Logan nodded, “Good. ANYWAYS,” He continued, “While two of these metrics sound similar, they’re not. Speed is the metric gauged by how fast a mech can move when in a straight line, while agility is just how much control the pilot will have at top speed. If you’re still confused think about it like this, if I shoot you with a rail rifle, it doesn’t matter how fast you run in straight line, but if you can run fast and flip around, suddenly you’re much harder to hit.”
“We should test that,” Aurora chimed in for the first time since the three of them entered the warehouse, “What do you say Cam?,” she said, cackling.
“What about output?” Cameron asked in an irritated growl, ignoring his mechanics prodding.
Logan chuckled, looking back at Aurora with a wry smile before focusing back on Cameron, “Output, is a metric that gauges a unit’s offensive capabilities. It’s ability to slash, stab, or swing in rapid succession, when measured against the overall weight of a units armaments.”
“I thought that was determined on my own strength and stamina within the suit?” Cameron said, confusion evident in his tone.
“Well yes, but also no, and additionally kinda,” Logan said, offering a sympathetic smile.
Cameron could feel his eye twitch as he looked at Logan like he had two heads, “Why are you making this so fucking complicated?”
“Why are you asking complicated questions?” Logan shot back, raising in eyebrow. Cameron had opened his mouth to speak, but Logan cut him off, doing his damndest to break it down into a more digestable format.
“Think about it like this; I can swing Crusaders mace around until my arm goes numb. Right now, I’m good for about one hundred swings before I’ve hit my limit, and need to release the weight. But that’s because Crusader’s output rating is low as hell. There’s barely any assistance, whether that be pneumatic, hydraulic, or boosted. It’s all pure strength and stamina on my part, the mech just mimics it on a massive scale. Following?”
“Barely,” Cameron said, reaching his hands up to rub the temples of his head as he felt his brain throb from from information overload.
“Good enough,” Logan said, continuing his educating rhetoric, “Now imagine if there was a boost jet in Crusaders elbow joint, or a hydraulic piston that engaged whenever my arm bent at a designated angle, to where, now instead of having to heave a massive, fuck-off mace up and down in combat, I only have to move it unassisted in one direction, before the mech steps in to guide the attack on the downswing, now suddenly that one hundred swings increases to two hundred swings. Now say, there’s a system of a boost jets that engages on said downswing… double that number again to four hundred.”
Realization was beginning to dawn on Cameron as he let out a quiet “Ohh… I get it.”
Logan smiled with a nod, “Yeah? Good. In closing, output summed up in a single sentence is this; The metric on how fast and hard a unit can hit.”
“So now where do these variants come in?” Cameron asked, looking forward to see Morty had raised a hand, silently halting their movement while he sauntered over to a control panel on the far right hand side, and began loudly typing on a keypad.
Logan turned to face Cameron fully, making use of his hands to emphasize his point, “Variants come in when we gauge the pros and cons of each type of A.R.M.S. unit. Again, take Crusader,” He said, throwing a thumb back towards the direction of the ship bay, “It’s a defender unit, which means high Armor, decent speed, but shit output and agility. It can take a licking and keep on ticking, but it ain’t gonna win many races. That means my combat needs to center around blocking, parrying, and short dodges. But if I can’t dodge in time, at least I got giant fucking wall of steel between me and whoever is trying to turn me into a grease stain.”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
“Fair enough,” Cameron said with a nod, “But what about the other three?”
Logan didn’t skip a beat, “Heavies are high output and high armor, with middling speed and a low top speed. They ain’t getting anywhere fast, but god help you if you let them touch you. Even if I take a hit from a unit like a Blacksmith with their giant hammers or a Wardens slab-sword, my shield is gonna do fuck all. Supports on the other hand are high agility, decent speed, with middling armor and low output. These are your Archer units, Slingers, Lancers, so on and so forth. Their whole deal is about evasive maneuvers and distracting the opponent long enough for the big boys to come in and put a guy down. They’re not often seen at these low ratings, and the ones that are, are snatched up quick.”
Cameron was practically humming with excitement. Listening to Logan describe the intricate rankings and classifications of A.R.M.S. units had gone from sounding like rocket science, to that of chess or poker. Every unit had their role to play and now he was ready to find out what his role was, “What about assault classes?” He asked, bouncing on his feet, ignoring their painful protests as he watched Logan look at him with a smirk.
“What about them indeed,” he said, chuckling softly, before taking a moment to ponder the question, “If I had to describe assaults, I’d say that they’re all gas and no breaks. High speed, amazing agility, and enough output to rival a god of war.”
“But.” Aurora said, raising her brow to look at Logan expectantly. He looked back at her, then to Cameron before he nodded with a sigh, continuing her train of thought.
“But,” He said, “Their armor is practically non-existent, if you get sneezed on by a heavy, you’re going into the ground. They’re cool and fast and fun, but you make one mistake and you’re dead.”
Cameron’s smile dropped instantly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Logan, taking a while to respond, “And you want me, for my first time learning to work an A.R.M.S. unit, pilot something where if I’m not perfect one hundred percent of the time, may as well be a dead man walking?”
Logan looked sheepish and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling something under his breath. Aurora on the other hand was nonplussed, throwing an arm around Cameron and pulling him in close with a giggle.
“Look on the bright side Cam… either you win, or it’s suddenly no longer your problem.”
Cameron forced her away from him with a shove, looking between the pilot and the mechanic he up to this point considered his friends. “You guys are fucking insane.”
“No… we’re experienced, now stop your bitching and turn around,” Aurora said, point behind Cameron, causing him to turn and see Monty making a waving motion with his arm, whistling to get their attention as he spoke up.
“While I love a good lecture, are y’all ready to look at these things or not?”
“No!” Cameron called,
“Yes!” Aurora and Logan said in unison.
“Fuck.”