At
5am that morning, our GM sent out the mission details. We were to enter enemy
territory in an urban environment. Our primary objective was to destroy at
least 80% of the enemy forces, which consist of every enemy we had met in the
campaign previously, but had survived. Thanks to our success at the
communications tower and repair facility, they would not be repaired, nor would
they have reinforcements. This game would be the culmination of all previous
games in the series.
We
had a secondary goal of destroying a building that had the enemies’ generals
and other authority figures. Once they had been alerted to our presence, they
would evacuate, so we had 5 rounds of battle to accomplish this mission.
Our
third and final goal was to have at least 50% of our team survive. Just as a
specification from the GM, that included if our mech was destroyed, but our
character ejected safely and ran like hell. Obviously he did not expect us to
survive, either because this was a dangerous mission, or because he’s seen us
play.
The
usual suspects gathered in our usual space, this time making an effort to start
early as we have been warned that this game had the potential to go long. In
light of this early start and the weather holding at beautiful 70-degree and
sunny day, we gathered around noon and enjoyed the weather and grilled our food.
It
should be noted that most of the members of our group have been playing
tabletop games since our time in high school, and in that time we do tend to go
back to the food that worked for us back then (pizza, chips, soda, etc.) But as
our tabletop gathering has continued, we have slowly been bringing in our
collective culinary expertise into the fray. We set a monumental summer spread
of gastronomical delights, it is worth discussing. I should note that I have
found in my lifetime of geek-onometry that the ability to cook well has served
me to be a better geek and more successful person in countless ways.
Our
menu:
- Teriyaki
& honey marinated chicken skewers
- Garden fresh
salad and tomatoes with the juice of a freshly squeezed orange
- Spinach and
sausage stuffed mushrooms
- Watermelon
- Chips and
dip
- Beer, soda,
lemonade, iced tea, and seltzer
- Bucket of
chocolate chip cookies*
- And a bunch
of stuff that was not consumed, such as homemade capicola, variety of
cheeses, and fudge brownies
*I
have noticed a direct correlation to the presence of these cookies at a gaming
session and the likelihood of GM decisions working out in the player’s favor.
We
sat on the deck, looking out over Jersey suburbia with the Empire State
Building and Freedom Tower cresting over the horizon of homes discussing
possible repairs. We gathered around a Droid tablet with our repair times
broken down into a Google Doc spreadsheet we created earlier in the campaign.
This doc calculated overall repair times against time remaining, so we could
make a quick assessment of the damage and get back into the fight.
In
our last mission, we had junked two of our most powerful mechs beyond repair.
The other two were lightly scratched. Plus we added a very beefy Clan Mech as
the reward from the last mission, so that was definitely going into battle this
time. We put the Clan Mech into the hands of our rounded out pilot, and then
did a quick repair job to get our best gunners loaded up with close-proximity
gear. We were split for a bit on whether we should give the best pilot the
scout to zip around, or let him hang in the background and launch volleys of
long-range missiles. We finally decided nimble was the best course of action
and it had served us well so far. We snuffed out the citronella and went back
inside, ready for battle.
At
the gaming table, our dutiful GM had used what was available to construct an
elaborate downtown complex. But what was readily available was my daughters
building blocks and Noah’s Ark set. These items have become handy in the past,
even providing the impetus for our slogan “LeRM the Whale”, but never have
these toys been used in such nuanced fashion. It seems the fine people of Duplo
have made certain that not only are their toys perfect for small hands learning
basic manipulation while avoiding choking hazards, but that a bunch of 30
year-olds could use them for Battletech campaigns.
Our
group lined up on the far side ready for battle. The conditions of the game
were that the enemy was unaware of our position until they saw us or heard us.
The rounds would not begin counting off for the secondary mission until the
enemy was alerted to our presence.
Game
on.
One
of my personal favorite quotes of Mike Tyson is, “everyone has a plan until
they get punched in the face”. Our last few missions have proven this to be
true. Early in the game we construct elaborate plans, only to have everything
go to hell once the enemy begins shooting back.
This
time we decided to keep it simple: run to the edge, and set up a sneak attack
where enemy forces seem weakest. There was a huge assemblence of tanks on the
left of the board, so we decided to swing right, cut behind the wall, and jump
the two mechs just hanging out in cover.
We
were able to cut across the giant open field rather easily, to which our GM
exclaimed,"you guys are lucky there is a giant wall in the way so they
don't see you coming". We did point out that it was not our fault that
their city planner decided to place giant concrete walls between downtown and
the suburbs and perhaps next time he would want to defend his town with a radar
or watch tower. Of course this is a world where walking tanks that can fall
down and trip are somehow superior to regular treaded tanks,
so architecture and technology must be suffering from poor STEM
education.
We
snuck into the downtown section and prepared a surprise pincer attack. We knew
from this point on that strategy would be thrown out and this was our last
chance to setup before kicking this beehive, and given the mission
objectives, about on half of us dying. We checked in to make sure we were in
optimal positions, and everyone gave their nod of approval to tear open this
can of kickass. Approval was given around the table and we prepared ourselves
for hysteria and hi-jinks.
Next round was a surprise round. Evidently these mechs had been summoned back to the core city of their forces to make a final stand (a la Alamo-style), but decide to just hang around in blind spots with new view of possible incoming forces. “Surely”, they must be discussing over the thousandth smoke-break that day, “these giant concrete walls that block everything except traffic of major highways will prevent all incursions to this fine city”. I understand that real-life combat is mostly boring, with occasional moments of pure hell, but if you are going to position guards, posting them on the outside of the door rather than the inside may prevent you from being horribly disfigured in a sneak attack.
So we
horrible disfigured these mechs in a sneak attack.
Argyle Emblem are friendly players. Skulls are dead enemies. |
They were surprised, but we were more so. It seems that we had tangled with these
mechs before and severely damaged them in previous combat. With our
jump-around-a-building-and-launch-every-rocket-we’ve-got technique, these guys
were quickly evaporated.
At this point, the large armada of tanks spots the explosions of our missiles. The
battle is on and everyone knows we are there. Time to play this carefully.
Our GM had given us an additional advantage to this game. Our employers brought a
land-mine artillery gun into this fight. Yes you read that correctly. An
artillery gun that shoots landmines. Now that our enemy knew we were here, we
could begin calling in artillery strikes to setup landmines in the next round.
As long as the enemy was not nearby, they would be unaware that those spaces
were mined. We immediately focus the artillery at the outside pathways in the
city so we can funnel the enemy in the center. This would prove to be our
smartest move throughout the game.
After clearing two enemies, we have taken half the city. How bad could the rest be? |
What qualifies as not our smartest move, in fact failing completely to come in the
running for smartest move, was the remainder of our battles. Enemy mechs would
rush up in our faces in avenues and jumping over rooftops, while tanks spun
around behind us and called in their own missile barrages. In a few short
rounds, our Warhammer was severely damaged and overheating to near shutdown,
our Clan mech had lost most of its front armor, and the Shadow Hawk had almost
lost a leg. We had only killed 2 of 20 enemies, and we were close to losing
this fight.
Fortunately
for us, having spammed most of the city with landmines, most of the enemy
forces were doing an amazing job of destroying themselves. Tanks would roll
over a mine and just survive long enough to hit the next mine. Enemy mechs
would jump on top of a roof, get hit with a barrage of our missiles, and then
fall back behind cover to see a nice bouncing betty punch them in the nards. As
a team of game designers, our overall strategies tend to be flawed but our
ability to spawn camp and spam an exploit is unparalleled.
The enemy experience was pretty much this: Jonah Hill meets Bouncing Betty |
We turned the game into Minesweeper. Notice the sea of deaths near the river of mines. |
What's an F5 tornado? The finger of God. |
We carefully position ourselves in striking distance for the cornered tank, but leaving an open flank for the surrounded tank to take the bait. Correction. 3 of us carefully position ourselves. The tank DOES take the bait and destroys itself. The 4th one of us then takes the moment of celebration a little too far and gets cocky with the Clan mech. He then jumps directly in front of the tank rationalizing that if our rockets don't finish it off, his fists will.
What he failed to realize, but what the GM had been waiting for, was this was a special short-range missile tank, which unloads holy hell into the face of anyone dumb enough to get into its grill. It returned fire with 20 loads of missiles, which meant 20 chances of critical hits. Our grinning GM pulls out his pound of dice and dumps them all on the table. What followed was such a complex round of mathematics and probability, it took 3 of us to help calculate the critical hits and following damage. Both the tank and the Clan mech were vaporized.
So to sum up, we won the primary and tertiary goals and successfully ended the campaign. All of our pilots survived (barely) and can continue on to a new contract/campaign. Nearly all of our equipment is severely damaged beyond repair, but we live to fight and play another day.
I have noticed a direct correlation to the presence of these cookies at a gaming session and the likelihood of GM decisions working out in the player’s favor.
ReplyDeleteYeah - funny how that works out. Going to make a note of that for next campaign.
I say in the next campaign, we get sponsorship from Famous Amos or Chips Ahoy.
ReplyDelete