/gerg/ - Giant Extreme Robots General

Its going to be another ruined thread because of Vass' constant old meme shitposting

It is

Also

No shitposting below this post

Was Kaelus "Gaylust" of Kong the first true klord?

Taylor Swift
more like
Taylor Shit

speaking of which
Has anyone put "TSWIFT" on their mech with the new decals?

(You)
I did my man

Robots.

B_I_G_M_A_N_S
Happening

...

>yfw that picture is almost 4 years old.

Play with the Devs session is in progress on the StompyBot Twitch channel, apparently the last one before the Steam early access release.

>heavy gear releasing on steam.

Do you think it will manage 2x MWO's players, or 4x?

>super fucking niche, even more than BT games
>not F2P

>now watching: 2

eyy lamo

Honestly it's good that it isn't. One and done purchase titles usually have more longevity since it'll have dedicated private servers when the game is finished. F2P only last as long as the devs keep their servers up.

gotta go moderately quickly

I wouldn't have even looked at it had it been F2P.

>that build

what is this 2012 Leimrey?

>event starts
>Heavy Mechs jump from 33% to 53% instantly
>Lights go from 22% to 8%

I should have expected this.

Actually no you shouldn't have, because you need to play lights or mediums for one of the goals.

One would think but that is not the reality.

>tfw intentionally taking long range laser fire to farm protected medium

>tfw no dire battlemechs.

The weapon effects look cool but the extreme mobility is a bit offputting. Even super fast tracks shouldn't be zooming that fast over marshes and similar terrain.

Is the original Mechwarrior worth playing?

Should I skip straight to 2?

Play the japanese version of the first, or skip it entirely and go straight to MW3.

You should honestly skip straight to 3 and 4. Everything but the soundtrack from 1 or 2 is going to hard to be deal with it due to it's age.

If you want old timey mech games, mechcommander 1 and 2 are still quite playable, but are a completely different sort of game.

The opening alone is worth it.

youtube.com/watch?v=mMlJQ0G3zk4

>mfw reading the latest Christ Roberts wall of text.

>not on mumble to discuss SC memes
rip

...

Some of that will be mitigated when the Gear weights and performance parameters are implemented to account for the differences in weight of the parts and the power produced by the various engine and component combinations.

defensive line seems like the hardest one to get in soloq

Also in large part the jump jets are primarily driving the high speeds seen in SMS mode at the moment, since they can accelerate the Gear quickly and sustain the speed for further jump jet boosts.

>hunt down a kmdd of this insanely fast survivability turboquirked faggot of a fucking mech with a kmdd
I hate these "kmdd this specific mech" goals so fucking much, eat a goddamn cock lamebacker coward shitstains and 1v1 me already instead of running away like a fucking cunt every goddamn time

It was a quiet night, as they usually were, deep in the hold of the KISS Circumflex Accent. Recently distracted from a tryst with his girlfriend, Greg lay in his bunk gathering his thoughts. Hands behind his head, looking up at the bunk overhead, he released an exasperated sigh. Not an hour earlier his 230 year old girlfriend had given him a peck on the cheek as she flitted through his dorm's door, not to be seen for at least another week. His thoughts were getting the best of him, his turgid ego beginning to realize itself once more. Before he could regain his attention the door swung open, slamming against the metal wall with a loud bang. Pants down, Greg jumped to attention in conjunction with his own smaller member standing too. "At ease mechwarrior," Commander Harabec said as he entered the room with a swirl of his wolf's fur cape. "We begin our hunt for the elusive Haruko tomorrow at the break of noon so you had best your war-face ready." Greg gulped in anticipation; Haruko, the rogue cycler that abandoned the old ways of Kong to forge a new path into her own future apart from the rest of the Corporation. Catching himself, Greg pulled his pants up and walked out into the corridor. Posters of muscle girls lined the walls, as did wolf girls and other myriad of designated waifus for each respective Konglet. Except for Greg, his MIO poster torn down in disgrace after discovery of his 3DGF. That was neither here nor there anymore, the hunt was to begin anew tomorrow. Planning needed to be done. Straightening his belt he went down the corridor to the Military Intelligence officer's command, headed by the aloof Lt. Damien Botte, or colloquially, Dudebutt. Greg, realizing he had forgot to put his boots on looked back to his room, only to find Commander Harabec staring him down; so with cold feet, he resumed toward his destination.

His teeth rattled as the cockpit jolted from impact, the squealing of metal was only overpowered by the squeal emitted from his own gaping maw. The Raptor was loose at last. Greg pivoted the torso of his Orion-M as SRM's hammered into its gigantic side torso. He knew well that the armor was holding fast, but only just, and that a decisive action needed to be taken soon. Now was his moment, now was the time for him to seek glory in the pages of Kong's Lore Fanfics. The right arm of his orion swung down, crashing into the cockpit of the madcat he had been face-hugging, batting the mech clean of its feet, crashing headlong into the row of buildings along the corresponding city street, a plume of smoke and dust blocking Greg's vision. Thermal vision engaged, he saw a massive leak emitting from the mech's side torso. A thru-armor crit must have occurred during the last instance. Feeling victory in sight he screeched and alpha-struck the downed mech with his combination of short-range-missiles and his LBX-10 and cackled with delight. Victory was now his, he could feel it. He spun gleefully in a circle, losing track of his surroundings, playing his discordant voice over loud speakers for all to hear. From behind the very building he had ambushed the madcat outstepped an enemy Linebacker, its hunched statue making the omnimech blend into the skyline and not sticking out in Greg's peripheral vision. His ecstatic victory screech was short lived as the Linebacker tore into his weakened side torso and blew out his XL engine. He shrieked in horror as his mech came crashing down. Over Kong's radio, amidst the panicked chatter of the disorganized unit, came the telltale voice of his sworn enemy, King Philip of Gonk who smugly commented, "Way to put an XL in your onion, fag." Mocking voices chimed in, laughing at the distraught would-be hero.

Some say Greg's scream can be heard to this very day.

the fuck do those even mean?

They are numbers that indicate the position of your progress at the current time.

>tearing down the poster of best girl
who would do such a terrible thing

He continued down the corridor, reflecting on his last encounter with Haruko. She had always had it out for Greg, at least as far as he was concerned. All he had ever given her was an opening for friendship and a couple harmless dickpics. He couldn't quite understand what her hang up was with him. She had been screaming on him for about an hour, so about as long as she usually did, calling him a dumb faggot and trying to kick him in the dick after he had, as he usually was known, losing track of his situational awareness during battle. The costs of repairing and rearming his mech was stacking up and Haruko had, for about the thirtieth time, grown sick of his shit. Not opening his mouth Greg had taken the punishment at the expense of being called a pussy by everyone else, and Haruko had stormed off in a huff, not to be seen again. An escape pod had jettisoned from the ship, and the sensors had picked up a figure thrashing around in the port window of it. All for a damned Dragon-1N. As he tread the hallways he went through the mess hall only to witness several konglets throwing pies at one another, with another off masturbating in a corner of the room at the spectacle. He stopped and stared for a moment before resuming his journey to the Intelligence wing of the ship. Arriving finally, Dudebot stood over a massive map being displayed on a large screen on the table in front of him. It was a map of a city by a river. One of seemingly endless cities by rivers that Kong had found themselves fighting in to secure over the past four years of their contract. CONT

"Haruko is believed to be somewhere in this city," he began, "and we are dispatching a lance down there to find her. You may find it odd that we're dispatching a lance, but last week her Panther had gone missing and we suspect that she had somehow come back aboard the ship just to steal it from us. This we cannot allow as we were planning on selling that piece of shit and forwarding the profits for the next sale on the black market." Greg nodded dumbly. "Good," Dudebot said, "we're sending you down with three other konglets, ones you know very well. Kakos Kaelus Krimean Kassius Klay Kokos Kolos, The Not Actual-Commander Kit, and the Shoebox. You four are supposed to be planetside after you wake up at noon, so try your best to be in the dropship or else we'll leave you up here and give you wet willies and swirlies for the rest of the day. Buckle up, faggot, dismissed." Greg wasn't entirely thrilled with whom he was being sent planetside with, but beggars can't be choosers as his girlfriend was well aware. Knowing he had less than 18 hours until he left for a mission he wouldn't potentially return from, as any Konglet knew since the Corporation's death rate was ridiculously high, he stuck his hands down his pants and began preparing himself for some alone-time as he went back to his room.

"She packed my bags, pre-flight. Zero hour, 12 PM Noo-" "Fuck off, Dashing." "Oops, sorry guys. Let's get going with the countdown then." Greg sat swaddled in his cooling vest flicked affectionately at the bobble-headed coconut monkey on the dashboard high in his Orion-M. "Ten." Greg made sure the straps in his seat were secure. "Nine." He took out a flask and took a sip. Eight. He realized someone had swapped the tang in his flask with something alcoholic. "Seven." He tugged anxiously at his crotch, trying to get his sweaty nuts off the inside of his leg. "Fuck it just go." Wait wha- The dropship heaved as the Circumflex Accent ejected the carryall out of its bowels like a celestial shit and it began its downward spiral planetside. "Okay shitters let's try a mic-check," Kakos said. "Check," said Kit. "Check," said Shoebox's text to speech program. "Check," said Greg. "Greg, check your mic." "Check," Greg said, flicking his microphone up and down on its swivel. "Can you hear me? Hello?" This went on for several minutes. Greg's impatience flared and he began yelling into the mic about taking his shit and going back up to the ship. "Sorry, Greg, had you muted," Kakos said in his thick accent, "Anyways we need to go down to this riverside city and look for Horko, so don't be a useless fag about it." Greg's bowels clenched, it was always the descent going planetside that always had his insides in a fuss. The pressure suddenly relaxed, and klaxons began to sound. "Okay faggots let's get going." The bottom dropped out one last time, and with a heaving lurch Greg looked up to find the sunrise coming up over a sparkling white city less than a mile ahead.

i hope you realize that other generals make fun of us.

Are all kongoloids this autistic?

Yes, and your point?
Pretty much, yeah.

Sounds comfy.

Old Kong was filled with Veeky Forums drawfags and writefags.

>tfw artemis lrm whopping 20 is viable
What a time to be alive

I think the spread and cooldown reductions finally bumped the weapon up just enough, that it reaches the threshold of critical mass where nothing in the game can facetank it when you boat multiple launchers and fire with your own lock and tag. I am become lurm assault, destroyer of barn doors.

Gorilla arms pitching upward and downward, his Orion-M swaggered to the city's edge close behind Kakos and the rest. Kit found it best to take point in her machinegun, PPC, large laser catapult K2, despite the Shoebox's requests to do so in his Cicada. Kakos lead the lance in his recently liberated Kodiak-3, ambling up closely to the city limits. A man's voice hailed them, "Attention, Mechwarriors, you are in clear violation of this planet's sovereignty and this city's laws. Please take your battlemechs elsewhere or else the authorities will be notified." "Too bad for you guys," Kakos slurred, "we don't give a shit and we think somebody with mechs of their own are in there." "You can't do this!" the voice declared. The broadcast was cut off as Kakos muted them and the lance proceeded into the city. "Radar contact, one kilometer," typed Shoebox. They went down the city's main avenue, cars blaring and swerving out of their way, steps fracturing the concrete and asphalt underneath each mech's respective immense weights. "Two more contacts." A projectile zipped past Greg's cockpit, slamming into the building immediately to his left. "Contacts, right," said Kakos. Greg swiveled right to see a jump sniping Night Gyr falling back down behind a nearby skyscraper. Kit had backed into a building, collapsing on to her catapult, pinning it to the ground. "Shit fucking dick nipples" she grunted as she ineffectively yanked the throttle back and forth. The jump jets did little but poot the catapult along the ground, grinding metal and sending sparks in every direction. "Way to suck guys," said Kakos. The claws on his Kodiak sprung out from its knuckles as rounded the corner to the enemy Night Gyr. Autocannon fire ripped into the would-be jump sniper as it pitched to-and-fro in an attempt to spread the damage over its surface.

"Fucking thanks PGI," yelled Kakos as all four of his auto-cannons jammed simultaneously. Greg rounded the corner just in time to deliver a payload of brawling science right up the Night Gyr's buttocks, blowing the left leg clean off below the knee and sending the left are flying wide as the gauss rifle exploded within. Kakos was swearing to PGI again, his elusive deity that Greg knew little about. Of course, Greg readily admitted when he was ignorant with things, and he often found himself ignorant of lots of things. One friendly was down, as was one enemy. Shoebox had said there were two more detected, though at this point everyone had no idea what they were, or even where they were now. "They must have ECM," typed Shoebox, "I lost contact with the other two." "I hate my team," Kakos muttered under his breath. Onward and inward into the city they went, leaving Kit behind to fend for herself. They were coming back for the catapult for salvage, without a doubt, but right now whether they came back for her was a completely different story at this point. Kakos had taken several shots to a side torso, but both Shoebox and Greg were garden fresh. Under Kakos' orders they set radars to passive, barring Shoebox, who had brought along electronic-countermeasures of his own to ensure at least some disgression. Greg switched to private chat and began talking to Shoebox, who would slowly respond in his own text-to-speech on Greg's heads-up-display. Kakos dourly brooded as he lead the remaining elements of his lance deeper into the city.

>It's shit like this that makes me want to play with kong

then do it faggot, the mumble is right there

you mean discord?

(You) (You) (You)
Sorry, my mistake. You definitely meant Discord

>he fell for the mumble and discord memes.
>not joining the skype group.

Is there seriously a mandatory tutorial now?

Let me guess, too many people abusing the free cadet bonus and not paying shekels?

you get like a million cbills from it in addition to the cadet bonus. it's just there to show complete newbies how to play the game without immediately quitting because of the game's extremely high new player turnover rate.

well I'm just going to be griefing after a long hiatus, I'm still sour about this game and I expect others to suffer for it.

They were officially making their way downtown, walking fast as civilians ran past, perhaps homebound. It was roughly an hour into the operation, their inward advance had been largely unopposed since they had clashed with the jump-sniper earlier. The shoebox looked hither and thither as they came upon a massive intersection. "What do you think, guys?" typed the Shoebox. Greg said, "I say we go right." "Then we go left," said Kakos as his kodiak lurched on to the southbound lane. They quietly followed suit. The Shoebox floored the throttle and zipped ahead to scout, the cicada lithely moving to and fro between abandoned cars and the like as it went down the avenue. Yellow lights flashed in the cockpit, Greg screeched "Guys! Locks on me!" Greg pitched his Orion forward and began to turn round as nothing was ahead. The Shoebox spun his cicada around on a dime and flitted between buildings, activating the ECM to disrupt and went out several hundred meters ahead of Greg and two blips appeared on his radar. Greg threw his throttle forward in an attempt to get out of the open as SRM's saturated the avenue. Kakos had already removed himself from harm's way and was shouting orders to no one. The Shoebox was finally close enough to their assailants and due to his advanced radar systems they discovered their enemies. One Atlas-D-DC, and a Stalker. "The Atlas!" Shoebox typed, "It has red glowing eyes!"

No.

Some things are best enjoyed from a distance. I know actually interacting with this spergs will never be as enjoyable as looking on.

good choice these faggots are insufferable

Greg couldn't believe what he was reading. An Atlas with red glowing eyes? Impossible, such a thing was lostech. It was something from another time, from a better time. The Stalker appeared on his head's up display. It was armed with six particle projector cannons. Had he gone back in time? He shook his head, blinking his eyes looking at the screen. None of this should be right. An high pitched frequency was emitted from the Shoebox as those PPC's hammered into its tiny arm, blowing the component clean off. The ECM was scrambled from the electromagnetic disturbances and the two blips on Greg's radar disappeared. Kakos had seen the same, and Greg had realized that Kakos had been talking to him this entire time. "It's fucking Norris and Leimrey. It has to be. We need to show these two shitters how the meta has changed." Greg nodded to no one before realizing he needed to audibly confirm Kakos' suspicions. A blip on the radar appeared behind them, southward bound, another Atlas was approaching their position, a voice went over their radios, "Prepare to get zekht." Holy shit, Greg hadn't signed up for this. He had suddenly found himself back in time, armpit deep in the throes of the Norris Heresy before the second Great Schism of Kong. "Kakos we need to call for help. We need more people!" Greg begged. Kakos laughed, ever the defeatist, "It's too late, we're fucked." Greg screamed in futility as he turned about-face to alpha strike the approaching Atlas. Missiles away, LBX-10 firing in quick succession from his qwerks, he poured into the advancing wall of metal. Kakos, for once, followed suit, emptying his auto-cannons into the open target.

>you get like a million cbills
more like 6 million if you complete everything

>well I'm just going to be griefing
enjoy triggering the automated system

Barely over two hours.

>enjoy triggering the automated system

how automated is the automated system

I could tk or leg people for hours straight last time I did this

The Kerensky holo remains the crown jewel of minimally viable products, and is proof of PGI's mastery of this contemporary art form.

It's been adjusted to account for faggots, so doing team damage invokes a wait timer before you're allowed to drop. You're not gonna have a lot of fun trying to piss off the old men, and we have better weapons for this, anyway, like moving into their line of fire, thus cursing them with the wait timer, insulting them directly over voice chat, and spamming the command wheel.

Component destructions are my weakness. I'm going to need to stick to missile boats for those.

oh I was hoping it was just for TKs, I legged a couple guys and blew off an arm and nothing happened, I figured it'd be an autokick/ban or something.

>teammates are twice as useless since the LRM changes

>20 min wait time

man good thing it takes like 30 sec to make a new account

Do you have nothing better in your life?

...

I can't remember what my original accounts were and I'm still mad about MWO being MWO, so I'ma grief.

>I can't remember what my original accounts were

Maybe if you could remember to take your alzheimer medication, gramps...

it's hard tho

Even though I share your sentiment, there are much better things to do considering how small this community is.

If you really want to grief people in long term, just do what I do and boat LRMs until people quit the game in disgust organically

"We're not fucked," Greg yelled over his weapon fire, "The Kodiak-3 is the best mech in the entire galaxy! It's got to be worth at least two D-DC's." Maybe. At least until something happened to make the clan ultra-autocannons jam more. The techs in Kong's hangars haven't figured that out yet. Greg realized his heat was spiking, but he could manage. He fired once more into the Atlas, metal screaming, it finally heaved forward onto the ground, a mangled sparking and smoking mess of yesteryear, settling into a crater from impact in the avenue destroyed. His ammunition was still fine, his armor was still holding, but the D-DC had been intent on his demise, for some reason either not acknowledging or was simply completely unaware of the Kodiak unloading into it. Shoebox had rounded back to them through the city blocks, the side smoking from the PPC impact. "We need to get out of here," he typed, "we're out-tonned and out-gunned." Greg backed his Orion up as close as he could to the side of the skyscraper he was taking cover behind, thinking. Something needed to be done, as it goes, this was a 'clutch or kick' moment and he'd be damned if he didn't succeed. He didn't much care to be kicked either. This was his moment, Shoebox and Kakos be damned, he was the one that would get Haruko back if it was the last thing he'd ever do. Blips on the radar. The D-DC and Stalker were advancing. "Get out of here Stalker!" Shoebox typed over his loudspeakers. A gigantic fist punched through the skyscraper, fingers reaching out and raking into Greg's backside. He lurched forward out of its grasp and turned about-face and began backing away from the detritus of rubble from skyscraper's base. Even footing was important, after all.

>not boating lurms, spamming command wheel, taking drop command and claiming you're the captain, walking in the way of other old men's fire, and blocking them from moving properly.
>star lord's face when he has to wait 2 more minutes before each drop thanks to excessive team damage on 'the captain,' and accidental teamkills.

It's like you guys don't even know how to trigger them properly.

The Stalker had rounded the corner and in one flash second Kakos had lost a side torso, who began swearing loudly. Greg watched as Kakos charged the stalker, claws springing out and the heavy fist crashing down into the cockpit of the battledildo. It rocked down, the legs buckled, the PPC's fired again, but point blank did little more than scratch Kakos' paintjob. Greg looked back to find the fist in the building gone, he saw that Shoebox was nowhere to be seen, and as he went forward around the building he bumped right into a gigantic Atlas, with eyes glowing like the fiery depths of hell, piercing right through his cockpit and staring straight into Greg's own eyes. Greg screeched as he fired everything he had into the front of the Atlas, who did the same. He watched in horror as the paperdoll of his mech was without armor, and his internal damage was nearing critical condition. He began frantically backing up and firing indiscriminately into the charging assault mech. His mech reached its threshold. Overheating it shut down, Greg looked helplessly into the face of his demise. "You should have fired a coolant shot retard," Kakos yelled as he began firing his remaining weapons into the enemy mech. Greg ree'd as he saw the atlas turn away and begin to further strip the components from Kakos, not realizing that he had another problem coming from behind. The Shoebox, who had largely been aloof from this engagement, came from behind and emptied its lasers right into the backside of the enraged mech. The arms swung about, the mech lumbered in futility to screen the damage, but as Greg turned back on and fired one last alpha into the monster. The legs shuddered, the engine now gone, and the mech pitched backwards into the very building mech had hidden behind not a moment earlier. The building toppled down onto the Atlas, leaving any chance of capturing the enemy pilot a very slim to none chance.

I wish I had a counter of how many times molasses swapping up the premads ended up in pure salt

The fight was over, and beyond the Shoebox who had been largely ignored, both Greg and Kakos were in poor condition to continue the mission. They had found themselves at an impasse, and Kakos, known for his sound judgment, said "let's keep going assholes." They turned their radars back on and the Shoebox tried to boost his BAP to the furthest extent he could. A beacon was detected near the heart of the city. "PUSSY SHITS," the beacon read. Greg had a bad feeling deep down in his brain's heart. The time was roughly late afternoon, Greg wasn't entirely sure what time it was as he had taken the alarm clock out and replaced it with a gigantic air horn after the nicknamed 'Boogeyman' had done it a few months earlier. He suddenly found himself tempted to sound them off, but the rule was only to do so after a kill, and since he had forgot to do it after his destroying the Atlas, he - in profound clarity and self awareness - to found it in poor taste to sound it now for no reason. Two kilometers out, PUSSY SHITS awaited them, and forward they trudged, sparking and smoking, deeper into the city. One kilometer out a message appeared on Greg's head's up display, "FUCK OFF GREG." He now knew their quarry was ahead, the missing konglet Haruko was soon to be apprehended and dealt with in true Kong justice. They had found themselves following a plume of smoke for several blocks in the direction of their beacon, and as they rounded the last corner they had found a sassy colored Panther, legs blown out, laying on its side with a small figure sitting on top of it with its arms crossed. "Haruko you shitter come over here so we can leave," boomed Kakos over his loudspeaker. Greg approached and lowered the gorilla arm of his Orion-M, the laser barrel pointing directly at the small, tenacious woman. "We're leaving now," he said, uncharacteristically masculine.

Is Greg a worse cancer than Kaelus?

I AM GROWING STRONGER

Tell me about Kaelus, why does he use the Discord?

I'm a bad person.

If I MAC address him from wikipedia will he die?

The Shoebox sidled alongside the wrecked panther and crouched, a small top-hatch opening. Begrudgingly, Haruko climbed inside. It sat there unmoving for several moments. "She had blown her legs out after she missed a jump from a rooftop," Shoebox typed, "she's mad." Kakos sounded his warhorn and radioed in to the KISS Circumflex Accent. It was time to leave. At the city's outskirts they met with the dropship and after loading back up began their ascent back into their capital ship. In the mechbay, Haruko was met by several Kong security officers lead by a recently demoted Pizzadog, and was escorted deep into the ship's brig. Commander Harabec approached the pilots, taking in the sight. Kakos stormed off to the cantina to drown his woes, and Shoebox had gone off for some upgrades to the toaster he kept in his room as it was underperforming lately with the high quality grain breads he was trying to force into it. Greg looked past Harabec to see several Konglets conversing and watching the defeated Haruko sulk away. "She looks like she's pretty fucking fucked," Dashing said in his dumbass drawl as he adjusted his cowboy hat. "Shuddup Dashing," said Boogeyman. The Heavy Brothers, Whispers and Shaix, in their handsome visages, said as usual, very little. "What's going to be done about Haruko?" asked Greg. "She'll be rehabilitated," Harabec started, looking back at the procession, "we'll try to do what we can. She's flirted with the Devil. Norris and his old guard sewing all sorts of discord into the poor woman's soul. We'll try." He slowly shook his head and adjusted his wolf cape. Greg found himself alone in the mechbay. Casting one last glance upward to his Orion-M, worn and beaten, he smiled. He finally got to piss off Haruko for real and get away with it since he was part of the rescue team. His hand dove into his pants. He had about a day until his next assignment, he intended to use it. Later that day he sat up mid-stroke, "Oh shit we forgot about Kit!"