“Anvil One-Four from Odin Six, be advised, friendly Tier One teams report enemy armor and mechanized infantry moving into your sector from the north. Engage, report, and defend position, over.”
Lieutenant Alan Wicks scowled at the voice in his headset before keying his throat mic. “Anvil One-Four copies, we are Oscar Mike to engage.”
Without looking, Wicks thumbed the selector switch on his radio to the platoon frequency and keyed his mic once more. “Fourth Platoon, you heard ‘em. Mount up. Those fucks are coming up the hill. Vasquez, you’re point. Our section will move up in the ditch along the road to position 2, and shove it down their throats. Meyers and Booth, you flank to the left up to the tree line and box ‘em in. Stay frosty, boys. Let’s do this.”
As if to punctuate his command, the hulking monstrosity known as Anvil One-Four on which Wicks was perched, shuddered to life. The Dragon MA-5 Main Battle Tank rose a meter and a half into the air upon its four massive legs, freeing itself from the berm of earth and rubble the engineers had piled around the tank for protection and concealment. The driver flicked the remnants of a cigarette away before hunkering down, and locking the hatch above his head, and the gunner ran through the 120 mm mass driver main gun’s checklist for the hundredth time that morning.
“Battle-carry HV sabot.” Wicks called down to his gunner before adding, “Driver, move out.”
“Loader ready, HV sabot loaded.”
“Gunner ready, HV sabot indexed.”
The replies from his crew filled his ears as Wicks’ driver fell into step behind Vasquez’s tank, Anvil Two-Four. As the two spider-like instruments of death moved into the broad drainage ditch that ran along the main road, and down over the crest of the hill that Fourth Platoon was covering, Wicks took his last breath of fresh air. Rotating his head to release some of the tension in his neck, the platoon leader at last retreated into his berth near the top, and rear, of the tank’s turret, and pulled the hatch shut above him.
Immediately, the bank of screens that hung before him sprung to life, and depicted a panoramic view of the environment outside of Anvil One-Four. With his fingers working with practiced ease over the short control stick at his station, Wicks rotated the digital camera view around 360 degrees. He stopped momentarily to ensure that the two tanks that made up Section 2 were deploying as he had ordered—making their way off to the left, and over to the thick tree line near the apex of the hill. Satisfied that they were, Wicks turned his attention to the front.
Anvil Two-Four was thirty feet ahead, proceeding methodically along the valley of the ditch, its driver maneuvering expertly to keep as little of the tank exposed above the roadbed as possible. With the four giant legs supporting the main body of the tank, Wicks always marveled how animalistic the MA-5 looked while underway. In this instance it moved with all the deadly, stalking grace of a big cat hunting its prey. In a true sense, that’s exactly what was happening. The fluid, organic nature in which the tank could be driven was an eerie sight, even to the men and women who called them home. Wicks was no exception.
The distance to Fourth Platoon’s fighting location at the top of the hill, designated Position 2, was not far from where they had been holed up. In short order, Wicks saw Anvil Two-Four slow its silent stalk to a more deliberate, deadly crawl forward. Wicks’ driver followed suit, and soon enough the two tanks were at their fighting position with their turrets crouched just beneath the level of the road.
“Anvil One-Four and Two-Four, in position.” Wicks whispered across the platoon channel.
“Roger,” came the reply from the tanks hidden in the trees. “Anvil Three-Four and Four-Four, in position.”
“Roger that.” Said Wicks.
Licking the perspiration from above his lips, Wicks keyed up his mic again, “Two-Four, let’s take a peak. We’re high side.”
Wicks waited for Vasquez to acknowledge the order.
“Three, two, one, execute.” Wicks muttered sharply.
Instantly, both tanks hidden in the ditch lifted upon their legs, and exposed their main guns above the roadway. Wicks, positioned behind Vasquez’s tank, rose up slightly higher so there would be little risk of friendly fire between the two section mates.
“Contact!” the gunner called out a fraction of a second before Wicks, “four tanks moving up the road!”
“Take the one on the right! Fire, fire sabot!” Wicks yelled back.
Ahead of Anvil’s One-Four and Two-Four some 1000 meters off, marching on their distinctive six-legged war machines, was an enemy tank platoon in a loose offset delta formation. The enemy had their guns arrayed to cover different fields of fire as they ascended the long bank of the hill, and the tank upon the right had its turret seemingly pointed square at Wicks.
“On the way!” The gunner yelled, a fraction of a second before Anvil One-Four’s gun roared and bucked with an electric surge.
The calls of “Hit! That’s a kill!”, “Sabot up!”, and “Back the fuck up, DC!” came in rapid succession following the firing of the gun, and the crew of Anvil One-Four snapped to completing their assigned tasks. The driver ducked the tank back down into the safety of the ditch, just as an enemy tank round sizzled like an angry hornet through the space that One-Four’s turret had just occupied.
Just another day in paradise…
Overview
This is an interest check for a sci-fi, near future/alternate universe warfare RP based around a unit of tankers, and their shared experiences and interactions. My idea is that each player would create a main character, then round out the rest of their crew with less detailed characters just to add some depth and freedom when posting. I'm looking for a relatively small group of dedicated, reliable players--three plus me, to be exact--so that posting can be swift and fluid.
Battle and Mechanics
Most all of the combat will be left up to each player to decide the outcome. This isn't an RP that will have any stats or numerical parameters for warfare, it's all about the story. So, if a player finds themselves engaged in combat, it will be solely up to that player to decide how their tank and crew fairs...to a point. There will be times that I will want to drive the story in a particular direction, and I may force us to "win" or "lose" a battle or situation, but I will never directly declare any kind of outcome for a player's individual tank or crew members. A player will have the power to kill off any member of their crew that they wish, replace a member, have someone grow ill...whatever. As long as a player's decisions with their crew doesn't somehow metagame the RP, I'll probably be fine with it.
DISCLAIMER
I have never operated a tank, or any other military vehicle. I have never been in the armed forces. As such, my experience in how a military unit is conducted and run is purely academic. I'm here to have fun, and to build a world based in the imagination, with perhaps a slight grounding in reality. I don't expect anyone to have any deep knowledge of tank warfare, military tactics, etc. Once again, this is for fun, so if you are a person that gets hung up easily upon the 'realism' of an RP such as this one, please refrain from submitting your interest and pursue a story more to your level.
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, i would make more sense for the platoon to be operating all the same vehicle. That lines up with how things are done in the modern military, and that's the feel I'm shooting for. This RP is intended to be like a true war story of the near future.
