"Nope, this is not it." I say, hitting the delete button and watching the battleship design I’ve been working over for days vanish from the screen. It’s been a long, frustrating stretch of work, and somehow, I still haven’t nailed down what I want in my first battleship.

Turns out, designing a warship isn't as easy as sketching out a dream. I’ve learned a lot since I started this project. For one, balancing size and firepower is harder than it sounds. I wanted something with a low profile, sleek, but still able to carry at least three triple 16-inch guns. You know, enough punch to make a statement, without looking like a bloated floating fortress.

Then there’s the issue of speed. And anti-aircraft defenses. Can’t exactly ignore that when planes are lurking around.

At some point, I decided to abandon my "bigger is better" mentality, mainly because I don’t want to end up as the next Admiral Fischer of the Royal Navy—big guns, big mistakes, big disaster.

I let out a sigh and pour myself a glass of orange juice, the only bright spot in this endless loop of trial and error. After a few sips, I plop back in my chair, staring at the blank design screen.

"Come on, brain. Work with me here," I mutter, willing my last few functioning brain cells to clock in for overtime. And then, it hits me. The French Richelieu class. That ship was compact compared to its peers, and with its two quad forward 15-inch guns, it still managed to hold its own. Not a bad place to start, right?

With that Richelieu-inspired idea in mind, I start working on the design, feeling a flicker of hope. I get the hull modeled up pretty quickly and even manage to slot in those quad 16-inch guns. But as soon as I step back and look at it, the flaw slaps me right in the face—one lucky hit, and half of my ship's firepower is gone. Just like that. It’s basically the same problem I ran into with my King George V-style battleship from a few days ago.

I groan, scrapping the whole thing. Again.

Why is this so hard? I slump back in my chair, eyes glazing over as I try to squeeze out another half-baked idea. I need this battleship to pack serious firepower for the fleet, be a solid anti-air platform, and—oh, yeah—it needs to hit 28 knots minimum to keep up with the carrier strike force.

And then there’s the whole “not getting sunk” thing. I mean, ideally, none of my ships should sink, but this battleship needs to really not sink. Like, it has to take a pounding and still limp home in one piece. I rub my head, staring at the screen like it’s going to spit out the perfect design for me.

Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

After what felt like an eternity of headaches, dead ends, and overthinking, I finally caved and went back to my third design from a few days ago. It wasn’t perfect then, but it’s starting to feel like the best option.

I open up a fresh blank slate on the ship design system, determined to make this one work. I’m aiming for something pretty standard, a no-frills interwar battleship. With the North Carolina class in mind as my mental blueprint, I start building. I make it a bit longer than the actual North Carolina, stretching it out to give myself more room for everything I want to fit.

I decide on 11 inches of inclined belt armor and 6 inches of deck armor. Most of the real threats come from the air these days, so that extra deck armor feels right. I’m not trying to build an unsinkable fortress, just something sturdy enough to survive the inevitable air raids.

For firepower, I go with three triple 16-inch/50 caliber guns, all neatly lined up on the centerline—two forward, one aft. Nothing revolutionary, but with advanced fire control computers and a healthy dose of radar guidance, it’s going to be accurate. For anti-aircraft defense, I throw in six twin 4-inch dual-purpose guns on both sides, also radar-guided, along with a sea of 40mm guns. Each one has its own guidance system too. Maybe overkill, but I’d rather be safe than sorry.

I even manage to squeeze in two floatplanes on the stern, because hey, you never know when those might come in handy.

After some final tweaks—mainly fiddling with the ship’s stability and fine-tuning the engines to hit 30 knots—I sit back and take it all in. For a 40,000-ton beast, it’s pretty fast, and honestly, I’m impressed. The design isn’t just solid; it’s practical.

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For the first time in what feels like forever, I smile. After all that back and forth, I’ve finally settled on a battleship that should works.

Once the design is complete and safely saved in the system, I head over to the construction facilities. It’s finally time to bring this battleship to life. Originally, I was thinking of ordering four, but when I see the price—75 million credits per ship—I can’t help but feel like I’m getting a pretty good deal. So naturally, I up the order to five, because why not? That’s only 375 million credits for a fleet of solid warships. Not bad for all the firepower I’m about to command.

With that taken care of, all that’s left is naming the class. I sit there for a bit, running through a few ideas in my head. It’s got to be something fitting, something that matches the power and presence of these battleships.

After some careful thought, I settle on the North Carolina Class. It just makes sense—it's basically a North Carolina battleship with a few upgrades. Those 50-caliber guns and the extra AA armament make this thing a floating fortress. Honestly, with the amount of anti-aircraft coverage, even a Japanese kamikaze pilot might have second thoughts about crashing into it.

Satisfied with the name and the fact that I’ve finally made a decision, I take a deep breath. Now, all I have to do is wait for construction to finish. And maybe, just maybe, I’ll finally get some sleep tonight.

*

With my battleship struggle finally behind me, I feel lighter than I have in days. It’s like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Grinning, I make my way back to the design room, humming a little tune to myself. Now that the battleships are squared away, I can finally focus on what I’ve been looking forward to all along—designing my first fleet carrier.

I open up a fresh plate on the design system, my head buzzing with ideas. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for. I’ve named the class Lexington. Even though it’s my first real stab at designing an actual fleet carrier, I’ve got a decent amount of knowledge to work with. Most of it is from historical records and hindsight after World War II, but hey, those are pretty reliable teachers, right?

Using that hindsight, I get to work. The ship is going to be around 30,000 tons, with an enlarged beam and a wider flight deck. Honestly, it’s practically a modern aircraft carrier—well, minus all the fancy 21st-century stuff like missiles and jets. But for my purposes, this ship is all about carrying as many planes as possible. I give it two hangar decks, more than enough space to hold both the F-1s and the F-2s.

It took me some serious consideration, but a few days ago, I finally made the call: the F-1 stays in carrier service. Sure, the F-2 is great, and I’m not about to dismiss it, but the F-1s are just perfect for what I need. They’re small, single-engine propeller planes, which means I can cram more of them into the carrier. With a bit of clever design and some adjustments, I’ve managed to squeeze in up to 200 aircraft. Yeah, 200 prop planes. It’s a lot, and I know they’re going to be supply-hungry, but I’ve made it work. Plus, since I don’t need any crew compartments—seeing as I’m literally the only crew member—I had extra room to play with.

The ship is bristling with 40mm guns, especially around the edges of the massive flight deck. Still, looking at the design, I can’t help but think how much of a target that flight deck makes. It practically begs the enemy to drop a bomb right on top of it. But, whatever—first strike wins the battle, right? If all goes well, they won’t even have the chance to get close.

Designing a carrier? Honestly, it’s been pretty straightforward. I just need a hull, a massive flight deck, and boom—I’ve got a ship. I throw in five steam catapults, expecting them to launch a swarm of aircraft into the sky. It’s a simple formula, really: the more planes I can get airborne, the better.

Of course, my trusty Long Island is still in service, but she’s about to get a downgrade. She’ll be reassigned as an escort carrier once the Lexington ships come online. She’s done her job well, but she’s not cut out for the big leagues anymore.

I head back to the construction facilities to place my order, only to be met with a bit of sticker shock. Each Lexington carrier costs 83 million credits. That’s... a lot. More than I expected, honestly. So, instead of going wild and ordering a full fleet, I decide to play it safe and get just two for now. I need to see how these designs hold up in practice before committing to more. Better to test the waters first—literally and figuratively.

With my fleet’s capital ships now in the works, there’s still a bit of budget left for some additional escort ships. I’ve been mulling over my options and, honestly, I think I’m going to stick with my trusty Color Class destroyers. They’ve proven themselves versatile and reliable, even if they’re taking on multiple roles like convoy escorts and patrol duties. They’re cheap and effective, and when it comes to dealing with threats, I prefer having a reliable, cost-effective destroyer at my disposal.

I go ahead and place an order for 20 more of these destroyers. At 40 million credits total, it’s a solid investment in keeping my fleet well-protected without breaking the bank.

As for the Heavy Cruisers, I’m tempted to order more, but I decide to hit pause for now. I take a deep breath and reconsider my budget. I’ve already shelled out over half a billion credits—more than I planned, to be honest. It’s time to slow down and reassess my finances before diving into any more big purchases.

For now, we’ll see how it all plays out.