Holy cow we're on Community Highlights number FIFTY. If this were the Hunger Games we'd be having our second quarter quell and everyone would be going nuts. We're on War #12 too which is like the 12 colonies--minus the 13th war which didn't really happen and doesn't really exist. There's also absolutely no Mockingjay hidden in these posts, so don't bother looking. And also if there was a Mockingjay hidden in these posts the first person to find it would win a free frogurt.
Content considered for this Community Highlights was submitted up until Tuesday, Aug 21, 2018. Anything submitted after this date will be considered for the next post.
Note: We try our best to properly credit all community work, but once in a while we may make a mistake. Please let us know if anything is off and we'll make corrections as soon as possible. Thanks!
I recently visited a museum with an exhibit from Marvel about the creation of some of their notable comic-book heroes, so this one really tickled me pink. A shockingly new style than anything we've seen previous!
Yes, yes, yes!! Now we're talking! We were talking about super-weapons in a round-table on discord one week and this is is just... perfect. As per usual, subscribe to his artstation to see more of this amazing stuff!
Psyk323 did this commission piece, taking inspiration from Foxhole. check his twitter: @Psyk323 for more!
Been a while since we've seen some of dat animu. My interest in this internet subculture is going to be steadily rising in the next few weeks as my trip to Japan draws ever-nearer...
Of course......... sigh
That looks like the tank from Indiana Jones! Ba ba duh duh! Dum De doooo... (If the theme song is stuck in your head now, you're welcome.)
We were just talking about player profiles the other day. This is perfect.
By: Cmdr. Engi
We saw the soldier, but what's a soldier without his trusty sandbags? You're on your way to a full war table! (I love the paint-splotched kleenex background. The mark of a true hobbyist!)
Asking the real questions.
By: Deer Chan's Friend
Sure. Your 'friend' drew this. Don't worry, I believe you.
Okay I'm putting this in the art section because this is a work of art. Not in the truest sense, but in a very creative sense. Patchouli put this together as feedback for our most recent changes with automated mines, and it was exceptionally useful for validating some of our theories. This is art because not only did he put immense effort into articulating this, but putting it together in a neat and visually appreciable way. Thanks you!
Propaganda & Funny Stuff
I saw this on reddit and im still not sure if its an original. Let me know if it is, because you deserve some special recognition. Well done!
Has anyone checked up on Padfoot lately? By the sheer number of these posters I have to imagine he's finally gone off the deep end. Great stuff! But poor guy...
Well that went from a scale of zero to dark in no-time at all
You guys better be printing these to patches. Good gosh. 19 months?! That's insane...
You know you're done when enemy forces are reenacting scenes from Nutcracker through the streets of your home town.
By: Dan the Man
I've locked them all and hidden the keys in the driver's seat of one of these tanks. Good luck.
By: Big Mac Gaming
I really hope HelpingHans sees this...
By: ! Dankest Moth
I laughed way harder at this than I should have. Ahhhh the nineties...
"Now shutup and Drive! Drive... Drive...." Mmhmm. Yup. Pretty confident we could make a song out of this.
By: Thot Destroyer
How's he going to cut down that tree with an axe? Get that man a hammer... amateurs....
An oldie but a goodie. I like how "Warden" is on there, but not Colonial. Oversight? Or meme...
War Stories #12
Warden Amphibious Assault (A Story told in Pictures)
Click here or on the image to see the full album. Without words, Camper21 tells the story of a Warden landing on what appears to be Westgate.
Colonial Amphibious Assault (A story told in Pictures)
Click here or on the image to see the full alumb. Without words Camper21 tells an equally exciting story about a Colonial landing, also on westgate? Do me a favour next time and put in like a title card with the info like where it is and who is doing it, etc. Because this is obscenely cool.
> Second day of owning the game
> Friend is guiding me through, we drop off supplies on front and decide to join the fighting
> Moving up with infantry unit and tanks
> We start getting shot at but repel the attack
> Nearby soldier signals that there is an enemy soldier on the other side of a small wall
> From the other side of the wall we hear "No i'm not"
> Proximity Voice Chat is a beautiful thing
Someone's going to write an entire novel like this one day and get insane praise for being innovative. Mark my words.
So a squad with like seven barges and two APCs move out of Oarbreaker to attack Frarranc Coast and take Jade Cove. As we cross the border all of the barges get stacked on top of each other. We end up getting two mods on and after a basically failed attempt at unstacking them the mods give us our barges back, our two CVs back, our two HTs back, our two trucks back and all of the grenades, shirts, mats, guns, ammo, etc.. back at spearhead. then we eventually succeed in taking Jade Cove and setting up an FOB (taken out by the next day) and destroying the nearby fort. Barge Jenga was by far the best part.
It took me and the other mods about an hour to untangle this horrible mess...
Day: 153/6th day of service
The Fight at the pits, Deadlands
I got transferred here after the long and hard fight in Westgate where i was stationed for 5 days,
My sixed day i travelled to Deadlands to help on the frontlines as a medic. When i arrived at our home base at The Great Marsh i was send to The Pits.
This was the front line of Deadlands. I heard rumors of how bad it was but i never expected it to be as bad until i saw it with my own eyes.
I arrived at The Salt Farms and got handed over my med kit and trauma kit and got rushed off to The Pits. As soon as i got there the smell of blood and gunpowder filled my nose,
the noise of screams and bombs going off filed my ears. I quickly said to myself "Focus you are used to this" and i got the my task. I healed my fellow soldiers left and right of me.Soon i was covered in blood and dirt from the howitzer and mortar shells that were hitting the ground. Then it went quiet you could hear a penny hit the floor. And then all of the sudden it started again,bombing after bombing, gunshots after gunshots.
Our halftrack drove in to one of the pits and was quickly taken down by the warden's. Their halftrack moved swiftly on to our flanks and took half the squad down. I could not help them all i tried my best but i just couldn’t. We fell back to our fallback position. We were all pretty shaken up but we needed to get a hold of ourselves so we did.
We held them off pretty good but then suddenly they made a breach on the north-west side of our wall. One of our Cpt's Quickly made the decision to open the gate and flank them from north-east. I volunteered to go with them as their medic and so we went out.
We tried to push them hard but we were just outnumbered and outgunned. Soldiers were dying left and right so we started to fall back. Me and a Pte and another Cpl made it back. We wanted to open the gate but then we realized that a dozen warden's followed us. So i made the decision to stand and hold our ground. A minute later a grenade landed on the ground taking the Pte and the Cpl down
I was heavily wounded and passed out from the bleeding. When i woke up i was inside the walls again getting transported back the our home base to heal up while the war was still going on.
"Me and a pte and another cpl made it back" - in other words you left your officers to die!
Not one step back! For the Motherlaaaand! For Callahan!
From the journal of Walter Clairfleid LCprl,
United Colonial Legion, 3rd Infantry Division, First Regiment, Second Battalion, Charlie Company
Deployed to the Weathered Expanse
August 23, '54, Spire
I am writing this in a foxhole I dug along the cliff. The town of Spire is near by so I should be good for the night. It seems the Wardens have decided to hold further attacks until morning. I can't blame them, I can barely see my own hand in front of my face in this darkness. I have a small lamp in here with me, and have pulled the cover across the top of my foxhole to hide the light. It was a long day, but I feel I must record it. Partly for posterity, partly for the historical value, and partly out of guilt.
When we were training back home, I had understood that some sort of conflict was brewing. The decade of growing nationalistic pride, the increased tensions with Caovia, and the ceaseless enlistment drives had been clear signs of what was to come, but nobody actually believed it would give way to open conflict. But here we are, deep in the Deadlands, practically on the Warden's doorstep, fighting for every meter of ground we can take. It's only skirmishes right now, but I have no doubt a full scale war is soon coming.
I never thought I would get to see these ancient places myself. The very air seems to be heavy with the centuries of fighting and abandonment. The oppressive silence seeps from the ground, the buildings, the towns, and the towering stones all around us. You think you will get used to it, but it's always there. Just on the edge of your conscious like a dense fog, enveloping you in its presence. Only the fire seems to have any effect. It's not just here in the northern expanses either. I'm writing from the Weathered Expanse, but the same was true to the south in Deadlands. I know that's confusing, it took me a while to get used to it myself. This is all technically The Deadlands, abandoned by both the Veli and Caovia after the last "peace" accord. But old wounds never die I guess, and as always, just as we have time and time again through the centuries, we returned to the old country to send our men to fight and die. It seems the top brass decided to refer to the central region by the same name, maybe as an homage to the land as a whole, or maybe to refer to the carnage that once consumed the region, and leave the rest of us trying to sort it out for ourselves. By and large it has been the easiest transition in this whole ordeal.
My Division left the home land a month ago. Traveling north through the North Steely Fields, we blitzed through Saltbrook before moving on North Watch. We took the town and, after fortifying it, began to pushing both north and west. In quick succession we managed to take The Spire, Dullahan's Crest, and Foxcatcher. I admit, I missed all of this. Our convoy was hit on the road to North Watch and my truck was disabled. I managed to escape the ambush but I was the only one to survive and, having been left behind by the rest of the convoy, I was forced to make the remainder of the trip on foot.
When I got there, I discovered the entirety of our Regimental Command was dead. Or forces were in complete disarray and soldiers were making squads and objectives at will. Leadership was determined by group vote, and our logistics were in shambles. As terrible as it all was, the good news was the Wardens were in the exact same situation. Apparently our special force boys had once again managed to deliver. I grabbed what gear was available, and headed north on foot towards Dullahan's Crest.
We were down to basic supplies, having lost the majority of our kit on the trip, so I only managed to acquire a basic rifle, several clips of ammunition, and a basic radio. It wasn't much, but it would be enough. As I crossed the snow covered fields, I was almost paralyzed. There, stretched across the field was a long abandoned trench. Buried by time and the thick snow, It had to have been from the 100 years war. I followed it east until I came across an old howitzer position. The gun was half rusted away, leaning sharply forward and to the side. I reached out my hand and ran it across the barrel. The metal was slightly warped and the mechanisms showed heavy wear from use. The wind gusted and the low howl it made as it raced across the open ground startled me, as if it were the dead crying out. I stepped back quickly, twisting this way and that to look all around. That oppressing silence seemed to pour over me, as a bucket of ice water, and I quickly continued north towards Dullahan's Crest.
I had not made it fifty meters before the sound of gunfire echoed across the snow. I raced to the road and there, not 30 meters east, a transport truck was under assault by a lone warden. I quickly rushed to aid the driver, who had exited the vehicle to return fire, and in short order we managed to eliminate the blueberry. Unfortunately, the truck had been disabled in the firefight, and I was severely wounded. The last thing I remember is commenting on the cold, and the driver rushing towards me as the world tilted and went dark.
I later learned he had patched me up, pulled a quick field repair to get the truck moving, and driven my unconscious body back to North Watch. I came-to a short while after he left me at the town hall to recover. As soon as the Doc verified I was properly treated and wouldn't keel over as soon as I left, he issued me a clean uniform and practically booted me out the door. In short order, I was rearmed and marching north towards The Spire.
About a half kilometer up the road, a passing truck took pity and gave me a lift in the back. I shared the space with four other men, and almost a dozen crates of supplies. It seemed there was a new Quarter Master who was overseeing the logistical operations, and this was the third load to be sent to The Spire. It was the first to also carry an infantry squad, however, as the first two had been destroyed by raiding blueberries. When the Sargent informed me of this, I was surprised.
"Where is the other half of your squad?" I asked him.
"Dead. Obviously. Yours?"
"Same." There was a second of silence as we all remembered our lost mates.
"You're with us now. I'll file with command as soon as we get back. Welcome to the squad soldier. What's your name?" I introduced myself to the group and after shaking hands with them all, we settled back into our seats, keeping a wary eye for the glint of warden helmets.
We made it without an incident the first few trips. Most of us were able to catch a quick nap on at least one of the legs, taking turns keeping watch. It was a bit of a shock when the bullets started to punch holes in the canvas and ping off the engine manifold.
Within seconds, Sarge was shouting orders and we were out of the truck returning fire. Most of us had no idea where the shots were coming from, but we figured shooting anywhere was better then nothing. I had blasted through a half a clip before Sarge was calling out the enemy position on the other side of the truck. I hurried to the front to cover the driver while he frantically worked to repair the engine. Ducking around the hood, I saw the three Warden soldiers using the sparse vegetation as cover, and began to return fire. The sound of the firefight was deafening, and my vision seemed to narrow until it focused solely on the three wardens and my sites. I briefly heard a muffled grunt towards the rear of the truck, but it was quickly forgotten as one of the soldiers directed their fire towards me. I emptied my clip and ducked back behind the truck to reload.
Just as I was turning around, I caught another warden rushing us from the other side of the road. He opened fire on the driver, scoring two hits directly in the chest. The driver went down, and I raised my rifle to return fire. I quickly lined up a shot, the enemy's rounds striking the ground around me, and pulled the trigger. Five shots rang out in quick succession and the Warden toppled over dead. I looked over at the driver, his pistol out and smoking, and stared. He heaved a sigh, and slumped dead against the truck.
I heard the crunch of footsteps in the snow and spun around ready to fire. It was Sarge. They had managed to dispatch the other three wardens as I was occupied with the flanker. He looked at my rifle, and politely reminded me that I would have difficult time shooting anyone with an empty gun. I lowered my weapon and hurriedly pulled another clip from my pouch to reload it.
As I was finishing, I saw two of the other soldiers in my squad come around from the back of the truck. One looked to Sarge and shook his head. With a sigh, Sarge knelt down and pulled the last magazine from the drivers pocket. After pocketing it, he ordered the other two to loot the wardens before climbing in. I went to follow but he stopped me.
"You're driving. Stop for nothing."
And that's exactly what I did. We loaded up, I started the engine and we left, leaving the bodies behind to slowly freeze in the snow. We had to blitz through another ambush on the way back to North Watch, and then again on the last trip up. I floored the gas every time and we managed to slip through with only minor damage. The last run was well into the night, and we all decided it was simply too dark to continue. We left the truck unlocked near the town hall for whoever needed it next, and then picked out spots to hunker down. Sarge pulled me aside again as we were splitting up and told me he had filed the transfer and a recommendation for promotion. Both went through in record time as apparently the top brass were in desperate need of officers and were giving blanket approval to any requests that met standard requirements.
All of which brings me here, freezing as I scribble away into this journal, in a tiny foxhole at the base of a cliff, seeped in the oppressive silence of centuries of death. The light is getting low, so I am going to sleep. I will write more when I can.
There's a similar skein here, in that all great stories of heroism in wartime start with the hero being cut off and out of supplies. Nothing wrong with that. All heroes must undergo tribulations. It just reminds me of a quote from John Ringo's Posleen series (I think. Please forgive me if im wrong): "Heroes are born when mistakes are made. We don't need any heroes today."
By: I saw A Bear
The sheer elation of those guys riding in the tank back into their friendly lines is pure gold.
By: I Saw A Bear
So that happened. A video about people exploding.
The colonial firing line in this is impressive. Good grief.
A behind-the-scenes look at the UBGE war machine...
This one's got it all. Drama. Intrigue. Teamkilling...
The real hero here is Captain Canada. He stole the spotlight, and he's so sorry.