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Here's two extremes from a Close Combat fight. The guy out there doing covering fire, and the guy watching the store in the reserves. Method Assail and Method Support. Actions in game terms have been omitted. This is just the dump of the events naratives.

Can you laugh, I hope so. Am I making fun of the Battle Born, no. Is it Paranoia play? No. Is it Fools Dare play. No. It's Era Ten. Life is clumsy and ironic for the people who have to protect everyone else. Would it kill someone to actually make a piece of gear that functions! Wait, I can use this like this. You get the idea.

Assail (Fidelity)
Scramble all the enemy waves; bust their command and control.
Fret over UCMJ violations; your scorched suit is out of reg.
Exhale slowly and pull the trigger.
Fight to achieve air superiority and high guard cover; force Ďem all hunkering down.
Hold while outlying gunnery or security wards target your enemyís position.
Leap away from a fumbled grenade.
Big boom; calm your panic before the enemy does the same of his.
Jolted hard; recognize devastating shock welling up inside you.
Sensing a decline in morale, improve the mood, unwrap a snack, or voice some egghead observation.
Bound from the area, leap and jetpack, as the enemy races in blitz.
Decide in the situation itís either you or the enemy about to suffer grievously.
Suspend targeting and reposition; the enemy is on a hasty prowl.
Use your front vantage to signal a QB-sneak, a change in strategy.
Wait clandestinely for relief, confident your buddies wonít abandon you; if you urgently radio for help, youíll broadcast your position and weakened state.
Take a knee, aim, fire and watch the black-hat tumble.
Signal cybernetic Lassie to get Timmyboy out of the well; good robodog.
Bathe the dirtbags in flames.
Free yourself from that rockiní hard-place by calling in the disco robo cavalry.
Take out some frustration on a damaged robotic lifter or munitionís hauler as the replacement canters to reach you.
Spin the dial, pop the clasp, chuck the thing and hope it lands as smoke grenade.
Have Mister Willie Pete personally delivered by a first-class mail-bot.
Follow your present orders to draw fire. Fail and all Pips reset to zero.
Countdown the days you have left in your millennium long contract of enlistment.
Camouflage, disguise and use terrain to hide perfectly still, even as the areas explodes and lights on fire.
Ambush someone mesmerized, a tad engrossed during Matrix chicanery.
Objectify and dehumanize whatever your facing; itís candy-ass compared to you.
Obey instructions obediently; follow orders without hesitation nor doubt.
Think of hot chow, as your command debates whether thereís too much responsibility on your plate.
Nod graciously as some dude salutes your ability.
Order back your drones; they look too rusted and beat to be of any service.
Practice makes perfect.
Distort the enemyís heat sensors by littering the arena with far-flung hot spots.

Support (Artifice)
Grouse on how youíre expected to be in two places at once.
Ask yourself what sort of nitwit puts the Eject option right next to Format on removable media?
Run simulations and update simultaneous every member of the squad; overall donít annoy and distract.
Check the field report and discount anomalies.
Escalate a flame-war online against the opposing coordination center.
Give yourself a pep-talk in the reflection of your HUD.
Considering your work done, take a nap before finishing the operationís post mortem.
Zoom in, sneak a peak at the clash and gore.
Make a quick inspection of airlocks after a sensor triggers.
Give the metal lads a joyous pep-talk in your favorite character voice, Swedish Chef.
Declare broken arrow, before your position is infiltrated, overrun and compromised; in other words, Thursday.
Second guess every trooper in the fieldís actions; suddenly experience sonic feedback or a robotic tap-tap to cut it out.
Time your microwave lunch ding to exactly match the launch SRBM cooldown timer, which every battle seems to activate for safety about now.
Debate internally; should you be out there? Nervously pick at your nails, grind your teeth, flex your paws, pace, do whatever you can to relieve your anxiety.
Balance and queue delivery of med-tech, ordnance and poignant memes for series release from the reserves.
Estimate and send off the casualty report, so HQ can calculate your combat replacement stipend; leave some results ambiguous as seven no-unit what.
Instruct the tin-heads in the concept of religious sanctuary protections.
Stand sipping joe, next to an ancillary machine as it overloads.
Ignore the sounds of falling objects and percussive blasts as just a recreation vid dropping out of pause.
Relieve mind-numbing boredom by sneaking in some video games, while keeping the war-stuff in a box at the bottom.
Remind the semi-autonomous targeting systems to sort their feels jpgs whenever they start blinking in panicked confusion.
Clean house as the enemy overruns or infiltrates your position.
Get in on the fun and booty; abandon your post feeling your talents are wasted.
Dial back your frustration as the carnage, cussing and blame amplifies in the video chat of the slugfest.
Meld with the ship or station and let them have a full barrage.
Struggle to keep alert, hitting the refresh over and over again on your screen, currently stalled with a spinning buffering icon; sometime soon youíll give-up.
Start a poker game with some of the other guys. Most automated plans of action are solid?
Struggle with the tedium; target all the long range artillery or shipís batteries in a wide burst, a very wide burst.
Switch to manual; these tin-heads donít know how to ruin someoneís day (like you can).
Delegate; you have other chores and better things to do.
Recognize the law is AWOL at the start of every battle.
Suffer yet another aneurysm dealing with add to cart from the Walker logistics supply chain.


Yours,

   red



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