Dej

I dunno, seems a bit ghoulish, following a chap around just so you can have a bally ringside seat at his demise... not quite cricket, what? Be interesting to do all you can to keep him alive and see how he STILL manages to die, though.

Well, the article says (I think - blame my bad German) that he was doing the camouflage on the wings. But it also says that he had to paint a bavarian lion on the company photo album at his commander's behest and that word was out that he was an artist... so I speculated

I don't recognise the format of that Methuen reference, maybe some of the expert modellers do, but Methuen 9C8 is equivalent to FS11105 which is: Click here!

Hmmm... if Klee was painting stylised bavarian lions on things I wonder if he had any input to either of these? (Profiles courtesy of Wings Palette)

Awesome, even without promises Hope you can find a way to do it. On the matter of skins, if it's of interest to Olham or anyone, using the nVidia plugins for Photoshop I did a batch convert of the all the .DDS files to .JPGs in a new directory. I can now look at that directory in thumbnail mode and more easily pick a skin I want to load in QC.

I'd go with the 'class war' motif, certainly like to see something about those British NCO pilots who hadn't been 'Head of School' or 'got their Blue at Fives'. Most of all though I think the bomber and recce pilots deserve a bit of exposure or maybe combine the two careers and make an accurate film of 'Sagittarius Rising'.

Well, this thread will be so full of Albatri - they're such pretty birds to paint - it'll be like Olham's pin-up corner Here's three of my favourites: Albatros DVa 1917 - Kurt Monnington - 8 victories - Died 17 February 1939 (FA62, Jastas 15, 18) Albatros DVa 1918 - Helmut Dilthey - 7 victories - KIA 9 July 1918 over Lille (FA 50, Jastas 27, 40) Albatros DVa 1917 - Georg Strasser - 7 victories - Died 4 September 1925 (FA 44, FEA 3, Jasta 17) - that little bit of lettering is spot on Of these I've always loved Monnington's paint scheme ever since I tried to paint it on an Airfix model as a teenager - it was a real treat to find it so brilliantly done in BHaH. And I'm chuffed that all the 'lesser' aces are in here too, not just the headliners, not just the most well known paint schemes.

There's no one thing to choose for me because all those little details to which so much attention has been paid, that you've all mentioned, add up to what clinches it for me - IMMERSION. Wingmen that stick with you, save your ragged ass, increase their own scores, grow with you and then are killed leaving you with a genuine sense of loss - which I guess is favourite if I have to name something - wouldn't work if everything else didn't put it into context. And that point about context is true for all the other little details - it all adds up to an immersive whole. I'm a roleplayer by preference and if a sim doesn't offer me that then eye-candy and exhilarating online combat - however good - counts for far less.

Interesting information, WF2, I'd read something only recently on one of the contributors who'd passed away. You made me look at that poster again, it's either me or it's artistic licence but the main Dr1 seems to be missing its middle wings.

If we're to look at the tacticians, the professionals, then shouldn't McCudden be in the list as well... the master of the 'Stalk' plus a top notch pilot and mechanic, a good leader and a decent shot to boot? Heh, the only way to test it all would be to resurrect the bunch of 'em, with their aircraft of choice fitted with gun cameras, and have a round-robin, swapping aircraft each time... that's a bout I'd pay to see!

That would be a gorgeous image Ras and might have made me a new wallpaper if you'd only turned off the blasted radar before you took it. Drat!

Question for you all... What is a 'Thankful Village'? You can Google it and find the answer but own up if you didn't know before. And when you have the number, just think on there being roundabout 16000 villages counted in the UK at the time of The Great War. Humbling. I only found out myself recently so I'll not hold to the numbers... it's not the point.

Welcome Kankkis, Assign the scroll lock and the padlock to buttons on your stick if you have them. Use padlock in a dogfight and scroll lock when you are just cruising and looking around. I survived 30+ missions like that before I got TrackIR... and I still use padlock from time to time.

That's one Hell of a woodwork project! And metalwork come to that. Now if we'd built one of these in school practical lessons I might have been interested... so much more satisfying than a toasting fork! Magnificent, absolutely magnificent. Thanks for the link, WF2

Your best musical score yet I reckon. Gotta love the Mozart and really well choreographed. Loved it.

I'd hope NOT, BH. I read more embittered, misanthropic irony in it, perhaps. Or maybe I'm reading irony INTO it when it isn't there. It was published in 1919... so I'm expecting a perception that it was in part the jingoistic slogans on both sides of the conflict that had helped turn the Western Front into the charnel house of Europe - 'Dulce et decorum est...' etc. But that's poetry for you, hardly the World's most objective art form, is it?

A copybook is an exercise book used to practice one's handwriting in. The pages are blank except for horizontal rulings and a printed specimen of 'perfect' handwriting at the top. You were supposed to copy this specimen all down the page. The specimens were typically proverbs or quotations, or little commonplace encouraging or admonishing sayings—the ones in the poem illustrate the kind of thing. These were the copybook headings. You could almost substitute 'Tabloid Headlines' these days, especially when the Daily Hypocrite... Ahem! I mean Daily Mail, or The Sun are staking a moral high ground.

I think you may have missed a bit on the inner struts of the foremost Pfalz, WM. Looks darker. Wouldn't mention it except it's such a bloody nice image in every other respect.

I doubt there's any person on this forum, who has any genuine interest in WW1 aviation history, hasn't considered what would have been the real-life implications of what we play for enjoyment. This sim is so immersive one cannot fail to feel the death of a pilot... and in that sleep of death, what dreams may come must give us pause...

Ah, pilot's from Sleepy Hollow I see.

Oft overlooked, 'The Land' is my favourite Kipling poem. For any Brit, it's redolent with the longevity of this great country of ours and through every stanza runs the reassuring theme - that it's the common good with it's own basic sense of moral justice, cocking a sniff at the passing fads, that survives. The Land When Julius Fabricius, Sub-Prefect of the Weald, In the days of Diocletian owned our Lower River-field, He called to him Hobdenius - a Briton of the Clay, Saying: 'What about that River-piece for layin' in to hay?' And the aged Hobden answered: 'I remember as a lad My father told your father that she wanted dreenin' bad. An' the more that you neeglect her the less you'll get her clean. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd dreen.' So they drained it long and crossways in the lavish Roman style. Still we find among the river-drift their flakes of ancient tile, And in drouthy middle August, when the bones of meadows show, We can trace the lines they followed sixteen hundred years ago. Then Julius Fabricius died as even Prefects do, And after certain centuries, Imperial Rome died too. Then did robbers enter Britain from across the Northern main And our Lower River-field was won by Ogier the Dane. Well could Ogier work his war-boat - well could Ogier wield his brand - Much he knew of foaming waters - not so much of farming land. So he called to him a Hobden of the old unaltered blood. Saying: 'What about that River-bit, she doesn't look no good?' And that aged Hobden answered: ''Tain't for me to interfere, But I've known that bit o' meadow now for five and fifty year. Have it jest as you've a mind to, but I've proved it time on time, If you want to change her nature you have got to give her lime!' Ogier sent his wains to Lewes, twenty hours' solemn walk, And drew back great abundance of the cool, grey, healing chalk. And old Hobden spread it broadcast, never heeding what was in't; Which is why in cleaning ditches, now and then we find a flint. Ogier died. His sons grew English. Anglo-Saxon was their name, Till out of blossomed Normandy another pirate came; For Duke William conquered England and divided with his men, And our Lower River-field he gave to William of Warenne. But the Brook (you know her habit) rose one rainy Autumn night And tore down sodden flitches of the bank to left and right. So, said William to his Bailiff as they rode their dripping rounds: 'Hob, what about that River-bit - the Brook's got up no bounds?' And that aged Hobden answered: ''Tain't my business to advise, But ye might ha' known 'twould happen from the way the valley lies. When ye can't hold back the water you must try and save the sile. Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but, if I was you, I'd spile!' They spiled along the water-course with trunks of willow-trees And planks of elms behind 'em and immortal oaken knees. And when the spates of Autumn whirl the gravel-beds away You can see their faithful fragments iron-hard in iron clay. * * * * * Georgii Quinti Anno Sexto, I, who own the River-field, Am fortified with title-deeds, attested, signed and sealed, Guaranteeing me, my assigns, my executors and heirs All sorts of powers and profits which - are neither mine nor theirs. I have rights of chase and warren, as my dignity requires. I can fish - but Hobden tickles. I can shoot - but Hobden wires. I repair, but he reopens, certain gaps which, men allege, Have been used by every Hobden since a Hobden swapped a hedge. Shall I dog his morning progress o'er the track-betraying dew? Demand his dinner-basket into which my pheasant flew? Confiscate his evening faggot into which the conies ran, And summons him to judgment? I would sooner summons Pan. His dead are in the churchyard - thirty generations laid. Their names went down in Domesday Book when Domesday Book was made. And the passion and the piety and prowess of his line Have seeded, rooted, fruited in some land the Law calls mine. Not for any beast that burrows, not for any bird that flies, Would I lose his large sound council, miss his keen amending eyes. He is bailiff, woodman, wheelwright, field-surveyor, engineer, And if flagrantly a poacher - 'tain't for me to interfere. 'Hob, what about that River-bit?' I turn to him again With Fabricius and Ogier and William of Warenne. 'Hev it jest as you've a mind to, but' - and so he takes command. For whoever pays the taxes old Mus' Hobden owns the land. 'Georgii Quinti Anno Sexto' - Seventh year of George V

That is what you need your 300DPI for. I want that poster! Excellent, WM!

Inspired by Olham's favourite fast food frnachise - SPAD-U-LIKE... My efforts so far... not sure what format any comic would eventually be in, which would dictate size and suchlike. Comments and advice much welcomed.

Don't give up on the inspiration, Guys! If you've storylines and screenies I'll volunteer to attempt the composition and agree it with you. If we could manage a story a month it'd be something.

That's a great idea too. I used to do that way back when with 'Their Finest Hour' promoting said friends and colleagues according to kills and missions. It became a great source of immersion to see one on your squadrom mates go down and be hoping for the 'chute then returning to base to see if they were MIA or KIA or ideally, OK.