Mobius: Total Chaos

Thorvald, if I had a time machine, I would give you an RP bonus that made you the juggernaut of the game.
 
Bowser and Fawul both eye Mobius. Who would take part if this game is played again? Wait and see!
 
I'm pretty sure Bowser is one of my IOT trademarks.
 
I have good memories from this game.

I was attacked by a larger nation and when I repeld their invasion, the Superpower of my region invaded me and forced me to accept that I started the war.
 
I had a quite powerful superweapon... (Fringe)
 
Ah, but another game that reminds me of how my mechanics are hit and miss... perhaps this game will be picked up again some day. :p
 
Thorvald, if I had a time machine, I would give you an RP bonus that made you the juggernaut of the game.
Toss it in to MP2. ;)

And Joan, if you would be so kind to elaborate this ace-up-the-sleeve in the development group, I can look at weaving it into the story.
 
Ah, but another game that reminds me of how my mechanics are hit and miss... perhaps this game will be picked up again some day. :p

The only mechanics I have a problem with are the ones you abuse or make up in the lategame.
 
Toss it in to MP2. ;)

And Joan, if you would be so kind to elaborate this ace-up-the-sleeve in the development group, I can look at weaving it into the story.

Not much of an ace up his sleeve considering what I did to his country.
 
It was when war with Tyo. It's the reason why Tyo keeps demanding wizards. :p
 
The only mechanics I have a problem with are the ones you abuse or make up in the lategame.

Hey, at least there was no Jaxxy this game around for a change. Just some rules I think could have used some tweaking. :V

Will remember for the next MobIOTus. :mischief:
 
“Tangos, 12 o’clock! Weapons free!”

His squad had only been in combat for twenty minutes, yet it felt like an eternity. They’d barely repulsed the third wave before more of the monsters crested the hillside. Morale was already faltering; the unit had suffered heavy casualties with no word on reinforcements. He still couldn’t understand how they’d ended up where they were. Weren’t the Black Arms beaten? It was only three days ago that the AB-bombs fell on the east of the continent; now Itzamna’s hold on North Cademstar was all but erased, the chaos-tainted mutants forming a single front against the colonies.

The order was merely a formality. The staccato of rifle fire hadn’t abated for at least ten minutes now. He braced his gun and trained his sights on an approaching creature, lizard-like with a single red eye on its forehead. He took three shots in close succession; the eye exploded in a shower of reddish-orange as the body collapsed. “Reloading!” shouted a soldier to his right. He hastily readjusted to cover his comrade’s arc as a group of mutants rushed across the field. He resisted the urge to switch to full auto; Keiler had done so at the start of the engagement, and was nearly slaughtered in the second wave after they ran out of ammo. The soldier resumed the fight just as his magazine clicked empty.

“How you holding up, Jerry?” he shouted to his left as he reloaded.

“Any time Seventeenth feels like taking over’s fine by me!” he shouted back. “Aw $#^%,” he shouted, “Soldiers!”

He peered forward. A line of Black Warriors was advancing. No sooner did he see them than he was sent diving for cover as they laid down suppressing fire.

“Pearson,” barked the sergeant, “Get some rounds on those bastards now!” The order was met with a dull thwup as the mortar team began bombarding the field. Up and down the line, explosions and gunfire began to echo all around.

He rolled right before taking aim. The damn things were marching slowly, fully-erect, almost shrugging off the bullets. The mortar missed, kicking up dirt and body parts just behind them. “Arc higher,” shouted one of the soldiers. He angled up and shot at their heads, pap-pap, taking one down and sending the other staggering backwards. Suddenly found himself on his back, dirt and stones raining down on his face.

He lay still a moment, ears ringing as he felt the ground tremor around him. He heard a muffled shout of “Barrage!” from someone down the line. It took him a moment to register sensation, then he began pawing about for his gun.

“Aw damn it,” the sergeant exclaimed, “They’re charging!”

He hurriedly rolled over and reshouldered his weapon. Sure enough, what looked like fifty Black Warriors were rushing toward them, brandishing long, wicked swords, hooting and howling as they came. Screw this, he thought, and switched to automatic, letting fly short bursts at the oncoming throng. A dozen went down, but in their place appeared rocket-toting Black Oaks. “Rifles, concentrate fire on the brutes!” barked the sergeant. He emptied the rest of his clip into the nearest monster, which eventually went down. A soldier scored a lucky hit on another’s rocket launcher, which exploded, taking out both the Oak and five nearby soldiers.

But the line was now a hundred metres and closing, and they were desperately outnumbered. Dropping his gun, he fumbled for a hand grenade. “Frag out!” he shouted, lobbing it forward. A bang and a roar announced at least one hit; he had no time to try for a second. Breathing through his teeth, he unclasped the pouch on his vest and pulled out his combat knife. Clutching it so hard he though he’d break the handle, he poised himself for launch. If he was going to die, let them know he held the line.

A volley erupted some distance behind him, and the line went down in a hail of bullets and explosive rounds. He stood, hunched over, still poised for combat, disbelieving what he’d just seen. “Forward, schnell!” someone barked. He fell to his knees as fresh soldiers rushed past him to bolster the front line, accompanied by light tanks. He knelt there, panting like he’d run the marathon, before replacing the knife and reloading his gun.

“Jerry?! Jerry!” He ran over to his friend, sprawled sideways on the ground. “Jerry, say something!” he shook him vigorously.

The soldier coughed and spattered as if coming back to life. “I’m alright,” he wheezed, trying to pick himself up.

“Medic!” he shouted, before turning his attention back to his comrade. “Dammit, I thought I’d lost you there,” he grinned wanly.

“Reinforcements pulled through after all, then?”

“Looks like it.”

Two men ran over and loaded Jerry onto a stretcher. He watched them carry him off before looking around for his sergeant. “Get those dampers up on the double, the next wave’s due any minute,” someone called; he saw pairs of soldiers running forward carrying large tank-like contraptions, miniature versions of the chaos silos back on the mainland. He finally spotted his commander, in conversation with a human colonel (a “Falconer”, as the Mobians nicknamed the Bundesleet’s inner staff).

“—They didn’t give a warning, they just suddenly withdrew,” the sergeant was saying.

“You mean you’ve been holding this whole front by yourselves?!” he asked, visibly agitated.

“That’s right.”

“Verdammt ERC,” he spat, “They rob you in peace and desert you in war. No wonder you were outflanked.” His head jerked up as the sounds of combat renewed along the new front. “Where’s your commanding officer?”

“I don’t know, sir. Communications broke down after the second wave. It’s been broken telephone for most of this line.”

The soldier approached the men, saluting as sharply as he could. They replied in turn before the colonel turned back to the sergeant. “Well. Recall your men; you’re officially relieved. I’ll contact Drache and try to get some—”

Everyone reflexively doubled over as the air was pierced by a sharp screech. Something large and organic swept through the air above. “The &@?# is that?” breathed the soldier. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen, some strange blend of snake and bird, with bright, colourful feathers and a fearsome skeletal visage. The colonel withdrew his binoculars and tracked the creature as it flew out into no-man’s land, screeches echoing over the battlefield.

“Whatever it is, it’s not Black Arms.”
 
Brilliant, Thor, brilliant! :goodjob:
 
:clap: Nice work, Thorvald.
 
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