Fair enough, though my attempted point was more that until you mentioned 'well, you all chose the option where you do not meet any canon characters', 'canon characters' weren't even something that was even in my sphere of 'what I was considering as variables to consider'.
During the engagement can we keep an eye out for outstanding performances or just people better then average. Nothing like a trial by ice to see who would make a good Lieutenant
During the engagement can we keep an eye out for outstanding performances or just people better then average. Nothing like a trial by ice to see who would make a good Lieutenant
No, because you're not even a good lieutenant yet. These are Yellow rates, and you're going into an Orange-rate situation. Morale is high, but not a substitute for skill.
Daaaaamn, looking sharp right there. With all those players around, theres no way someone won't get the idea to form a knight order or something along that train of thought, if only to stave off insanity and depression for a little while. I mean, yes we gotta fight hard to survive, but rest periods exist for a reason.
If anyone is going to want to be the next John Churchill, its gotta be one or more of the suicidal ones though.
Honestly troops wearing this pair with landing APCs or even a relic heavy infantry carrier would be amazing for major offensive operations. sadly it looks like the half track troop carriers are all colonial
Honestly troops wearing this pair with landing APCs or even a relic heavy infantry carrier would be amazing for major offensive operations. sadly it looks like the half track troop carriers are all colonial
Shock assault? Combined with heavy vehicle support and properly planned and played would be really good. Breakthroughs would be made easier. But as you said, the colonials have the hafl tracks. Sad.
[X] Plan 29th's Bunkers
-[X] Support 29 Uhlans in trying to close the line and protect 123 Sustainment
--[X] Details on deployment:
---[X] Load up the trucks and squads with BMATs and diesel cans plus extra shovels and hammers, and if space permits, some ammo and medical supply.
---[X] Once the two squads reach the 29 Uhlans, set up fires immediately to keep the trucks from freezing and start building a bunker ASAP to give the 29th Uhlans the ability to recover from the cold and bring back casualties. If there are insufficient BMATs or insufficient time for a good enough bunker then build Trenches to provide protection from the Cold. Upgrade Trenches to tier 2 if sufficient BMATs exist.
---[X] Once the Bunker (or Trenches) is built one squad will take overwatch assist the defense against Collie probing attacks while the other seeks to recover 29 Uhlan casualties or dig additional trenches as needed.
---[X] Finally, if time and materials permits set up a watchtower to give better idea of the area.
"We're moving to the Uhlans," you said, looking over the man from 13 Sustainment.
"Hang a right here, I'll call in to the bunker base."
"Wilco."
Getting the truck moving again, you winced as the back tires skid over a snowdrift. This weather was Problematic, no two ways about it. Still, the road was mostly clear until you hit 13 Sustainment, and you had to hide a gulp.
You knew, intellectually, that the Sustainment Regiments tended to be big. They were safe postings, and more importantly, they were safe postings that tended to be comfortable. Everyone got their own truck, bunker bases tended to have minimal hot-bunking, and frequently they had builders to optimize their layouts so it was comfortable too.
Seeing what had to be a hundred people frantically wide-walking around with backpacks overflowing with B-mats, hammers swinging and trucks screaming in with more materials by the minute was still a hell of a shock though. Up on the top of the bunker core, screaming his lungs out, was the foreman, a radio in one hand and binos in the other as he directed construction. As you politely rolled up to his position, window still slid open, he glared mightily at you.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"15 Uhlans, we're moving to reinforce the 29-"
"Don't care," he said, spitting a stream of chaw juice over the parapet (since when did this game have chaw?) "Smokey! Get these idiots loaded up, two hundred B-mats a pop and a few clips!"
"Yessir!"
You stared a little. "Just like that?"
"Fucking hell kid, they're just B-mats. I go take a shit, fifty of 'em land in the john."
"Yeah, but I wasn't expecting that much."
The foreman rolled his eyes. "Every son of a bitch on my job site is either rolling the same number, burning them on getting defensive patterns up- don't think I don't see that rifle garrison where we're putting in anti-tank KittyKiller, unfuck that shit!- or running back here empty. Smokey, toss in a few extra jerry cans too, they'll need it for fires!"
"Can I pull from the tanker?"
"Yeah, sooner it's empty sooner we can get it filled again!"
You just gulped. "Think it's gonna be bad?"
"If you don't all die I'll be highly surprised, but you'll have died doing the right thing. More than I can say for the last unit to come through here- 69 Mechanized Infantry tried and if the radio intercepts from the Intel Bunker we have are right, 69 Mechanized died."
Well that was a great way to bring your morale screaming down as Smokey's team loaded your trucks up. Two full jerry cans apiece, and two stacks of B-mats went into your truck beds, plus some kind soul who tossed in a shovel. Once that was done and the loaders slapped your truck-beds, you were off like a shot.
It took about ten minutes to get out to where you should have been in range of 29 Uhlan's radios, but all you heard was silence. Night was falling, the snow was picking up, and you still didn't see them. You didn't see the Colonials either, until a spattering of rifle fire hit the front of your truck.
"Everyone out!" you roared, pistol drawn and firing as you kicked the door open. "Anyone see anything?"
"I'm in contact with the intel teams in North King- CONTACT EAST!" Bathroy shouted, and you turned. It was a traditional truck struggling in the snow off-road, and as you watched the canvass cover started moving.
"All guns, fire on that truck!" you shouted. As lead started flying, you got low, pistol forwards. It was quiet, deathly quiet except for rifles cracking, until you heard a crackle on your radio.
"This is 29 Uhlans, does anyone read me?"
"This is Orr Melanie with the 15 Uhlans, we read you," you said, before seeing a flash of green and squeezing off three bullets at it. "Where the fuck are you?"
"About a hundred and twenty meters south of 11 Infantry's positions. We're out of fuel, down to about four effectives and nine walking wounded, and we're out of medical supplies and 7.62. It's pistol and shovel hours."
"I need a grid square," you grumbled. "We're at Eight-Mike-Five."
"We're holding the line at Eight-November-Six to Eight-November-Nine."
This game used the screwiest map system. Numbers were the horizontal distance from the top of the hex, letters were distance from the right of the hex, and each number/letter square was divided into nine squares, laid out like the number pad on a keyboard.
"Roger. We'll come in from the south," you said, before falling over as a white pain came over you. Fuck! Those fuckers shot you! "Medic!"
As Bathroy ran over with her first-aid kit, you checked the wound gingerly. It hurt to poke, but other than that it was a sharp, present ache: as much pain as the VR ever let you feel. It wasn't 'bleeding' at least, even if the shock of the pain made it hard to move.
As Bathroy pulled open your uniform to start dumping a sulfa packet and a bandage on the injury, you growled. "Is that all of them?"
"Yeah," Coatl said, rifle over his shoulder.
"Good. Take a minute to scrounge for ammo; I need to get back to my truck."
Pulling into the driver's seat, you winced. The bullet hole hurt less, now, but it still made it hard to move your arm. As Coatl and the rest finished scavenging, the grumbly riflemen shot you a look as he got in the passenger seat.
"We got lucky- most of them were carrying field dressings and Bombastones," he explained. "Most of us came out about ammunition-neutral in that one."
"Good. I know where we're headed now."
Wrenching the transmission into first, you glared at the dash and the engine cover. The engine hadn't been off for more than five minutes, but it was already notably stickier to get the thing into first gear. Still, Bathroy didn't seem to have any trouble following you, though, until you had to start dropping gears and going offroad. There wasn't an ambush again, though, and you kept driving until you saw the light of a campfire near a pair of smoking, disabled Dunnes. One of the few standing soliders looked at you with a madcap grin, waving, and as you dismounted he rushed up to give you a hug.
"Thank fuck, you actually made it!" he said, grinning. "Come on, we've got twenty minutes until the next truck starts coming."
"Hello yes relief provided," you said prefunctuarly. "Coatl, get some people, start digging in. Make a bunker, we need the warmth buff. Bathroy, medical detail: I want their guns on the line. Anyone from the 29, get some ammo from our trucks or help dig in."
"Orr, problem," Coatl said, going over the back of the truck. "We only have one shovel."
"What."
"I'm not fucking suprised," Bathroy growled, setting up a blood plasma IV as she grabbed a three-quarters bled out player and started sprinkling more sulfa on his wounds. "We're Uhlans, not infantry or Dragoons."
"Fucking, fine. One man shovels, another one clonks together bunker upgrades. I want hammers swinging, damnit. Everyone else, spread the fuck out: I don't want to see multiple people go down to one frag."
"Still, thank you. Thank you so much," the former leader of the 29 Uhlans said, holding on to you desperately.
"What happened to the other commander?" you asked, glaring at him.
"He bled out."
Oh. "Well, you grabbed his dog tags, right?"
"I've got all the tags, yeah. That's why I'm in charge now."
"Then get down, and stay in the bunker," you ordered, half to get him off you and half to get him away. "I have to treat the wounded."
Kneeling down next to a young man near the fire, you winced. That was a lot of bullet holes in his tunic, and whoever had patched him up had done bandaging over the tunic, not under. You'd have to cut them off. Pulling out a service knife and getting to work, you winced- those weren't bullet wounds, those were shrapnel wounds. Still, the bleeding was mostly stopped, so you could just pile on your own sealants and re-bandage, before getting him hooked up with a blood plasma bottle.
Twenty minutes passed, and like clockwork two of the enemy trucks showed up. By this point, you had a pair of small tier two bunkers, and a pair of trench wings for the troops to man. A small watchtower was by the campfire, and most importantly to your mind was a nice, happy bunker ramp that you and Bathroy used to get the wounded inside the heated bunker.
Reviving the unlucky 29th had taken all your blood plasma, though, and between you and Bathroy there were only a handful of bandages left. It had gotten bad enough you'd taken a spare Loughcaster, your trauma kit left back in the barely-warm trucks.
"Steady," you warned. "Remember, auto-assist turns off on targets past forty meters."
"We can barely see twenty," one of the 29s said, before Coatl cuffed him on the helmet lightly.
"Steady…"
As the trucks stopped to unload, you chambered a round with that familiar pull-push to work the straight bolt, system assist putting it to your shoulder dead level. "Remember," you hissed. "Aim for the back of the trucks."
Another moment, as you checked around. Every gun was up. "Fire!"
Twenty-one guns sounded as one, bullets streaking into the darkness. "Present!" you roared, the computer whispering the infantry drill into the back of your mind like a well-meaning tutor. "Fire!"
Another volley, tighter and crisper than it had any right to be. "Fire!" One more, for effect- and then the Argentis started up. They couldn't see you either, but the sound of hot lead whipping over their heads broke the momentary cohesion of the gun line to turn into a spritz of sporadic rifle fire. As magazines went dry and people ducked under the trench bulwark, the Colonial figures started appearing for certain, guns blazing.
"Pronta granata!" a shout went from the other side, and you gulped. Colonials didn't talk. That was absurd, madness, this was a game-
"Gettate! E Carica!"
A half-dozen Bomastones started whistling through the air, your people outside in the trenches frantically scrambling to get inside, the small fortification too deeply-packed to be useful. It turned a small voley of grenades into something devastating, the cans on sticks turning into an explosive hail that scythed down men of the 15 and 29 alike. As the goblins drew closer, you started clubbing people with the butstock of your rifle. "Out! Into the trenches!" you roared, but the press was too much. Someone managed to ram your shoulder, forcing you to drop your Loughcaster, and as they ran out the trench ramp more than a few were brought down by rifle-fire. "Rot your eyes, get back here!"
As another blow sent you to the floor, you grabbed that one lonely, abandoned shovel, and dug around you combat rigging for a Bomastone of your own. It was a half-hearted fling to get it outside the door of the bunker, and it didn't even clear the trench- but it did kill four Colonials that managed to get their boots in your trenchline. As another came through the other trench, though, you were down to a pistol and the shovel- so you attacked. Gunfire and explosions echoed around you as you slammed the shovel into a helmet, the thick steel denting around the entrenching tool, but the next one coming around the door had a pistol drawn. It was nearly touching your chest when it fired, and you were filled with pain for it.
So you returned the failure, the Aalto a faster shot as you put two more into him than he into you. The third one didn't even get a chance to bring his rifle up, and your pistol kept going until it clacked out of rounds. Dropping it, you staggered back, blood pouring out of your chest in dramatic artorial heaves.
That was bad. Dropping your first aide kit, shaking hands trying to pour sulfa into the wound, before taping on a bandage. There. You shouldn't- probably- maybe- wouldn't bleed out.
Then another thrice-damned Colonial came in from around the other door, and shot you in the gut. Blacking out from pain, the last thing you remembered was your head hitting the floor.
///
When you next awoke, it was in a dusty stone base, a medic looking over you with a droll grin. "Well, congratulations."
"I feel like shit," you griped, before coughing painfully.
"Yeah, that happens when you get here on five hit points out of a hundred. Damn near drank the blood-plasma bottle dry."
"Where the fuck am I?"
The nurse- male, bearded, and still wearing his helmet- laughed. "Sweetholt Relic Base. 11 Infantry was riding in like they wanted to earn a Hussars tag, and they sent a pair of trucks to relieve 29 Uhlans- they didn't know your unit was there too."
"How many of my people made it out?" you asked, trying to think around the pain and the drugs the medic was giving you.
"Eh, two? Three? We got all their dog tags, and most of the 29 Uhlans guys. All the ones at your little screwed-up firebase, at least."
"Fuck."
The medic snorted, before giving you a pair of green pills and a tin cup of water. "Not becoming of you to swear so much, young woman. We got the rest of your regiment back home once they revived- best be sending you home too."
Getting up, you nearly fell over as a stab of pain went through your chest. Grabbing your heart, you sat back down until the nurse offered you a cane. Hauling yourself upright, you started hobbling around to the Relic Base's arms locker.
"Your kit is in your new car, sweetie."
"I don't have a car."
"You do now," a young woman said, walking in with a smile. She was gorgeous, in a sharp, kitsune-faced sort of way, with long auburn hair braided up in a glorious bun you could see below the nape of her helmet. "Lance Sergeant Asuna, 11eRC Infantry, ma'am. The officers were happy with your holdout action, so they decided to give you a gift."
"A gift," you muttered, limping outside. As Asuna handed you the keys, you walked outside to see a dun-colored Drummond 100a Light Utility Vehicle. It was obviously a prototype, but damn… it looked good. "Please express my thanks to the Regiment, Asuna."
"With pleasure."
Sliding yourself in, you turned it on, the little flat-four under the hood purring up to life as you carefully pulled out of the Relic, and started working your way off to the King, and then back home.
Naturally, aside from a tendency to understeer, the Drummond was wonderful. Excellent power to weight ratio, didn't mind the snow at all, and best of all? It had a radio on the dash, and speakers! Tuning into the daily news, you just kept driving on home. God, it would be good to be home.
/////
Battle for the Eastern Front: Narrow Victory Casualties: 15 Uhlans- 4/6 dead, 2 wounded. 29 Uhlans- 18/18 dead. Revivals: All casualties Equipment Lost: 15 Uhlans- 2/2 Dunne trucks, all small arms. 29 Uhlans- 3/3 trucks, all small arms. Mission Objective: Reach and Relieve the 29 Uhlans- Completed. Deny route of attack on 123 Sustainment- Completed.
/////
VOTES
(Standard plan vote now, please and thank you.)
BUNKER
(Choose One) [] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to sustain larger troop numbers. (This will help your goal of joining the Bureau of War) (Base is currently set to auto-expand by 1x Small Pattern/turn)
[] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to operate an Observation Bunker (This will help your goal of joining the Bureau of War)
[] Expand your bunker base with Defensive Patterns (Requires techniques, vote to begin development)
-[] With small patterns -[] With medium patterns
-[] With heavy patterns
-[] With artillery firing positions
-[] With infantry fighting positions.
[] Develop a new bunker base in a better location
-[] Write in hex and town/Relic, as well as distance to front line or intended purpose.
[] Get your builders to stop expanding the base for now.
PERSONNEL
(Choose One)
[] Go and recruit more personnel
-[] Mass recruitment: whatever you can get, get more of it! (Recruits 3d10 White personnel)
-[] Selective recruitment: Look for people who aren't clueless. The Logistics Union has a lot of folks. (Recruits 2d10 Green personnel)
-[] Picky recruitment: Get people who are at least as skilled as you are! (Recruits 1d10 Yellow personnel) -[] Frontline recruitment: Go to the front and snag some blueberries! (Recruits 1d10 Orange personnel)
-[] Elite recruitment: Go find a group of lunatics, and shanghai them. (Recruits 1d10 Red personnel) (This will help your goal of joining the Bureau of War)
(You cannot recruit units of higher rating than yourself.)
[] Commit training!
-[] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[] Rifle training: Everyone will spend time practicing the fine art of "bullet go plink"
[] Extra work shifts
-[] More Scroop: Get everyone to do more rounds of scrooping at the scrap fields. You do your part, and more importantly, can use the B-mats to get useful stuff like more trucks or dedicated equipment.
-[] More Mines: Get everyone to do more rounds on the component mines and oil wells. Components mean R-mats, R-mats mean flatbeds. God, you want a flatbed.
-[] More Building: Put everyone to work on getting your bunker upgrades planned. If you don't have some planned, the bunker will get what the troops think it needs.
-[] More Logistics: Put everyone to work on hauling more truckloads of stuff from point A to point B. Whoever's manning the bunker base at the border to Weathered Expanse will be very happy to get more gear for the inevitable offensive.
UPGRADES
(Choose One)
[] Go out and get yourself a lieutenant! (You may have one per twenty Regiment members, minimum one)
-[] Teach them the way of the builder, as much as you know how that works. (Adds one action to Bunker)
-[] Teach them the way of the talker, so you don't have to do that crap! (Adds one action to Personnel)
-[] Teach them the way of the organizer, so you have more time to put out more fires (Adds one action to Upgrades)
[] Find some actual damn builders, and get a copy of their playbook. You don't want your bunker base to turn into a nightmare (Unlocks Defensive Patterns)
[] Find a, uh, techmaid, and get some prototype kits by hook or by crook. (Unlocks Blakerow Prototypes or Drummond 100a Protoypes: a short-ranged semi-automatic carbine and firepower increase for your soldiers, or a two offroad car with integral radio)
[] Get in touch with a regiment that's a member of the Bureau of War (Discovers and improves relations with one random regiment inside the search group)
[] Get in touch with another regiment that does something you need (Discovers and improves relations with one random regiment inside the search group)
-[] Logistics
-[] Production
-[] Frontline Combat
-[] QRF
-[] Water Logistics
-[] Techmaids
-[] Partisans
[] Find a way to get your guys some quality of life upgrades so things suck less out here.
That could have gone better, that could have also gone worse. But at least the line held long enough for the 11th to arrive. And hey, we met Asuna and got a free car.
Also, our intervention probably kept the 29 Uhlan from being perma-wiped.
For the actions, I'm leaning towards doing the observation bunker, picky recruitment and either a lieutenant (talker) or builder because our current builder's quality leaves much to be desired.
well, fucking everyone dying is... pretty unideal. none of the team got perma-killed though, and we didn't lose - and those things are what matters, in the end.
Also, what the fuck? Either I'm not familiar enough with WW1 trench fighting or something's fucky, but downright napoleonic infantry salvos are a thing apparently. At least our guns are bolt action rather than muskets, so we don't have to start getting three row deep infantry blocks organized.
Re the vote... I'll have a look in the morning, when I'm less tired.
well, fucking everyone dying is... pretty unideal. none of the team got perma-killed though, and we didn't lose - and those things are what matters, in the end.
Also, what the fuck? Either I'm not familiar enough with WW1 trench fighting or something's fucky, but downright napoleonic infantry salvos are a thing apparently. At least our guns are bolt action rather than muskets, so we don't have to start getting three row deep infantry blocks organized.
Re the vote... I'll have a look in the morning, when I'm less tired.
I think they were trying to leverage mass fire to boost their ability to deal damage to the incoming hostile despite working bolt actions and pistols. Not sure how viable a plan it was though.
That could have gone better, that could have also gone worse. But at least the line held long enough for the 11th to arrive. And hey, we met Asuna and got a free car.
well, fucking everyone dying is... pretty unideal. none of the team got perma-killed though, and we didn't lose - and those things are what matters, in the end.
Honestly, it was a good plan. You took into account local weather conditions constraining movement and that you'd have injured on-site that needed better shelter, and players recognized they wouldn't have supplies to that organically. The fact they missed they wouldn't have tools for that organically, well, shit happens. I threw one in as a freebee because 13 Sustainment is a good unit, and Logistics in Foxhole will tend to try and over-supply you rather than screw you over. Max roll on B-mats would have been 2k B-mats to build defenses with; at which point you'd be building Rifle Pillboxes since those are cheap and still beat off the weather.
Also, what the fuck? Either I'm not familiar enough with WW1 trench fighting or something's fucky, but downright napoleonic infantry salvos are a thing apparently. At least our guns are bolt action rather than muskets, so we don't have to start getting three row deep infantry blocks organized.
World War One trench fights, no, not really. However, in colonial combats up until about Second Boer War, mass rifle fire was both an effective means of breaking up attacks and an actual battle-winner in its own right. I need to check my sources on this, but at Tell El Kebir, the British forces were landing volleys off their Lee-Metford rifles at ranges minimum of 1,600 meters. These are mass fires, to be sure: entire companies and battalions shooting as one- but in certain conditions, it was reasonably contemporary. Close enough for Cardinal to decide to throw it in as something to make part of the System Assist programing for unit tactics and officership. I believe the English tried mass rifle fire again a few times on the Race to the Sea, but it's late and I can't bother to get the data out.
Between that and the fact she's firing on the trucks, not the dudes, I feel it worked out. Not the stupidest thing I've seen or done in Foxhole on a frontline.
I think they were trying to leverage mass fire to boost their ability to deal damage to the incoming hostile despite working bolt actions and pistols. Not sure how viable a plan it was though.
It was that, and an attempt to save ammunition. At five clips a rifleman, the group was doing fine until they had to backstop 29 Uhlans on ammo, which is where it got down to two clips for most of the riflemen. Some only had the one in the gun, which was why Orr Melanie passed out the grenades- except, well, she flinched. The fact Colonial NPCs can talk rattled her out of the System Assist for a hot second, and that ate her chance to respond to the grenade salvo. When the Bomastone has a 24m range and the blizzard has you down to 30m view range, that's a very short distance to advance before you throw grenades and force people back into their bunkers- and once they're in the bunkers, a bayonet rush would quickly put paid to any attempts to get out of the bunker.
I've gotten my positions massacred by this sort of organized infantry move several times before- what saved y'all this time is your skill issue wasn't as big as their tech issue. Cardinal's various Regimental Leader NPCs are smart bastards, but they're very smart in a limited number of things at any one given time. Getting in your trench line was objectively the correct choice, since Colonial units are just about always theoretically weaker to blizzards than Warden units, so the Regimental Leader picked this as his least bad option.
Really, this update can be described as "two idiots make the correct choice and see who fumbles the execution harder" and this time the fumble wasn't on your end.
Well. On the bright side, the mission was successful and we got some recognition out of it. On the downside, we died to the Italians!
Right then! We got 21 troops now, 12 yellow and 9 green. Now that the base is expanding (into a overbuilt mess but don't worry about it) I think its time to get that observation bunker up. For now I also think we need to get them some vehicle training, knowing how to drive is rather useful for logi. Our supposed regiments role of QRF too I guess. Finally we can get a lieutenant, but I'm torn between grabbing a talker or an organizer. Basically between being able to do more training + recruiting and allowing us to talk to more regiments + do more upgrades. I'm currently leaning towards the organizer so we can find a better builder and get some quality of life upgrades our way next turn, but this is my tentative plan for now.
[X] Plan Radio Check
-[X] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to operate an Observation Bunker
-[X] Commit training!
--[X] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[X] Go out and get yourself a lieutenant! (You may have one per twenty Regiment members, minimum one)
--[X] Teach them the way of the organizer, so you have more time to put out more fires (Adds one action to Upgrades)
[X] Plan Radio Check
-[X] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to operate an Observation Bunker
-[X] Commit training!
--[X] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[X] Go out and get yourself a lieutenant! (You may have one per twenty Regiment members, minimum one)
--[X] Teach them the way of the organizer, so you have more time to put out more fires (Adds one action to Upgrades)
[X] Plan Radio Check
-[X] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to operate an Observation Bunker
-[X] Commit training!
--[X] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[X] Go out and get yourself a lieutenant! (You may have one per twenty Regiment members, minimum one)
--[X] Teach them the way of the organizer, so you have more time to put out more fires (Adds one action to Upgrades)
I agree that observation bunker seems really good to have and that now that we have been given a vehicle training is a really good idea i'm not sure about the upgrade but taking a lieutenant seems like a good idea.
I'm currently leaning towards the organizer so we can find a better builder and get some quality of life upgrades our way next turn, but this is my tentative plan for now.
I say that we go Talker instead of Organizer. I say this because while having a two upgrade slot is good for an increase with tech. We're at the early stage where setting up better training, more men, and materials seem more important. Yes it may seem like a short term arrangement but tech and the like can handle being one action for a turn or two. Whilst personel, which has us getting men, training and mat may get strangle holded as we either have to choice recruitment, training, or mat gathering.
It'd be easier to get more men for a second LT that we can then send the way of the organizer. After all, the carbine, car, and defensive works may seem good now. It wont be good if we dont have the personel and mats to use em.
Edit: decided to make a plan that's basically the same but with talker instead so dont have to have original plan maker doesnt have to edit plan if other players actually prefer it. The rest of the choices are good to me.
[X] Plan Radio Check but Talker
-[X] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to operate an Observation Bunker
-[X] Commit training!
--[X] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[X] Go out and get yourself a lieutenant! (You may have one per twenty Regiment members, minimum one)
--[X] Teach them the way of the talker, so you don't have to do that crap! (Adds one action to Personnel)
[X] Plan 29th's Bunkers
-[X] Support 29 Uhlans in trying to close the line and protect 123 Sustainment
--[X] Details on deployment:
---[X] Load up the trucks and squads with BMATs and diesel cans plus extra shovels and hammers, and if space permits, some ammo and medical supply.
---[X] Once the two squads reach the 29 Uhlans, set up fires immediately to keep the trucks from freezing and start building a bunker ASAP to give the 29th Uhlans the ability to recover from the cold and bring back casualties. If there are insufficient BMATs or insufficient time for a good enough bunker then build Trenches to provide protection from the Cold. Upgrade Trenches to tier 2 if sufficient BMATs exist.
---[X] Once the Bunker (or Trenches) is built one squad will take overwatch assist the defense against Collie probing attacks while the other seeks to recover 29 Uhlan casualties or dig additional trenches as needed.
---[X] Finally, if time and materials permits set up a watchtower to give better idea of the area.
"We're moving to the Uhlans," you said, looking over the man from 13 Sustainment.
"Hang a right here, I'll call in to the bunker base."
"Wilco."
Getting the truck moving again, you winced as the back tires skid over a snowdrift. This weather was Problematic, no two ways about it. Still, the road was mostly clear until you hit 13 Sustainment, and you had to hide a gulp.
You knew, intellectually, that the Sustainment Regiments tended to be big. They were safe postings, and more importantly, they were safe postings that tended to be comfortable. Everyone got their own truck, bunker bases tended to have minimal hot-bunking, and frequently they had builders to optimize their layouts so it was comfortable too.
Seeing what had to be a hundred people frantically wide-walking around with backpacks overflowing with B-mats, hammers swinging and trucks screaming in with more materials by the minute was still a hell of a shock though. Up on the top of the bunker core, screaming his lungs out, was the foreman, a radio in one hand and binos in the other as he directed construction. As you politely rolled up to his position, window still slid open, he glared mightily at you.
"Who the fuck are you?"
"15 Uhlans, we're moving to reinforce the 29-"
"Don't care," he said, spitting a stream of chaw juice over the parapet (since when did this game have chaw?) "Smokey! Get these idiots loaded up, two hundred B-mats a pop and a few clips!"
"Yessir!"
You stared a little. "Just like that?"
"Fucking hell kid, they're just B-mats. I go take a shit, fifty of 'em land in the john."
"Yeah, but I wasn't expecting that much."
The foreman rolled his eyes. "Every son of a bitch on my job site is either rolling the same number, burning them on getting defensive patterns up- don't think I don't see that rifle garrison where we're putting in anti-tank KittyKiller, unfuck that shit!- or running back here empty. Smokey, toss in a few extra jerry cans too, they'll need it for fires!"
"Can I pull from the tanker?"
"Yeah, sooner it's empty sooner we can get it filled again!"
You just gulped. "Think it's gonna be bad?"
"If you don't all die I'll be highly surprised, but you'll have died doing the right thing. More than I can say for the last unit to come through here- 69 Mechanized Infantry tried and if the radio intercepts from the Intel Bunker we have are right, 69 Mechanized died."
Well that was a great way to bring your morale screaming down as Smokey's team loaded your trucks up. Two full jerry cans apiece, and two stacks of B-mats went into your truck beds, plus some kind soul who tossed in a shovel. Once that was done and the loaders slapped your truck-beds, you were off like a shot.
It took about ten minutes to get out to where you should have been in range of 29 Uhlan's radios, but all you heard was silence. Night was falling, the snow was picking up, and you still didn't see them. You didn't see the Colonials either, until a spattering of rifle fire hit the front of your truck.
"Everyone out!" you roared, pistol drawn and firing as you kicked the door open. "Anyone see anything?"
"I'm in contact with the intel teams in North King- CONTACT EAST!" Bathroy shouted, and you turned. It was a traditional truck struggling in the snow off-road, and as you watched the canvass cover started moving.
"All guns, fire on that truck!" you shouted. As lead started flying, you got low, pistol forwards. It was quiet, deathly quiet except for rifles cracking, until you heard a crackle on your radio.
"This is 29 Uhlans, does anyone read me?"
"This is Orr Melanie with the 15 Uhlans, we read you," you said, before seeing a flash of green and squeezing off three bullets at it. "Where the fuck are you?"
"About a hundred and twenty meters south of 11 Infantry's positions. We're out of fuel, down to about four effectives and nine walking wounded, and we're out of medical supplies and 7.62. It's pistol and shovel hours."
"I need a grid square," you grumbled. "We're at Eight-Mike-Five."
"We're holding the line at Eight-November-Six to Eight-November-Nine."
This game used the screwiest map system. Numbers were the horizontal distance from the top of the hex, letters were distance from the right of the hex, and each number/letter square was divided into nine squares, laid out like the number pad on a keyboard.
"Roger. We'll come in from the south," you said, before falling over as a white pain came over you. Fuck! Those fuckers shot you! "Medic!"
As Bathroy ran over with her first-aid kit, you checked the wound gingerly. It hurt to poke, but other than that it was a sharp, present ache: as much pain as the VR ever let you feel. It wasn't 'bleeding' at least, even if the shock of the pain made it hard to move.
As Bathroy pulled open your uniform to start dumping a sulfa packet and a bandage on the injury, you growled. "Is that all of them?"
"Yeah," Coatl said, rifle over his shoulder.
"Good. Take a minute to scrounge for ammo; I need to get back to my truck."
Pulling into the driver's seat, you winced. The bullet hole hurt less, now, but it still made it hard to move your arm. As Coatl and the rest finished scavenging, the grumbly riflemen shot you a look as he got in the passenger seat.
"We got lucky- most of them were carrying field dressings and Bombastones," he explained. "Most of us came out about ammunition-neutral in that one."
"Good. I know where we're headed now."
Wrenching the transmission into first, you glared at the dash and the engine cover. The engine hadn't been off for more than five minutes, but it was already notably stickier to get the thing into first gear. Still, Bathroy didn't seem to have any trouble following you, though, until you had to start dropping gears and going offroad. There wasn't an ambush again, though, and you kept driving until you saw the light of a campfire near a pair of smoking, disabled Dunnes. One of the few standing soliders looked at you with a madcap grin, waving, and as you dismounted he rushed up to give you a hug.
"Thank fuck, you actually made it!" he said, grinning. "Come on, we've got twenty minutes until the next truck starts coming."
"Hello yes relief provided," you said prefunctuarly. "Coatl, get some people, start digging in. Make a bunker, we need the warmth buff. Bathroy, medical detail: I want their guns on the line. Anyone from the 29, get some ammo from our trucks or help dig in."
"Orr, problem," Coatl said, going over the back of the truck. "We only have one shovel."
"What."
"I'm not fucking suprised," Bathroy growled, setting up a blood plasma IV as she grabbed a three-quarters bled out player and started sprinkling more sulfa on his wounds. "We're Uhlans, not infantry or Dragoons."
"Fucking, fine. One man shovels, another one clonks together bunker upgrades. I want hammers swinging, damnit. Everyone else, spread the fuck out: I don't want to see multiple people go down to one frag."
"Still, thank you. Thank you so much," the former leader of the 29 Uhlans said, holding on to you desperately.
"What happened to the other commander?" you asked, glaring at him.
"He bled out."
Oh. "Well, you grabbed his dog tags, right?"
"I've got all the tags, yeah. That's why I'm in charge now."
"Then get down, and stay in the bunker," you ordered, half to get him off you and half to get him away. "I have to treat the wounded."
Kneeling down next to a young man near the fire, you winced. That was a lot of bullet holes in his tunic, and whoever had patched him up had done bandaging over the tunic, not under. You'd have to cut them off. Pulling out a service knife and getting to work, you winced- those weren't bullet wounds, those were shrapnel wounds. Still, the bleeding was mostly stopped, so you could just pile on your own sealants and re-bandage, before getting him hooked up with a blood plasma bottle.
Twenty minutes passed, and like clockwork two of the enemy trucks showed up. By this point, you had a pair of small tier two bunkers, and a pair of trench wings for the troops to man. A small watchtower was by the campfire, and most importantly to your mind was a nice, happy bunker ramp that you and Bathroy used to get the wounded inside the heated bunker.
Reviving the unlucky 29th had taken all your blood plasma, though, and between you and Bathroy there were only a handful of bandages left. It had gotten bad enough you'd taken a spare Loughcaster, your trauma kit left back in the barely-warm trucks.
"Steady," you warned. "Remember, auto-assist turns off on targets past forty meters."
"We can barely see twenty," one of the 29s said, before Coatl cuffed him on the helmet lightly.
"Steady…"
As the trucks stopped to unload, you chambered a round with that familiar pull-push to work the straight bolt, system assist putting it to your shoulder dead level. "Remember," you hissed. "Aim for the back of the trucks."
Another moment, as you checked around. Every gun was up. "Fire!"
Twenty-one guns sounded as one, bullets streaking into the darkness. "Present!" you roared, the computer whispering the infantry drill into the back of your mind like a well-meaning tutor. "Fire!"
Another volley, tighter and crisper than it had any right to be. "Fire!" One more, for effect- and then the Argentis started up. They couldn't see you either, but the sound of hot lead whipping over their heads broke the momentary cohesion of the gun line to turn into a spritz of sporadic rifle fire. As magazines went dry and people ducked under the trench bulwark, the Colonial figures started appearing for certain, guns blazing.
"Pronta granata!" a shout went from the other side, and you gulped. Colonials didn't talk. That was absurd, madness, this was a game-
"Gettate! E Carica!"
A half-dozen Bomastones started whistling through the air, your people outside in the trenches frantically scrambling to get inside, the small fortification too deeply-packed to be useful. It turned a small voley of grenades into something devastating, the cans on sticks turning into an explosive hail that scythed down men of the 15 and 29 alike. As the goblins drew closer, you started clubbing people with the butstock of your rifle. "Out! Into the trenches!" you roared, but the press was too much. Someone managed to ram your shoulder, forcing you to drop your Loughcaster, and as they ran out the trench ramp more than a few were brought down by rifle-fire. "Rot your eyes, get back here!"
As another blow sent you to the floor, you grabbed that one lonely, abandoned shovel, and dug around you combat rigging for a Bomastone of your own. It was a half-hearted fling to get it outside the door of the bunker, and it didn't even clear the trench- but it did kill four Colonials that managed to get their boots in your trenchline. As another came through the other trench, though, you were down to a pistol and the shovel- so you attacked. Gunfire and explosions echoed around you as you slammed the shovel into a helmet, the thick steel denting around the entrenching tool, but the next one coming around the door had a pistol drawn. It was nearly touching your chest when it fired, and you were filled with pain for it.
So you returned the failure, the Aalto a faster shot as you put two more into him than he into you. The third one didn't even get a chance to bring his rifle up, and your pistol kept going until it clacked out of rounds. Dropping it, you staggered back, blood pouring out of your chest in dramatic artorial heaves.
That was bad. Dropping your first aide kit, shaking hands trying to pour sulfa into the wound, before taping on a bandage. There. You shouldn't- probably- maybe- wouldn't bleed out.
Then another thrice-damned Colonial came in from around the other door, and shot you in the gut. Blacking out from pain, the last thing you remembered was your head hitting the floor.
///
When you next awoke, it was in a dusty stone base, a medic looking over you with a droll grin. "Well, congratulations."
"I feel like shit," you griped, before coughing painfully.
"Yeah, that happens when you get here on five hit points out of a hundred. Damn near drank the blood-plasma bottle dry."
"Where the fuck am I?"
The nurse- male, bearded, and still wearing his helmet- laughed. "Sweetholt Relic Base. 11 Infantry was riding in like they wanted to earn a Hussars tag, and they sent a pair of trucks to relieve 29 Uhlans- they didn't know your unit was there too."
"How many of my people made it out?" you asked, trying to think around the pain and the drugs the medic was giving you.
"Eh, two? Three? We got all their dog tags, and most of the 29 Uhlans guys. All the ones at your little screwed-up firebase, at least."
"Fuck."
The medic snorted, before giving you a pair of green pills and a tin cup of water. "Not becoming of you to swear so much, young woman. We got the rest of your regiment back home once they revived- best be sending you home too."
Getting up, you nearly fell over as a stab of pain went through your chest. Grabbing your heart, you sat back down until the nurse offered you a cane. Hauling yourself upright, you started hobbling around to the Relic Base's arms locker.
"Your kit is in your new car, sweetie."
"I don't have a car."
"You do now," a young woman said, walking in with a smile. She was gorgeous, in a sharp, kitsune-faced sort of way, with long auburn hair braided up in a glorious bun you could see below the nape of her helmet. "Lance Sergeant Asuna, 11eRC Infantry, ma'am. The officers were happy with your holdout action, so they decided to give you a gift."
"A gift," you muttered, limping outside. As Asuna handed you the keys, you walked outside to see a dun-colored Drummond 100a Light Utility Vehicle. It was obviously a prototype, but damn… it looked good. "Please express my thanks to the Regiment, Asuna."
"With pleasure."
Sliding yourself in, you turned it on, the little flat-four under the hood purring up to life as you carefully pulled out of the Relic, and started working your way off to the King, and then back home.
Naturally, aside from a tendency to understeer, the Drummond was wonderful. Excellent power to weight ratio, didn't mind the snow at all, and best of all? It had a radio on the dash, and speakers! Tuning into the daily news, you just kept driving on home. God, it would be good to be home.
/////
Battle for the Eastern Front: Narrow Victory Casualties: 15 Uhlans- 4/6 dead, 2 wounded. 29 Uhlans- 18/18 dead. Revivals: All casualties Equipment Lost: 15 Uhlans- 2/2 Dunne trucks, all small arms. 29 Uhlans- 3/3 trucks, all small arms. Mission Objective: Reach and Relieve the 29 Uhlans- Completed. Deny route of attack on 123 Sustainment- Completed.
/////
VOTES
(Standard plan vote now, please and thank you.)
BUNKER
(Choose One) [] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to sustain larger troop numbers. (This will help your goal of joining the Bureau of War) (Base is currently set to auto-expand by 1x Small Pattern/turn)
[] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to operate an Observation Bunker (This will help your goal of joining the Bureau of War)
[] Expand your bunker base with Defensive Patterns (Requires techniques, vote to begin development)
-[] With small patterns -[] With medium patterns
-[] With heavy patterns
-[] With artillery firing positions
-[] With infantry fighting positions.
[] Develop a new bunker base in a better location
-[] Write in hex and town/Relic, as well as distance to front line or intended purpose.
[] Get your builders to stop expanding the base for now.
PERSONNEL
(Choose One)
[] Go and recruit more personnel
-[] Mass recruitment: whatever you can get, get more of it! (Recruits 3d10 White personnel)
-[] Selective recruitment: Look for people who aren't clueless. The Logistics Union has a lot of folks. (Recruits 2d10 Green personnel)
-[] Picky recruitment: Get people who are at least as skilled as you are! (Recruits 1d10 Yellow personnel) -[] Frontline recruitment: Go to the front and snag some blueberries! (Recruits 1d10 Orange personnel)
-[] Elite recruitment: Go find a group of lunatics, and shanghai them. (Recruits 1d10 Red personnel) (This will help your goal of joining the Bureau of War)
(You cannot recruit units of higher rating than yourself.)
[] Commit training!
-[] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[] Rifle training: Everyone will spend time practicing the fine art of "bullet go plink"
[] Extra work shifts
-[] More Scroop: Get everyone to do more rounds of scrooping at the scrap fields. You do your part, and more importantly, can use the B-mats to get useful stuff like more trucks or dedicated equipment.
-[] More Mines: Get everyone to do more rounds on the component mines and oil wells. Components mean R-mats, R-mats mean flatbeds. God, you want a flatbed.
-[] More Building: Put everyone to work on getting your bunker upgrades planned. If you don't have some planned, the bunker will get what the troops think it needs.
-[] More Logistics: Put everyone to work on hauling more truckloads of stuff from point A to point B. Whoever's manning the bunker base at the border to Weathered Expanse will be very happy to get more gear for the inevitable offensive.
UPGRADES
(Choose One)
[] Go out and get yourself a lieutenant! (You may have one per twenty Regiment members, minimum one)
-[] Teach them the way of the builder, as much as you know how that works. (Adds one action to Bunker)
-[] Teach them the way of the talker, so you don't have to do that crap! (Adds one action to Personnel)
-[] Teach them the way of the organizer, so you have more time to put out more fires (Adds one action to Upgrades)
[] Find some actual damn builders, and get a copy of their playbook. You don't want your bunker base to turn into a nightmare (Unlocks Defensive Patterns)
[] Find a, uh, techmaid, and get some prototype kits by hook or by crook. (Unlocks Blakerow Prototypes or Drummond 100a Protoypes: a short-ranged semi-automatic carbine and firepower increase for your soldiers, or a two offroad car with integral radio)
[] Get in touch with a regiment that's a member of the Bureau of War (Discovers and improves relations with one random regiment inside the search group)
[] Get in touch with another regiment that does something you need (Discovers and improves relations with one random regiment inside the search group)
-[] Logistics
-[] Production
-[] Frontline Combat
-[] QRF
-[] Water Logistics
-[] Techmaids
-[] Partisans
[] Find a way to get your guys some quality of life upgrades so things suck less out here.
This isn't really a well-considered point, but I want a flatbed. It's almost a 3x capacity bump per trip for basic resources and lets us haul and accumulate things that outright cannot be transported otherwise.
I don't know how to get our greedy hands on a flat bed
[X] Plan Try to Worm into the Bureau of War
-[X] Expand your bunker base with additional infrastructure to operate an Observation Bunker
-[X] Commit training!
--[X] Vehicle training: Teach everyone drive good. Car goes on right hand side of road, revolutionary concept. Might as well also learn to drive a flatbed, or your Drummond if you're feeling nice.
-[X] Get in touch with a regiment that's a member of the Bureau of War (Discovers and improves relations with one random regiment inside the search group)
Reasoning: Getting a better perspective of the faction's plans will make the unit more effective. There's a decent chance of interacting with other hero leaders that interests me. And I think some group in the BoW might hand us a flatbed truck
docs.google.com
