Society as we know it ended in 1919, after the calamitous fall of every world government. There is no order or law save the will of the Tank Clans, roaming columns of tanks from every nation on the constant prowl for ammunition, fuel and supplies to keep their rampage sustained for even a moment longer.
To be a tanker in this time is to embrace chaos and anarchy. Tank clans commit to bloody battles, fighting to the last man over scarce resources. The victors cannibalize the smouldering wrecks of the fallen for whatever scrap remains. Technological advances come at the cost of hundreds fallen, all in the name of making deadlier war machines. This the world I now inhabit, a world of steel and chaos, of armor and war. This is…
I’d be screwed, because the last game I played was Dying Light 1. I have a fleeting feeling that I’m not athletic enough to climb skyscrapers and buildings.
It's (an) Earth, mid 18th century. Mega-Ghana is the world's leading great power, having crusaded both Christianity and Islam more or less out of existence centuries ago. The place that I actually live in real life was just conquered by England, although this problem is somewhat mitigated by the fact that the (Visigothic) king of Spain invaded England and renamed it to "Nouveau France" several centuries ago. Such is the nature of a multiplayer Paradox megacampaign
I crouch on sand, I’d assume. Next to me a woman pulls a purple sword out of her own chest, tells me to get going then disappears. On my other side a sniper with bandaged eyes talks about a piece of her soul before shooting someone.
my 1WO stares at me in utter disbelief how his supposedly ace of a Kaleun could fuck up this badly. again. (Silent Hunter 3. snuck into a convoy at night and bad weather. convoy zigs towards me, no time for final speed estimation, i go with last estimate, 4 eels in the water, all pass ahead. possibility: convoy slowed one knot due sea state. decide to surface to reposition. have a brainfart, my artillery starts shooting. hell breaks loose, star shells and searchlights everywhere. both engines AK, course 90. destroyer follows shooting star shells. half an hour zigzagging until he loses me.
bin.pol.social
Najstarsze