I'm going to kick things off with poetry based on my experience as a mechwarrior, particularly as a pilot of a nefarious little feline that terrorized the ridgelines of MW4. The structure is loosey goosey, but I'm pulling the artistic license card as a lazy cop-out.
EDIT: I think I'm going to petition for the Nova to be one of the first re-introduced clan mechs when the clans invade, timeline be damned!
Confessions of a 7ERLL Hill-Humping Nova Cat Pilot: The Nova Cat's Dance
An alpha-striking terror, in vain they fought
The purists' antichrist, stock it was not
Patiently waiting, to spring upon its prey
Crossing into the open, now you rue the day
Its broad-shouldered saunter, regal like Nero
A perfect reflection, of our competitive ego
The competitor's choice, a staple of victory
Vanquishing all, our opponents were history
Its narrow visor, a manifestation of ridges
Especially on Lunacy, heat index of fridges
Shutdown/override, "EXPLOITS at play"
"Override is a mechanic," we'd simply say
Laser-boating the way, each and every day
Streaks of green light, showering the fray
A FLASH OF GREEN: torso is orange
A FLASH OF GREEN: blinking red
A FLASH OF GREEN: target now dead
MWO, is our next thrill
But be cautious, of every hill
For it is a new game, that we now play
But over every ridge, the Nova shall lay
Edited by GaussDragon, 16 June 2012 - 12:19 AM.