Which GZGVerse power are you?
by Roger Burton West and others
Your platoon has been ordered to execute an attack which you, as an experienced soldier and platoon commander, believe offers a high risk of excessive casualties and a low likelihood of success. Your response to the order is:
Yiiiiiiii'cha! The Hunt begins.......
Call the commander some very colourful things, speculate on the nature of his parentage, call into question his intelligence, judgement, and personal sanitation habits. Then, after he returns the favour, grumble, accept the order, and carry it out to the last man. C'est la guerre.
Use your mercenaries to spearhead the attack. After all, they're expendable. Save your actual unit for plans that might work.
Get a translator to explain the commander's order to make sure there is no confusion. Then explain how your own restricted ROE prohibits such offensive action outside certain specific demarkated zones, of which this is not one. Then explain how your troops do not have the appropriate equipment or training for this mission. Then explain that blue berets make excellent targets. By the time all explanations are complete, the attack launch hour has passed and the point is moot.
Accept the order, tell the troops it is the Will of Allah, and be sure to stumble and be knocked senseless early in the attack so as to delay proving the truth about the 72 virgins for another few years.
Examine the odds arrayed before you. Conclude that the enemy does not stand a chance. Sharpen your curved knives and smile.
Madre De Dios! This plan is insane. Phone your brother, who is the General's adjutant and your cousin who works at Army HQ and get them to pressure your third-cousin (the General) to cancel this suicidal attack.
Accept the order (the Commissar's sidearm resting on your temple is a great incentive) and attempt to carry it out because getting shot from the front by the enemy is at least more respectable than getting shot in the back by the Commissar.
Having been created only for this explicit purpose, it would never occur to you to question. Carry out your orders unconcerned about your survival. If you survive, you will have outlived your purpose and will be re-integrated into the protein supply chain anyway.
Accept the order (orders are orders and an Army is built on discipline), then convene with your senior NCOs and work like die Teuffel to develop an attack plan which minimizes casualties and enhances success odds.
In a reasonable manner, raise your concerns. Express the factual basis for your worries. If the concerns are allayed, accept the order. If the concerns are ignored, consider escalating up the chain of command. If all else fails, brew some tea and give the chaps the bad news.
Accept the order, as tradition demands. Diligently evolve the most devious attack possible. Lead your men into battle wielding your sword as honour requires.
secede, set up your own mercenary service, and offer a competitive bid for carrying out the mission with a low risk, high probability oblique approach. Pay yourself a healthy bonus, and leverage it to acquire the unit you used to work for. Fire the idiot who gave you the original orders.
Tell the commander he's a "bleedin' loony b*st*rd". Then ask him how much beer's in it for the boys if they pull off the manouver. If the offer is good enough, launch the attack. If not, tell him to shove it and call back when he finds some more beer.
Your ship takes damage. Do you:
Grow it back
Hope the Chief Engineer can repair the damage with baling wire and temporary hull patches. Spares are few and far between.
Calmly order a counterattack
Become annoyed. Efficiently order damage control teams to repair the damage. Ask for regular reports until the damage is repaired.
Roar! The Prey is Worthy indeed!
Mutter a prayer to your ship's patron saint, and return fire.
call your brother in law and have his shipyard issue a bid for repairs. Moonlight for him as a consultant.
Launch all missiles and fighters
Furiously order a counterattack
Take evasive maneuvers
Send out repair teams
Get out the baling twine and work up a good spit
Wince and order the damage control teams to repair the damage and restore the ship's ki energy.
Hold a committee meeting to figure out what to do
Hope the Navy boys know their business. Sharpen your knives. Maybe the foe will board and you can collect some ears.
Your rifle jams just as you're about to go into battle. Do you:
Charge with bayonet screaming "Ayo Gurkhali!" and hope the enemy has heard of your fearsome reputation.
Hold a committee meeting to figure out what to do.
Bang it against a tree. It'll probably unjam and start working again.
Take it as a sign that you should try to find somewhere safe to wait out the battle.
Don't sweat it, because you've got more.
No big deal. It's not like you could afford bullets, anyway.
Enter Ro'Kah and do the job the old fashioned way.
Pull out the one you collected earlier for just such an eventuality, realise you're dreaming, hit it until it works (stuff this old can still take the knocks).
Keep quiet in case the sergeant blames you.
pause, sell the rifle to a local (with an upcharge for the "added safety feature"), then pull out your plasma gun and rejoin your unit
What is this word, "jam"?
Follow the instructions in field repair manual, section 23b.
Smile, because you never liked firearms anyway. Draw your sword and charge.
Mutter about "lowest bids" and fix your bayonet.
Mutter a prayer to your patron saint, while applying immediate action like they taught you in basic training.
"Why would I have a rifle? Pitiful mechanical rubbish. Of course it jammed." Open the primary ejection sphincter and expel the acid cloud - the enemy will then have their own worries.
Wave your knife and yell battle cries, until your superior officer stops paying attention - after that, you figure you're excused from this action
Break out the shotgun.
Your platoon is surrounded and outnumbered by the enemy. You've suffered many men killed and many wounded. You have very few men left and your position is desparate. The enemy commander offers you a chance to reply. Your reply is to this offer:
"Doesn't sound fair, so we've asked some of our boys to sit this one out to give you a fighting chance..."
"Ahh! Good to see you! I expect you are here to pay for your orbital slot rental, atmospheric transfer fee, your interstellar communications bill, the ...". Collect the fees for orbital parking and use of airspace. Charge them for communications from the Home world. Impose a shipping and communication embargo on them. Pressure the banks to call in loans they have taken out. Encourage their unions to strike. Etc.
"Nuts." Hold tight and wait for your relief till Hell freezes over, because you know relief _is_ coming.
Use the memory of St. Demetrios the Megamartyr to inspire your troops to a last stand. Ensure that your crypto is destroyed properly. If you do get captured, don't worry, as you are sure that your side will have thousands of prisoners to exchange for you later.
"Y'all mosey back to yer lines. And if we see yer sorry *ss around these parts agin, we'll git real annoyed." Load your Winchester and check the chambers on your shootin' irons. And tell the boys 'n' gals to "Remember Dan'l Boone and the Alamo."
Invoke the spirit of Shaka, grab your assegai, and lead the men on a cunning two pronged attack on the enemy position.
Shoot the emissary, then shoot a few of your most shaky looking men to "inspire" the others. You'd like to surrender, but you know the Area Commander and his Commisars would probably do worse than just kill you
Take the emissary prisoner. Interrogate him for information. Then launch a counter attack with a quick prayer to Yaweh. Do not allow yourself to be captured, as the enemy usually does some very wrong things to prisoners.
Thank the emissary for his generous offer. Respectfully decline strictly as a matter of honour. Feed the emissary some nice tea and send him home. Put on your rising-sun headband and meditate with your men. When the spirit has been purified, Banzai!
Smile. Sharpen your curved knives. Wait till dark, crawl out, andcollect some ears.
Being incredibly pragmatic, arrange for safe passage of your troops and arms from this untenable position. Ensure proper guarantees are in place and then surrender conditionally.
I understand your point of view, but you have to remember how eager our ortillery gunners are and I really don't know how much longer we can restrain them. Tell you what, though, I think you've demonstrated some good initiative and problem solving skills here and we could probably make a place for you in our organization. What kind of starting salary would you have in mind? Remember that's it's tax free...
Surrender, because you don't have any support coming to rescue you. Rely on your lovely blue headgear to protect you, since nothing else will.
"Camerone!" then execute a close assault with all remaining members of the platoon and win or die.
"Oi, Mate. You wanna give up? Stupid B*st*rds." Be shocked when the outnumbering enemy is not in fact surrendering, then get annoyed and give them a good thumping.
"Ve Do Not Zurrendur. Not Ze Prussian Vay." Hold tight and fight calmly and effectively until overrun, then separate and try to make your way back to your own lines.
Praise the supreme being, order your troops to mount a suicidal attack (shooting a few as examples of what might happen to those who disobey), then look for a convenient moment during the charge to duck out and head for home to procure more troops.
Your rifle jams just as you're about to go into battle. What do you say?
Nothing. Combat constructs have no vocal apparatus.
A haiku, composed on the spot, almost certainly involving cherry-blossom
Madre Di Dios!
A click-whistle-pop to notify your Hunting Claw that you are reverting to Talons and the Hunt continues.
I knew the armoury sergeant had it in for me
Your ship is pursuing a slower opponent. Do you:
hold a committee meeting to figure out what to do.
collect blackmail material on the chief engineer
Offer to buy their ship (at a discount, of course) and sell them a better model. Add charges for an extended service plan, on site implementation, simulator training, technical support, logistics, and translation of their service manuals into their native dialect. Offer to finance the deal for a really quite competitive interest rate.
ready the marines for boarding
look amazed: the only thing slower than you is a space station, and not all of them
stand off at a medium range and blow them to bits. Don't bother asking them to surrender. And don't let them get close, they tend to blow up suddenly.
Offer them a chance to surrender, as the prize money would be welcome.
it must be a freighter.... there is no way your ship could be catching anything else. Go back to watching the World Cup.
launch all missiles and fighters, since they'll be faster and provide a better light-show
see to it that the Mothership only consumes them if it won't upset the metallic ion balance. Some large metallic objects may result in indigestion.
start sharpening your knives. If the Navy does its job, you'll get to go collect some ears.
open another bottle of wine
approach it stern-first; you're still faster
if you don't have a vested financial interest in their destruction, offer them a chance to surrender.
decide the red cross on his hull makes a perfect target, and vaporize him
close in quickly and finish them cleanly, if they show signs of worthiness.
Your squaddies are preparing for their first combat jump. It's a long way from orbit. What do you yell to encourage them?
Nothing. You do not want the Juveniles entering Ro'Kah prematurely.
Yell? Why would one use such primitive methods of communication?
Das ist ein Befehl!
Get you bl**d* *ss*s out of there, you f*ck*ing b*st*rds
Hasta La Vista, Compadres!
It's for the Gloire de la Patrie
Shaka! Shaka! Shaka!
Come on, lads, we've got customers waiting!
Next stop is Siberia
You retro-rockets may not work, but there are lots of virgins in paradise
Nothing. You are professionals.
How many of you does it take to change a light bulb?
Our lightbulbs do not burn out.
1 to smuggle it in from the NAC; 1 to sell it on the black market; 1 to buy it on the black market and resell it at a 200% markup; the 3rd guy's cousin in a ministry office to approve the contract; 5 workers to say they'll install it 'manana'.
Changing lightbulbs isn't even fit for Prey!
1 to change lightbulb; 1 to drink wine in honor of new one; 1 to write poetry in honor of old one; 1 to surrender it to the NSL
Put out for lowest bidder on lightbulbs; have a commission to determine which was lowest bid with acceptable lightbulb. Investigative reporter to uncover corruption in commission. 12 MPs to hold hearings in Parliament. Armed Forces make do with old lightbulb for 20 years after it burns out, but when they do get a new one, it's the best possible lightbulb. Or would have been, 20 years ago.
Send diplomatic mission to FSE or ESU to ask for their old lightbulb. Never install it due to lack of trained personnel.
Daft B*st*rds! Can't you find yer beer in the dark, Mates?
3-man Shock Lightbulb Changing Cell to eventually install lightbulb and falsify reports about how fast they did it; commissar to shoot whoever has been spreading rumors about this Lightbulb shortage; Party Committee Member to falsify report claiming lightbulbs don't burn out.
Many will volunteer, with much waiving of lightbulb changing apparati. But when it comes to actually changing the bulb, most will have suddenly made themselves scarce and the bulb will never actually get changed.
Let's see how the NSL installs their lightbulbs
None, unless you let them think changing the bulb was their own idea.
"A service call for ONE lightbulb? If you really just want onesy-twosies, I can do that, but you might want to check your purchase req again and see if it shouldn't be "one CASE" or "one PALLET" of lightbulbs?"
Five, all in unmarked and non-descript dark fatigues but heavily armed. One bulb changer and a four man security detail who will quietly appear, execute the change with calm efficiency while maintaining all around guard, and then disappear back into the darkness.
A Lightbulb Replacement Committee (LIRECCOM) is to be made up of not fewer than four (4) or more than ten (10) members, each of whom must be certified in Lightbulb Burnout Detection (LIBURDET), Hazardous Materials (Thermal) Handling (HAZMATTHERHAN) and Simplified Weapon And Material Procurement (SWAMP)...
One QC inspector to examine and approve the lightbulb as being to spec, one to read the pertinent lightbulb manual, one to execute the operations precisely as described, and another QC inspector to verify exact placement and alignment of bulb.
The lightbulb will be changed by servants of the Great Family who have been granted the Lightbulb Maintenance Concession.
Do not be concerened. The automated system has already changed it.
We like the dark.
Change! Never, it is as Allah wills it!
Change? Just grow another one, or some eyes that work in the dark.
You are attacked without warning. Do you get upset because:
You gifted your best shield and spear to a visiting chief last night and haven't had time to procure a new one, although you are now the proud owner of a very ornate walking stick.
the attack was sloppily executed--you could have done much better if your orders permitted it
it's hardly sporting, you're not done with tea yet.
The attack is interrupting your Skor Ritual.
Clearly you are dreaming and this is a very silly dream. No one has ever or will ever take you by surprise.
you haven't finished the committee meeting yet
you haven't finished reloading the missile racks after last month's action
The research into the latest energy conversion construct will have to be halted to allow the production of combat constructs. Distractions are SO annoying.
you were carefully studying the Chairman's writings (or at least that's you claim)
The mercenaries weren't in position to recieve the brunt of the attack, leaving your own elite armored units to flank the enemy and roll him up. Now you have to do things the hard way. Send for the Varangians!
that means your own sneak attack isn't going to be a surprise after all
you'd only just opened that beer!
you were just making progress with that young lady
The attack might (maybe) force you to miss part of the lastest World Cup match. But only if it is a very big attack.
You'd put a lot of effort into the proposals you'd planned to offer during the negotiations, and now you'll have to work out a whole new package.
You are the Hunter, not the Prey.
The feeling is so annoyingly familiar. This just seems to keep on happening.
Your ship is pursued by a faster opponent. Do you:
negotiate with them for setting up an express freight corporation. Persuade them to put up the cash for the corporation to buy their ship, while you accept cash and voting stock in return for consulting and goodwill. Hire yourself as company president with a golden parachute clause, then sell your corporation to another one and cash out.
feel lucky that your sensors are acute enough to detect your pursuer.
do nothing - this is what always happens to you
launch all missiles and fighters to slow it down
hold a committee meeting to figure out what to do
encourage the engineers to push the drive to its limits
open another bottle of wine
nothing new here. Hope that the drives hold out for long enough for the enemy to lose interest. Or that the hull plating does.
ignore it. If it becomes annoying enough, blow it up with one shot.
this Prey is indeed truly a wonderful challenge! Rejoice!
FTL out, leaving the rest of your squadron to do the best they can without you
continue your calisthenics. Your knives are already sharp enough and you may get a chance to collect some ears soon!
have the tactical officer obtain all possible information for subsequent engineering analysis to explain the enhanced speed of the enemy vessel. Be vaguely annoyed that it is faster.
now you have them right where you want them, trigger the ambush activating the cloaked members of the squadron, come about and bring all weapons into action. Take no prisoners.
shoot the chief engineer
laugh, and as you head off to your stations take bets on whether there'll be enough lifeboats
wait for it to get into range then smash it with a single salvo
Drop mines. They're cheap.
One of your squad is wounded. How do you deal with this?
Rush the wounded trooper to state of the art nanotechnological repair facilities. By the end of his healing time, he'll return faster, stronger, more capable, and loaded with parts from major Zaibatsu. He will be able to see in the dark, have computer-aided targeting, be stronger and faster than he was before... leading to a general trend of other squad members seeking injuries to get better and even more modern upgrades. This has lead to a mischaracterization of your attacks as "Banzai" attacks, as extremely competitive young men vie for minor but survivable injuries to allow for cybernetic augmentation, including possible installation of the brain into a large mechanoid body.
"Bloody shame, really. Keep a stiff upper lip. Can't let these native boggies see an Englishman cry, can we? For God's sake, you're an Eaton man!" The squad commiserates, all agreeing that it is a crying shame, and soldiers on, for King and Country (even if they are a highland unit, in which case it's "Puir wee lad. Keep yer war-face, lad. We cannae let nae bleedin' English git see ae Heeland laddie cry, ye ken? Ye're a Wallace!" )
If he was from another ethnic group, ignore the loss. If he was from your ethnic group, swear bloody vengeance and a washing of the spears upon the enemy. The actual fate of the wounded man is incidental.
give him a bullet to bite.
Smile a very large wicked smile. Draw your Kukri. At this point, the enemy (having read all the stories and heard all the tales) will flee. Then, very practically, rush your wounded comrade to competent medical attention. (Maintaining a stony face so as not to show the officers any lack of composure...)
Is he an important party member? If so, rush him off to the best aid available for fear of repercussions and in hopes of possible benefits. If he is merely proletariat, then tell him to "soldier on, comrade". If he complies, consider awarding him one of the many different medals your government authorizes. If he fails to comply, set the commisars upon him.
Regardless of the wound, declare it a grave tragedy for all of France, an insult to honour that must be repaid, and immediately mount a quixotic charge upon enemy positions "Pour L'honour du Regiment! Vive La France!". The only survivor is likely the wounded man.
Coldly and dispassionately assess the wounds. Categorize the wounded subunit according standard Heer Medical Operational Status Category, fill out the appropriate reports in triplicate, consider recommending the soldier for the Knight's Cross of the Iron Cross but decline since he only took out 3 enemy AFVs and about 20 infantry by himself, not enough to justify such a decoration. Instead, grant him a Close Combat Clasp and some time to recuperate, declaring him operational again after only 2/3rd of the time he requires to properly recuperate (so as not to encourage inefficiency and absenteeism).
"Those Bleedin' B*st*rds! They shot Mick-o!" Everyone in the squad, including wounded Mick-o, bogs off for a pint or six in commiseration. In the morning, Mick-o can't feel his wounds and everyone else feels like they've been head-shot.
if he can shoot but can't move, he's now a sniper. If he can move but not shoot, he's now a close-assault bomber. If he can't move or shoot, he's a martyr. If he can move and shoot, he's not really wounded.
everyone gather around for first aid and emotional support, then the whole unit leaves the field for psychological counseling.