Always curious with who, when, and what, folks here like to start their careers in WOFF.
Since I’m firing up new careers for PE doing my usual angst with the N17 (60 Squadron in January 1917), Se5 (56 Squadron in April 1917), or the Alb DIII (Jasta 11 in March 1917).
Still trying to decide actually.
What is your first PE career?

Jasta 2, Sept 1916... just received albatros DI and DII's

RFC 56 - SE5 - Started in April - Currently 21 May 1917 - 18 Missions - Spent a bit of time in the Hospital (dang those rear gunners.)

Escadrille N 69, Nieuport 11, June 1916. Current home field is Lemmes right next to Verdun.

Plenty of action as the field is surrounded by enemy squadrons. On the very first mission the flight was bounced by Fokker E.IIIs right after taking off. Amusingly it turns out the first plane I shot down on the first mission of my new career was piloted by Oswald Boelcke from KEK Sivry.

I won't be doing any flying until I get my stick replaced, but once that happens I'll be starting with the same squadron that the random selector gave me the first time I ever booted WOFF; 29 Sqn, RFC, in March of '16, flying DH2s. I've grown to adore that goofy looking bird.

Think I will go with Jasta 11 mainly as a test of PE.
My main complaint, when flying British, (waypoints) has clearly been fixed as spelled out by OBD.
A J11 career also shows quirks with the campaign engine so I’ll be curious if all the changes took care of things.

3RFC at Chockers driving Morane Parasols Feb 1915. Recon and the odd bombing. Not too far over the lines though. Nice and safe. Well so I thought. My last assignment was supposed to be nice and cushy see. Artillery recon just over the lines. So there we were coming up to the target, the Welsh git Jones in the back singin' "it's not unusual" at the top of his voice. Well it is usual for him. Anyway I'm listening to the engine see. It's bangin' and fartin' and carrying on like a boozed up general. Suddenly I'm squirted with oil and the revs drop like a stone. Blimey! Ditch the camera, gun and ammo Jones I shout as I wheel around toward the west. He's moved onto "the green, green grass of home" by this time. So I grab what I can of his flying coat and make the situation known to him by means of ungentlemanly and panic stricken swearing and a lot of pointing. We're now at 1500 feet smack bang in the middle of no man's land. The engine cuts out. I hold the glide as well as I can without stalling and inch by inch we crawl closer to our side. I'm scouring for a suitable field. That one'll do. Too late anyway, I'm down to 150 feet. So in we go see. Comin' in nicely. Don't stall it. Oh sh.. a fence! Pull back a bit I'll make it. Oh no I won't. Brace. BANG! Hit the old noggin and cut up the forehead a bit. Claret everywhere. And a written off kite. But I'm relatively okay and Jones has stopped singing. This could be my ticket back to Blighty.

Nice!

Wonderful, it's the 2nd of March in my Briscout career now so I have about 7 months left to live.

Yea not sure who I was trying to fool. Rolling up 56 and 60 Squadron careers as we speak to join J11.
Some days you just feel like drinking tea, and on others, stolen French champagne.

I rolled a Roland pilot. Not a big fan of the visibility with the Roland but gee it looks cool and climbs like a homesick angel.