Hope in Red and Blue

There was a power vacuum forming, and Talenkov didn’t like it. The Clans were preparing for war, and the independent forces that fought to stabilize the borderlands were being drawn away into what the Committee for State Security promised was a new Faction War that promised, again to escalate into a galaxy wide conflict that could end civilization. Talenkov thought they spent too much time in the puzzle palace thinking what their twisty little minds would do with that kind of power, and not what honest soldiers would.

Their Lords and Masters listened. At a time when the Illyrian Hegemony should be operating its forces aggressively to patrol and proactively raid the known pirate and expansionist powers of the fringe worlds, he was ordered to “Consolidate his forces for the defense of the Motherland”. Bah. His forces were defending the Motherland on the frontiers where the wolves prowled, the one thing pulling them back to the core worlds would do was leave his people defenseless. The Novogrod Lancers were the Sword of the State, and a sword does frack all good hanging on a nobleman’s wall, when its job is to be cutting down pirates before, rather than after they burn the fields, slaughter the peasants, and smash the work of generations of workers. He had no choice. He must obey. His people needed a saviour, but in this cold Mecha Galaxy, they did not need a shining saviour to bring peace, but a Red Saviour to bring Hell itself. It was time to call the daughter of an old commander.

______Smurf Legion Headquarters__________

Natalya Nikolaevna Shostokovich, called Red Saviour, looked at the message with ice blue eyes that held the promise of ten thousand things you wished to be dead before discovering. Her past, the legacy of a murdered father and a broken trust that caused her to leave the Hegemony and join the Defenders of Bunny to seek a vengeance the State would not permit, had reached out to drag her back. She looked upon the ranks of the Smurf Legion, the training for a war that promised to shatter whole worlds, and knew her duty lay here…….yet, her father’s voice called to her from beyond the grave. The duty of a warrior is to stand before the folk, to protect those who seek to live in peace. There are wolves Natalya, that seek to tear down what the people build. Those of us born warriors are born to stand in the shadows and hunt wolves, so that the little people who hate and fear us can know a peace we never will. He smiled when he said it, his eyes shining with hope and purpose. He was a Silver Saviour, a defender of the State. She was a Red Saviour, a thing far darker. She would come.

“I must be leavink.” Never one to waste time on pleasantries, or imply she was asking permission to do what she had decided she must, Red Saviour was a hammer taken to conversation to punish it for not getting to the point fast enough.

“Novogrodny has been stripped of defenders because of our little war, and they are after being three legged lamb in forest of starving wolves. I will be burning wolflings until they or I are dead. If alive, I will be back”

The assembled staff officers of the Smurf Legion looked at that pronouncement, and as they slowly worked through her accent to grasp her meaning looked to see how the Smurf Legions XO, her usual CO with the Defenders of Bunny would react to this challenge to his authority.

With a grim smile his hand flashed down to his gun-belt, causing half the assembled officers to begin clawing for their own weapon of choice, and the other half to wonder why they were unarmed in a probably gunfight.

Pulling a code cylinder that rode between the first two magazine pouches on his web belt, he tossed to code module to Natalya.

“These are the codes the Legion will be using. Make sure your Inferno is running them when you gate back, or someone will stick a missile though your baby blues before you can send a hail. Things are getting a little tense around here”

The two officers shared a grim smile and a nod, both pretending not to notice a dozen weapons pointed at them from the surrounding officers. It was perhaps, more than a little tense.

____________Butte Hold_____________

“I am telling you the Novogrod Lancers are pulled out, and the reaction force at Bjarnhorld is gone, in fact, no one has seen Red Comet at all in weeks. I am telling you the whole damned Clan is gone, the Hegemony has pulled back, and we can take the whole damned planet ourselves! What have they got, some horse back militia? Come on, a single platoon could take them now, and we have a whole damned Battalion we can get through. We are going to take them so hard, they will pee themselves every time they look at us, and kill the first one of their own who dares suggest hitting back. “

The assembled pirates roared with laughter, their patchwork machines were not much by the standards of the national forces, or warrior Clans, but they had numbers and hunger on their side. With a planet open for the taking, it would not be one pirate band, or a dozen pirate bands, Redjack Ryan would pull every damned pirate within three gate jumps and make the sack of Novogrodny a legend spoken of in whispers by huddled villagers.

The wolves of the borderlands were hungry, and hunting.

The pirate moved with the arrogance of invincibility, their light machines fanning out ahead of their main body of medium/heavies, shooting up anything in their path.

Here and there the pathetic stand of home guardsmen with hand held missiles or shoulder fired slug throwers were chopped apart by the 25mm chain-guns of the Anzu or burned in half by the Medium Lasers of the Red Ants. Peasants looked on with ox like placidity as the great machines stalked through their fields, like so many hungry wolves. Ahead the pirates saw a great pillar of flame, as if their brethren found something worth torching. Like the opportunists that they were, they flocked to the fire to see what was worth destroying on this pathetic backwater.

Topping the rise they saw a scene from hell, a single Inferno stood in a half circle of dead and dying mecha. Flames burned with a sick green light as the Chem Throwers fury burned hotter than any Napalm, eating ceramic and Ferrite as lesser flames would paper.

Ringed in fires from impacting Double Mordems from the Shocklites, the Inferno stalked forward, a bear loose among the wolves, and where she turned, pirates burned.

“I am Red Savior, and these people are mine to defend”

The Inferno pilot strode through the burning hell she created like the spirit of vengeance, and the pirates broke before her coming.

“You can’t defend this planet alone” cried out one pirate as his Anzu raged his cannons against her again and again while she burned his lance mates, and then turned on him.

“That is after being something only the living need worry about, vermin.” Her laughter was the last thing he heard before the flames took him.

————-Pirate main force————

“One Inferno is not going to stop us. We can bury her under the metal we are bringing, I don’t care who she is. There have to be three hundred pirates with us, she won’t even slow us down.”

Ranks of Ogguns and Namtar collected around the Megazome, Sever, and Bishop command mecha, and they shook themselves down into something that, from a far enough distance, resembled a military formation.

Cresting the Hill they looked down upon the lone Inferno, surprised it stood its ground in absolute confidence in the face to their overwhelming numbers.

“Who are you? Why are you willing to die for this stupid burg? No one is even paying to defend it anymore!” The pirate seemed honestly flustered at her defiance.

Her reply didn’t help. “I am Natalya Nikolaevna Shostokovich, call sign Red Saviour. What I am is a Smurf Legionaire, and I am thinking I don’t need much in the way of reasons to protect people from Pirates.”

The pirate mechs locked up her machine, a whole rank of death bore down on her, and the pirates laughed at the thought of what they would do to her for her defiance.

“Any last words?” The pirate chieftain asked smugly.

“Da. I am thinking the words are ‘ A MOI LA LEGION!!’”

The ancient rally cry of the Foreign legion sounded upon the airwaves, and the first died.

The booming thunder of an Exacto Shot blew through a pirate Dread like battering ram through tissue paper. From the woods behind Red Saviour marched the rest of her lance.

“Bunny Smurfs inbound. Forward flank is secured. I would summon you to surrender, but we haven’t had the prisoner meeting yet, so we aren’t able to take any. You may as well fight to your last.

Two dozen powerful machines, Dreadnoughts, Jottun, Torrents moved to back up the Inferno. Still, what was two dozen in the face of hundreds?

“You think you can take all of us punk? You are only going to die slower!” The pirates voice held both fear and rage now. Laughter filled the airwaves as he got the Bunny Smurf reply.

“Oh no. If I took you all, I would have to answer to our friends. They travelled all this way because a Legionaire was in trouble. If they didn’t get to shoot someone, they would be pretty upset.”

From the hills to the west marched a solid line of mecha wreathed in smoke from the burning scouts that died before getting off a report.

“I love the smell of burning pirates in the morning, it smells like…..bacon. Omega Smurfs on station.”

Wave upon wave of missiles slammed into the ridge to the east, blotting out the sentry mecha who had been trying to outrun the jamming that had silenced them.

“What you need at a time like this is a heroic rescue. Hero Smurfs on station. Lets kill these guys and be back by lunch. Smurfberry pie is on in the commissary!”

It’s a rough galaxy out there, but its better when you have friends. The Smurf Legion Faction closed on the pirates, the former Defenders of Bunny, Heroes, Omega’s and the Smurf Legion veterans laughed as they came, and left nothing behind but scrap.

The peasants smiled as the strangers flowed again through the gates that brought them. It was a strange Mecha Galaxy, in which hope came in blood red, and true Smurf blue.

John T Mainer 28840 Smurf Legion Faction

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Games Within Games: Faction War 2

Two players reguarded the board.  Its pieces spanned dozens of interconnected sub boards, connected by hundreds of gateways.  Only a spider or a madman could hope to keep it straight.  Two such stared at the board, one with two cold, slitted, inhuman pupils, and one with one ice blue human eye.


“I am Drohchah oh-Thyehgr, last to survive of those you call the Forerunners.  I have returned to claimwhat is mine.  Your Clans cannot stop me.  Where my legions have failed, now we will assemble in Toumons, ten thousand strong, twenty if need be.  Your Clans will not save you.”

The old greybeard handed a bit of meat to his ravens, Drocha hissed when he saw the green scales upon it, and guessed it for one of his own murdered clones.

“My agents are everywhere, stirring up war among them.  They will be weak and helpless when my slaves arise, and with the new weapons I gave to them, they will be unmatchable!”

The harsh caw of a raven blended with the harsh laugh of Walker.  His one remaining eye lit with a wicked amusement.  He spoke at last, and touched a game piece marked with a jagged lightning bolt.

“They know me as Walker here.  I have been cleaning up your kinds messes for many lifetimes. My agents are everywhere too, also stirring up war, and planting rumours.  One rumour planted last war among the Cyberstorm caused them to raid your little toy shop, and much of your unnatural hardware is now in the hands of petty humanity.  Turns out, they are really good at using your toys.  Better than your slaves I think.”

He moved a piece, completing a pattern that brought his own forces into a single point of contention.

Drocha hissed, a cold inhuman thing, with no understanding of perverse human needs.

“They march to war now, Faction War.  Your Touman will fall not upon the scattered Clans of humanity, nor upon the tired pathetic patchwork nations, but upon vast independent Warrior Factions, each freshly forged in the fires of war against each other.  Just in time to unite against you.

Drocha rose angrily, moving his own pieces from the shadows to threaten the board from many sides.

“We are coming old man, we come to reclaim what is ours”

Walker laughed and petted his ravens as they fought for the scraps of dead Drocha clone.
“I hope so dear boy, my raven’s don’t feed themselves.”

Humanity turns upon itself in Faction War.  The shadow of the Forerunner falls across the outlands, the promise of a storm like no other.  War drums sound, the carrion crows  fly.  Will you be ready?

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FMCL: KOTM Warhorse style

Sports Desk – FMCL
Vol 2 No 3
Event: Warhorse

There’s the final bell Mecha Maniacs. The very first Warhorse event is in the books. There has been a lot of strong opinions offered about this format, which is understandable. The Warhorse is a mech that is usually stabled early and forgotten about until you need to fill a slot in a rainbow or low tonnage event. If it isn’t just put out to pasture or sold off, it’s mostly just a placeholder. Those who invested in them either early or after the event was announced did understandably well although they weren’t the only ones. Even division one had top ten finishes by players who did not field even on Warhorse. On the other side of the fence are those who disagreed with the format not because of they didn’t have one but because it was a Niode class mecha restricted event. The argument was if you don’t have deep pockets you can’t play. But from my understanding this event was designed as a one off and from the results you can see top 10 finishes are possible without fielding a full army. Now, I know what you’re going to say, “It wouldn’t be possible in a heavy class event”. Maybe you would be right, but dont panic and burn down the barn after the Warhorse has gotten out. I would like to offer a middle road opinion. There are many other events with weight limit restrictions, why not make a 15 ton event that could either rotate in or replace the all Anzu event? That way it is not a “Niode only” event, and those who have or want to buy a corral full of Warhorses can have a use for them.

Now let’s look at the level breakdown and winners.

Div 9, Level 1-9, Immortal Shade of Exile’s Honor with 90 tons
Div 8, Level10-18 Herve Bertolli of Death’s Disruptive Force {AFF} with 45 tons
Div 7, Level 19-26 Steven Wagner of Time is Preciuos with 130 tons
Div 6, Level 27-36 Mycroft Holmes of Mobile Infantry (Highland Regiments) with 135 tons
Div 5, Level 37-50 Scott Eggers of Steel Vipers with 65 tons 
Div 4, Level 51-66 Travis Gish of Death’s Brethren {AFF}with 45 tons
Div 3, Level 67-85 Owen van Ooyen of Smurf Legion with 70 tons
Div 2, Level 86-109, Mark K. Penner of The Omegas with 105 tons
Div 1, Level 110+ Deborah Roache-Hudak of Northwind Fusiliers with and unknown playable tonnage.
A couple of noteworthy items, Div. 5 had longest time in first place with over 40 minutes. The last couple of events have had the highest minimum level for Div. 1 at 110. Also, with Faction Wars beginning, clan notation of winners will be suspended for season 2. Big congrats to all the winners.
For full archive:https://mechagalaxy.gamecraftsmen.com/game/event_archives.game?event=191
Next Event: Dorthy’s revenge- a single rainbow showdown.

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Space-Ghost here, with a very special report!

Sitting on my favorite random meteoroid the other evening, I was lost deep in thought somewhere near Novum Dolorum. Not only were my most interesting thoughts completely interrupted, but I saw something so astonishing that it gave me another totally, super-interesting, amazing thought!

As something flew right by me, I thought, “THAT must be the One-Eyed-One-Horned-Flying-Purple-People-Eater we’ve always heard about from that annoying children’s song!” I couldn’t believe it! That, that - THING - had the NERVE to interrupt my most interesting, very sought-after, most personal contemplations and musings!!! As a result, I am sad to say that my “normal” radio-show, and the sharing of my most interesting thoughts, will have to be put on hold for the time being - while I look for this thing.

Space Ghost, out.

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Scouting Report

"McCalluf, get your ass in here! I sent you out to scout, and you never wen’t near the enemy. You shot the ever loving be-jaysus out of our new allies, and half the command staff. Give me one damned reason I don’t have you shot out of my cannon’s at that stupid pieced of crap Anzu you rode in? You didn’t even have the grace to use your best machines!"

MCalluf gave the vague wave that passed for a scout salute, and collapsed into the chair he was not offered.

"I’m the best scout you’ve got, and you got serious problems boss"
Ignoring his commanders accusations, and rant, he dumped his report to the chiefs system, and started scrolling.

What followed was a detailed breakdown of their own forces, and their relative strengths and weaknesses.

The commander rubbed his head, and ordered his implants to release some muscle relaxants and pain killers, while he ordered calming music on data channel 3, and a legal search for “Justifiable homicide, provocation, military” on data channel 4 in case it didn’t take. McCalluf was an amazing scout, and pain in the ass. Sometimes in that order.

"I meant you should scout the enemy, dipwad, not our guys!"

McCalluf once had a sense of humour. Rumour has it that one week buried in sensory deprivation under the pressure of the deep sea abyss, waiting to ambush a pirate lord, had pretty much killed it.

"Scouting the enemy is useless. We don’t know on what terms they will defend, nor can we gauge if the lineup they are showing this close to war is real. We will find out what they bring to battle when the first shot is fired"

The CO lost it, pounding on the desk and fumbling for his desk drawer and side-arm. “Then why the hell do I have scouts on my payroll, what damned good are you?”

McCalluf looked startled, as if the answer was obvious.

"Because I know where I stand against each of us, and each of the line ups we will use in our defense. When I fire the first shot in the war, I will know by how I do exactly who among our forces can beat whoever I fight. If we know were we stand relative to each other in absolute truth, the only fight that will ever be in question in the whole war, is the first one"

Cogwork Bolt-thrower forgotten in his fist, the CO slumped back in his chair. and sputtered. “But what about all the Clan’s scouting us?”

McCalluf smiled the wide white grin of a hungry wolf “They are doing it wrong!”

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Niode Vampire

A Halloween tale: 
Player id: 355341

In the ancient lore of the outer rim, long forgotten by all but the ancient books in the oldest of archives, there is a legend of an ancient evil that arises only once a millennium.

Captain Briggs surveys his surroundings. His lance was supposed to rendezvous with Lt. Harris’s light mech Lance, and he didn’t like the idea of leaving the light’s with heavier backup. The Mershans were reportedly active in this area, and he wasn’t taking any chances with those blood thirsty renegades. His orders had been simple, investigate the strange energy spikes that had been emanating from this planet, deal with any hostiles, and report back to HQ.

All of sudden, his comm. link crackles, “Capt Briggs, are you there”…
Briggs answers, “I’m here Lieutenant, go ahead”.
"Capt, we’ve picked up signs of a Mershan patrol, based on their signatures, they appear to be Crystal based medium mechs"
"Stay out of site lieutenant; we are on our way to your location now."
"Capt. There’s something else…"
"Spit out Lieutenant"
"Sir, we are picking up more of those strange energy spikes as well. Seems that every time spike occurs, our systems go offline for a few seconds"
"Lieutenant, if you’re mech is having power issues, you’ll need to hang back from this mission, and rendezvous with drop ship at the prearranged coordinates"
"Sir, it’s not just my mech, but the entire lance that is affected"
"Hmm, keep me posted on that, in the meantime, keep that Merschan lance on your scanners, but do not engage. We’ll meet up with you and we’ll take them out together understood!"
"Understood sir, over and out"
Capt. Briggs mind started turning uneasily as he considers the updates he just received. What are the Mershans doing here on this seemingly unimportant world, or did they pick up the signals too. What was this strange anomaly that was affecting Lt. Harris’s lance? He could understand one mech having issues, as this was not unheard of, but an entire Lance didn’t make any sense. Anyway, that would have to wait, as were there are Mershans, a battle would soon follow.

“Captain Bri…Cap…iggs..”
“Lieutenant, Lieutenant did not copy, Lieutenant are you there?”
“Lieutenant, if you can hear me, were 3 minutes out, hang on”
“Captain, I see them in the distance, it appears they are just sitting there”
“Thanks Ray, any signs of battle”
“No sir, in fact, it appears to be completely quiet.”
“Run a sensor sweep”
“Yes sir…sweep is negative sir, no readings”
“Wait, I see some movement, they appear to have climbed out of there mechs and are walking towards us.”
“Why are they doing that in a hostile place like this?”
“We’ll know in a minute sir, there just dead ahead”
“Sir, they appear to be waving us back”

Captain Briggs pulls his mech to his now on foot light lance. As he does, the power in his mech, and all the other mechs, suddenly goes out.
“What is going on here, Lieutenant” Captain Briggs yells as he’s disembarking his now shutdown mech.

“Sir something is sucking all of our power from the very core of our mechs.”
Captain Briggs studies the faces of his now totally helpless pilots. He considers what could have caused this situation, but now must figure a way back to the drop site in this harsh dessert climate on foot. He turns to his men and barks the following order “Load all you can carry an…” it is sentence he never finishes as the first missiles from the Mershan seals both his fate and the fate of his command.

That was over 900 hundred years ago. The Mershans have long gone out of existence, but he has survived the ages, and will continue to do so. The Merschans unknowingly kept him fed by luring their enemies with their strange power cores to this planet. They didn’t understand why or what was behind the strange occurrence, they only knew they could get a decisive advantage over their enemies by luring them here, having the enemy mechs shutdown, then finish them off with their crystal based mechs which they found were totally unaffected the strange phenomenon.

But now, the time is coming where he must feed again. For some time, he could feel the presence of the power he craved, not on this planet, but further out towards the inner galaxy. The power was so strong he could detect easily even at this distance. He knew the power supply would sustain him for thousands of years to come, and he would feast upon that energy from those that now held it as he has always done. The time was close now. There was a ship approaching that match the power specs that he needed. He would use it to travel to his new home, and with him, would come destruction to those who were in his way.

Young Caleb was following in his father’s footstep going into the Archeology field. It made perfect sense seeing his dad always including the family in all his field work. Sure, he travelled a lot as a kid, but it was always exciting to him. Each site visit was another adventure, and his current site work was no different. After all, it was his Father that suggested that he do his field work for his thesis on the Mershan Empire, as it was one of the mostly unstudied cultures that could now be reached relatively safely.

As Caleb thoughts came back to his work, he realized he had stumbled upon an old book, preserved carefully in a layer of protective coverings. The site he had been working had appeared to be an old temple or shrine, to what end was part of the mystery.

Caleb took the book back to his camp and started the delicate process of deciphering its contents. As he read, he realized the book referenced a being that the Mershans claimed to exist on the very planet. Caleb knew the Mershans to be a very superstitious people, so the fact they would have this claim seem to fit their culture. As he kept reading, the book told of how the Mershans would offer of their enemies to the being, and he would bring them victory by sapping the very power from their enemy’s weapons. The book went on to say how the Mershans did this time and time again. Towards the end, the Mershans gave this being a name. It would be unpronounceable in the current tongue, but loosely translated the name of the being was “The Niode Vampire”.

Caleb gave a chuckle, just like the old horror movies he thought and went back about his work…

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The 99th are having campfire on a deserted planet, where they are joined with Bacon addicts, an alliance which is bonded by basically, bacon. In this clan, they offer a wide variety of dishes with bacon as ingredients. And in this event, Joshua rode proudly his cindron, and was task to cook the bacon using his cindron. He was furious, his proud cindron became cook? so he refused, and challenged every person in that camping to fight him on a one on one with a Cindron, but in his surprise, everybody laughed at him. His XO,laughingly, while drinking beer and eating his bacon burger, accepted the challenge, the XO ordered the dropship to deliver his very own cindron, for the match to be completely “equal and challenging”. The two pilots rode their cindrons, and made ready to face each other, the campers yelled at them to go someplace far from the campsite because Joshua’s Cindron might burn everything including the beer.

As they where approaching the located “arena”, Joshua checked the status of his Cindron, his AI said it was at its best condition, with dodge equivalent with his Bucchis, but his prized Cindron has +104% on fire weapons, which surpasses every person with a Cindron on that campfire. he smirked and told himself, he would toast the Cindron of his XO to prove to them that he has the better equipment when it comes to fire based mechs.

A drone would record the fight for the campers to see the battle even in a distance. The pilots where asked if they where ready, and after the two approved, the battle started. Joshua fired first, using his newly aquired Diabliz nozzle, leaving a trail of charred earth after the shot, but it missed, his XO however, shot something which really irritated him, which are Bacon and Potatoes. and in his shock, it landed straight on his cockpit,

Without the window of the cockpit it might have hit him in the face, joshua rushed forward, and used all 5 of his Immolator, but his XO just kept on dodging him, repeatedly fired bacon and potatoes on his cockpit. He lunged forward again, now using his burning chainsaw to somehow hit his XO’s mech, but to no avail. His XO repeatedly fire potatoes and bacon to joshua whenever he likes.

Joshua is now furious, he fire all of his flamethrowers which overheated his Cindron, at that point the battle was over. At that point he asked his XO, how does he manage to escape all of his attacks, he pointed out joshua’s cockpit, which are equipped with seckmet CPU, then he pointed out his own Cindron, which are equipped with Betrus CPU, he suddenly realized he lacked precision, which is needed to actually hit his enemies. Joshua learned his lesson and went back to the campfire with the XO. as they are approuching the campfire, the Bacon Addict’s sargeant major tossed him a beer and said, Breakfast?

Joshua Magsino

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King Chrono

Sports Desk – FMCL 
Vol 2 No 2 
Event: King Chrono
Part Two

Time’s up Mecha Maniacs. King chono is in the books and we’ll get to the scores in just a bit. But first lets take a look at a topic that has been buzzing around the galaxy. Score spoilers. Do they exist and if so how do they function? The contention of those who say there are spoilers out there who are just trying to “ruin others fun” or “drop players out of ranking(10 or 25)” is this: If a contestant has not joined and collected points for a majority of the event and have no chance of taking a top 25 (10) position they should not join and climb the ranks of the points board because they are dropping players, presumably on the cusp of a prize bracket, out of ranking. While is may be annoying and disappointing to get dropped back to a lower point scoring position, if you have been in for the whole contest your score total should bring you a top 25 finish. Remember, your total score is the deciding factor, not you final spot on the board like it is in all other events.

Let’s crunch some numbers and I’ll show you what I mean. Using this event as an example: there was approximately 36 hours with points awarded every 2 (18 scores), 24 hours with points awarded every hour (24) and 22 hours with points every 30 minutes (44 scores) for a total of 86 possible point awards. Checking the archive, to place top 25 in div 2 was 5340 points, div 4-5440, div 6-6086, div 8- 6000. Average that out and you would need 65 to 70 points per score to place in top 25. That is not an outlandish total to achieve. On the other side of that equation is the so called spoiler. If a player comes in late to the event and can climb into the top 10 on the point board to score, for example 500 points per award, they would only need 5 or 6 hours to hit the top 25 for the event and at 1250 for the top position even less time.

So my opinion, and it is just an opinion, is this: If you have actively player the entire event the only way you could be “knocked out of prize contention” is if you are on the very bottom of the level bracket for your division. If that is the case you probably won’t finish in the top 25 of any event until you level up or collect/buy/win some niodes and upgrade your army. That’s just the way it is. But enough of my long winded ramblings, let’s get to the winners.

Div.1 Jamie Beltran of Cyberstorm extended his lead on the last day and ended with a 14k margin
Div.2 Aleaj Hasala of The Isle of Misfit Toys (MMI) with an almost 8k lead. MMI held the top 4 spots and 6 of the top 10.
Div.3 Steve Ross of Zeon 23030 point lead and a new FMCL record for highest margin of victory. Zeon also had the top 5 scores and 6 of the top 10.
Div.4 Becky McEwin Gill with a 7k lead. Of note Black Star Lycan Rangers had 5 in the top 10
Div.5 Jason Smith of 99th Chessmen R&D Core [RND] with a 3k point lead. RND also had 4 in the top 10.
Div.6 Red Iron of Smurf Patrol with a 6k lead.
Div.7 John Thorson of Exile’s Song held on to his 4k lead for the victory.
Div.8 Ageless Capsule of Time is Precious with a 13k lead.
Div. 9 Vlad Dankovich of Aurochs with a 12k point lead.

Looking at the last day all the winners had the lead, or were in first place. Like the man says, Enter early and power your way to the top. For a full look at point totals:https://mechagalaxy.gamecraftsmen.com/game/event_archives.game?event=190

Next up: A brand new, never been done before format. Warhorses.

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Red Snow: The Battle of Dongknocker Glacier Clan War XVIII Day 1

Charles walked his Antithesis across the field, the burden of being the heaviest among the Defenders of Bunny was weighing on him. At every turn, he left his foes broken and burning upon this pass or that, or scattered among the plains, but always and ever they would circle like wolves after the herd, knowing that he could not be everywhere, and the wolves hungered to bring down the lesser Bunnies in his care.

A mauler round rang off his carapace, and he whirled to see who would dare.

There were mecha upon Dong-knocker glacier. His reports had it listed as too unstable to travel, and the pass was ignored. If the 82nd held that pass, and could funnel troops through it, the Defenders of Bunny could be cut off from each other, and defeated in detail.

He turned his sensors to the mecha on the glacier, and his blood ran cold. There were ghosts upon the ice!

“I am the Dread Pilot Keenan, send up your best man!”

Keenan was a legend, which was OK, he had fought legends before. Keenan was also dead, and that was just flat disturbing. Screw it. At the end of the day, I ride an Antithesis, he rides a Red Ant. Unless he is riding one of Walker’s Ghost Ants, this is a one shot battle.

With a roar expressed through his built in speakers, Charles unleashed the fury of the Antithesis in a shattering ground pound that sent a wave of destruction through the earth to shatter the first rank of Red Ants like bowling for bozos…………….and in return 65,000 tons of Dong Knocker Glacier and the sides of Big Twig and Massive Berry mountains buried his entire command in ice and rock.

“Bunny Command this is the XO, 82nd on Dong-Knocker glacier. Send Red Ants only; the ice is really unstable…..” The 82nd would be free to attack at will through his sector, with only John and Hendrick able to hold the barrier against the more powerful RND, they would be among the lower ranked Bunnies like wolves in the fold. Dread Pilot Keenan could cost them the war.

———-Dong Knocker Glacier———-

(Bunny) Caitlyn was leading her elite Red Ants after Dread Pilot Keenan. On the way she actually walked across Charles where he was buried. His Jottun had rigged drag chains and were trying to pull out the Ignus. In its fear it kept melting the chains, which was not helping. She could see the Aspis was in trouble, with its laser horn array actually jammed deep in a rock weighing more than her front line. It was reduced to pushing it ahead like a dung beetle while the Antithesis guided it along like a shepherd. Wow. When the Bunnies screwed something up, we did it hard core.

The 82nd were tearing through the sector, and she was going after someone that just buried Charles. A ghost too. Awesome. No pressure.

The challenge rang out on good old channel 17 
“I am the Dread Pilot Keenan, send up your best man!”

“Oh its on buddy, it is on!” As Bunny Caitlyn responded she brought her Red Ants up to a run, skipping the usual evasion pattern as the footing was just nasty already. Her lines were balanced, each flank held lasers or cannon for direct fire trample and critical, her middle was powerful forking missiles and splashing flamers. This was like any other battle, only faster with neither side having any real armour.

The crack of maulers rang on her carapace. Maulers? Really? A joke of an autocannon. She couldn’t understand why anyone would use the damned things, except they were fast, even if underpowered.

From point Caitlyn aimed her massive Smooth Bore Autocannon up at the Dread Pirate, and sent a 120mm SABOT in return for the pitter patter of 25mm she had been suffering on the approach.

The massive shock of recoil caused her mecha to lose its footing, and plant her face down in the ice. The almost insulting whine of a dual gattling gnawed upon the tissue paper of her rear armour like a kitten with a catnip mouse, and Caitlyn slapped the shutdown as the reactor breach alarms started to ring.

The roar of her center mecha Tesla missiles was followed by the cries of “look out”, and the crashing and clanging that could only mean……..yes, when her missile mech launched a double spread of the 60mm bombardment rockets, the back blast shocked the ice and snow footing, causing her proud pilot to turn into a red spiked pinball foot sweeping her other mecha as it careened through her formation and down the mountain as little better than scrap.

Adapting like professionals, her boys and girls teamed up, one to brace, one to fire, but that left them badly outgunned, and for every booming echo of massive cannons, there were the whine and scream of two or three Panther Wheel or Dual Gattlings. The got cut to pieces.

Caitlyn hopped with the grace of the Bunny she was partially cloned from, to the hull of her Red Ant and watched her conquorers last two mecha send harassing fire at the recovery crews before pumping their guns in the air and shouting their triumph.

They were shouting over the loudspeakers, not the radio, and the computer modulation was bypassed. Her bunny hearing caught the voice coming from the Dread Pilot Keenan; it was Shindoe!

“Schindo you sap sucker! You are not Keenan.”

Shindoe turned his Red Ant towards her and waved from his cockpit.

“Keenan wasn’t the first Dread Pilot Keenan, but when he had to run, the Dread Pilot took him on as an apprentice, and when the time came, passed the mantle on to him. When Keenan died, we asked could that be the end of the Dread Pilot Keenan? “

“Inconceivable!” She answered, beginning to laugh.

She would rearm, return, and try again. She was too Bunny to give up. It was not every day you got to fight Dread Pilot Keenan. These were the moments that made you happy to go to war.

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Clan War XVIII, Division 8 Day 2 Thunder at the Back Door

I got the word the enemy was making their move. We had been up against the Blazing Aces, and because we held the weight in metal for once, we had used our big guns to push them out of the mountains, and onto the plains where we could go force on force. It was closer to classic tactics than I had seen since joining the Defenders of Bunny.

My name is Gusty Gutz. I wasn’t born with that name. The name I was born with matches the commission from the Illyran Hegemony 71st Lancers, and the execution warrant from the Lord Malachi Zeloff, theoretical CO of the 71st Lancers and head of the Zeloff Investment Group that owns half the sector. It is also the name that appears on the birth certificate of the twins produced by Delia Zeloff, daughter to my former commander.

When I joined the Bunnies I had the fine contempt of all regular forces soldiers for the mercenary scum hirelings of the warrior clans, but now I was one. They are actually crazier than they look, and gods help me, I am starting to fit in. Thanks to the clans AI (Mighty Beatrice) I am able to keep in contact with Delia and the kids, and I see a whole lot more combat as a merc than I ever saw as a regular. I was jocking medium mecha for the Hegemony, but you should see the steel I drive right now!

I haven’t started naming my mecha yet, although everyone else seems to. That seems like the last step in admitting you are as bug nuts as the rest of them. Not sure I am ready for that yet.

The Blazing Aces had some heavy hitters, and the heaviest of them had been off the radar for a while, not trying to defend his little guys against our insane attack bunnies (honestly, if you have ever heard Jessica Bradley-Rabbit on the attack you would swear you were listening to her having a “happy moment”). We found out why. They had determined to push back into the mountains where they could play hit and run, matching their heavies against our lights, and keeping their lights away from us. Not happening. The orders came through, bunny style.

“Gusty, we need you to move to Eastings 215 Northings 84. We got Terrd pushing on the Back Door, and we need a blockage”

FML, that is my warning order? We have turds pushing on the back door? What am I a mecha pilot or a butt plug? I called up the enemy order of battle and began to swear. Terrd Fergusson was out of my league; he was higher level, way higher tonnage, and according to the drone reports looking to ram through our back door and bugger us right and proper. I was the heaviest hitter the Bunnies had to stop him, I would have to be enough.

I pushed my Bishops to the max, the machines moving at an easy pace for heavies, showing the worth of the engines I had spent every last spare nickel I could find on. The Ammonites and Freons of my second rank were leaping nimbly up the pass like frisky bunnies in the mecha bay. Honestly, even the mecha are going crazy here. Its relaxing though.

I hit the saddle of the pass, where Back Door Mountain meets at Einus crest, and I saw the enemy. Oh shit. Big bastards. A solid wall of Gigus, with a single flanking Krampus. I looked at the ID’s broadcasting, and his point mecha was actually called Big Bastard. His Krampus was called Raging Fuck Nutts, so that sort of left calling him and asking him to be reasonable off the table. I guess we could skip the foreplay and get stuck in.

We met in a clash of ceremetal and steel. Thunder blasted out of the Back Door as Ferrite Storms rocked my Bishop, while purple light from my Cheops beams flayed great steaks from the Gigus flanks. Neither side slowed, and we actually closed to hand to hand range in the clash that sounded like a Zeon colony drop.

Flames from the Mag Chains wreathed my Bishop, but the Slow effects of the ice injected into my beams was costing the Gigus, and I was able to plant my fist in Bite Me Douche and turn his Rupture Shot offline before it cut loose. My Galaxy Eye finished him.

On the right flank, Raging Fuck Nutts was being a problem. Although the Gigus are the tougher mecha on paper, that damned bronze hellhound was tearing pieces off my machines with both Wrecker Shots and flamers. I ordered two of my boys to take him out. Playing fair was like doing drill; something I left for the regulars.

Cheops beams burned the leg off the Krampus, but he was already in the firing cycle, so when his cannon jammed into the ground at discharge, the back blast blew out his back, tearing through his engines. Scratch one hellhound.

The Gigus were slowed badly by the Bishops ice effects, and their rage no match for my guys targeting. Purple death carved the great Forerunner machines like a butcher carving a pig. God, all this fire, I could really murder some bacon right now.

The second line was really depressing, they were actually getting bigger! There was a Ballista anchoring the second rank. The call sign for the Ballista showed on my HUD; Jumbo Ass Flush. The Blazing Aces were counting on a Jumbo Ass Flush to clear the Bunnies Back Door so his people could get screwed. Not happening.

“Hey Jumbo, have a peanut!” I screamed as I cut loose with my Cheops beam. I cut the beam limiters off line and risked the overcharge. Its against the regulations in any House army, but we actually have a guide book from Knockers on how to get those special shots without (mostly) exploding. Worked like a charm, the Cheops beam pulsed purple people eating goodness through the pop up cover on his port side missile bay and the ammunition explosion turned him into a ferrite spitting piñata.

The blast seemed to stumble the coal black Orrester (Tea Bagger) on its flanks, as it took a Cheops beam in its lead leg and failed to respond right away. The delay cost, as my flanking Bishop pumped a Trident Beam in to carve it down to the bare actuator. There wasn’t enough left to resist a Viper Laser. I fed him a Galaxy Eye and watched him explode.

A mad exchange of missiles and beams left us wounded pretty bad, and his second rank burning. Every time they thrust at our back door, we were cutting it off. No means no dude.

Megazomes and Ogguns crawled up the sides of the pass and tried to push past us. In an exchange of beams the Megazome shot a lot, but didn’t hit much, getting its legs burned off one by one by my Cheops beams. The Oggun U Suck was piloted by a stone killer though, his Carnasal lasers cost me a mecha, and I was awfully glad his Black Widows missed, because they dug a really deep hole in whatever they did hit. He hit with everything else. Killing that little guy cost me another mecha. Good thing he wasn’t in real steel, or I would have been in real trouble.

Out of the smoke and flames, his next rank came, fangs out and hair on fire. Say what you will about the Blazing Aces, when they throw down, they go all in, and there isn’t a lick of quit anywhere in them. Crazy bastards. They could almost be Bunies.

Blazing red and black, like a burning Ace of Spades, the Ammonite “Suck Me Loser” burned me a new one with his Mag Chain. I rode the ejection seat on a pillar of flame, slapping at the burning Ferrite that peppered my uniform. At least I didn’t only wear a teddy in the cockpit like Jessica. Although, if you have seen Jessica Rabbit in a teddy you would know her big guns could stop an Ammonite even without a mecha.

As I floated above the battlefield I saw the Ogguns Grand Wizard and Duh tear through what was left of my beautiful Bishops with MZ2 assault cannons and Smooth Bores. Momentum hung in the balance, the fury of the Blazing Aces third rank smashing through my battered front. Good try boys, not good enough.

My second rank Ammonite had been sighting on the back of my Bishop, waiting for me to fall. When my mecha toppled, he cut loose with a Rail Cannon. I guess through the smoke and fire of my exploding ass, he didn’t see it coming, because no shields even slowed it down and it cracked his chest plate bare like a stripper on her last song.

Our lines matched up to exchange shots, but my second rank had been reading our feeds as we fell, and had solid targeting locks already. My twin Ammonites let fly, scoring Rail Cannon kills on the the remaining Ammonite and giving the Namtar “Shit Storm” a taste of his own critical kill in a Mach 2 suppository.

My Freons were cold killers too, with their Envelopers reaching out and enveloping the Orrester Zeig Heil!. Not so easy being a missile mecha with your bay doors frozen shut hey boys? My guys caught them flat, and the Yeti’s Bane and Frozen Wind lashed out at the burning scrap of my Bishops wreckage as my second line dodged through our scrap as cover. More rail cannons yielded more kills.

Blazing Aces really wanted to get in the Bunny Back Door, because the blunt snout of the Luison “Your Enema” tried to force its way in with the Oggun Big Guns and Ammonites “Tied” and “Die Fucker’ providing cover. Bunnies don’t do enema’s and the Back Door is staying closed.

Freon caught the sprinting Oggun Big Guns and slowed it to a snail’s pace, while Ammonite rammed a Mach 2 penetrator through “Your Enema” blowing his suggestion out his back end on a Rail Cannon critical. Blazing Aces had no quit in them, they snarled and snapped, fired and burned right to the last mecha.

Die Fucker sawed his Ferrite Storm across half the left flank Freon’s chest, making it look like a Miss Galaxy Gathering contestant. She was not Miss Congeniality by miss-fire though as the scream of the Yeti-Bane in return both slowed Die Fucker, and kicked back to shut down the Freon as microfactures from the cannon strike failed when the Yeti Bane fired.

It wasn’t enough. The Yeti Bane had done their work and both Die Fucker and Big Guns were slow, and couldn’t dodge. Given time to place their shots, my boys and girls are stone cold snipers. The Thunder rolled as two Rail Cannon fired, and two Blazing Aces thundered in.

The Back Door is closed.

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Clan War XVIII, Division 8 Day 3: The Battle of Charm

They were the last of the Free Companies of Khatovar, the Black Company. When the Free Companies burned out of the Shadow Gates and tore their way across the Galaxy it was a time of blood and fire. Each of the companies was brought down, buried under the weight of terrified Empires, but one of them was broken, but not destroyed. The Black Company lived on.

A band of brothers, outcasts, misfits, the Black Company had faced the great powers of this and forgotten ages, had stood against rising powers and forgotten horrors, and won. They were hard cold killers, heavy drinkers, gamblers, con-artists, seducers and meddlers in things best left forgotten. Plying the mercenary trade for centuries, they had been betrayed by more employers than most Clans could name, and paid each back in blood. In garrison, they were a terror. In battle, they were terrifying.

Never give a sucker an even break. The Black Company were gamblers, they knew how to make the most of the cards they were dealt, but would stack the deck cold as The Lady’s heart, given half the chance. We knew them. We knew them all too well.

The Defenders of Bunny had fought the Black Company before. The war took everything we had, and we almost had enough. Almost means that we broke their defenses at Charonn’s Rift, and sent our medium forces out to savage the shattered remnants of their light mecha, only to watch their heavies roar out of the badlands to trap and massacre our mediums. If catch a break against the Company, it’s a trap.

This time would be different. This time we would control the ground. The Lady found the position we would use. Our dropships landed at Charm, and our forces pushed hard to reach the Stair of Tear. The maze of mountains offered only one passage through to the plateau at Charm, and who held the Stair, controlled the battle.

We had three powerhouses, Charles, Hendrick, and John. They had more, four that could match us, and one powerhouse, Bing, the one they called Silent, who was far stronger, when he chose to show it. It fell to us to control the ground, to chose where we would spend our strength.

Andries Smith was sent to Stoneheart, the pass was terrible terrain, impassible for heavy mecha. His harassing fire could not stop the passage of the heavies, but he would bleed them as they passed unless they rooted him out. The pass was unstable, and could only take light mecha. Their skirmishers under Susi bolted up the pass like mountain goats, but her Red Ants and Shocklites failed to match the Axebots and Imechs that Adries held the pass with. Bing bestirred himself, and with his Nephilax as a core, drove hard to the pass, with Red Ant flankers free to run down any who tried to escape. The heavy shale shifted and failed under the Nephillax and Bings proud trophies faltered, wallowing like helpless hogs while his brave Red Ants died to buy time to extract them. The Stair would be bought and paid for in blood.

Alyssa Mainer held Traitor’s Breach, this was a bypass route for the main passage, and if the Black Company could use it in force, they could divide the Bunnies and use their higher number of heavy forces to turn our flanks, and open the route to the Plains of Charm, where numbers of heavies would settle it. Six hundred tons was the most the pass could hold, and no one expected Alyssa to be able to match the higher level players sent against her. Her Simildons and Sever, her Cindron and Krampus, even her Red Ant boasted every single piece of loot in a short but storied carreer. Even the mightiest cobra fears meeting a mongoose in tunnel, and the wisest mercenary knows better than to meet a Bunny in tight places. The battles raged for hours, with her equals falling to her guns, and the stronger forces facing as many losses as victories, as their massive machines dealt poorly with the tight conditions her Simildons scampered playfully in.

The Black Company had no give in them. Victory would be found on the Plains of Charm, and that meant taking the Stair of Tear; the hard way if they had to.

Joe Kump, Fritz Menger, Thomas Fitzgerald pushed up the Stair. Charles Newburn, Hendrick Smith, and John Mainer pushed back. The night sky was filled with new stars, and richochets and burning scraps of armour blazed into the night sky. The mountains burned with the plasma and laserfire that lashed against them in such fury the lightning rained down from the sky to answer. The Bunnies held.

Like the champion he was, the silent one strode forward. Bing Paculan charged forward to break the Stair, and free up Sean Michael Beggs and Scott Spence to push through to the Plains of Charm and victory.

Hendrick fell, knowing himself the equal of anything the Black Company had fielded so far, he met force on force, only to see is proud and matchless command battered into scrap by the wrecking ball of the Black Company. Bunnies do not fight alone. Charles Newburn did not have mecha to match the power of Bing’s dread killers, but quantity has a quality all its own, and Bing found what happens when a jungle cat closes with a great bear. Charles would not fall. Both sides savaged each other, and the charge stalled.

Gusty Gutz stepped into the breach, only to be hammered by Sean Michael Beggs, he rallied hard, and caught Scott Spence in the flank, giving him the choice of stand and fight, or get cut down pushing towards the plains of Charm.
The Stair of Tear was cut with canyons, and the dance of death raged in each. The Bunnies had taken the ground first, and knew which lead to Charm, and which lead to nowhere, and they used this. Lady Kyra lead the Ten Who Were Taken against the Black Company, remembering well the bitter losses of the past.

Susi Fenloh set up a block in The Neck. Only light mecha could chance the passage, and she knew hers were fleet as any she faced. The Ten Who Were Taken were not in her calculations. Abandoning anything resembling tactics they simply stormed the breach with the fastest light mecha they had, accepting terrible casualties to close, but once in range, their weapons turned The Neck in to an abattoir. The Defender of Bunny were through.

Again and again Windz Gan taught Lady Kyra, Caitlyn, and even Bolverk to fear the sight of the blood red Inferno Crimson Eye, but each of them were elite pilots too, and rallied back. Against the flanks of the Black Company, Bolverk and Kyra snapped and snarled, like hounds on their heels. Alyssa and Andries held the keys to the pass, and would not be budged. This would be settled on the Stone of Tear.

Night burned with plasma and laserlight, the sky bleeding light until the night itself died under the guns of the warriors, and a blood red dawn broke upon the Stair of Tear.

The Black Company pushed again and again, paying the price to drive the Defenders of Bunny back to the plains. The sun rose, as the screams and moans of the wounded replaced the sounds of the forrest, and the only birdsong was the laugh of the carrion crows, for surely the feast of ravens was laid on.
Step by step the pass was being taken, step by bleeding step. The Defenders of Bunny held the advantage, but hours saw that whittle away. Would it be enough? The Black Company bled for every inch, for every foot. How much did they have left.

The Plains of Charm would allow the Black Company to use its strength to butcher the Defenders of Bunny, if they reached it; if enough of them survived to reach it.

The day is not done, the war is not done. The blood red of dawn yields to a slate grey sky. Heavy lasers and cannons crack in the Stair of Tear, reflecting back the silver glow of the clouds. The clouds shine silver, the sun drips blood from bronze Who will know Silver, and who bloodied bronze?

Black Company faces the Defenders of Bunny. Only the raven’s win, as the war rages on.

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Thoughts before Battle:99th Chessmen RND

553184 , 99th chessmen, div 11

-We are here today with Joshua Magsino of the famous Chessmen, the RND we all learned to fear seeing on the Mountain. So, how have you found Divison 11 this war? Are you winning or losing?

“That’s a serious question sir… we the 99th, by far had hold continuous gold, by far, where “feared” by most clans and by far, had respected other clans as well, is now on a struggle on how to win against the Macleods, yes, they are very tough, and yes they are our rivals, i think this will be bloddy, savage and personal for me.”

-Those are the best fights, the ones that you bring everything you have, and leave it all on the field. Have you made any changes between the rounds, any adaptations, or are you still running with the set up you had for the workup to the war?

“Lets just say that the Mad Jester of the RND is indeed mad…”

-Mad, bad, and dangerous to know. Not the worst combination to go to war with

“Yeah, but sir, with our leaders help, even insanity has its place in battles.”

-The margin of victory you and MacLeods Regiment have shown makes it clear you are the powerhouses of Division 11, are they known rivals, or has the Division 1 shakeup put the two sharks in the same pond for the first time?

“Lets just say, this time, our machines are more equipped, our cannons are more active and our spirits are at the most highest!”

-Your foes seem to have chosen to take the specialties that minimize their differences between their regular and specialist lineups, going with total tonnage and rainbow, while your own Chessmen have taken the more demanding, and potentially more rewarding 20ton and 35 ton limited lineups. Do you think the edge in preparatin will balance their edge in levels?

“I do think sir, the specialist are there just for the extra points, but i do think what matters are those who are in the unlimited position, they are the once who produces most points, in defense and offense.”

-Offense wins points, this is true, but defensive strategy can limit your enemies ability to do the same. I see that your leadership has made your lower level players a risk for those with greater power, but potentially lesser preparation in that weight class. They might not score a defensive win, but they may well keep their superiors in power from hunting them at all. The Chessmen have long been renowned as strategists. That and victory have been your hallmarks. Do you predict another golden dawn for the Chessmen?

“I have got no predictions sir, but i assure you that this will be a hell of a fight.”

-We look to see a clash of the titans of dvision 11 this night. This is the best possible ending to Clan War XVIII. Luck in battle warrior.

“Roger that sir, and thank you for this interview, by the way, i would like to leave you with a parting message, You created monsters, and those monsters would comeback to you, be sure they will, so be prepared. be ready, for those who where hurt would rise again, much stronger than the last time.”

-That’s the boarding alarm for your dropship. It begins

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Regis, Rizpah, and Racing Stripes

War was going badly. That’s a nice way of saying the 82nd Omicron had us bent over a railing and doing us like a Choir boy after mass. When we got the word that our drop zone was held by the 82nd Omicron, my suggestion of dropping a nuke was unfairly rejected as unsportsmanlike. Whatever. Now I’m just not sure it would have been enough. Honestly, let them go play with Death Curse, and leave some of the loot for us mere mortals….but I digress.

War is joy, war is pleasure, war is addiction, but it doesn’t pay the bills. We are mercenaries, we have contracts, and one of them was putting in a Delta Call. That means that Bunny HQ is saying this one can’t be handled by the Avengers of Bunny, and needs senior division help. Well, it can’t be worse than this. Gods, when you have to eat your own words, you discover how much shite comes out of your mouth.

It was Erick Chambers. “Bolverk, you have an urgent mission. The boss says this one is your speciality, only you have the ability to handle it” Oh that is not good. I am not the biggest (that is Charles, any of his lines could eat my command), not the strongest (that’s the chief; he’s a psycho, but good at it), and certainly not the most diplomatic (That was Jessica Bradley Rabbit; when she sighs deeply and bats her eyelashes people try to give her whole planets). I am known for only one thing….one hateful thing, one terrible, regrettable, and unforgettable thing and place. I eyed the Snavurm Anonymous “12 weeks Snavurm Free” pin and took it off. I was going back to the gods forsaken Jungle Moon of Rizpah.

As I walked my command to the gate complex, I broadcast a challenge on the wide hail, trolling for 82nd Omicron Guard who would maybe give me a mercy kill, but the rat bastards just told me they would be waiting when I got back. Honestly, some days you can’t even buy and ambush.

I got the intel upload from Erick when I cleared the gate complex and didn’t have to worry about being overheard. Since the defection of Melissa, we were not sure of our code security. We knew the Highlanders had our codes, and we knew they were rotten with spies already, so to be secure meant not broadcasting in front of the assembled warrior clans. The news was……suboptimal. That is the military way of saying “Oh god, oh god, we are doomed!”

That alien freak, no I can’t spell his name, speaking it makes me spit on my magnificent beard, was on the move on Rizpah, and his timing was excellent. The Great Powers, hell to be honest, anyone with the aggression to fight off a hungry ground squirrel, was on the field at Clan War, and the known worlds were defended only by the national forces. They could maybe rough up a hippie protestor or hold off the Dark Hawk if he was really hung over, but that was it. From the sounds of it, major forces were on the move on the Jungle Moon, and what we had to spare was…..me.


Well, I can’t nuke it. Won’t get me paid. I can’t face it; lets be honest here, I saw pictures of a thousand Regis stalking through the forest hunting the regular army survivors like poor bleating sheep. I could match my lance against a lot of things, but a thousand Regis aren’t on the list. Hell, I am not sure the 82nd would do much better and they made me feel like the damned sheep. This required cheating. This required me.

Bolverk Borson; I am named “Worker of Evil, son of the hunter”. It’s all true. I hate the Jungle Moon. My Snavurm leather interior, Snavurm boots, cowboy hat and belt, all tell the tale. I hate those damned things, but I have learned a lot about them. They are one of natures wonders. I have a degree in Genetic Engineering. No don’t look at me that way, I don’t do cloning. I don’t even do people. I am just flat interested in strange biology. Mycobacter could tell you why, if you get him drunk enough. Snavurm are strange. Nearly unkillable, immune to almost everything, and their nervous system acts as a power capacitor better than most man made superconductors. I swore they were engineered. I was wrong. My PhD thesis was torn to pieces in peer review over that. Nature did breed the damned things, and they do juice up on our mecha power, like slimy stinky skunk vampire snake slugs. Nasty bastards.

I worked with our rogue AI, the Mighty Beatrice to work on a plague to wipe them out. Overreaction? Maybe, but you would thank me if it worked. It didn’t. While Mighty Beatrice was ordered purged for her attempts to wipe out all sentient organic life, it turns out she was really excited by my orders to wipe out the Snavurm. Turns out, she can’t do it. I mean really, she tried. We had a really exciting nanotech plague, species specific, self limiting, but some of the test subjects mutated and cost us the Bosses Skraig. I mean it was freaky. The virus made the Snavurm grow racing stripes, grow a lot faster, and consume energy at a savage rate, but made it out of tune for human mecha. My mechs were safe.

What they need was Forerunner energy. They latched onto the bosses Skraig and when they got too much juice, blew up like anti-mech mines. I mean it was Snavurm spray and Ferrite armour everywhere. I was on clean up detail for a week, and it took some fast talking to calm Knockers down enough not to have me turned over to Kyra for some Ten Who Were Taken style discipline. Honestly, I’ll take the 82nd.

I hit the base long enough to load up my Tesla missile racks with virus dispensers, and was off to the Jungle Moon.

Cities were burning. Damned tourist traps. Good riddance. There were Regis everywhere. Screaming and preaching the usual tripe. Honestly, all this slave talk, I think they are maybe all a little pent up. They need a three day pass at Madame Wu’s House of the Sideways Smile, then maybe they would back off the whole galactic conquest thing. I digress.

We slipped into the Jungle, like coming back to the dream of the hunt. You know the one, deep in your sleep, the predator dream. The dream without words, where you run the forest at night with nothing but instinct to guide you. Nothing exists but the hunt; you, your prey, the chase, and the sweet taste of the kill. Some part of us lives in that predator state, and the Jungle Moon waits for you. The Jungle Moon knows you will be back.

I got jumped by the Snavurm, and cut loose my dispensers. Half died, half got striped and went mad. I climbed out and worked the dead ones off my Torrent, and even harder for the ones that got jammed in my Krampus back legs.

“It is always Snavurm. It will always be Snavurm. In the beginning there was Snavurm, and in the end there was its smell” When I was done, I went looking for playmates.

The Forerunners never really believe anyone will attack them. Get huge armies together and they just can’t accept that they are not each protected by thousands of stumbling idiots miles away. Getting their attention was easy. My Torrent blazed a Galaxy Eye strike on a Regis and got the sweet spot. The area beside the twin energy cannons picks up so much distortion from their charge the shielding is never stable. I drilled him a new eyeball, and the ancient unstoppable piece of Forerunner supremacy toppled like a chain sawed Xmas tree.

That got their attention. They didn’t fire! They lined up to impress me, screamed at me to terrify me, and gave me some long winded speech about……I think destiny, slavery, and I swear I heard something about cabbage, not sure. I was blasting Primo Victoria by Sabuton pretty loud, so I could have missed bits of it. My Krampus gave them a dose of Mac Cannon while I sprayed some Magnetic Missiles around. They took it as a no, and we lit out fast.

The Regis are fast, faster than the curvy bitch Bar Wench. Torrents are dead sexy, but not sprinters. We do however turn on a dime. The first wave of Regis slipped in the jungle goo trying to corner and face planted in a mangrove. Welcome to Rizpah turkey!

We lead them on a chase deeper and deeper into the jungle, the hunting call of the Snavurm sounded, and you could hear the jungle going wild. I lost mecha one at a time as the guns of the Regis showed you really can’t outrun light. I got a few myself, because you can’t cure stupid, but a 120mm suppository works as a treatment.

More and more though, I heard the sizzle/boom of overloading Striped Snavurm, and exploding Regis. We killed, maybe twenty. Of the thousand that came into the jungle, sixteen came out alive. Score one for the slimy scaly stinky freaks. You never beat the Jungle Moon, you only survive it.

The planetary lord tried to honour me with a medal, I pulled my Volund Express super-magnum on him and expressed my desire that he never speak of my presence here today at all. This was secret, understand? Upon due reflection, he decided to credit the local defense forces for their valliant efforts to drive off invaders. None of them lived to argue anyway.

The alien freak was blathering something on the comm about returning with his untouchable legions to wipe out all those who dare stand against the return of something or other, and I think he mentioned cabbage again. I was grooving pretty hard to old Clapton’s electric guitar solo in Layla, so may have missed something. Whatever. By the time he got back, the Clans would be done the war, and he could dance with them. Maybe he could dance with the damend 82nd Omicron. Gods known, I am in no rush to get back to it.

As I got to the Clan War, for the end of Day 1, I felt good. I had saved the universe, destroyed a whole legion of Regis, and all it cost me was my Snavurm Anonymous 12 week free pin. No one would every know I was responsible. Not to bad. I finally won on that damned moon!

My comm had an update. Oh holy Odin on the Treee, the dirty little bastards! The grateful scientific community of the Jungle Moon had named a new subspecies of Snavurm after me. Savurm Bolverkus was described as a new subspecies with the strange and possibly unnatural attraction for Forerunner mecha that results in a strange bio-energetic interaction similar to a limpet mine.

Anyone who lost mecha on the Jungle moon now would be after me. I should have known. They always win.

“It is always Snavurm. It will always be Snavurm. In the beginning there was Snavurm, and in the end there was its smell”

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KOTM Full Metal Combat: Front Line Fury!

Sports Desk – FMCL
Vol 1 No 10
Event: Front Line

Aaaaaaaand we’re back. After a grueling and thrilling Clan Wars event FMCL is back to bring you the best in mecha mayhem and destruction. I know many players leveled up during the event to give them an edge during a battle round. Lets see if upgrades can translate over and help with the front line. Starting levels for this event start at:
Div 9, 1-11
Div 8, 12-20
Div 7, 21-28
Div 6, 29-37
Div 5, 38-51
Div 4, 52-65
Div 3, 66-82
Div 2, 83-106
Div 1, 107+

Now, I know what you’re thinking. We just had an unlimited event, this is just more of the same. But really it isn’t. This is the type of event that opens up the field and makes the gold up for grabs. How, you ask? Well lucky for you I love to hear myself talk so I’ll tell you. Not all armies are created equal. Not everyone has the resources, or luck when it comes to raiding or getting salvage from missions, or reliable motivated clan-mates to help them get better loot from Clan Wars. What I’m saying is not everyone can field a full spread of elite class mecha loaded to the gills with Niode gear and weaponry. But, just about anyone can field a front line with all the best they own stacked on it. Take all the liquid torches and other trinkets stolen from Tori’s warehouse, everything you managed to salvage from the Snavurm hunts of the Rizpah moon, gather everything recovered from Cogwerk port and….. well take everything from Corwerk, sell that crap and buy something decent. But all your other shiny baubles, fancy computer do-dads and load up a nasty from line that would make bunny blush or a smurf green with envy and go kill like a RND that just found out there’s no exp. Bonus for taking the gold anymore.
As always you can see the full results in the archive here:https://mechagalaxy.gamecraftsmen.com/game/event_archives.game?event=188
Now lets look at our champions:
Div 1 Deborah Roach-Hudak of Northwind Fusiliers
Div 2 KiloToneRecoil of Northwind Fusiliers
Div 3 Sherriff Leary Wretham of Death’s Disciples {AFF}
Div 4 RW Peugh of Black Star Lycan Rangers
Div 5 Mark Shc Wiseman of Black Star Bandits
Div 6 Maticus Rex of DELTA RECON
Div 7 Batok Celapa of Smurf Miltia
Div 8 CrazyRcFlyer of Death’s Warriors {AFF}
Div 9 Woodman1201

Congrats to Black Star and AFF both picking up a pair of wins.

Keep an eye out for the end of season wrap up and point standings.

Season two will run until the end of CW XIX and kicks off with a Limited Gateway event.

Mycroft Holmes

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Clan War XVIII Post War Interview

Michael Telladira
CO: Bacon Addicts II 

Walking past the long line of parked Zadok, each one with a smoking BBQ in front of it, laughing men and woman of the Bacon Addicts II kicking back and doing a little bacon fueled partying. They were a fresh faced group, on the whole, with a few seasoned veterans with the long suffering look of those who remember they too were once losing their mind over their first or second gold.

Waiting for me was a young man who came from a family with a tradition of victory, and who had risen to the challenge of leadership in the recent and terribly public schism of the RND which traditionally dominated the lower ranks.

-Thank you for seeing us today Michael. So what division were the Bacon Addicts II fighting in this war?

'Division 16, which was our goal, definitly glad we achieved it”

He was being modest, but a truer tale was shown by the celebrating clan behind him. For a young group, they had come a long way.

-And you were golden cripy bacon, going 3-0 against the 14th Light Cavalry RND, Black Star Rowdies, and Death’s Disruptive Force AFF. Not bad, stomping three of the more established Clan families reps in the lower divisions”

"Yes sir, we are from the RND originally. After the merge some of us split off"

-We all watched that drama unfold from the outside. I am glad to see the mighty RND live on, and even more excited to see the Bacon Addicts showing that you can go your own way and keep the winning tradition.

-I see you chose unlimited for all, were you confident the lower level players unlimited lineups had enough flexibility to address all the options? Or were you worried about other specialists?

i was worried about 10 ton specialist. we had 2, Mike Telladira my father and Cane Corso, a new player to Bacon II

they both used 10 ton”

-Did you find it hard for your new players with so many long time campers lurking in the lower divisions? I know the disparity can be alarming between a new 20th level player, and one who has been hanging out there for a few loot filled wars.

"Yes, I did. We only recruit one to two new players per war to make sure our experience can help mold them into the gold standard. However AFF and the 144TH have long time campers of their own and it proved to be a good fight."

-Were all of your players able to get their magic 8 wins? And will you be expecting all of your players to take part in the raid, or will the raid be primarily the newer people who are willing to trade XP for the hope of big shiny guns, and bigger shiny mecha?

"I’m afraid one of our new guys and myself missed the 8. We will avoiding the raid in an attempt to stay in division 16. 2 new mechs is enough for now"

-How are you liking the changes to keep the lower divisions tighter? Do you think it is giving more newer players and clans a real chance to medal?

"Not necessarily because as you’ve pointed out the difference between someone whose been camping to level 20 and someone whose leveled without any KOTM or CW medals is huge."

With a gold medal under your belt as Clan Leader, what advice can you give up and coming Clans who dream of going 3-0 like the Bacon Addicts II? Any changes you are looking to see from the Developers?

"I’m all for giving bronze medal 1 skill point in an attempt to keep the balance of he game a little more fair."

-I agree. 5/3/1 seems fairer than 5/3/0 for a team that got a hard earned win.


-Are we looking at the beginning of a new bacon fed dynasty? Will Bacon Addicts II look to defend its gold, and pile rasher after rasher of golden clan war victory bacon on this win?

"I hope so, we have 2 straight so far. We are looking to build onto it, but its very hard in lower divisions because clans like AFF like to power level into the upper 20s and even lower 30s sometimes while keeping campers in the lower levels as well. Leaving little room for points. However, until BCDC does something about alts we’ll just have to keep on pushing."

-We at ANN are always glad to get some real insights into how the war looks on the ground in the lower divisions. It is easy to fixate on the top tier, but fixes there trickle a long way down in effects, and what you do to the root of your player base is important.

-The hard core campers are a real problem at lower levels, and can really make it hard for new players to get over the hump, where they can be competitive against the low level pleyers with high level camping gear.

"Indeed, I struggled as well. Which is why I chose to join the RND. However, the new KOTM rules have definitely forced the strongest of campers into the 20’s and 30’s outside of a select few."

-Short of swine flu epidemics or vegetarianism breaking out, do you see any threats on the horizon for Bacon Addicts, or do you think your strategies will hold your Clan in its winning ways?

"The biggest threat for the Bacon Addicts is probably the old RND. We are battling our own strategies while split up. Hopefully due time we can re-unite most of our brothers under one clan."

We look forward to seeing what the future holds for you. Thank you for taking the time to talk to us.

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All reports here were written by players of Mecha Galaxy.
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