NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: This is open to anyone who wants to post, role-playing their own nations departments, but please, detailed posts, no three-liners.

In the Grand Republican Military, as in all militaries, rivalries between the various branches exist; some are more extreme than others, and many quite petty at time. The Army and Airforce, for example, hate to co-operate after General Dowsing, head of the Republican Army, called the Republican Airforce, described the airforce as, "Nothing better than glorified garage mechanics; they couldn't find Guffingford with a map and a torch, and even then they couldn't hit it." The Republican Airforce responded by calling the Army, "A bunch of over-glorified map-readers who still can't figure out which end of the barrel the bullet comes out of."

Nowhere in the Republican Military, however, are these rivalries more potent, and taken more seriously, than in the departments that purchase the equipment for each branch of the Republican Military. These departments have no real power and do nothing but order equipment and fill in forms all day; as such, to relieve the sheer boredom, each department takes on the identity of the branch it orders for, but takes it to an extreme, and manny say psychotic, level...


Republican Army Ordering Department

As the Army was seen by many as the first line of defense for the Republic, the ordering department for the Republican Army was the largest in the small cluster of buildings, and had the most staff. From the outside of the complex, the building looked like any other type of dull office complex, a dark grey with white-washed walls. However, the inside was much, much different, and unlike any ordering department that ever existed. The entire building was covered in camouflage netting, and several cardboard cut-outs of armed Republican soldiers, XM8s at port-arms, were stood by the door on large pedestals. Inside, between the desks, cubicles and computers patrolled uniformed men who looked, at first glance, to be armed soldiers. However, on closer inspection they were actually camouflaged office workers holding water-pistols and super-soakers, their faces grim and determined.

Several 'Guard-towers' had been built from spare chairs and tables, and similarly armed guards leaned over the entire building, heads tucked in to avoid hitting the ceiling. In the middle of the building, between the desks, was a camo-tent, one flap open; inside was an array of complex computers, radios, with glowing and flashing buttons and squaks of radio static coming from some of the gear. It looked like the command centre of a military command post, but was in fact run off of the mains; the glowing and flashing lights were christmas tree lights, and the various consoles mock-ups. In the middle stood a short and fat figure in military fatigues; a cigar was clenched in his mouth, and a stetson on his bald head. His namebadge read "Major - General - Brigadier Oxley, Commander-In-Chief; the badge took up two whole rows of writing, and hung above a dozen rows of what seemed like medal ribbons but were in fact ink ribbons from a colour printer.

Oxley looked up from a report (Actually an ordering form) as an office worker with a super-soaker marched in, the tabs of a Sargeant-Major on his uniform. The man stopped, saluted. "Major-General-Brigadier Oxley, sir. We have a problem. Those damned naval squids took our shipment of calculators, sir. I lost a man to them as well; his pocket calculator was taken and his pens were...". The man struggled for words, tears glistened in his eyes as he forced the words out. "...His pens were actually broken sir. Even his 1B lead pencil."
Oxley stood up suddenly, pushing the form off of his desk. "So they want war, do they! How dare they break the Oxford Agreement, damn their hides! Assemble the men! Break out the super-soakers and water-balloons. We march on their department immediately!"

The war had begun...

LOL!
" medal ribbons but were in fact ink ribbons from a colour printer."
Classic :D

OOC: Brilliant, absolutly brilliant. The best thread i've seen around for a long time!

I'll keep an eye on this to see how it progresses.

In the world of the pseudo-military world that Oxley and his kind inhabited, the 1B Lead Pencil is the be-all and end-all. Every office-worker and bureaucrat is issued a 1B when they join the Department as a whole, and it is a badge of honour for every one of them, akin to the Dagger each member of the Hitler Youth was given in Nazi Germany. It possesses an almost mythical quality in this world, and to have ones 1B broken is akin to selling ones soul or losing a limb; you are no longer 'complete' and become an outcast. It is also a grievous insult to your commanding officer to have it broken.

This, as well as the thievery of the ever-precious calculators, was why Oxley, Steson perched on his gleaming palat and super-soaker clutched in sweaty hands, was leading a group of his best men in a raid towards the lair of the enemy; the offices of the Republican Naval Department, known to Oxley and his men as 'Squids' derogatorily. They moved stealthily, or at least as stealthily as a bunch of middle-aged office-workers and pimply young interns can, down a connecting corridor towards the double-doors with the words Republican Naval Ordering Department emblazened above them.

Oxley held a hand up and stopped suddenly; behind him, men bashed into each other as they stopped unexpectedly, and there were several muttered curses and a muffled scream as a super-soaker was dropped on someones foot. Bringing his left hand up as well, Oxley gave a series of quick and confusing hand-signals above his head, pointing to his eyes and various limbs before moving off towards the door, his men following him as best they could. To Oxley, who had copied them from a famour war film, the signals meant Follow me. Engage the enemy. Take no prisoners. However in reality, the signals actually read, in his clumsy movements, I am out of ammunition, I wish to surrender. I think he was on our side. My foot is aching, someone rub it.

Signals or not, his men fanned out and prepared to assault the hated enemys lair...

Amazing idea. I'll have to keep an eye on this one.

Best thread in the last month.

*tags*

The Hogsweatian Naval Attache to Skinny87 was an old man, verging on fifty years. He had served in the navy all his life, and was getting on to be a bit eccentric, so the Navy decided rather than promote this fat old loser to an Admiral, why not just dump him in some backwater-er, great and allied country to serve as a Naval Advisor. So far, he hadn't really done much work, seeing as though Skinny87 bought nearly all it's naval ships from Praetonia. His name was Arthur Jennings, and he was brought up in the naval society where we "shot at them, then we damn well boarded them for a jolly good fight old chap, then went home for tea and crumpets" was the norm. He had survived by witty use of his bent table knife and sachets of tomato ketchup (the cheap ones, mind) Arthur leant back in his chair and remembered the swashbuckling days of capturing pirates by running their ships over with royal navy battleships..

Republican Naval Ordering Department

In the minds of the officeworkers, or 'Crewmen' as they preferred to be know in the Naval Ordering Department, there was one train of logic that continually puff-puffed its way through their minds. As long as the water was kept safe for the Republic, the nation was safe; ergo, the navy was the supreme power in the Republic.. It was this one single thought that dominated these mens minds and kept them sane. Well, as sane as any middle-aged man dressed in skin-tight naval duds can be...

The Naval Department was much like the Army's Department, except instead of camouflage netting there was actual naval rigging that had been stolen from a Destroyer one late evening at the nearby port, and a large, cardboard crowsnest dominated the centre of the Department, which had a single 'Crewman' with a childrens telescope, moving about and keeping watch over the Department and the rest of the building. The ceiling and walls were covered in shiny blue tinfoil to look like the sea, and cut-out waves adorned the walls over the tinfoil. A casette player with '101 Naval Noises' played throughout the department, broadcasting random explosions, guns firing and whistles going off. 'Crewmen' patrolled around the desks, super-soakers at the ready; all the men wore large admiral hats and had epaulettes as standard; many even had makeshift parrots on their shoulders for 'authenticity'.

Suddenly, the look-out spotted Oxley and his men signalling and moving towards the Naval Department. The lookout ran to a megaphone, and shouted out, Conn, Sonar. Multiple contacts at two-zero-seven degrees. Open fire!. Immediately, a klaxon went off, and dozens of office-workers abandoned their computers and grabbed super-soakers and water-balloons, as their CO, Rear-Admiral-Chieftain Ruddersley strode out of his 'Cabin'. A tall but prematurely-balding man with a huge paunch, Ruddersley grabbed at his belt and drew out a long cardboard sword, thoughtfully studded with stickers by his long-suffering wife, and grinned, nearly knocking off one of his parrots in the process. So, the grunts wanted their calculators back, did they? Well, too bad. It was time to unleash their ultimate weapon.

Ruddersley craned his neck and shouted. "Unleash the RSS Invincible!"



Outside the Department, Oxley and his men had opened fire at the Naval personnel, water-guns blazing at whatever target they could see; one man jumped from his cover and flung a water-ballon which doused two of the naval fighters, who collapsed to the floor, screaming in faked agony. Oxley grinned; this would be an easy fight. He raised his soaker to catch an unsuspecting squid who had just opened one of the doors, when there came an almight bang and a muffled cry of That was my bloody FOOT, you moron!. Oxley frowned, and continued to raise his soaker, when the Squids secret weapon was unleashed. Out of the double doors came a large cardboard mock-up of what, if one squinted and turned ones head twenty-degrees, was what appeared to be a...submarine. However, to Oxley it was as real as the actual thing. He fired, and saw the stream of water merely soak the cardboard - corrugated for protection - and sweat began to bead on his forehead as more squids fired out of cut-out port-holes. Within seconds, a disaster had been created.

"They're invincible! Fall back!" Oxley cried out, and ran in sheer terror, his men following him seconds later...

From: Republican Army Ordering Department
To: Allied Ordering Departments

Help us! The evil Republican Naval Ordering Department have deployed submarines against which we are helpless. We beg for reinforcements...we cannot hold out much longer...our supplies of paperclips and 1-AF45D-6 Forms in triplicate are running periously low...

In the streets of Skinny87, a six stupidly overdressed Praetonian cavalrymen (http://www.britishbattles.com/waterloo/images/kings-dragoon-guards-l.jpg) clip-clopped towards the Naval Ordering Department. Five of the cavalrymen formed a circle around the central six man, who was a sergeant. Tucked safely into his dispatches bag was a leather-bound folder containing information concerning a recent transaction between Imperial Praetonian Shipyards and the Naval Ordering Department of Skinny87.

They trotted majestically up the steps towards the building which housed the Naval Ordering Department, saluted the door guards who allowed them into the building and, still mounted, began their journey through the building to find the Republican Naval Ordering Department. Stopping for a few seconds to observe a map nailed to one of the walls, the men continued on their way towards the RNOD.

"There's a lot of very funny chaps in this building," one of the mounted soldiers remarked under his breath.

"You're right about that," the man next to him whsipered back. He could have sworn he just saw a group of men running along the opposite corridor carrying an assortment of waterpistols. Their own weapons, although perfectly modelled on the L65 SIW of Praetonian military service, were in fact non-lethal airsoft guns. It was embassy practise not to send armed troops out into the streets of a foreign nation. It could cause incidents.

They turned a corner and the sign adorning the door of the Naval Ordering Department came into sight. One of the men dismounted, knocked and opened the door. He was expecting to see a normal office...

Goblin Clerk (first class) Werk had been very sad when he had been informed that he would not be allowed to take his blunderbuss with him to Skinny87, some obscure import law banning people from taking black powder weapons on airplanes into the country.
He had contented himself with assembling the selfsame device out of a barfbag, oxygen mask and compressor. It fired thumbtacks and paperclips, very painful at short range but not as deadly as the original.
Right now he was 'encamped' outside the Republican Army Ordering Department because he didnt know "the password". His bunker had been reinforced with paperwork and alot of calculators he had found lying around somewhere.
Werk was currently very, very bored. Not only was everybody here as crazy as a Goblin on heroin, but they had refined their insanity down to a point where it grated.
Grunting idly, Werk went back to polishing the blunderbuss on his desk (which consisted of paperwork, on top of which a bunch of calculators had been glued together and reinforced with paperclips).

tag this is brilliant

Republican Naval Ordering Department

Victory was in the air within the department; so was asbestos, but that was a whole other story...'Admiral' Ruddersley, ego inflated ten-fold by his victory over the Army Department, had ordered arms to be grounded and the ultimate celebration drink to be broken out - Tang! - since anything alchoholic was in fact banned by the Department rules. The 'Crewmen' slaked their thirst and celebrated their victory, smashing glasses together and giving each other 'bumps' in a crude replication of what many had seen in old war films.

Suddenly, there came a banging at the door. A hush fell on the crowd, as did one of the guards supersoakers as he tripped and let it go, and a guard opened the double doors, soaker at the ready. Expecting perhaps a peace delegation or yet another notice to keep the noise down, all within were surprised to find six Praetonian cavalrymen walk in and announce themselves. Ruddersley was quiet for a moment, then grinned suddenly; allies had arrived!

Soon those Army fools would be vanquished, and all their calculators would be theirs...


Republican Army Ordering Department

Unlike the celebratory atmosphere in the Naval Department, the Army Department had an air of defeat and stale bread, where someone had left a sandwhich behind an air vent. Men walked around, soakers dragging at their heels, and several sported crude towels asbandages where the water had soaked them; the worse cases, drenched in water, were taken into the Medical Tent, where warm towels were ready to try and save them.

Oxley marched, but even he could not keep a positive attitude after this defeat; where had those blasted Squids got a submarine from? It absolutely defied belief. There came a knocking at the door, and in crashed...a goblin, holding what seemed like a crudely constructed blunderbuss. Oxley was quiet, and then a smile crept onto his water-soaked face. He turned to his despondant men.

"Men - our valiant allies have arrived! See, they bring more powerful weapons, weapon that will defeat the cursed Squids and their submarine! Soon, the Navy will no longer bother us...!"

Army Chief Antonius Santius had a problem. His department was quickly running low of basic materials. Not chobham armour or the newly-developed M32 assault rifles that the Incorporated Ordnance Company was preparing to sell to them. The problem was far more basic.

Toner. Reams of copy paper. Technicians who could fix the unreliable copy machines and printers in the office. Old desktop computers that ran Windows 98, and not a single flat screen monitor or laptop in the entire department. My commission for a laptop! Santius would oftentimes think. He sent his office manager Betty Barclay to Office Depot at 816 Cambridge Avenue, four blocks down the street from the Military Command Centre in Saugerties, where he and the other branch chiefs had their headquarters.

CLERK: "Yes, Ms. Barclay, what can I do for you?"

BARCLAY: "Yes, hi. I would like to order 10,000 reams of Office Paper, 1,000 black ink toner cartridges, and 1 million bags of pens, please."

CLERK: "That will be $25 million please."

BARCLAY: "I have a Federal Discount code."

CLERK: "That won't be necessary. Which department?"

BARCLAY: "The ISA."

CLERK: "The who?"

BARCLAY (sighs impatiently): "The Incorporated Sarzonian Army."

CLERK: "I'm terribly sorry, ma'am. We do not have the ISA in our codes. You will have to pay full price."

BARCLAY: "That is an outrage! I demand to speak to the manager at once!"

CLERK: "Actually, I am the manager." (under his breath, with the receiver far away to deaden the sound of her screaming, "you're screwed.")

BARCLAY hangs up the phone and cries.

Meanwhile, at the Incorporated Sarzonian Navy office, Vice President for Naval Operations Kathy Bunhall asked her office manager about the status of office supplies.

"Kath, we just got a shipment in from Office Depot," Laura Linville, the office manager said. I'm on the phone with them right now."

"Very good, carry on."

LINVILLE: "Uh, sorry about that. Did you get our discount code?"

CLERK: "We don't need the code. What is your office name?"

LINVILLE: "The ISN."

CLERK: "Oh, the Navy? Let me see... oh yes. Your discount code has been auto-renewed for another fiscal year. You should continue to enjoy your 15 percent discount. If you have any questions, you can call and ask to speak to Matt Jennings at extension 5129."

LINVILLE: "Thanks Matt."

CLERK: "Anytime."
Barclay walked by the office door and overheard Linville's conversation with Jennings. She sighed heavily and her high heels clack-clack-clacked down the hall as she looked for a water cooler to kick over. Preferrably a Navy water cooler.

*Tag*

War was a serious busines and so was busines so if you combined the two you should get very serious people right, wrong.

rumers had been heard that the army ordering department at skinny87 were having troubles well the army ordering service at piglatnia had the solution- an old gernade launcher modified to hold water-balloons and ruberband balls they also were able to make a sneaky trade at a local wal-mart and had on hand 5 bb guns and a paintball gun. they decided to send in there best sguad to help their allies.