Build your platoonWe do not even know the depth of the precipice we stand upon, because we are too afraid to look. Dr. Sirius Trell
They tell us there is nothing to fear. They say it in the paper, they drone it on the radio, they lie about it to our faces. I have been to the European theater, toured its shattered lands.
It is only by chance miracle that the madness has deigned to stay in its labyrinthine maze of stone and storm. But it is coming. Leaking out of our ports, carried by the minds of men so arrogant as to defy belief. Assembled by a legion of monsters and ghosts at the eye of the maelstrom, their only succor the hate of the living.
Traded and sold by the most avaricious souls still not claimed by Hell, and fought over by a thousand, thousand warlords. I tell you that there is only fear left, of what that wretched continent will finally birth.
You bring two to four tanks, and you build every one of them from the ground up. Hull, engine, main gun, the mods bolted onto that gun, special ammo, sponsons, equipment. All of it is yours to pick. A platoon is a set of choices, not a list of models off a shelf.
There are eight factions. Each has its own way of fighting, a trait the whole platoon shares, and armaments nobody else can field. But the faction is where you start, not where you end up: two people can turn up flying the same colors and put armies on the table that look and play nothing alike.
That is the part we enjoy most, honestly. Somebody always finds a combination we did not see coming, and half the time it is better than anything we built while writing the rules. We would love it to be you.
The Shattered Continent keeps producing things it has no business producing. Anomalies, relics, and weapons that were never meant to leave a laboratory. Some can be pointed at a problem. Some go off on their own schedule. All of them are dangerous to the crew carrying them, which has never once stopped anybody.
Every platoon takes exactly one, chosen from dozens. It is the single biggest decision on your list, because a Requiem does not slot neatly into a plan: the plan bends around it. Pick the one that turns your weakness into somebody else’s problem.
All four sides of a tank are their own Armor Facing, with their own armor value, their own damage, and their own slots for bolting things on. Angle matters. Keeping your good side pointed at the problem matters. Losing track of which side is bare gets you killed.
Your tanks are going to get chewed up, and that is the point. Armor shreds, engines take hits, treads get skinned, turrets get blown off. They keep fighting to the last point of health. A tank with nothing left to shoot with can still ram. It hurts you too. It has also won games.
Work around the damage you are carrying and go hunting for theirs. Use the terrain, get the angle, put shots into the side they stopped worrying about. Half of this game is standing in the right place.
