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You see, comrades, this is why you should have comrade cosmonaut jump out of capsule before it hits the ground!

Also, need better survival gear. Shark repellent, perhaps?

[makes note that comrade cosmonauts need to have gun, for to fight off wolves and Bragulans in the event that their capsule does not land where planned]

Simon_Jester wrote:You see, comrades, this is why you should have comrade cosmonaut jump out of capsule before it hits the ground!

Also, need better survival gear. Shark repellent, perhaps?

[makes note that comrade cosmonauts need to have gun, for to fight off wolves and Bragulans in the event that their capsule does not land where planned]

Comrade, you mean Zenobians don't carry guns at all times? What a country! We Boratistanis always carry a gun!

Murcan default policy is gun control on space capsules. Zenobian default policy, is, we take your gun away. Then we issue you new one for space capsule, complete with attached machete and double-barreled shotgunnage, da?

Of course we practice gun control in our space capsules! If you don't control recoil adequately you could hurt yourself, especially in zero-gee. Damn commienists.

[Briefs Comrade Syeriy on specialized, classified reasons for cosmonaut guns]

What? Ohhhhhhhhhh. Really? With bears? Can they be on fire?

Bears are the unclassified reason.

The classified reason is classified.

I thought we only got them because the cosmonauts insisted that chick dig the*BLAM* Nothing to see here, move along...

I thought they were for the time when Zenobia shoots hundreds of Vostoks at Washingtoff and then their crews oh wait who are you no please no comrades!

*BLAM*

You're both totally wrong, and the commissar has been good enough to administer field punishment for cataclysmic wrongness- shooting in nonlethal area!

Punishment for cataclysmic rightness in guessing classified information, worse is!

ChaserGrey wrote:I thought we only got them because the cosmonauts insisted that chick dig the*BLAM* Nothing to see here, move along...

No, seriously. This actually became an issue during the Voskhod 2 mission:

The two crewmembers subsequently experienced difficulty in sealing the hatch properly, followed by a troublesome re-entry in which malfunction of the automatic landing system forced the use of its manual backup.[3] The spacecraft was so cramped that the two cosmonauts, both wearing spacesuits, could not return to their seats to restore the ship's center of gravity for 46 seconds after orienting the ship for reentry[2]:457-459 and a landing near Perm. The orbital module did not properly disconnect from the landing module, causing the spacecraft to spin wildly until the modules disconnected at 100 km.[3]

The delay of 46 seconds caused the spacecraft to land 386 km from the intended landing zone in an inhospitable part of the Ural Mountains, in Siberia. Although mission control had no idea where the spacecraft had landed or whether Leonov and Belyayev had survived, their families were told that they were resting after having been recovered. The two men were both familiar with the harsh climate and knew that bears and wolves, made aggressive by mating season, lived in the taiga; the spacecraft carried a pistol and "plenty of ammunition". Although aircraft quickly located the cosmonauts, the area was so heavily forested that helicopters could not land. Night arrived, the temperature fell to below -22 degrees Fahrenheit, and the spacecraft's hatch had been blown open by explosive bolts. Leonov and Belyayev had to strip naked, wring out the sweat from their underwear, and redon it and the inner linings of their spacesuits to stay warm. A rescue party arrived on skis the next day with food and hot water, and chopped wood for a fire and a log cabin. After a more comfortable second night in the forest, the cosmonauts skied to a waiting helicopter several kilometers away and flew to Perm, then Baikonur.[2]:457-459[3]

For the Soviet land-based capsule recovery scheme, equipment to survive in the wildnerness was as important as flotation devices for the Americans.


Also, this comic. Man.

*reloads pistol*

I never thought I'd use that on the GM.

Let that be a lesson, Comrade! No one is above suspicion!

Somewhere over the Soviet Union Zenobia, Svetmaya Surnameova was skydiving. Off a high-altitude balloon. For...science...or testing parachutes...or something. Maybe just killing some time in a really exciting way until she was called to a higher purpose (pun intended).
Spoiler

For Mayabird: Spoiler

a-HA!

I have completed some trials, and it appears that I might be able to retroactively change the astronaut level, so that I'll be able to actually receive compatibility information about the astronauts.

I am the greatest!

EDIT: Ho ho ho! It appears Nikov and Faabio do in fact hate each other's guts.

I would never be able to tell from their season-to-season mood decreases...

Baikonurek, Boratistan
Zenobian Onion
Some time in the past

The bag was pulled off Grigorij Saakashvilli's head with great force, to the point that the movement caused a non-insignificant amount of pain.

"Are you him?", a man asked. Grigorij couldn't see the face, only a vague outline, due to the incredibly powerful lamp that was being directed straight at his eyes.

"Wha-?", he tried to ask, but the response was quick and most painful.

"We're the ones asking the questions here! Answer now, and truthfully: ARE YOU HIM?!"

"I don't know!"

Grigorij felt somebody grab his left hand, stuff several pencils between the fingers and squeeze very tightly. His world exploded in pain.

"Don't play smart with us, comrade John Stevens! We know you are a COLON spy!"

"A what? Why would I spy on colons? Don't you mean proctologi-", again Grigorij learned that he wasn't the one who was supposed to ask the questions, as a wooden baton struck his shin.

"I'M JUST THE SENIOR PSYCHOLOGIST AT BAIKONUREK, OKAY?! WHAT DO YOU WANT WITH ME?!", he yelled at his captors. He couldn't remember the last few hours, how he got here or who his captors were.

"So you deny being an ASS TURD?"

"What is it with you people and excrement?!"

A smack, and an explosions of stars marked another strike, this time directly on the face.

"He won't break, comrade comissar!", one of the mysterious men reported, "The Murcans had trained him well!"

"Let's see how he sings after a couple months at Khylima, shall we? Draft me the paperwork!"

----------------------------------

Baikonurek, Zenobia
Spring 1964

Doctor Grigorij Saakashvili walked through the gate of the cosmodrome. Though he didn't look like it, he spent the last years in exile, unjustly blamed for sabotage that caused the Vostok gyroscope problem.

Meek and broken by the brutality of the system which tore him away from the exciting job in the space program, only to quietly rehabilitate him because of Syrgy Pavylyvych's interventions at the highest level, the doctor carried himself without great confidence. He wasn't even issued any clothing other than what he wore at Khylima. He still wore his coveralls and an old Red Army tanksman helmet, refurbished with an inner fur liner.

However, as the broken man walked through the streets of Baikonurek, seeing all the new structures and bustling activity, he was slowly regaining his former humor and good attitude that made him so liked by the crew.



Yes...despite the ordeal of the last few years, there was no place like home.

---------------------------------------------------------------

Murca
THE CAPE

"So...the fucker demands an office on the top floor, a salary of 45 thousand a year, three assistants and free donuts at the caffeteria? What the hell is this?", Johnny von Braun slammed a fist into his desk, "You were supposed to find us a psychologist, not a verrdamt primadonna!"

"Sir, but that's the problem! No psychologists wants to work in the space program for reasonable rates, at least not after they discover what the astronauts do with all that lubricant...", his assistant whimpered. He was doing the best he could! He really was!

"Oh for...ah, you know what? What-fucking-ever. Tell him he'll get his office and salary, but there's no way he's getting free donuts. We're not Zenobia, let him buy them with his own hard earned taxpayer dollars!"

----------------------------------

Results: Both space programs get their psychologists back!

(IE. I can now tell who's compatible with whom)

EDIT: Hmm yeah it doesn't work that hot (after a turn the save will no longer load for some reason, hmm...still, it's way less fiddling than setting up a crew/moving a turn ahead/deciding whether to redo it or not...

PeZook wrote:EDIT: Ho ho ho! It appears Nikov and Faabio do in fact hate each other's guts.

I would never be able to tell from their season-to-season mood decreases...

You might notice once one of them makes an unscheduled suitless EVA on a 2-man orbit mission...

I knew it!

See? this is why I wanted to break them up and put together some team that didn't hate each other!

The technique I figured out works just fine for fresh new game saves, but for advanced saves it makes it unusueable after a turn is over (the modified save won't load again).

HOWEVER, I can now modify the save, see compatibilities, write them down, restore from backu pand put people together according to notes. Way less fiddly than it used to be. I still hate it, but it's not like you'll have to put crews together all that often

EDIT: Oh, BTW...the failure mode prevention thing?

It works until there actually is a failure.

So, uh, the Murcans still have one failure that can happen to the Mercury with NO CONSEQUENCES WHATSOEVER, since the Kelly flight went so splendidly.

Sorry. It's one of those things that work in a really quirky way and details like that are easy to miss.

Ah, man. Laaame.

Now I want one too!

OOC - Ferfuxsake, third time SHOULD be the charm...

According to TFM, no matter how far the crew relationship(s) deteriorate, professionalism still reigns - no unsuited "emergency" EVA, no shivvage, etc.

Maybe Nikov's getting jealous of Faaabio's full head of hair and previous spaceflight experience?

Johnny looked at Mr Grey whilst packing his bags.

"Sorry Mr Grey, but I'm going to have to leave you in charge for a while. Half of my family seems to have died of some plague back home and I need to go and sort the bastards out. By that I mean I need to find out how to get the most out of the wills. I want that family castle damnit!

Anyway, I'll be back in a few weeks. Good luck and all that jazz."
Spoiler Meanwhile, Colonel Ravensburg was running around the perimeter fence. He'd been running laps for some time now. And he'd be running laps for a long time to come, singing the traditional MAF running song:

"Up in the morning with the rising Sun,
Gonna run all day till the running is done
Shroo-man-ski is a son of a bitch!
Got my wings and a ten year hitch."

Well, f*** m- I mean, I'm honored by your confidence, Director.

PeZook, do you still need the Murcan move or are you up to date? If so I can get to it late tonight or tomorrow.

From the sound of that... Hope it's not too awful, man.

It's "awful" in the sense of wandering around the wet and windy Shropshire hills in macs, with no internet except my phone, and listening to my parents yak on and on. Oh well, thats what music and headphones are for.