- Joined
- Oct 25, 2004
- Messages
- 3,178
Room mate's buddy stopped by today, 3-year-old daughter in tow. The guy gets on my nerves. I gave him a beer, played host until the room mate was available, and went off to do my own thing - namely, fly.
I'm a bit of a flight sim addict. My poison of choice is Il-2 Sturmovik: Forgotten Battles, with the Pacific Fighters add-on. (If you play WWII flight sims, this one is the best. Bar none.) I fired up my A6M2, got airborne, and prepared to make the Emperor proud. Then Stevie came in.
Stevie is the daughter. I'd been warned in the past that she liked to ask questions. A lot of questions. About everything. Flying a Zeke against marauding Wildcats is not easy - you have the advantage, but a moment's inattentiveness will put you in front of an F4F's guns and a moment is all it takes. When your plane lacks self-sealing fuel tanks and pilot armor, there is no margin for error. Carrier landings are tricky under the best of conditions; with a shot-up plane, they're nearly impossible. Stevie's questions caused me three bailouts in less than an hour.
After settling down, things came together. A pair of F4F's bounced me and my mates were nowhere to be found. I turned the tables and knocked out the oil cooler on one, sending him limping home. A few moments of maneuvering left me on the tail of his wingman, who was running for help. I got in close and began lighting him up. The Wildcat is a tough bird but I've learned where the weak spots are. I put a good burst of 20mm into his engine, knocking it out, then gave him one more in the cockpit for good measure. His carrier was close but he would not be flying home. I disengaged, took care of the first Wildcat, then returned to find him attempting to deadstick it back to his battlegroup. My emotions got the better of me. I gave him another long burst and blew his tail off. I looped up, dove down, and shot him out of his 'chute as he bailed.
"What did you do?" asked Stevie.
"I shot him down," I said.
"What was that that came out of his plane?" she asked.
"The pilot. The man flying it. His plane couldn't fly so he jumped out."
"And you shot him too?" she asked.
"Well...err...yeah."
"Why?"
"Because his ships are just over there. If he made it to the water, his ships would pick him up and I would have to fight him again later."
"Why are you fighting him?" she asked.
I had to think about that for a moment. Stevie knew that it was a game, but I had to phrase this in terms appropriate for a three year old.
"Because his army and my army are fighting. My army's planes have to go do something. I have to protect them so that they can get there. The other army's planes are trying to stop them."
"Why don't you join a different army?" asked Stevie.
"Because I'm flying for this one," I said, a little annoyed. "I'll fly for another tomorrow. It's a game."
"What are your planes going to do?" she asked.
"Bomb an aircraft carrier," I answered.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because it has airplanes that will bomb my aircraft carrier unless we sink it."
"Why don't you leave your aircraft carrier?" she asked.
"Because if I leave, no one will protect it."
"What if you leave your aircraft carrier and they leave their aircraft carrier...then no one will have to sink any aircraft carriers, will they?" said Stevie.
I didn't have a good answer to that. At least, not one that would make sense to Stevie. Or maybe I didn't want to hear her response to it. Now that I think about it, I should've told her that the game wouldn't be any fun that way but I never think of the proper responses at the proper times.
I shut the game down and don't have the stomach to play it anymore tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
She asked what I did for a living. I made something up. No sense in getting myself worked up when I'm trying to relax.
I asked the guy not to bring his daughter over any more...we don't get along. He understood.
I'm a bit of a flight sim addict. My poison of choice is Il-2 Sturmovik: Forgotten Battles, with the Pacific Fighters add-on. (If you play WWII flight sims, this one is the best. Bar none.) I fired up my A6M2, got airborne, and prepared to make the Emperor proud. Then Stevie came in.
Stevie is the daughter. I'd been warned in the past that she liked to ask questions. A lot of questions. About everything. Flying a Zeke against marauding Wildcats is not easy - you have the advantage, but a moment's inattentiveness will put you in front of an F4F's guns and a moment is all it takes. When your plane lacks self-sealing fuel tanks and pilot armor, there is no margin for error. Carrier landings are tricky under the best of conditions; with a shot-up plane, they're nearly impossible. Stevie's questions caused me three bailouts in less than an hour.
After settling down, things came together. A pair of F4F's bounced me and my mates were nowhere to be found. I turned the tables and knocked out the oil cooler on one, sending him limping home. A few moments of maneuvering left me on the tail of his wingman, who was running for help. I got in close and began lighting him up. The Wildcat is a tough bird but I've learned where the weak spots are. I put a good burst of 20mm into his engine, knocking it out, then gave him one more in the cockpit for good measure. His carrier was close but he would not be flying home. I disengaged, took care of the first Wildcat, then returned to find him attempting to deadstick it back to his battlegroup. My emotions got the better of me. I gave him another long burst and blew his tail off. I looped up, dove down, and shot him out of his 'chute as he bailed.
"What did you do?" asked Stevie.
"I shot him down," I said.
"What was that that came out of his plane?" she asked.
"The pilot. The man flying it. His plane couldn't fly so he jumped out."
"And you shot him too?" she asked.
"Well...err...yeah."
"Why?"
"Because his ships are just over there. If he made it to the water, his ships would pick him up and I would have to fight him again later."
"Why are you fighting him?" she asked.
I had to think about that for a moment. Stevie knew that it was a game, but I had to phrase this in terms appropriate for a three year old.
"Because his army and my army are fighting. My army's planes have to go do something. I have to protect them so that they can get there. The other army's planes are trying to stop them."
"Why don't you join a different army?" asked Stevie.
"Because I'm flying for this one," I said, a little annoyed. "I'll fly for another tomorrow. It's a game."
"What are your planes going to do?" she asked.
"Bomb an aircraft carrier," I answered.
"Why?" she asked.
"Because it has airplanes that will bomb my aircraft carrier unless we sink it."
"Why don't you leave your aircraft carrier?" she asked.
"Because if I leave, no one will protect it."
"What if you leave your aircraft carrier and they leave their aircraft carrier...then no one will have to sink any aircraft carriers, will they?" said Stevie.
I didn't have a good answer to that. At least, not one that would make sense to Stevie. Or maybe I didn't want to hear her response to it. Now that I think about it, I should've told her that the game wouldn't be any fun that way but I never think of the proper responses at the proper times.
I shut the game down and don't have the stomach to play it anymore tonight. Maybe tomorrow.
She asked what I did for a living. I made something up. No sense in getting myself worked up when I'm trying to relax.
I asked the guy not to bring his daughter over any more...we don't get along. He understood.
