#reverse stc

[rhymeswithfart]

Assorted doodles

If you see this, please look here:

This campaign is vetted by 90ghost here. €30,774 / 35k ≈ 88%

[hikingsuper]

What If the mega Génesis wave fucked everthing?

Aka me throwing Anti Sonic with (Pilot) Satam Sally to fight Fleetway! Robotnik and Fleetway! King Sonic?

[signode-blog]

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[danvolodar]

Why the new fluff in 40k undermines the setting: part 2, what is, and why it is bad

Continuing from the previous post, where we've established the basic themes of the setting and explored how the Imperium exemplifies them, this one deals with the setting's developments over the last two decades consistently undermining said themes.

One great issue are of course the Tau, who use the AI (and it's never corrupted by the taint of Chaos), develop and easily produce new tech, and enjoy effortless interstellar logistics (handwaved away as being "slower" than the Imperium's warp jumps, but that supposed slowness is not causing them any trouble whatsoever).

An example of the Tau, human collaborationists, and AI interacting in the works of superfeyn

That's bad enough on its own, so 40k fluff over the years has made numerous attempts to somehow balance the obvious superiority of their society. Xenology made the furthest strides, in establishing that the Ethereals exert mind control over the rest of the castes using the hormones they secrete, turning the utopia into a dystopia effortlessly. The Tau DoW ending claimed that the Tau sterilised the human populations they conquered. Both sources, of course, aren't canon. Black Library is arguably isn't canon, either, but I've tales retold from it of the Tau not just using human collaborationist units, but, say, recultivating the Imperial hive worlds. And that majorly undermines the core themes of the setting: if human populations can't exist in the Imperium without the constant threat of errant psykers opening a doorway to the Warp for a daemonic incursion to pour through, why can they under the Tau, who are warp-insensitive and thus have no way either to discover the threat or counter it? The same goes for the hives: the Imperium has to milk its worlds for all they're worth to counter the multitude threats from all directions, why don't the Tau? Why are the rules of the setting different for the Tau and the Imperium?

The two other major releases haven't brought quite the same big problems to the setting as the Tau. The Newcrons have simply moved them to become one more civilisation competing with the Imperium on peer terms, except with superiour technology. Similarly, the release of the Adeptus Mechanicus as a separate army hasn't changed much, except for undermining the setting a bit by turning its themes to eleven, a certain distance past verisimilitude. The Skitarii have their legs below the knee cut off and replaced by cybernetic implants, to symbolically reference the cohorts of Mars wearing their legs raw (recall that humans the Imperium has in abundance, yet technology is rare and hard to replicate), and have their eyelids cut off for teh evilz lul. Oh, and of course, the Mechanicus have a perpetual motion machine.

But these all pale compared to the recent (well, two years ago now) release of the Leagues of Votann, formerly known simply as the Squats. You see, the Squats are an offshoot of Humanity, except they still have fully functional STCs (the Holy Grail of the Adeptus Mechanicus that will supposedly reverse the Humanity's technological degradation), they have fully functional superhuman AIs undisturbed by the Iron Men rebellion (and, same as the Tau, somehow not susceptible to daemonic possession), they innovate and easily produce their products, they have 100% reliable means of interstellar FTL travel and communication, and unlike the Tau, they can even harness the powers of the Warp for their combat Psykers, except it's all perfectly safe and doesn't run the risk of daemonic incursion. Plus they can mass-produce genetically optimised clones, except they're not locked into what they're optimised for and instead are free to choose their job (again, unlike the caste system of the Tau).

And by this moment, one has to wonder: how the hell can the Imperium even exist with peer competitors like that? The Leagues of Votann are better off strategically than the mainstay of Humanity in each and every way, literally in everything that matters in war - how are they not the dominant human civilisation in the Galaxy? Why does the Imperium even trudge on, when it could've been easily replaced by the superior Squats wearing fur coats over spacesuits?

One could argue the Emperor and his gang of hyperviolent psychos presented a threat to the Squats during the Great Crusade era, but they apparently never got to meet them, and it's been ten thousand years since the Emperor ascended to the Golden Throne, removing himself from the picture. Why have the Leagues of Votann not been expanding exponentially into the Imperial space, if all the limiters and checks that cripple the mainstay humanity simply do not apply to them?

Frankly speaking, I feel that these two taken together - the Tau, and particularly the Squats, - kill the setting by utterly demolishing its basic themes. What's the point of sacrificing for the Imperium, and tolerating its oppressive policies designed to sustain at least something during the millennia of total war, when there are alternatives - even alternative human civilisations, - that suffer from none of its problems?

[kentuckycaverats]

Hi I must request info about your Abomination blorbo. Reverse abomination? there's gotta be a story behind how that happened

maxence hours on main!!! >:3

max is a toreador stc from my nola by night chronicle amd husband to the coterie's malkavian pc, ira. he and ira have been involuntarily separated for 83 years (ira was in torpor for the first 80 and max has been missing for the last 3)

during those 3 years max has been held captive by a hecata who's partnered with a branch of pentex to study the nature of the beast; the hecata gets the resources to conduct experiments toward furthering their goal of scientifically manufacturing a path to golconda, and pentex gets to corrupt a bunch of garou in the process

these experiments involve the creation of two kinds of abominations: (1) embraced garou of course and (2) kindred who have been genetically modified with garou DNA via gene splicing. the latter is a complicated, torturous, and experimental procedure and max is the only specimen who's survived thus far, so the full extent of what this does to the body and mind compared to traditional abominations is still largely unknown.

[samobservessonic]

Our first story is a return to the fan-fave location of the Miracle Planet, which is presently a giant floating Metal Sonic head. This one’s a complete story (since we’ve got something big coming next issue), so I’m curious to see what the Freedom Fighters will be up to today

As Sonic says, if they hadn’t put a stop to Metallix in that last big arc, all of Mobius could’ve looked like this

They’re here in an attempt to reverse the damage that was done and return the Miracle Planet back to normal. And since Johnny’s the tallest, looks like he’s pulled the short straw of climbing up the alpha device

No Sonic, you’re a few years too early for Shadow (I’ll show myself out)

Even if he’s wrong, the guy needs to run. My toddler niece is the same way

Before anyone gets excited at the prospect of an StC version of Shard the Metal Sonic, I’m pretty sure this is a case of mistaken identity. But regardless, it's time to let Sonic have his mandated fight scene to keep the target audience happy

Amy and Johnny both accidentally read to me as being kinda nonchalant here. Like, “Oh look, Sonic was right after all about there being a Metallix. Hope he has fun.”

Amy realises too late that she should’ve intervened when Sonic put a knife in the toaster

Amy, nooo! He’s just some guy!

Phew! We’re good!

We once again see that sparing civilians from trauma is pretty high on StC’s Sonic’s priorities. I’ve said this before - he’s meaner to his friends because they can handle it (also, they’re all British and we just talk to each other like cunts over ‘ere), but he always goes out of his way to be kind to the random Mobians they help

With his head not skewered by an arrow, this guy explains his situation and why he’s cosplaying Metal Sonic

Having said that: geez Sonic, that’s mean. If he knew what Amy had done to spare his ego last issue maybe he’d think twice about leaving her doubting her own abilities

Regardless, on the note that it’ll take some time for the Miracle Planet to completely recover, they escort unnamed civilian off the place before it disappears again. This is another story that I vaguely remember reading in the past, though I can’t remember if/when they do return here after this. Even if that don’t, we can end on the assurance that everything is fine for the Miracle Planet

But also, next time a green bird character appears with the Freedom Fighters I want it to be Tekno

[zippy-reacts]

Sonic the Comic Liveblog: Issue 114

Well, would you look at that, the scan of this issue still has the free gift attached

This is literally just the establishing shot and the art already goes so hard. Like, look at all that detail!

Now's there's an angle you don't see Sonic stories take too often, this acknowledgement that in the modern world you can't simply stop all industrial work, yet we still need to endeavour to lessen the negetive impact upon the environment.

Haven't seen these fellas in a hot minute. Heck, I think their last encounter was with Knuckles, so it's been extra long since Sonic has seen them

And Sonic is immediately ready to throw hands

I know a Chekhov's gun when I see one

Yep, time for a fight with the pepto-bismol monster again

Gotta say, these panels really do communicate a sense of motion

This is really, REALLY, good artwork

Returning to Tails' story, and thinking about it, does StC ever really acknowledge any of the main cast having parents?

People were mistaking THIS GUY as Tails??? People mistaking Shadow as Sonic is more believable!

There's many weird things about this fan letter, but I'm gonna hone in on the fact that they actually fucking printed something calling Tails a puff, which is in the UK, a slur for gay people. The late 90s/early 00s really were a different time man.

Onto a significantly less weird letter, this one is quite interesting. From a quick google search I think I can see how Mervyn Peake's works could have influenced the creation of Grimer, although I think the name Grimer Wormtounge may have actually came from a Lord of the Rings character, whose name is spelt Grima.

Can't lie, I read Tekno's line there like that one line from Hotel Mario.

Oh my god I think this is a reverse isekai story. And well before Sonic X or the Sonic movies did it too.

Okay so they speak the same language. This has so many possible wordbuilding implications I'm getting a headache. But just to throw one potential idea out there I'm wondering if Earth could potentially be the place of origin for the rare few humans we see on Earth? Like Kintobor or his ancestors came from here?

Almost 30 years laters and things havent really changed, have they?

And much like the later "Sonic characters on Earth" stories, the miltary has strong opinions about it.

[stccouriersin]

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[drunkenskunk]

I HAVE BEEN SUMMONED.

Okay, I feel like a lot of people don't understand what is actually happening when they hear AdMech tech priests talk about "machine spirits," and assume that the crazy robed space wizard IT dorks are just being ignorant and superstitious about technology. And, yeah, they kind of are, but that's also not the whole story. Because "machine spirits" are VERY real, at least when it comes to technology used by the Imperium. And to understand this, we need to talk a little about Mars.

Mars is a shithole. This isn't some fancy utopian paradise of hyper-advanced technology that the Mechanicus has been hoarding away from the rest of the Imperium out of jealousy and greed since the Dark Age of Technology. No, it is an anarchic hellish nightmare of melted steel and broken concrete. The "safe zones" on the surface are toxic, blighted, irradiated wastelands, constructed atop the ruins and bones of all those who came before. And what lies just below the surface is significantly worse.

There's shit on Mars from the Dark Age of Technology, the War with the Iron Men, the Age of Strife, and the Heresy. Kilometers of labyrinthine corridors full of rogue machinery, self-aware and malevolent AI from before the Age of Strife, and daemonic machines and warp-spawned techno viruses from the Heresy. Ancient horrors, viruses both normal and daemonic, corrupted databases and fragments of fragments of fragments of rogue AI war programs: all of this and more is waiting down there. This is why they spend so much time and effort trying to find off-world STCs instead of trying to send expeditions down below or deciphering the databases. Nearly every single stored record on Mars has been rendered unusable thanks to so many cascading apocalypses over the millennia, and the few that survived? Half the time, the file itself is self-aware and doesn't like you, or it's genuinely daemonic and actively trying to kill you.

And it's that self-aware part that we need to focus on here, because it's not something that's brought up a lot. Trillions upon trillions upon trillions of self-aware programs flourished during the Dark Age of Technology, smashed and fragmented during the war with the Iron Men, and further corrupted by the Heresy. Every piece of technology in the Imperium that can conceivably hold some kind of programming does, even if it's only a fragment of a shard of a program. Echoes and ghosts, confused and angry, as if it were a "spirit" dwelling within the machine. And you better fucking please that spirit, or it is going to do everything in it's power to ruin your day. It might not be too bad if it's just a lasgun, where the only thing it can do is make the gun not work or fire off randomly... but what if it's something like a Land Raider? Or a Warlord Titan? Or a multi-kilometer long starship with the firepower to blow up a planet?

This is the reality of the Machine Spirit: they do genuinely exist, as forgotten and unintended byproducts of how technology is constructed by the AdMech. Every piece of technology in the Imperium is built from schematics found in STCs, and they don't have the time or resources to reverse engineer this shit, so they just follow the instructions, and do their best not to piss off what comes out. As a result, they sometimes end up applying these principles of "placating the machine spirit" to pieces of technology that don't actually have machine spirits, purely out of habit. And it makes sense, because they're so used to dealing with shit like tanks which - if not talked to just right - might go rogue and level half a continent before they can shut it down or blow it up.

This is also why the AdMech is a cargo cult, and why they don't like anyone besides themselves fucking with technology. When you're dealing with things you barely understand, because every piece of knowledge that could exist to explain it was destroyed, then being a cargo cult is the safest and most reliable option. The rituals don't exist purely for the sake of mysticism, they exist because it's the most practical means of building, repairing, and maintaining the equipment they have with what little knowledge survives. It's so rare to find anything from before the Fall that still works and isn't actively malevolent, they can't risk some fuckwit screwing with it and accidentally breaking it, because a lot of this shit is genuinely irreplaceable, because they no longer have the means to make more.

Sure, they don't understand why pressing that button makes it go, because the manual was self-aware and tried to take over the brain of the last tech priest to take a look, but they've trial-and-errored their way into a system that is usually almost reliable... sometimes. They've resorted to ritualizing the whole process, purely out of desperation, because all the other copies of the manual are either lost or unreadable, and the knowledge base that would let them reverse-engineer this technology was destroyed thousands of years ago and cannot be rebuilt. The only way it can be rebuilt is to completely start over from scratch, and that took mankind TWENTY FIVE THOUSAND YEARS to develop the first time, during an age of unprecedented growth and prosperity.

And the Imperium of Man simply does not have that kind of time anymore. Because this is what happens when you live in a setting where every single character, from every single faction, has consistently made the absolute worst decision it was possible to conceive, at every single point in time, constantly.

It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods...

… curious about something

[pcbreverseengineering]

What is the method to unlock STC IC chip?

Some cracking tools such as STC-ISP, STC Loader, etc. It is possible to directly read the Flash memory of the STC microcontroller and download the encrypted firmware to the computer for decryption. These tools typically exploit vulnerabilities in chips or communication interfaces. Such as serial port or ISP download interface. Obtain encrypted firmware and decrypt it. It should be noted that using cracking tools for decryption requires a certain level of technical proficiency and equipment support. https://pcb-reverse-engineering.com/news/stc-unlock/

[tcksolar]

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[rhymeswithfart]

My take on a reverse version of the Rotten Egg origin story from stc

[circular-time]

Ten years ago, @spacetimeconundrum drew this great fanart illustrating a scene I wrote set around a peculiar little asteroid which had just set the astronomy world on its ear. Astronomer Felipe Braga-Ribas and his team announced they had detected two rings around 10199 Chariklo, a Centaur — an asteroid beyond the orbit of Saturn. Until Chariklo, astronomers had thought dwarf planet Haumea was close to the lower mass limit needed to hang onto a stable ring system.

I haven't followed subsequent research— I assume they've sorted out the physics. But I'm having huge FEELS tonight over photos of fuzzy, distant blobs. From a 2023 NASA blog post about a new team's observations of Chariklo using the James Webb Space Telescope:

There she is. Chariklo, which until now I've only seen in my mind's eye and STC's fanart, Ten years later, she's still holding onto her rings.

That's Chariklo passing in front of a distant star. I don't know which of those flickers is the dimming of the star's light as the rings pass in front. But astronomers have ways of sifting through the noise (it helps that the shadow from the rings will be identical on each side, in reverse order). From this data they were able to calculate the rings' size and composition.

They're water ice. Which is what I imagined in the fic I wrote ten years ago, right after the rings were first discovered. Scene excerpted below:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Doctor looked over the seals of Nyssa’s suit, nodded, and tapped a patch on his shoulder, reflecting as he did so that her excessive prudence was starting to rub off on him. “Comm check.”

“Loud and clear, Doctor. Shall we?” She hitched up the tool bag slung over her shoulder, glanced towards the doors to orient herself, and flipped her sun-shield down.

“Lower your opacity. We’re a long way out from the sun. Are you sure you don’t want me to carry that?”

Her smile was audible. “The weight will be negligible outside. In fact, I’m more worried about floating off.” She paused to adjust her visor controls.

“No chance of that, I can assure you, even with a running start. 10199 Chariklo is a respectable 250 kilometres across, rock and iron, plenty of mass. I couldn’t bowl a cricket ball into orbit.”

“But you might be able to bat it over the horizon?”

“Now, there’s a thought,” he said, glancing towards his coat hanging on the hatstand. That was the trouble with spacesuits: never enough pockets. “You know, I may have to try before we leave.” He reached for the door control. “After you. First footsteps on the surface of a pristene— Nyssa!”

Stepping out into a low gravity field was always a tricky manoeuvre. Nyssa had not been the first companion to learn that lesson the hard way, with an ignominious face-plant during a past excursion. This time, she kept a hand on the door and reached out with one cautious toe to probe the footing. Her glove slipped as she leaned out, caught off-balance by the satchel's loss of weight but not momentum. With a surprised cry, she fell forward and then... up. The Doctor lunged as she made a flailing grab for the top of the TARDIS. Before he could reach her, her boots had drifted out of his field of view.

“Careful!” she called down, determinedly calm, although he could hear her breathing quicken. “Escape velocity is under five metres per second.”

He almost smiled, despite her grave predicament. Trust Nyssa to fall back on science to ward off panic. “Steady on, I’m coming to get you.”

“Latch onto something first!”

“I know.” Berating himself for never having installed a ring under the console, he drew out a retractible cable from his suit's midsection and snapped the carabiner onto the hatstand. Turning the stand sideways, he stepped out and pulled the doors to behind him. Then he looked up. Vertigo mocked his inner compass. Nothing outside the TARDIS made sense.

Uneven ground sparkled in the light streaming out of the crack between the TARDIS doors. Chalky powder and ice crystals yielded like caked sand underfoot. The irregular but marked curve of the horizon and its bright surface showed him at once that this was not Chariklo, the rare ringed asteroid they had come to see.

Overhead, the sky was black and strangely solid: a vast opaque canopy scalloped like obsidian or a lump of coal, pockmarked with sparse grey impact craters. Nyssa was almost invisible against that dark backdrop, a glimmering ghost barely illuminated by light reflected from the ground. With no recognizable markers to serve as reference points, it was difficult to tell that she was moving away from him. Instead, she appeared to be revolving slowly in place, suspended a score of metres overhead. As he sought to determine her course and speed, she began to drift across the other oddity in this minimalist environment: a wide ash-coloured band, fuzzy along its edges, that stretched overhead like an impossibly straight cirrus cloud extending as far as the eye could see.

Registering this bizarre view with one small corner of his mind, the Doctor quickly calculated the velocity he would need to overtake her— just. Too much speed, and his momentum might cause a deflection when they collided, kicking her beyond his reach. Yet every second was precious. He reached up to brace against the TARDIS overhang, bent his knees and pushed off. Like a second leaf falling into the current of a sluggish stream, he began to follow in her wake, keeping his eyes fixed on her boots as she twirled above him.

“Either you landed us on the wrong asteroid,” Nyssa said, sounding strained, “or Chariklo’s suffered a catastrophic impact. Whichever it is, next time, you can have the honour of planting the first footprint on an uncharted world.”

“We can discuss inaccuracies in the navigation library later,” he said. With a sinking feeling — ironic, under the circumstances— he began to suspect that he had missed the right vector by a fraction of a degree. His trajectory was not tracking hers precisely. As they rose metre by metre, he saw that he was likely to pass her just out of arm’s reach. “Don’t panic,” he said, trying to turn sideways so that she would be able to grab his legs. It was no use, of course. There was no air resistance, nothing to push against to change his orientation.

“I’m not,” she said. Perhaps he had been addressing himself. “But Doctor, I don’t think—”

“I know,” he said with forced cheer. “Poorly bowled. I’ll have to climb down and try again. Wait here. Won’t be a moment.”

“How long is the safety line?” she said, her clipped tones betraying the fact that she already knew the answer.

Another of his incarnations might have sworn. Rising at a little under a metre per second, he had already payed out at least seventy metres. The remaining thirty were rapidly running out. There wasn’t enough time for him to reach the ground and make another attempt before she was out of range. There was only one chance left. For his next try, he would have to untether himself, catch up to her, and throw her back towards the TARDIS. He might have just enough strength to reverse her course. There would be no margin for error.

“Doctor, you mustn’t!” she said, and now she sounded afraid.

“I knew I should have brought a cricket ball,” he muttered, reaching for the switch to retract the safety line.

As he glanced down, he heard her gasp. That small sound was a knife’s cold slide between his hearts. “Nyssa!” For a dreadful moment, he thought she had released her helmet to head off his own self-sacrifice. Then he realised her course had altered ever so slightly. She was spinning towards him. The tool bag was floating away behind her shoulder.

Straining against the stiff fabric of his suit until the joints creaked, the Doctor reached out and flung his arms around her right knee as she drifted past. “Got you!”

There was a moment’s cautious scramble as he reeled her in and hugged her against his chest. Helmets banged together with a painful crack. Before they were quite stable, he felt the tug and jerk as the safety line checked his upward motion. He had caught her with only three meters to spare.

“Nyssa, hook onto me.”

“Right.” Despite breathless agreement, she clung to him with arms and legs like a panicked feline fetched out of a tree. He forced himself to wait, listening to the pounding of his hearts, until she could will herself to let go, trusting his grip while she drew out her own emergency line and clipped it to his belt. They both let out an explosive breath in relief as the carabiner locked into place. Twin puffs of air blasted their microphones with a rude burst of static, and they found themselves shaking with laughter.

“Well done,” he said, when he could speak calmly again.

“Sorry I lost your favorite rock hammer,” she whispered, slipping her arms around his chest as far as she could reach.

“Yes, well, I'm sure Iain would be delighted to know of its final resting place,” he said, a little muffled. His suit’s air recycling system had revved up to clear condensation inside his helmet.

“Wherever we are,” she scolded.

“About four hundred kilometres from our target,” the Doctor said, finally allowing himself to contemplate their surroundings. “Not a bad miss, considering the limited data. We’re at Chariklo. Or rather, under her.” He tapped Nyssa’s elbow lightly and pointed up, through the grey dusty lane hanging above them, to the pitted black surface some four hundred kilometres above. As they revolved, he caught a glimpse of stars beyond the limb of the humble rock below them.

“I don’t understand.”

“We landed on a moon,” the Doctor said, excitement beginning to return. “That’s what’s maintaining the integrity of Chariklo’s ring system: a shepherd moon, less than ten kilometres across, invisible to earth-bound instruments. Possibly more than one.”

“Ah.” Presently, her rigid embrace loosened. “I‘m... I’m all right, now. Thank you, Doctor.”

With her tether as insurance, they eased away from each other until they were clasping hands. They spun together in a stately waltz, drinking in the lonely vista. The lumpy, misshapen little moonlet dangled a hundred metres below, lightly frosted from the icy dust blown off by the rings. They were floating midway between the rings themselves, smoky Chuí arching beneath the unnamed moon, Oiapoque hanging overhead like a narrow beach without sea or land. Far above, the dark, craggy mass of the parent asteroid formed the ceiling of this monochrome expanse.

Abruptly, the ground below them blazed into brilliance as they cleared Chariko’s shadow. Refraction added a hint of iridescence to the frost and the rings as the angle of sunlight shifted.

“Well now,” the Doctor said, “that was worth seeing, hm?”

“Oh, yes,” she breathed.

Eventually, the spellbinding moment was broken by Nyssa’s soft giggle — residual nervousness, he suspected. “The TARDIS is following you like a puppy. She’s floated free of the surface.”

“Well, she’s very attached to me.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Nyssa gave his hands a tight squeeze.

Chariklo’s Shepherd Moon

Based on Circular Time’s lovely Five/Nyssa story This Bird Has Flown.

[radsity]

been miserably artblocked almost to the point of heartbreak. I draw a lot but got hit hard with imposter syndrome.

[image description: two images, the first of Catra flanked by two clones looking horrified, the second image is of Adora in horde robes, Horde Prime’s hand resting threateningly on her shoulder. Adoras hair is cut short, and she’s gazing at Catra with heartbreak in her eyes. End ID]

[rosemaryreality]

[frogblast-the-ventcore]

Ooh, Malal mention! Very nice. I have my own headcanon group that's partly Malal based and sort of acts as a balancing factor/check on the Great Game, in between totally-not-working-for an Inquisitor to further Imperial interests.

As for the WMD, in a Warhammer 40K setting, can't go wrong with an intact STC. Mercs in that setting would really like to have an automated database/constructor. Aside from probably literally being able to print money, the thing was the original source of the Baneblade, the Land Speeder, and dozens of other war vehicles (some reverse engineered from agricultural vehicles iirc)

I was writing an breather chapter of the warhammer fic and I hear you know a lot about the military. Does this sound accurate tactics wise?

General Faust was excellent at Search and Destroy and Scorched Earth tactics. She would be sent wherever the absolute devastation of a planet's Population and Infrastructure was needed as well as wherever Insurgents were proving troublesome. She was able to command Astartes, Particularly ones of the Black Templar chapter, and gain their respect despite being an Unaugmented human through her fanaticism. This meant that she was useful for purging Word Bearer tainted worlds.

General Troyard was better at Maneuver Warfare and Linebreaking. He knew that Astartes were meant to be used as Special Operations to decapitate enemy command so he ordered them not to go on the frontline. He was most compatible with Space Marines of descent from Corvus Corax and Jaghatai Khan. He was unique in his ability to counter Warp Sorcery and Psyker powers and adapt and improvise to them. They were difficult to handle but they weren’t a game changer to him. It was all just a matter of targeting the sorcerer behind them.

Sounds good.

If you want really tactical special forces type Astartes, though, look up the Raptors chapter. Closest thing to actual special forces tactics that the Astartes get. Them and the Retributors chapter.