Through the use of streamlined War Games technology, this War Games program pits combatants against complex, simulated threats. Anyone in need of a dynamic threat scenario is welcome to sharpen their wits on the Anvil.
Today's scenario was just as cruel as the day before. A recreation of the Fall of Reach, specifically the battle of New Alexandria. Skyscrapers stretched upwards to dizzying heights, as Phantoms screamed past, combing the city for humans, armed or unarmed.
The local militias had fallen to the combined efforts of the two main combat species. The brutes, roving in brutal packs, cut their teeth on anyone they managed to overtake. The elites led more "noble" parties, gunning or cutting down any meaningful resistance.
However, this scenario was far different from the War for Reach years ago. This time, rather than marine squads on the ground, there were Spartan IVs. Demigods in their own right, armed with powerful weapons and armor minted by the best minds of the UNSC, the Spartans, even outnumbered, were holding their ground. Each one that fell took at least fifty Covenant soldiers down with them.
In addition to the Spartan IVs, there were a few of the earlier generations. One Spartan III peered down at a Covenant patrol from the fifteenth floor of the Vyrant Telecom Tower.
His optics zoomed in as he watched a patrol clomped along, a Type-29 Shadow hovering in the center of their ranks. The violet blue vehicle housed a powerful plasma-cannon at the front, manned by a brute minor.
Their Chieftain stood at the top of the Shade, raving loudly and toting his hammer high. He was likely giving a sermon; a sanctimonious rant about the Forerunners parroted straight from the Prophet's lying, dark-stained teeth. John felt a little sick letting them go, but he needed to choose his battles wisely. He'd fought hard just to find a place to set up shop and perform recon. Information would help keep his colleagues safe.
There was a slight twitch behind him. He turned, looking back at the hallway. There was a fallen elite, killed by a blow from the butt of John's submachine gun. There were bleeding bodies all over the hall. Paying them no mind, the Spartan III turned his eye back towards the street.
"I've got a patrol with a long mover, currently heading for the intersection east of the Vyrant Telecom Tower. Repeat, there's a Shadow moving right along fifth street with no sign of stopping. Anyone in the area?" John spoke on all nearby channels, keeping his voice down. If he was heard, he would be in a fair spot of bother.
"Shit." A response came quickly and rakishly. It was the leader of Fireteam Bingo. "We're behind a barricade on Fifth just down the road. I can see 'em."
John quickly responded. "Get off the road. Get inside and hunker down. They've got a big-ass plasma turret, a Chieftain, and a lot of twitchy grunts who will report your position."
"Negative. Can't move. The building behind us is on fire, and if we cross the street, they'll see us. We've got a wounded soldier. We're gonna have to run a distraction." John could hear the Spartan adjusting to get up from his hiding place.
"Hold on. I'll handle it." John stood, rolling his shoulders and bouncing on his feet. "I'll keep the patrol occupied, while you move your guy to a safer position."
"You and your squad up for it?" The Spartan IV asked. He sounded grateful, but skeptical.
"No squad. It's just me."
"Whoa whoa whoa, you sure you-" John muted his comms, backing up into the room to get a running start. He always wanted to push his new thrusters to the limit.
With that, he took off running. As his muscles tensed to jump, the suit's propulsion system responded, activating his leg and back mounted jets. John smashed through the window, and tore straight down, his fist cocked as he jetted towards the grunts below.
John landed, the shockwave cracking the pavement and forcing the grunts around him to stumble back. One unlucky unggoy was thrown aside by the force, smashing his head against the arching midsection of the Shadow. The remaining grunts turned their guns on the Spartan, who aimed his own SMG. He opened fire, drawing his pistol and shooting with the other hand. Two grunts dropped as the others fired.
The Spartan ducked a plasma pistol shot from an unggoy heavy, and returned fire with his M6. The pistol round struck the unggoy between the eyes, dropping him. The Spartan turned his modified M7 and sprayed down another grunt, the bullets ripping through the unggoy's combat harness.
John holstered both guns and prepared himself. He knew the Chieftain would be on him by now. He felt the beast's weight rumbling behind him as the brute jumped off of the vehicle and landed on the ground.
The brute's armor was thick, and lined with energy-shielding. While his armor was more fragile than the Spartan's, the Chieftain had sheer mass on his side.
The Spartan turned to attack, but the brute caught him by the throat, the weight of the brute's arm smashing John against the ground. The Spartan immediately fought back, striking the brute's arm with his fist. The brute winced, and John swung his boot up, kicking the Chieftain on the jaw. The blow was glancing, unfortunately, and the Brute lifted and tossed John away, regaining his bearings.
John landed on his shoulder, rolling and popping to his feet. The brute drew a hammer, approaching with a long, piercing war cry. The Spartan had danced with Chieftains before, and was confident he could handle himself this time as well.
The brute swung his hammer around, and John ducked his body underneath it. The blade passed over his thruster pack. The brute stumbled as he attempted to get the weight of the hammer under control. This was a young Chieftain, inexperienced in hammer use. This fight would be easy.
John stepped back as the hammer came down. The strike cratered the ground, sending a spray of concrete and pebbles into the air. Before the brute could lift it, John was on him. The Spartan shoulder checked the brute, then threw a rapid back-fist, striking the Chieftain's cheek. John followed up with a left cross immediately after, the blow forcing the brute to stumble.
Blows rained down as John moved in. An uppercut to the brute's stomach bent it over, then the Spartan III's boot split the beast's skull; the side kick sent the brute's copper crown rolling across the pavement.
The brute minor, having watched the bout, finally turned the Shadow's plasma cannon, but it was too late. John drew his magnum and fired a single round, popping the brute in the head. The jiralhanae tumbled off the turret, landing on the ground with a thud. With that, the Spartan immediately sprinted towards the Shadow, hopping into the operator's seat.
He didn't have a lot of time. During his stunt, any one of the enemy could have radioed for help. He started the Shadow, and began driving to get out of the area. However, he'd forgotten one thing.
The Shadow had a homing beacon in the engine.
Since a few of us are getting back into the spirit of Halo, I figured I'd put together a new Simulation Deck, with a twist; designed to bring Spartan IVs up to speed when it comes to combat, this simulation deck is designed to be incredibly difficult to survive, and almost impossible to win. Think Lone Wolf. The enemy has overtaken the location, and your job is to give them hell for as long as you can.
You're welcome to join. I'mma dick around with this for a while.
Today's scenario was just as cruel as the day before. A recreation of the Fall of Reach, specifically the battle of New Alexandria. Skyscrapers stretched upwards to dizzying heights, as Phantoms screamed past, combing the city for humans, armed or unarmed.
The local militias had fallen to the combined efforts of the two main combat species. The brutes, roving in brutal packs, cut their teeth on anyone they managed to overtake. The elites led more "noble" parties, gunning or cutting down any meaningful resistance.
However, this scenario was far different from the War for Reach years ago. This time, rather than marine squads on the ground, there were Spartan IVs. Demigods in their own right, armed with powerful weapons and armor minted by the best minds of the UNSC, the Spartans, even outnumbered, were holding their ground. Each one that fell took at least fifty Covenant soldiers down with them.
In addition to the Spartan IVs, there were a few of the earlier generations. One Spartan III peered down at a Covenant patrol from the fifteenth floor of the Vyrant Telecom Tower.
His optics zoomed in as he watched a patrol clomped along, a Type-29 Shadow hovering in the center of their ranks. The violet blue vehicle housed a powerful plasma-cannon at the front, manned by a brute minor.
Their Chieftain stood at the top of the Shade, raving loudly and toting his hammer high. He was likely giving a sermon; a sanctimonious rant about the Forerunners parroted straight from the Prophet's lying, dark-stained teeth. John felt a little sick letting them go, but he needed to choose his battles wisely. He'd fought hard just to find a place to set up shop and perform recon. Information would help keep his colleagues safe.
There was a slight twitch behind him. He turned, looking back at the hallway. There was a fallen elite, killed by a blow from the butt of John's submachine gun. There were bleeding bodies all over the hall. Paying them no mind, the Spartan III turned his eye back towards the street.
"I've got a patrol with a long mover, currently heading for the intersection east of the Vyrant Telecom Tower. Repeat, there's a Shadow moving right along fifth street with no sign of stopping. Anyone in the area?" John spoke on all nearby channels, keeping his voice down. If he was heard, he would be in a fair spot of bother.
"Shit." A response came quickly and rakishly. It was the leader of Fireteam Bingo. "We're behind a barricade on Fifth just down the road. I can see 'em."
John quickly responded. "Get off the road. Get inside and hunker down. They've got a big-ass plasma turret, a Chieftain, and a lot of twitchy grunts who will report your position."
"Negative. Can't move. The building behind us is on fire, and if we cross the street, they'll see us. We've got a wounded soldier. We're gonna have to run a distraction." John could hear the Spartan adjusting to get up from his hiding place.
"Hold on. I'll handle it." John stood, rolling his shoulders and bouncing on his feet. "I'll keep the patrol occupied, while you move your guy to a safer position."
"You and your squad up for it?" The Spartan IV asked. He sounded grateful, but skeptical.
"No squad. It's just me."
"Whoa whoa whoa, you sure you-" John muted his comms, backing up into the room to get a running start. He always wanted to push his new thrusters to the limit.
With that, he took off running. As his muscles tensed to jump, the suit's propulsion system responded, activating his leg and back mounted jets. John smashed through the window, and tore straight down, his fist cocked as he jetted towards the grunts below.
John landed, the shockwave cracking the pavement and forcing the grunts around him to stumble back. One unlucky unggoy was thrown aside by the force, smashing his head against the arching midsection of the Shadow. The remaining grunts turned their guns on the Spartan, who aimed his own SMG. He opened fire, drawing his pistol and shooting with the other hand. Two grunts dropped as the others fired.
The Spartan ducked a plasma pistol shot from an unggoy heavy, and returned fire with his M6. The pistol round struck the unggoy between the eyes, dropping him. The Spartan turned his modified M7 and sprayed down another grunt, the bullets ripping through the unggoy's combat harness.
John holstered both guns and prepared himself. He knew the Chieftain would be on him by now. He felt the beast's weight rumbling behind him as the brute jumped off of the vehicle and landed on the ground.
The brute's armor was thick, and lined with energy-shielding. While his armor was more fragile than the Spartan's, the Chieftain had sheer mass on his side.
The Spartan turned to attack, but the brute caught him by the throat, the weight of the brute's arm smashing John against the ground. The Spartan immediately fought back, striking the brute's arm with his fist. The brute winced, and John swung his boot up, kicking the Chieftain on the jaw. The blow was glancing, unfortunately, and the Brute lifted and tossed John away, regaining his bearings.
John landed on his shoulder, rolling and popping to his feet. The brute drew a hammer, approaching with a long, piercing war cry. The Spartan had danced with Chieftains before, and was confident he could handle himself this time as well.
The brute swung his hammer around, and John ducked his body underneath it. The blade passed over his thruster pack. The brute stumbled as he attempted to get the weight of the hammer under control. This was a young Chieftain, inexperienced in hammer use. This fight would be easy.
John stepped back as the hammer came down. The strike cratered the ground, sending a spray of concrete and pebbles into the air. Before the brute could lift it, John was on him. The Spartan shoulder checked the brute, then threw a rapid back-fist, striking the Chieftain's cheek. John followed up with a left cross immediately after, the blow forcing the brute to stumble.
Blows rained down as John moved in. An uppercut to the brute's stomach bent it over, then the Spartan III's boot split the beast's skull; the side kick sent the brute's copper crown rolling across the pavement.
The brute minor, having watched the bout, finally turned the Shadow's plasma cannon, but it was too late. John drew his magnum and fired a single round, popping the brute in the head. The jiralhanae tumbled off the turret, landing on the ground with a thud. With that, the Spartan immediately sprinted towards the Shadow, hopping into the operator's seat.
He didn't have a lot of time. During his stunt, any one of the enemy could have radioed for help. He started the Shadow, and began driving to get out of the area. However, he'd forgotten one thing.
The Shadow had a homing beacon in the engine.