PRETTY OKAY COMPANY
An Ayreonia Roleplay
In-Character Thread | Antediluvian Worldbuilding Thread
Welcome to the front, soldier!
Whether by the guidance of Fate's gentle hand, or by choosing of your own, you're here: the Fourth Armored Division of the Royal Antediluvian Army. In either case, congratulations are in order. You've probably read all the official documents that the postman tried to drown you in. Confusing, weren't they? That's why we, actual soldiers of the 4th, have lovingly prepared this small primer for you. We hope it will answer any and all questions you have. If not, don't be afraid to ask your new brothers in arms. We don't bite. Just steer clear of Major Edrich, he's a jackass.
Let's start by telling you that this introduction will be honest. We won't try to make ourselves look better than we are (you'd find out the truth for yourself anyway, then be angry at us for lying). We're grunts. That's our job. If you joined us for fame or glory, you'd better look elsewhere, and turn back now.
Just kidding! Once you sign up, there's no escape. If you're fond of having a head on your shoulders, that is. And if you want to die, be a sport and do so while catching a bullet for another Fourther, will you?
There, we said it. We're not 1st Para, nor Air Cavalry, nor UNMETA commandos. We're 4th Armored. The Fucking Fourth, they call us, and it's a name we carry with pride. The story behind it has nothing to do with fornication, sadly: legend has it that when our division was first formed as the Royal 4th Infantry, it was thrown into combat without proper training or supplies in an attempt to slow down a major Precambrian assault. When they against all odds not only succeeded, but actually beat the aggressors back, word was sent to HQ, where General Sensus belched out his now-famous line:
"The fucking Fourth!? Those people couldn't hold off my grandma's rotting corpse, may she rest in peace."
Just so. We do have a reputation for doing shitjobs. If it's boring, dirty or just plain suicidal, our motto comes to life: Bring Forth The Fourth! And the Fourth bitches and moans, curses its superiors to nine hells and back, then gathers its crap and does it.
We do these things because that's who we are.
We might complain, but when the sky splits, when the Soil erupts in flames, and when mammoth shit hits the proverbial fan, it's the Fucking Fourth who stand and fight. We might whine about our officers, but we'd follow them to the end of the world and back. We do these things because we understand that glory isn't a title, or a rank, or a medal. Glory isn't prestige or perfect conduct or empty words. In the end, none of that matters. What matters is that one does their job and survives to reap the results. The optimal result would, of course, be victory for Antediluvia, but we'll make do with securing our country for the next generation or so. We're not that ambitious.
So without further ado... welcome to the front, soldier. Welcome home.
Feel your blood rise? Your stomach tingling with excitement? Do you want to sing the Anthem, cry out patriotic slogans or shoot a Precambrian right now? If yes, that was enough pathos, if not, you're a lost case. Either way, on to practical matters.