayumi.

She has been mentioned less than anyone else.

>>34697714
>>34697739
Damn, what a landslide win for the underdog. Your agency is my command.

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>>34697752

>>34697765
huh?

>>34697781
my choice got murdered

>>34697803
it was for a good cause.

>>34697803
double-teamed even(should i get a name?)

>>34697635
Why not all there?

I don't suppose we could get an image synopsis of all the waifu candidates someday?

>>34698074
This man raises a very valid point.

>>34698074
You briefly consider calling them all up, but quickly realize that there's zero chance of them all getting along. At least as far as you know.

Whew, dodged a bullet there! Probably!

The best thing to do now is to call up Ayumi.

Goudou might not be very social at a glance, but you know she's a good person at heart. And going shopping with two virginally pure girls should let her relax a bit.

You take out your phone and go through the contacts list, then dial.

"...Yeah? Ayumi?"

"Did you need something, Dari?"

"Yep. I want you to go shopping. With a couple of girls that are completely new in town. They wouldn't know fashion if it hit them in the face, you know?"

"So you want me to babysit them?"

Damn, she catches on quick.

"No, I want you to have fun and bring them along. The day is still young. When was the last time you went out with some friends?"

"Well- It was-" Ayumi starts to trip over herself.

"Exactly!" The situation is exactly as you expected. "So why not wind down a bit today? They're really nice girls, I promise. So? How about it? You know I can't show them lingerie shops."

"Do you honestly think that's what women do together?"

"See? I don't know the first thing! Can you do me this favor?"

You hear a fake sigh, as though Ayumi is just barely convinced. "Fine, but only because you asked nicely."

"See, this is why I love you."

"Wha-"

"Bye!"

Click!

That takes care of that.

You get a couple of groceries and stop by home. Up in your apartment, you make Duva and Darida something to eat, then tell them about Ayumi and to open the door for her. Noticing that Darida is still in her laboratory outfit, you quickly scrounge up some pants and a shirt for her.

They're a little baggy on her, but she pulls it off well. Her thighs are pretty thick, so the pants seem to hang off of them, drawing one's attention to how pronounced they are. Her chest, too, seems to protrude from the billowing folds of your already large shirt. It doesn't accentuate her lithe body, but the outfit can't even come close to hiding her curves. You click your tongue in appreciation.

After a bit of playing couturier, you have a meal with your new cohabitants and step outside.

Just as you're about to call up Evelyn, you get a call from Vasya instead.

"Hey, Darius!" He speaks in a hushed tone, his voice obviously tense. You begin to grow uneasy in turn.

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"No, see, there's this agent- uh, officer here, and-" You almost cringe at Vasya stumbling over his words.

"Alright, listen to me. First, ask his name and rank, they're supposed to tell you th-"

Vasya covers the mic on his phone with his hand and you hear him ask somebody.

"Uh, she says her name is Sari Arraki, and that she's a Major. From the General Branch."

Shit. What'd he get busted for? If it's Major Arraki, this can't be good. You can't just leave him there. There's nothing shameful about running from the Black Wing or their goons, but one of them knows you personally-

"Huh?" You hear Vasya over the phone, this time the sound isn't muffled by his hand. "What? No, it doesn't matter. You don't know him. Yeah, I'm damn sure, Major. Look-"

Maybe there's a chance.

"Hold on! I'll be there in a- The fuck are you, anyway? Address!"

"Right outside Markov's. You know!"

"Fuck you were doing there? Whatever. Wait there!"

You hang up and dash to the place. It's pretty fucking far, but you can definitely make it in 10 minutes' time, if you apply yourself.

You must.

But when you get there, it's not what you expected.

"So you see, we want you two to participate in the tournament on the government's behalf. You won't be required to win, and we'll take care of all the paperwork for your place of study. We'll take care of everything. We just need you to cooperate with us."

"Darius, what is she talking about?" Vasya turns to you. You're still panting and out of breath, having exchanged quick greetings with the Major some minutes ago. "Are you in on this?"

"First time... I've heard... About this..." You answer, your lungs still struggling. You feel like you're gonna fall to your knees and slump on the ground. It sounds pretty tempting, anyway.

"Darius hasn't been notified yet. He's an Operator of his own volition. It was decided that you two should both hear this together."

You look at Vasya.

"Look, man, it's not like it's such a great bother, right? They said they'll take care of it all and-"

"Darius?" Sari asks you.

"Yeah?" You look up at her from under your sweaty brow, hands on your waist.

"Is it fine if I tell him?"

"Yeah, he should know. It'll be some incentive."

Major Arraki turns to Vasya and musters all the formalism she can.

"This is a 'request' directly from the Black Wing, Vasily Nevsky."

"...What." Vasya musters all the cohesive thought he can. Then he looks at you. "Is this true? Dari?"

"Yeah. It's true, all right." You tell him flatly.

Since this is a 'request' from the Imps, and the Black Wing no less, you shudder to think what would happen if he-

"I refuse."

[Thread end! Sorry if it was a little short.

I'll get to work on those questions and making the PDF now. Expect them soon! Maybe I'll even get the first volume of the OST compiled. Just for fun.

Next week's thread will also be on Sunday, but quite a bit earlier. And longer, as a result! See you then!]

ohh it's over so soon?
well dang first thread i got to on time on /tg/

>>34699200
Sorry, they're usually longer than this. Come to next week's thread, I'll show you what I mean.

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We'll hear about Switzerland and Myanmar nwxt thread right?

>>34699425
Yes, Moonrunes-kohai!

You'll probably just hear about them on my ask.fm.