Independence War's control scheme is pretty complicated, compared to most games I play. On top of that, I decided that, just for IW, I would start playing with a joystick, something I haven't done since I was very little. I crashed and burned (literally) within minutes of starting the game.
After a little bit of learning by trial and error, I started wondering what the game would be like if there was anyone to respond to my egregious screwups. And so this little fanfiction idea was born. I may add to it, mission by mission, as I go through the main campaign.
And now, without further ado, How Not To Play Independence War
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Space. It is endless. And empty. And black. Just looking at it inspires great boredom or nihilism. Captain Blarg looked out into Space, and Space looked back. The Captain blinked. Space did not blink. "Damn," said the Captain, aloud. "Space wins another round."
"What's that, Cadet?" The instructor's voice crackled over his ship radio. "Whatever it is, can it. We're at the training area now, and I'm deactivating remote control. The helm's yours."
"We get helmets? Cool!"
"...I mean you can control the ship yourself, now."
"Oh."
"Your objective is to fly through the obstacle course we've set up for you. You must fly through each of the navigational ring-buoys in under five minutes. We'll start the clock when you've flown through the first one."
"Right," said the Captain. He stood up straight and adjusted his uniform, then pointed dramatically forward into the blackness. "Full speed ahead!"
There was a moment's silence before the gunner said "Sir, you've got the helm. You need to hit the throttle yourself."
"Oh," said the Captain, looking sheepish. He looked down at the array of buttons and levers in front of him. "Ummm... Okay, I think the throttle is this one-" The ship began spinning counterclockwise. "Wait, no. That's not it. Umm, maybe it's this one?" A bright lance of fire shot out from the ships cannon and blazed out into the emptiness. "Okay, I think I got it this time. I hit THIS button-"
The ship jerked forward and rapidly accelerated to 3600 km/h, zooming through the first loop. The Captain smiled in satisfaction. A slight turn on the control stick, and they passed through the second as well. Then he frowned.
"Wait a minute," he wondered loudly, "We're in a vacuum. Shouldn't I be able to accelerate faster and faster until we're almost at lightspeed? 1000 m/s seems a little slow..."
"Sir," said the engineer, "The ship is built with limiters to keep us from going any faster. We can't go faster because the ship would become impossible to steer at higher speeds. It's too dangerous."
"I say it's NOT too dangerous!" declared the bold, heroic, and extremely handsome Captain Blarg. "It's exactly dangerous enough!"
"Sir?"
"Engineer! Deactivate our limiters! Protocol Warp Nine!"
"...Yes sir, deactivating limiters."
"Now! MAXIMUM ACCELERATION!"
Blarg's dreadnaught flew right past the next nav buoy and just kept going, and going, and going, and going. Very soon, it was out of sight, and not too long after that it was out of radar range.
The instructor just stared, and then activated his com system. "Command, I think we just lost Blarg."
"Roger that, Instructor. Another Warp Nine?"
"Looks that way, Command. We lose more cadets that way..." The instructor sighed. "I'll go get him. It he hasn't blown up, we'll try this again when we get back. See you next month."

Very nice. I look forward to the next chapters. ;)

They told the Captain it was time for him to get a ship.
They also told him that they would never, ever, EVER allow him to go within a hundred yards of any of the brand-spanking new ships that were intended for people who were much more skilled and attractive than he was, in so many words.
The Captain felt that this was probably just a temporary thing, a little bit of irritation that would blow over by the time they fixed the hole in Docking Bay 4 that had been caused by a minor malfunction in his ship's missile tubes. He preferred to be optimistic that way.
So, instead a new ship, they were taking him out into a dense debris field were a bunch of people had been killed 5 years earlier, full of space junk of all sizes and active mines. The plan was for them to take him out and leave him there. He, in turn, would salvage a ship from the wreckage. They didn't tell him what was supposed to happen if he didn't find anything.
So, here he was, hurtling through space on the back of a large tugboat, waiting to arrive at the debris field when Command came on the line. "Captain," said command. "We're approaching the debris field and will arrive in about five minutes. When we're there, you must undock your command vessel and fly into the thickest minefield you can see."
"I thought I was supposed to find a ship?" asked Blarg. "Also, which one is the undock button? Is it this one?"
Blarg's vessel abruptly released its clamps from the tug and flew off into the void. "Wheeeeee!"
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After Blarg's ship was retrieved, the mission began again. This time, The Captain waited until they reached the field before undocking, and everything proceeded as planned, except for the mines. For some reason, they were turned off, even though Blarg could not remember being told that this would happen. Still, eventually Blarg found an intact Dreadnaught-class corvette, CNV-301. Blarg wisely chose to hit the "autopilot" button and sit back instead of trying to manually dock to it manually.
They docked, and in spite of the gaping hole in the top, the ship appeared to be functional. However, just as Blarg began to steer the ship out of the debris field, a voice came over the intercom:
"Would you dig up my grave?"
Blarg sat for a moment and pondered the question, and eventually answered, "...Huh?"
"Would you dig up my grave?"
"Oh. Um.... Wait, I know this... YES! Yes I would!"
"That figures. This is one weird navy, boy, where they don't even give you time off for being dead!"
Blarg nodded at the figure of the man with the cigar that had appeared on the screen as if he'd known it would be there and was no suprise. "I know what you mean. They won't let me bring lunch to eat on the bridge, either. What's up with that?"
The cigar-smoker was silent. Its teeth seemed to be clenched.
"So.... You're a digital assistant. How's that working out for you?"
"Digital assistant!? DIGITAL ASSISTANT?! You think I'm some kind of captain-o-matic who'll pop out and save your stupid ass every time you move out of your training simulation comfort zone!?"
Captain Blarg thought hard. "Mmmm... I'm gonna say.... yyyyes?"
Jefferson Clay's AI was swearing over the intercom for the entire trip home.

Poor ol'Jeff. He's gonna need some real patience with such a captain...
Great fanfic. I think we all made the same noob mistakes in the first few missions :-)

This is silly. I like it. :)

Reminds me of the first time I tried the first nav mission and crashed into the first ring, opps :)