Post by SamSniped on Jun 9, 2012 5:51:44 GMT -8
The members of the team who have signed up are standing in a line in front of a building on Earth, and their captain walks up to them.
"My name is Captain Marcus Blackstone," he began, "and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me at least five soldiers. Five Earth-born soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the attacks in space. Well, we'll be leaving to go fight that. We're gonna be dropped into their land, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' aliens. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from goddamn Boston, cross millions of light-years, fight my way through half of the Andromeda galaxy and jump out of a fuckin' spaceship to teach the aliens lessons in humanity. An Alien ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of an Earth-hatin', mass murderin' maniac or ten and they need to be dee-stroyed. That's why any and every every son of a bitch we find wearin' an alien uniform, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the soldier Samuel Blackstone. That means I got a little Irish in me. And our battle plan will be that of an Irish resistance. We will be cruel to the aliens, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the aliens won't be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the aliens will be sickened by us, and the aliens will talk about us, and the aliens will fear us. And when the aliens close their eyes or whatever they have at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with. Sound good?"
The members of his team who have already signed up shout, "YES SIR!"
Marcus nods and replies, "That's what I like to hear. But I got a word of warning for all you would-be warriors. When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred aliens kills. And I want my kills. And all y'all will get me one hundred alien kills, and no less. Or you will die tryin'. Now, let's go kill us some aliens."
--------
Anyone who recognizes the title will recognize that speech
Anyway, this is my campaign, the Inglorious Bastards, essentially a special forces squad tasked with beating the enemy with whatever means necessary. Play dirty, and I can promise you that you will succeed 99 times out of 100 (unless the RNG God is pissed at you ). I only have one rule in addition to the basic ones from LH.
Added Rule #1- Rank does not matter. That means that everyone's opinion is respected, from a recruit to a general. All members of this campaign answer to Marcus Blackstone, and he gets his orders only from command.
Understand? Now, let's go kill some aliens.
"My name is Captain Marcus Blackstone," he began, "and I'm putting together a special team, and I need me at least five soldiers. Five Earth-born soldiers. Now, y'all might've heard rumors about the attacks in space. Well, we'll be leaving to go fight that. We're gonna be dropped into their land, dressed as civilians. And once we're in enemy territory, as a bushwhackin' guerrilla army, we're gonna be doin' one thing and one thing only... killin' aliens. Now, I don't know about y'all, but I sure as hell didn't come down from goddamn Boston, cross millions of light-years, fight my way through half of the Andromeda galaxy and jump out of a fuckin' spaceship to teach the aliens lessons in humanity. An Alien ain't got no humanity. They're the foot soldiers of an Earth-hatin', mass murderin' maniac or ten and they need to be dee-stroyed. That's why any and every every son of a bitch we find wearin' an alien uniform, they're gonna die. Now, I'm the direct descendant of the soldier Samuel Blackstone. That means I got a little Irish in me. And our battle plan will be that of an Irish resistance. We will be cruel to the aliens, and through our cruelty they will know who we are. And they will find the evidence of our cruelty in the disemboweled, dismembered, and disfigured bodies of their brothers we leave behind us. And the aliens won't be able to help themselves but to imagine the cruelty their brothers endured at our hands, and our boot heels, and the edge of our knives. And the aliens will be sickened by us, and the aliens will talk about us, and the aliens will fear us. And when the aliens close their eyes or whatever they have at night and they're tortured by their subconscious for the evil they have done, it will be with thoughts of us they are tortured with. Sound good?"
The members of his team who have already signed up shout, "YES SIR!"
Marcus nods and replies, "That's what I like to hear. But I got a word of warning for all you would-be warriors. When you join my command, you take on debit. A debit you owe me personally. Each and every man under my command owes me one hundred aliens kills. And I want my kills. And all y'all will get me one hundred alien kills, and no less. Or you will die tryin'. Now, let's go kill us some aliens."
--------
Anyone who recognizes the title will recognize that speech
Anyway, this is my campaign, the Inglorious Bastards, essentially a special forces squad tasked with beating the enemy with whatever means necessary. Play dirty, and I can promise you that you will succeed 99 times out of 100 (unless the RNG God is pissed at you ). I only have one rule in addition to the basic ones from LH.
Added Rule #1- Rank does not matter. That means that everyone's opinion is respected, from a recruit to a general. All members of this campaign answer to Marcus Blackstone, and he gets his orders only from command.
Understand? Now, let's go kill some aliens.