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 What games do you play? Gaming is definitely a big part of my life. Video games, role-playing games, card games, board games, word games . . . I believe any sort of entertaining mental challenge is worthy of my attention. Computing technology is clearly one of the biggest influences on the modern era. I feel that one of the most fortunate aspects of living in this time period is the recreational opportunities created by modern electronics. I have seen the art of computer game design evolve from the earliest monochrome arcade games and console systems into a dazzling array of wonders the likes of which would have been unimaginable just a few decades ago. The Internet has done much to advance gaming by making it possible to bring together players from all over the world in competitive leagues and even some massively multiplayer games. Electronic gaming is already a larger industry than motion picture production, and I believe it will only continue to grow as further technological innovation, younger generations, and progressive economic paradigms create a world where individuals have more control over their time and more choices regarding how to make use of increased leisure.Having recently acquired a new computer, I have found myself genuinely thrilled by games like Unreal Tournament and Diablo 2. In particular, my current favorite is Mechwarrior 4, based on the flagship product of the now defunct FASA corporation. I used to spend a large amount of time in BattleTech MUXes, where I was known as "pro" a.k.a. Adam Weishaupt. Tragically, in one way or another, all of the long-running servers have degenerated into joyless absurdity. Someone out there is trying to revive the genre with a game that combines BattleTech mechanics with the Gundam Wing setting. However, I have used my new computer to start playing games more in the spirit of the times. Recently I have earned a rank in the Red Dawn faction of the Mechwarrior4 Vengeance League. To give you a sense of what it is like, the next section of this document contains a short story I wrote based on a log of my first major battle back in my days as a btech MUXer. The actual games feature maps, gauges, and plenty of color, but the flow of combat is captured nicely in this bit of fiction. |
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Coming of Age (a tale of violence and valor) Military formation is like water -- the form of water is to avoid the high and go to the low, the form of a military force is to avoid the full and attack the empty; the flow of water is determined by the earth, the victory of a military force is determined by the opponent.
--Sun Tzu So far, it had been a good day. After a long stretch of waiting for permission to stake a claim, my battle group had been authorized to assert control over the output from a couple of productive mines. While I was peacefully monitoring the situation in a southern expanse of our territory, a transmission was sent out informing me that I was about to be promoted -- this would be the last of my days as a cadet. Just as I was beginning to doubt the viability of my career path, the hour of progress was at hand. Abruptly, a mine closer to our main base became active. Since the unit heading out to oversee this new claim was unescorted, I was ordered to leave my group and head north to support it. After travelling a vast distance, I was nearly in sight of my destination. Then the trouble started."We've got cons," the claiming 'mech pilot announced when he detected hostile units in his vicinity. As the trickle of sensor contacts became a chorus of synthetic tones, I could also hear the tension grow in his voice, "this is no recon patrol . . . I'm withdrawing to base."
At that time I was just out of sight of the advancing horde. Indecisive, my course of action was determined when the heavy pilot, of superior rank, saw my motionless 'mech and screamed, "RUN! RUN!" through the radio. Though I still had no direct information about our foes, I did not wish to disobey. Turning back down the road toward our base, I pushed my 'mech up to maximum speed.
As I slowly gained momentum, the unit from the claim, an Archer, continued to close with me. "I SAID RUN!!!" its pilot ordered, with the enemy hot on his heels.
My acceleration continued, and I could see the hostile units racing after us. At first the Flashman and Huron Warrior seemed like a fairly well-matched force to our own. When a Grand Dragon ran into view and my sensors registered momentary contacts on a variety of other ferocious 'mechs, I knew that my choices were retreat or death. Just as the southern gates of our base came into view on my tactical display, an even more welcome sight lifted my spirits.
"Shall we?" asked a female pilot as she stepped outside the base in her own Grand Dragon. Her confidence was inspiring, but the impressive array of additional reinforcements truly imbued me with will to fight. Another Archer, a Chameleon, an Anvil, and a massive Hercules all joined her in the march toward our foes. With the tide of battle shifting in our favor, I came about and prepared to charge the enemy. Distracted by anticipation, my movements were awkward. By the time I completed the maneuver, I was trailing well behind our main formation. Even more disappointing, the enemy had detected our reinforcements and ran behind the shelter of a mountainous ridge. I just finished orienting myself to my new heading when the last of them slipped out of my line of sight.
In the distance, I could see my comrades firing their big guns at the retreating targets. Since my own 'mech, a Hammer, was equipped with a couple of long range missile launchers, I was hopeful that I could still deal a little damage before we broke off pursuit. Again I felt cheated as our targets deftly maneuvered through a narrow corridor of clear terrain and took refuge in a zone full of excellent cover. Even worse, despite my best efforts I found myself unable to close within the range of my missiles. Just as I was about to join up with the main formation of allied units, our enemies turned south and the angle of attack shifted.
I rounded a corner defined by a large formation of jagged cliffs. The enemy was running through a vast open area, providing me with a couple of opportunities to make attacks. My first salvo of missiles resulted in minor damage to an enemy Flashman. Though hardly a reason to celebrate, my morale improved after scoring a hit from such a relatively safe position. As the chase continued, I lobbed another series of missiles at the same target, smiling as I watched the warheads rain down on my foe. Their explosives did not breach its armor, but nonetheless my attacks were an impressive display of marksmanship. With the taste of blood on my lips, I hungered for more action.
My desire would be sated soon enough, as the time had come for our enemies to join with their own reinforcements. Among the additional hostiles was a towering Marauder and an assortment of medium-sized 'mechs. My allies charged into the midst of the evolving brawl, but I was delayed, having wandered into a tangle of trees. Though I was able to help out by lobbing a few more volleys of missiles at our enemies, my accuracy had diminished considerably. I was still lagging behind the rest of our units, and unable get close enough to direct lasers at any target. The prevailing order was to concentrate fire on the unit designated "AG," but I was not even capable of directing my long range missiles at that distant target. Just as I was starting to doubt my skill as a mechwarrior, motivation emerged in the form of a massive tank.
With most of my faction engaged in the brawl up ahead, the opportunistic driver of the Brutus tank decided to hang back and take a few cheap shots at the rear of our main group. His big lasers and giant missile launcher were wreaking havoc with the back armor on several of my comrades' 'mechs. Unaware that I was the agent of karma, I was driven purely by instinct. As I charged directly at the back of the tank, I unloaded both of my own missile launchers, sprinkling warheads onto the aft armor of the vehicle. Then, as I entered close range, I unleashed a trio of laser blasts, burning the rest of my target's aft armor away in one smooth maneuver. Finally, as I completed my attack run, I reeled back and kicked with all of my might. I felt the structure of my target give way, and I could see a mass of vital components stuck to the foot of my 'mech when I withdrew it.
A moment of attention to my scanners confirmed that the tank had been effectively destroyed. Although my training had been slow and, at times, frustrating, I was now revelling in the payoff. With almost no assistance, I had eliminated a substantial threat to our ongoing offensive. Still a cadet, I had expertly destroyed a tank more than twice the size of my 'mech, and I had yet to suffer any damage in the battle. With delight I continued forward into the fray, spewing additional missiles as directed by the leader of this operation.
"CF CJ! CF CJ!" she called out over the radio, instructing us to concentrate our fire on an enemy Flashman.
Once I got into the thick of it, I realized that this was truly a balanced contest. When the mechs who were in my original battle group finally completed their journey to join the action, our side had the greater number of units. However, our enemies tended to have larger units and they continued to give ground in order to exploit the more familiar terrain near their own base. I was still a green mechwarrior, but not so green to realize that we would need skill, courage, and luck to emerge victorious from this engagement. Fortunately for me, a confused enemy provided yet another opportunity to display my prowess.
Though two of our smaller 'mechs were being shot to pieces by our enemies, the Flashman designated "CJ" in our combat database was also suffering. We attacked it from all sides, and once again I found myself with a clear shot at the back of a hostile unit. Charging directly at it, I unleashed a salvo of missiles and then monitored my range, waiting for the optimum moment to discharge my lasers. The long range missiles scattered over my target, dazing it with a mixture of leg, rear torso, and head damage. Even so, it was determined to keep fighting. I watched as it changed course and displayed astonishing accuracy while blasting our leader. Now my crosshairs were on the left side of the target, which was unfortunate because its right side was more heavily damaged. Nonetheless I fired my lasers and rejoiced as I watched the Flashman's left arm fall away.
I was just about to deliver a potentially lethal kick when distant pulses of energy raced in and perforated the Flashman's chest. Though I was momentarily happy to see another foe defeated, my demeanor changed when the destroyed 'mech erupted in a cataclysmic blast of plasma and molten shrapnel. I was staggered by the explosion, and I winced in pain as my 'mech sustained light damage in numerous locations. I did not fall, but the struggle to remain upright required all of my concentration. When my balance was recovered, I started to review my tactical maps and assess the situation. Though my misfortune bothered me, in the heat of battle it is seldom possible to avoid the occassional mishap such as I had just experienced.
"CJ dead. UE UE UE," commanded the leader of the operation.
Checking my data, I discovered that "UE" was the Huron Warrior 'mech which had been consistently attacking and missing me with its massive gauss rifle. Though I was glad to see so many potent attacks go to waste, I knew this would be a more difficult situation because my target was facing me and tracking my movements carefully. As I performed a right torso twist, I began to circle my new target in a counterclockwise fashion. We exchanged fire, and I sustained moderate damage while my target's heavier 'mech seemed untroubled by the constant barrage of weapons fire. After a while, the entire enemy force started to concentrate on me, and only a timely dash behind a rubble-strewn ridge protected me from the brunt of their assault.
Though my shelter denied me accurate sensor data about most of my enemies, my ears told me that at least a few of them were swarming over the ridge. As the first came into view, I started to run in a zig zag pattern, always presenting my foes with a different side of my 'mech and occassionally returning fire. With none of my allies in sight, I felt abandoned. Noting that our previous efforts had stripped the Huron Warrior of much of its armor, I decided that it would be better to die on the offensive than to keep running like a hunted fox. Charging directly at UE, I unleashed all of my weapons only to watch in horror when my only reward was a singular and feeble laser hit.
As I took a moment to ponder the afterlife, it was the angel of victory, rather than the angel of death, who came to meet me. A pair of friendly units rushed over the ridge. I watched for an endless moment as the Huron Warrior drew a bead on me and our Grand Dragon drew a bead on it. Just as my sensors informed me that enemy's gauss rifle was preparing to fire, a lance of energy streaked out from my commander's 'mech and into the head of my latest nemesis. Although my sensors could not confirm it, the fact the the gauss rifle remained on the brink of firing suggested that the Huron Warrior's pilot was stunned or even knocked out. Intimidated by the new arrivals, the lesser enemy units scattered and ran. I watched for a few moments as my comrades tore the immobile 'mech apart with lasers and punches. Then I set off in search of more action.
Uncertain as to exactly where I was needed, and with no orders forthcoming from officers concentrating on their own individual fighting, I climbed a ridge to get a good look at the battlefield. Having never ventured this close to an enemy base, the layout of the hills, mountains, forests, and water seemed alien to me. Aware that this was no time to appraise the scenery, I observed that the most intense fighting was taking place to the southwest of my position. Eagerly I charged toward the fray, inquiring about the combatants' situation while forming my own plan to move swiftly across this unfamiliar territory.
An officer on the scene called out, "Get the MAD. Everybody get the MAD!"
Certainly I could see the wisdom of his command. The enemy formation ahead of me was mostly medium 'mechs with a few lightly armed small 'mechs mixed in with the group. However, a hostile Marauder was always a force to be reckoned with. A quick scan revealed that it had a devastating pair of particle cannon, the mightiest of the energy weapons. As I slipped around the back of my allies and then dashed up past our own left flank, I was able to initiate another effective attack run. As I sprinted into the fray, I watched my missiles join other salvos in a hail of small explosions on and around the target. Then I closed further, scoring good hits with two out of three of my lasers.
However, as I continued to reduce the distance between myself and our target, I realized that I was heading into a very dangerous situation. Most of my comrades were stepping in and out of cover halfway up a nearby ridge, and they had a good reason to do so. Were I to continue any further, I would have presented an excellent target to several enemy mechs who were currently lacking a good use for their short range weaponry. Aware of my miscalculation, I started to turn back. As my 'mech was midway through its turn, I saw another opportunity. Swinging wider than I had originally planned, I came up behind an apparently disoriented pilot and his Phoenix Hawk. With a satisfying crunch I delivered a good kick to its left leg. Dashing back toward my allies and the security of cover, I smirked at my target while it limped away from the center of the firefight.
Pain raced through my nerves when a few well-placed attacks struck me from behind, stripping armor from the arms and back of my 'mech. Though I had not lost any offensive or movement capabilities, I did become considerably more vulnerable than I had been prior to those attacks. A heavy sigh of relief passed through my lips when I finally took up a secure position on the slope of a small ridge. Waiting for my missile launchers to reload, I could see a trickle of reinforcements marching in to take up positions in our growing formation. They started lobbing missiles down on our enemies, and my own equipment was ready to go again. I crept up to just before the peak of the ridge and then let fly a fresh salvo. Though only a few of the missiles hit home, it felt good to be able to continue my contribution.
Once again my satisfaction turned to apprehension as a hostile Ostroc started charging up the hill at me. My first instinct was to flee, but before panic set in I remembered that my lasers were ready for another round of attacks. "Woohoo!" I shouted on the radio after firing all three squarely on target. Though the powerful 'mech was not really crippled by the blasts, the pilot seemed to think twice about continuing. He returned fire, doing superficial damage to the torso of my 'mech, then turned around and rejoined his comrades. Feeling pleased with myself, I dropped back down the ridge and waited for my weapons to become ready again.
When I was finally poised for a fresh attack, once again I positioned myself just below the crest of the ridge. As I put the Marauder in my sights, I saw a truly terrifying sight. I was peering directly down the gun barrel of my foe. A fraction of a second after I unleashed my latest volley of missiles, a blinding flash stunned me. Soul-splitting pain wracked my entire nervous system, and I found it surprising that my own willpower was enough to maintain consciousness. When I was next capable of a coherent thought, I realized that I had just survived a particle cannon blast to the head of my 'mech. More than a few pilots had died from an identical event, and I had hardly come through it unscathed. I would require hours of medical attention if and when I returned to a friendly base.
Checking a status report, I could see that I had absolutely no armor remaining in three locations. Fortunately, what little internal damage my vehicle had suffered was mostly superficial. Except for a leak in the thermal shielding around my fusion reactor, most of my 'mech's problems could be solved with routine armor patches. As I made adjustments to my mech to help it deal with the internal damage, its automatic systems injected large doses of painkillers directly into my bloodstream. In symbiosis, we each dealt with the injuries of the other. While the drugs hit my system, I listened to an evolving debate between our units.
"I say we charge . . . these fegs will run like little girls if we all move on them in unison," insisted a gruff masculine voice.
"We're doing very well just plinking away from cover," a younger male countered.
"Yeah, but most of us are running low on ammo," a third voice chimed in.
"If only we knew how they would respond to a charge," our commander lamented.
Perhaps still a little addled by the splash of radiation which accompanied my last serious hit, I listened to the debate with growing impatience. Between my physical damage, the strange narcotic cocktail in my bloodstream, and an unfamliar bloodlust, I was functioning on a primitive, instinctual level. Wailing, "AAAIIIIIEEEEE!" on an open frequency, I charged up over the hill and bore down on the Marauder. I felt like a force of nature. My missiles struck home and destroyed the very particle cannon which had blasted me earlier in the fight. I had no way of knowing what our enemies said to each other, but their actions spoke volumes. With most of my own faction still lurking behind the ridge, the entire enemy formation turned away and started running for their base. They did not even bother to fire on me in spite of my obvious vulnerability.
"They're running. Give chase," our commander tersely ordered.
Although I was a leader in neither rank nor firepower, I was setting the pace for the aggressive horde constituted of my comrades in arms. Charging down the hill and taking cheap shots at the fleeing enemies, I finally started to realize what it meant to be a winner. On this day, we were not merely triumphant in a sporting contest or even a field exercise -- we gambled with our very lives and won. The feeling was completely different from any previous victory I had achieved. Even if I had not just recieved a massive dose of mind-altering drugs, this would have clearly been the greatest high in my life to that point.
As the remnants of the enemy force retreated inside the inconquerable security of their massive walled base, I surveyed the spoils of war. We lost opportunities to claim resources generated by a couple of civilian mines, but we won hundreds of tons of disabled hardware, much of it suitable for restoration and redeployment. Even the units we destroyed would have useful components to be harvested and used as replacement parts. Our entire faction would rejoice at the news of our victory, and the additional resources would make it much easier to provide quality 'mechs and tanks for all of our warriors, myself included. We had shown strength and our strength grew because of it. In a moment of reflection I reasoned that this was the essence of all warfare.
Though my training made it clear that timely salvage was our next priority, I could not help but take some time to really study the surrounding lands. What I had viewed as cover, access, or obstacle I now looked at with new eyes. The nearby mountains reached up through the thin atmosphere with majestic spires. The broad leaves of the forest canopy fluttered like a million applauding hands. Even the rolling grasslands seemed to glow with a splendor I had ignored when they were nothing more than a safe place to run at top speed. With delight I learned how much more beautiful the ground looks to one who knows he owns it.
"Who's towing what!" our commander barked through the chaos of congratulatory remarks and damage reports.
Once order had been restored in our communications, I chimed in with, "I'm in a Hammer . . . is there anything light enough that I can tow it."
"Probably not," one veteran responded.
"He's right," our leader added, "pick up our strays and run back to the base so that you all can haul out some tows."
With that I started attending to the maps again, searching for comrades who had safely ejected from their vehicles during the battle. Earlier chatter suggested that a fleet of tows, lightly armed tanks suited to pulling heavy loads behind them, and a small escort was en route to the scene of our battle. However, we had more tow vehicles than qualified drivers, and at least one of the officers roaming the area on foot was skilled in that regard. When I finally found him, I lowered the hand of my 'mech and allowed him to climb on to it. Then raising it to the head of my mech, I opened the cockpit and allowed him to join me inside.
"That was some fight," he commented. To my surprise he appeared to have escaped personal injury in spite of losing his battle tank. "Would you like me to drive?" he asked, reacting to my visibly injured state.
"Nah, I can handle simple piloting," I responded, retaining a touch of the arrogance with which mechwarriors distanced themselves from other military personnel.
"Okay, you know the way right?" he said. I was unable to determine if he was sarcastic or simply assuming that, as a cadet, there might be compelling reasons to question my fitness as a navigator.
"Yeah, neither I nor this 'mech are up for much more violence today, but a walk home is still well within our abilities," I answered.
As I accelerated the 'mech into a run and starting charting a path back to our distant base, my new companion was tinkering with the communications system and helping to assign capable units to the highest priority salvage. Though he took some liberties by using the system without my permission, he was an officer and I was still technically a cadet so I made no argument. Besides, even through the medication I was aware that my injuries were severe, and I did not want to think about anything other than a safe return to base, where skilled physicians and a warm bed would restore my health.
The journey home was not especially eventful. However, I did notice another member of my faction jogging back to base on foot. I diverted from my planned course and swooped him up without bothering to come to a complete stop. Of course, it was only with assistance from the computers that I was able to pluck him off the ground and drop him into the cockpit without breaking the stride of my mech or the bones of my comrade. To my surprise it was another officer. He also offered to drive, but I quietly shook my head and dashed back onto the route I had originally planned.
The southern gate of our primary base eventually came into view. I said nothing as my companions contacted the radio tower and made arrangements for my safe entry into the underground facilities. Suddenly feeling very tired, I struggled to stay on course while dashing through the courtyard of the base and onto the elevator over the repair bay. Minutes later I was staggering around the floor of the bay. Eager technicians moved my Hammer into a repair stall and set about undoing what so many enemy guns had done. At first I thought their swiftness had something to do with tales of my heroism, but I heard snatches of discussion which suggested otherwise. All they knew of the battle was that both sides were heavily damaged and we eventually won. This meant they had a lot of work to do. The sooner they restored my 'mech the sooner the repair stall would be free for the next light 'mech in need of tech work.
After a quick, "thanks, cadet" the passengers I had retrieved both dashed off into the storage bay containing tow vehicles. It seemed everyone was eager to work except me. Technically I could have taken a tow out myself, but when I meandered over to check on their availability, I realized that the only remaining salvage vehicle was a peculiar aircraft which I could not have hoped to operate safely. Abruptly, a stunning young woman approached me. Her white uniform suggested that she was a medtech, and her look of concern made me wonder just how evident my injuries were.
"Sir, please come with me," she suggested as she started waving a diagnostic device in my general direction. Although I was normally a very reserved and self-disciplined person, I embarked on an intense sexual fantasy as soon as my vision came into focus on this nubile figure. The psychological aftermath of battle, the euphoria of pain medications, and the wonderful contours of her body conspired to make me less than a gentleman. Just as I was about to step in front of her and make a suggestive yet charming remark, I noticed my reflection in a translucent door. In addition to the rivulets of blood streaking down my face, I had multiple visible bruises and swelling around one eye. Given all that, I shuddered to think what condition my lower body might be in.
She tenderly guided me over to a sink and proceeded to wash me thoroughly. I stepped out of my uniform and allowed her to examine every part of my body. Her flattering remarks about my naked physique were good to hear, but her honesty was subject to question since she made no specific comments about my obvious and repellent injuries. Instead she examined a screen with information about the events responsible for my damage, then worked with the computer to quickly design a regimen of treatment. After roaming the room to gather supplies, she helped me drink a large glass of some sweet purple fluid, injected me with a mix of medications, and led me over a bed across the room.
For a brief moment I still harbored ambitions of convincing her to join me in that bed, but even as I climbed up into it, I felt an irresistable need to go to sleep. I suspected that she had injected me with a tranquilizer. Since I had never been this badly hurt before, I had no idea what the proper procedure was. While I contemplated my treatment, the physician unfolded a medical blanket and fitted it snugly over my wounded body. Moments later, I lost consciousness. When I awoke, the scars of battle would be removed from my flesh. However, the lessons and memories of that fight would go on to shape the career of a legendary warrior.
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