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[TAS] Volume 2 - Chapter 48 - Mission Briefing
🕑 Added 2025-08-29 19:00:13 +0000 UTC---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------------- Start of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) -------------------
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Hello everyone, LunaWolve here!
Volume 2 - Chapter 43 - UHF 101 Finale: Digital Missions has just released on RR with no changes.
For the Wolf Lords, this chapter is unchanged.
And also: Please do not read the chapters here on Patreon, but go for the googledoc, .pdf or .epub instead. Patreon butchers all forms of formatting and you're missing out on easier and more enjoyable reading experiences.
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Update 04/09/25:
Won't make it this week, as I've barely slept since Sunday and am running on about 20% energy.
Things are starting to return somewhat to normalcy here, so I'm confident in being able to *return to regular schedule starting next week (Monday 8th, Tuesday 9th ND/TAS respectively).*
Thank you for your continued patience with me this month.
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Update 01/09/25:
As announced previously; things are a bit in the air right now.
Tentatively next chapter release date will be Friday, September 5th.
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My grandma has expectedly-unexpectedly died at around 1am tonight.
Despite all the improvements, the doctors specifically waiting for the usual crash after "getting better" and everything pointing towards a recovery, things did not turn out that way.
Even with the experts doing diagnosis and estimations, then adding another 50% on top and "playing it safe" with the hopes, it just seemingly wasn't meant to be.
The human body can be a weird beast like that.
Today's TAS chapter will not be affected by this, it will release at the usual times (8pm/9pm RR/Patreon).
As for the next week, I don't know whether or not my writing will be affected by this, nor how much my family will need me in the coming days and weeks, so please show me a bit of extra patience in these next few weeks, as we figure everything out, get her put to rest and deal with everything.
I'll try not to let it effect things too much, and I doubt that it should, considering that I've spent this past week and a half preparing for this eventual outcome, but life can take unexpected turns.
As always, I'll keep you up-to-date should any needs for delays or a short hiatus be in order, with more information if/when the time comes.
Thank you for all your well wishes and condolences-in-advance recently, I really appreciate each and every one of you thinking of my grandma in these past days.
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Yes, action will be next chapter, calm your tits, god damn.
đđđ
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I'm looking forward to hearing your first impressions and opinions on this chapter. \o/
I hope you will enjoy it!
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-------------------- End of Pre-Chapter Author Note (Patreon-only) ------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Here is the link to the chapter:
https://docs.google.com/document/d/18vvyhfD5OsPmqYckb5f5GD2x0AGUt_rHuWfR_NwdcPI/edit?usp=sharing
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Section 4.2 â Mandatory Creation Parameters for Digital Missions
The governing principle of the UHF Digital Mission system is to provide Marines with combat scenarios that are both engaging and educational, while maintaining operational value for the Corps.
To that end, the following creation parameters are mandatory for all DMs created under UHF oversight:
1. Clear, Understandable Goals:
Mission objectives must be simple enough for any Marine to comprehend at first briefingâno convoluted secondary chains. Objectives must be actionable from deployment onward, allowing immediate engagement with mission parameters.
2. Mission Type Alignment:
All DMs must adhere to one of the established operational categories listed in Appendix 3 (Hold the Line, Point Defense, All-Out Assault, etc.). Variants are permitted only with prior approval from the corresponding Local Simulation Command.
3. Ruleset Grade Selection:
Select from Grade 0 through Grade 5 restrictions, balancing mission complexity with desired training outcomes. Ensure the ruleset complements the intended teaching focus.
4. Enemy AI Configuration:
Designate the core enemy type from the approved AI library. Optional inclusion of randomized high-threat elements (Enemy Aces, Battlefield Aces, etc.) is recommended for unpredictability.
Note: Randomized threats are generated at mission start, not during design phase, potentially increasing the intended difficulty beyond initial intentions.
5. Feasibility by Force Size:
Mission sizes are allowed to scale between 1â5 Platoons (100â500 Marines). Scenarios must remain realistically survivable with optimal execution.
6. Special Modifiers:
Special combat conditions (environmental hazards, limited visibility, logistical shortages, etc.) may be applied to train Marines in specific stress conditions. See Appendix 6 for full list.
7. Role Representation:
Role distribution must meet mission-critical ratios. Governing AIs may assist in assigning Role requirements across Platoons to fulfill operational viability (minimum Squad Medics, Heavy Weapons Specialists, etc.). The number of minimum Squad Leaders is always equal to the number of total squads planned to be part of the mission.
8. Real-World Scenario Parity:
Mission backstory may be fictional or based on a historical operation. Disclosure of origin to participants is optional, but permittedâMarines may train on simulations of real battles without obfuscation.
9. Defined Timed Endpoint:
Each DM must have a conclusive end-condition compatible with its Gradeâs ruleset and explainable in-mission (arrival of reinforcements, destruction of key assets, completion of evacuation, etc.).
10. Upscale Contingency Protocol:
All missions must include an upscaled variant to accommodate high-value participant queues. Minimum trigger conditions: 4Ă 1-Star MVM Medal holders; or 1x 1-Star MVM Medal and 1Ă 2-Star MVM Medal holders in the same queue. Adjust parameters in accordance with Appendix 9a to ensure appropriate challenge scaling.
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Failure to meet any of these criteria will result in automatic rejection by the Digital Mission Generation Committee.
Resubmission will be permitted only after deficiencies are addressed in full.
Repeated violations may result in removal of simulation design rights.
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[Excerpt from UHF MC Operational Handbook â Digital Mission Creation Protocols, Rev. 227, PFC 943]
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Having been scooped up by an experienced Squad Medic wasnât exactly on Theaâs list of planned ways to step into her first Digital Mission, but she had to admitâit beat wandering around the Prep Room, trying to haggle her way into a squad like a good chunk of the lobby was doing right now.
Sure, Chester didnât exactly scream trustworthy.
Heâd been the one to stir up that little mess with the two Marines whoâd commented on her weapons, only to sweep in afterward like some kind of white-knight recruiter.
Still, given how it turned out, she figured it had been worth the gamble.
âItâs really awesome to have this high a Perception, huh?â she thought, a faint smile tugging at her lips as she sat beside Chester on one of the benches with the rest of Wellisâ squad.
Heâd probably never considered the possibility that a Recon/Sniper Recruit could possibly have enough Perception in their very first Digital Mission to catch the venom in his earlier âadviceâ to the two Marines.
But her recent focus on actively tracking everything around her was already paying offâit had let her hear it clear as day.
Sheâd thought, for a moment, about calling him out.
But she knew the type well enough.
Sheâd seen them plenty of times in arcades across the galaxyâplayers who preyed on fresh faces to pad their own numbers.
Not the deadweight grifters, but the other kind: The ones just solidly above average in skill. Not good enough to be top-tier on their own, but talented enough, sharp enoughâand motivated enoughâto recognize their limits and build a strategy to work around them.
It wasnât flattering, sure, but Thea didnât care about flattering.
âI donât have to like the guy. He just has to perform.â
Her motto had always been simple: Better a competent asshole, like Desmond, than a friendly anchor dragging you down. In a mission, you could ignore a personality you didnât mesh withâbut you couldnât ignore someone dropping a grenade at your feet on accident, or even worse, tanking your score.
So someone like Chester? Perfect.
In her eyes, these were exactly the kind of people worth queuing up with in missions like this.
And to have that opportunity handed to her on a silver-rarity platter without even having to lift a finger?
âCouldnât have asked for a better start, honestly.â
Leaning back against the cool metal of the locker behind her, quietly pleased with how things had gone so far, Thea let herself relax and kept lazily scanning the Prep Room.
Marines milled about in varying states of readinessâsome checking weapons, some chatting in tight squad-sized circles, others standing off alone, radiating that âdonât bother meâ energy.
Her eyes moved from group to group, mentally tallying the rough spread of Roles she could spot, noting the gear choices, the way people carried themselves, andâmost telling of allâhow confident they looked.
A few had that casual ease of veterans, leaning on their lockers with weapons already slung, while others were clearly fresh, fidgeting with straps or re-checking menus like theyâd missed something.
Sheâd only entered the Prep Room toward the tail end of selectionâmaybe one of the last fifteen or so people to load inâso most of the early chaos had already passed her by.
âShouldâve made my loadout decisions faster, I guessâŠâ she thought, a faint pang of curiosity cutting through her calm. âHope nothing major went down in here while I was picking gear.â
Her gaze drifted sideways to Chester, who was also watching the room with quiet focus, eyes flicking between clusters of Marines. âMaybe I should just ask himâŠ?â
She dismissed the idea almost as soon as it surfaced.
If this was anything like Sundawnâs prep stages, the early part wasnât all that important.
It was mostly over-eager Squad Leaders scrambling to fill their rosters with the first promising faces they could charmâor pressureâinto joining, while the smart ones bided their time, watching and waiting for the best squads to take shape before committing.
And judging by the way Chester had moved the instant sheâd agreed to follow himâcutting straight across the room like he already had his target pickedâThea was about ninety-nine percent certain her guess was spot onâŠ
â
By the time the status indicator in the top right corner ticked down to zero and flashed its update, every Marine had found a squadâsome of them only just scraping in at the last second, practically begging to get squeezed into an oversized team. Thea knew full well she couldâve been one of those poor sods if it hadnât been for Chesterâs timely interference.
Things moved fast after that.
All the Squad Leaders filed into one of the side rooms, the heavy door sliding shut behind them. Whatever they were discussing didnât take long; just a few minutes later, the rest of the platoon got the call to follow.
âAlright, letâs go,â Chester said to her, as if she could somehow miss the massive notification dead-center in her vision instructing her to move to the adjacent room for the mission briefing. âNext upâs just a quick brief about the mission, nothing to worry about.â
âGotcha,â Thea replied, half-listening as she fell into step behind him and the rest of Wellisâ squad, the flow of Marines funneling into the next chamber.
The briefing room was bigâwide enough for the whole platoon, with rows of seats neatly arranged in perfect lines.
Each row seemed to be tagged for a specific squad, because Wellisâ crew didnât stop until theyâd passed several empty sections before finally choosing one toward the middle.
Just before she sat down, Thea caught the faint, almost ghostly text floating above her chairâWellisâ Squadâvisible only when she focused on it.
Mystery solved.
Once everyone had settled in, fifteen of the sixteen Squad Leaders took their places near the front, standing slightly behind a single man positioned at the center.
Clearly, he was the one in charge here.
Her first thought when she saw him was, âHeâs like Lucasâ scruffier brother, huh?â
The man was massiveâtaller than even Lucas and Isabella by a good ten centimetersâand clad in the unmistakable bulk of Super-Heavy armor.
The design wasnât identical to Lucasâ Stalwart rig, but the type was the same: Enormous angular plating, reinforced joints, and the kind of imposing silhouette that drew every eye in the room; or Battlefield.
The massive man stepped forward, his voice carrying effortlessly across the room as he opened with a deep, steady, âBrothers and Sisters.â
âIâm Sergeant Kalt,â he continued, his tone both commanding and oddly warm, âand by unanimous agreement among your Squad Leaders, Iâve been designated as Commanding Officer for this Digital Mission. I thank them for their trust, and I promise you thisâIâll do my damnest to get every single one of you through this DM without fail.â
He took a moment to scan the room, letting the words settle before pressing on.
âI also want to give a special welcome to any new Recruits with us today. Youâve just finished your first Assessment and now youâre trickling into DMs across the galaxy, without much pre-amble. Youâre stepping into something big here. I ask all of you othersâveterans and returning Marines alikeâto welcome the new blood with open arms, open ears, and open minds.â
His tone softened slightly, though it still carried that same pressing weight. âRecruits, you donât have to identify yourselves if you donât want to. Youâre free to stay quiet, stay hidden as much as you like. Youâve got enough on your plates learning how these missions work without the whole room staring at you.â
Thea found herself appreciating that. A lot.
That simple bit of consideration was enough to bump the Sergeant straight onto her internal âNice Guyâ list.
âNow then,â Kalt went on, âif there were any organisational issues during squad creation, nowâs the time to speak up.â
His gaze swept over the room again. Silence. Not a single voice raised.
âGood. Then letâs move on to the main part.â
He squared his shoulders slightly, addressing the line of Squad Leaders. âSquad Leadersâplease ready up and confirm your final squad compositions, and your agreement to offer operational command to me for this run.â
For a moment, nothing visible happened.
Then, without so much as a sound, the Status Indicator in the top right corner blinked and shifted to read: [Final Mission Briefing].
Right on cue, a datapad shimmered into existence in front of Kalt, hanging weightlessly in the air until he reached out with one massive, armor-plated hand and plucked it from the void.
The metal fingers of his gauntlet tapped across its surface for barely three seconds before his movements froze.
His eyes widened a fraction, then he dragged one huge, armored palm over his face and let out a long, drawn-out sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the entire platoon. âHaaaaâŠâ
âSergeant Kalt?â one of the Squad Leaders ventured, his voice cautious but unable to mask the curiosity that rippled through the entire room.
Even Thea found herself leaning forward slightly, trying to read the manâs reaction.
Kalt lowered his hand and cleared his throat.
âI am⊠forced to amend my previous statement,â he said slowly, almost begrudgingly. âI will no longer attempt to get every single one of you through this DM⊠but rather any single one of you.â
The room stirred, a few Marines exchanging confused glances.
Without elaborating, Kalt gave a short, almost lazy flick of his wrist, and the contents of the datapad leapt from his hands to the massive wall-mounted display behind the Squad Leaders.
Theaâs eyes locked on the bold, glaring letters now dominating the screenâbright red, large enough that nobody in the room could pretend not to see them.
âWARNING: HIGH-VALUE QUEUE DETECTED. UPSCALED MISSION PROTOCOLS WILL BE ENGAGED. MISSION BRIEFING HAS BEEN ADJUSTED ACCORDINGLY.â
The reaction from the room was instant and loud, a chorus of groans, muttered curses, and outright protests.
One Marine in the back let out an exasperated bark of laughter followed by, âOf course itâs a damned HVQâwhy wouldnât it be today?â
Another just slumped forward in his seat, hands dragging down his face like the weight of the galaxy had just landed on his shoulders.
A woman near the aisle muttered, âGreat, just great⊠goodbye easy payout,â while a younger Marine actually stood halfway up in his seat, voice sharp with panic: âAre you fucking kidding me? This was supposed to be a Grade Zero warm-up!â
Someone else, a broad-shouldered Heavy with an almost feral grin, just chuckled darkly, cracking his knuckles and saying, âAbout time we had a real fight,â which earned him more than a dozen death-stares.
Even Chester, normally so composed and clearly confident in his ability to milk a mission for all it was worth, was staring at the warning like his carefully constructed plan had just gone up in a spectacular IgT-fueled self-immolation.
Thea, meanwhile, was simply⊠lost.
She had no idea what âHigh-Value Queueâ actually meant, and judging from the mix of dread and barely-contained excitement in the room, it was either something really good or really badâprobably both.
Thankfully, Sergeant Kalt didnât let the suspense linger.
âSeems weâve got more MVM medal winners in here than any of us thought,â he began, voice calm but carrying a weight that silenced most of the chatter. âI knew about one one-star, but apparently, weâve got at least three more hiding in the ranksâthatâs enough to trip the HVQ protocols.â
One of the Squad Leaders behind him shrugged. âCould also be a two-star,â he offered.
Another shook his head immediately. âNah. Weâd damn well know if we had a two-star in here. Trust me, theyâre not exactly easy to mistake for a one-star.â
âCorrect. Far more likely for there to be three hidden one-stars who didnât want to tip their hand,â Kalt agreed, his eyes scanning the assembled Marines.
Thea frowned, turning that over in her head.
She was certain sheâd agreed to the prompt before the DM startedâhadnât she?
But as she glanced down at herself, realization hit hard enough to make her wince.
Her Spectreâs Cloak, wrapped snugly across the front of her torso thanks to the awkward cross-strap setup for her triple-DMR loadout, was covering her entire chest. Which meant the medal embedded in her armor, right above her heart, was buried under layers of adaptive camouflage fabric.
Nobody could have possibly seen it, even if they had known it was there and explicitly tried.
She facepalmed hard.
The sharp movement caught Chesterâs attention.
He glanced over, and clearly misreading her embarrassment, leaned in just enough to say, âRelax. Youâll be fine as long as you stick with me. Even with the upscale, weâll get through this in one piece.â
Thea didnât even have to answer Chester before Kaltâs voice cracked through the room like a whip.
âEveryoneâsit down and shut up!â
The shift in tone was jarring. Gone was the calm, reassuring weight heâd carried before.
This was the bark of a drill sergeant, sharp enough to make even the most seasoned Marines in the room straighten up without thinking. The easy-going warmth had been stripped away, replaced by something hard-edged and commanding.
âThis DM,â Kalt continued, his voice cutting through the murmurs, âjust turned into a gauntlet. The usual sixty percent clear rate for Tauron 9? On the upscaled version, that drops to twenty-eight.â
A wave of horrified looks rippled across the platoon.
A few Marines couldnât stop the half-formed complaints slipping past their lipsâbut one glance from Kaltâs steel-grey eyes was enough to shut them up cold.
âUpdated parameters,â he went on, not giving them a moment to stew. âOur original ten trench lines? Cut in halfâweâll be working with five. Enemy numbers are tripled. Weâve also lost eleven heavy machine gun emplacements, four bunkers, and one of our two pre-prepared trap-trench lines. Weâll have only one left to lure them into and blow up. Make it count.â
Thea felt the tension in the room spike.
Even without a deep knowledge of this particular DMâs layout, she understood that was bad news layered on top of worse news.
âThis wonât be easy by any metric,â Kalt admitted, âbut remember: Youâve got several MVM Medal winners on your side. Consider that the equivalent of having up to four Battlefield Aces in this platoon. Theyâre not quite the same, of course, but close enough to make the point.â
That earned a few sidelong glances, but Thea noticed almost everyoneâs eyes settle on a single Marine halfway down the rowâa wiry man who suddenly looked like someone had swapped his armor out for a heat suit.
He was sweating hard, eyes fixed on the floor.
âIs that the other MVM the Squad Leader mentioned earlierâŠ?â Thea couldnât help but think.
Kalt gave no hint either way.
Instead, he flicked a hand, and the full mission briefing was transferred directly to everyoneâs personal datapads. âRead it when youâre bored,â he said dryly. âThough I doubt any of you will find the time for that.â
He scanned the room. âQuestions?â
Silence.
Then, from somewhere near the back, a voice spoke up.
âSirâwho are the other MVMs? We could plan around them better if we knew.â
âDenied,â Kalt said instantly, not even blinking. âThere is no need for them to identify themselves. If they want to, they can. If not, youâll work with what youâve got and keep moving. If there are no more questions, weâre done here.â
With that, he gave the signal to move, striding toward the eastern-most door with heavy, deliberate steps. âFocus up, brothers and sisters. Take this seriously. I donât care if itâs your first DM or your hundredthâyou treat this like your life depends on it. An upscaled DM is nothing short of an invaluable opportunity. Youâll only get a handful of these in your entire career. So fight for every last point you can grab; you wonât see another like this anytime soon.â
He didnât wait for a reaction.
With a firm push, the door slid open, revealing a dimly lit wall of pure white light that pulsed faintly, almost like it was alive.
Kalt stepped through without hesitation, his bulk vanishing into the glow.
The rest of the platoon followed in silence, boots clunking against the deck, the air heavy with a mix of nerves and grim focus. It wasnât the tense, ready-to-snap kind of silenceâit was the quiet youâd hear before a funeral march, the kind where nobody wanted to be the first to break it.
Meanwhile, Thea had other thoughts occupying her mind.
âThis is shaping up to sound surprisingly fun,â she mused, doing her best to smother the grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. âHard mode with extra rewards? I was just gonna use this run to mess around with a few things, but now? Now I can actually get some real gains out of it, too. Fuck yeah!â
One by one, the Marines stepped into the white light and vanished, their silhouettes swallowed whole in an instant.
Thea waited her turn, boots shifting against the deck, until the line in front of her was gone and the glow filled her vision.
She stepped through expecting⊠something.
A rush of warmth, the crackle of static, maybe even a strange pull in her gut.
Instead, nothing.
No sound, no sensationâjust the sudden, jarring shift to standing on the crest of a hill.
Below her stretched the gray-brown churn of the upcoming battlefield, half-frozen mud and churned slush glistening under a pale sky.
The northern slope had been carved into five jagged rows of trenches, their dark earthworks stark against the gray mud, all braced to meet whatever would come crawling out of the forest some three hundred meters beyond the final line.
âNot quite RogâAn Prime⊠but close enough. I can work with this,â she thought, already running through firing angles and potential sniper nests in her headâuntil Chesterâs voice cut through her planning, snapping her back to reality.
This wasnât the Cube Trial.
She wasnât a lone gun this time. She actually had a squad to worry about.
âStick with me, Thea,â he said, his voice tight with focus. âLetâs figure out where the CO wants Wellisâ Squad to set up.â
She figured there was no point in wasting mental effort when she could just follow Chesterâs lead for now. So she trailed him down the slope as the rest of the platoon began swarming into their positions.
For the next ten minutes, they prepped the trench lines as best they could.
Most of the work had already been doneâthe mission parameters had provided everything from packed earth walls and sandbag barriers to several HMG nests, three reinforced bunkers, and the trap-trench in the center of the defensive line.
One button press, and the whole thing would explode like an angry volcano, turning into a killing pit for any poor bastards caught nearby.
Orders came down, and Wellisâ Squad was assigned to the eastern flank of the trench systemâthough there were still three more squads between them and the far edge.
âWouldâve preferred the outer-most flank again⊠but I guess thisâll do,â she muttered under her breath, setting up in the section marked with their squadâs tag.
Every twenty meters or so, the trench walls opened into reinforced firing alcovesâlow, narrow kill-slots shielded with durasteel platesâand their squad had been given several to cover.
Wellis split the group evenly.
Chester, Thea, and two Medium-armored MarinesâMarie and Falksâtook the eastern position. The remaining three, plus one last-minute member snagged right before the Prep Room closed, were set up in the western pocket of their sector.
The plan was simple: Hold each alcove as long as possible, then collapse inward to the next closest one, both teams falling back toward each other until the squad was reunited.
Only then would they pull back to the next trenchline.
âPretty smart for a rush-job plan,â Thea admitted to herself. Then she smirked faintly. âSucks for Chester thoughâheâs gonna have to sprint the whole damn length of our sector if someone on the far side gets hit.â
She wouldâve much preferred having a Defensive Heavy parked beside her, but Wellis had already claimed the only one in their squad for his half of the trenchline.
âEh, I made it through the Cube Trial without oneâat least for a while. Thisâll work out⊠somehow.â
The thought didnât bother her as much as it should have.
That steady, sharpened focus she always slipped into before a fightâthe thing players online had often called Battlefield Tranceâwas already starting to take over.
She knelt briefly, securing her backpack into a tucked corner of the firing alcove.
It was positioned so she could reach it in seconds if she needed extra mags, medkits, or a quick grab-and-run, but far enough out of the way that it wouldnât snag her legs mid-firefight.
Her hands moved automatically as she unholstered her three DMRs.
First came her trusty Laser-variant Gram, then the two newcomers sheâd just picked up at Abundant Ammunitions: One Ballistic, one Gauss.
âTime to see where the differences really are,â she muttered, a grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. She propped the Ballistic and Gauss-Gram against the trench wall for quick access, settling the Laser onto her shoulder to start off with.
To her left, Marie, Falks, and Chester were going through the same ritualâchecking mags, chambering rounds, doing quick optics calibrationsâall while keeping an eye on the ticking timer in the corner of their vision.
Theaâs fingers brushed against the strap securing her cloak around her chestâthe same strap keeping the Laser-Gram from simply dropping from her hands.
For a moment, she considered undoing it entirely just to see Chesterâs face when the MVM medal glinted in plain sight.
The idea almost made her smirk, but she pushed it aside.
âBetter keep the strap where it is for now. Who knows how long this alcoveâll last before weâre moving, and losing it will make carrying all three a pain. Maybe three DMRs really was a bit overkill⊠but hey, too late now.â
Then, the timer finally struck 0:00:00.
A sharp, almost metallic chime rang in her ears as a crisp notification cut across her vision:
[DIGITAL MISSION START: Tauron 9 â Hold The Line â Upscaled Version]
[Mission Objective: Hold the uppermost trenchline for six hours and forty-five minutes until relief forces arrive, denying enemy forces any advance toward the hilltop.]
[Respawns: 0]
The numbers shifted instantly, rolling over into a fresh countdown:
[Mission Complete: 6:44:59]
The glow of the objective text faded, leaving only the ticking clock in the corner of her vision.
Thea felt her pulse pick upânot from nerves, but from the familiar edge of anticipation curling through her chest. The grin sheâd been keeping in check finally broke free, stretching across her face as her fingers tightened around her rifleâs grip.
âShowtimeâŠâ
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Comments
igor potocnik
Sorry for your loss <3
Guardsman
There is as was said in 101. Aces are basically more capable than normal soldiers, on track to possobly be marked as battlefield ace. They are the best in their tier. Battlefield ace are say, a tier 3/4 regular ace special marked to be brought into a tier 1/2 battle. On a battlefield its only worth mentioning the battlefield aces as it takes a special hit squad to possibly take them down, while normal aces can usually be taken out with normal troops. Its the tier diffence that matters.
Narf
Wow, that's a massive spike in difficulty in response to the presence of Thea and the other MVM. While this may make the whole thing more interesting for the best marines in the DM, I'm not sure if the switch to hard mode isn't making things too nasty for the average trooper, invalidating the learning points they are supposed to take away from the mission. I don't quite think Thea and the other guy would trivialise the mission so much to justify that increase - though that may be different at higher tiers where an ace can be a tactical or even strategic asset. Sorry to hear about your grandma. Take as much time as you require.
Brian
"(Enemy Aces, Battlefield Aces" didn't 101 say there is no difference between them in a battle? If so, this distinction shouldn't be in an internal memo.
