Jan 8, 2024 9:03 pm
UN Report MANIFEST/ICON RE: Transfer Orientation
Addendum to THEATER/ASSEMBLY
Battling in the void of space requires coordination and discipline. Ships often fire at targets a great distance away, visible only by the waste heat, radiation, outbound fire, and comms signatures they throw off – rarely do capital ships find themselves within organic visual range of one another. Hard cover and concealment are just as hard to find; naval combat is, generally, won by those who land the first hit.
These conditions require intense discipline. Aboard a capital ship, your foes are only glowing indicators on a terminal screen and the blow that strikes you down may only be telegraphed by a handful of seconds – if at all. Fighters and subline vessels, tangling with each other in the killbox between mighty ships of the line, might flash within visual range of the enemy, but this merely requires discipline of a different sort: that of seeing the enemy and killing them quickly, before they have a chance to retaliate in kind.
The realities of boarding actions, bombing runs, battery fire – even legionspace engagements – often instill in the people who engage in this warfare a rigidity unfamiliar to ground soldiers. A sailor (or "spacer", "cosmonaut", "astronaut", "suit", "crew", and so on) has an immediate relationship to death that ground-pounders do not. The very environment they operate in, if they were ever to be exposed to it, would kill them; likewise, the vessels that they crew – even in the course of normal maneuvering! – can easily turn them into paste if they aren’t careful. Even the otherwise "normal" procedures required for interstellar travel – stasis-holds for long burns between worlds and gates – might be ventures from which they won’t return. Death is close for the sailor and officer: discipline, regular order, triple-checking systems, and routine are what get them through each deployment.
Crashing against this regular-order impulse are the new weapons of naval warfare and the engagements in which they are employed. After the Deimos Event introduced NHPs to the galaxy and the First Interest War rewrote the facts – if not yet the rules – of naval combat, states and empires have not fully caught up to the changing nature of combat. This is precisely where [we sit]: in the conflict between old strategies and new technologies; the struggle between established doctrine and tactical adaptability; and the clash between the experience of line officers, pilots, and crew against the demands of rear-echelon brass.
[Commanders] will need to sit in this tension. From your vessel’s combat information center, you command not only your own ship, but the other ships in your section – distributing orders to one or more capital ships in order to win the day, rather than the moment. You might not be the one pulling the trigger, but the effect is the same.
[Commanders] are likely to have less freedom in their mission portfolios than [chassis pilots]. The discipline to which these sailors, pilots, and officers are subject is much more present, the field of battle much more conventional, and their commanding officers more used to – and reliant on – established doctrine. [You] should interact with these realities, pushing against them or accepting them, rejecting or relishing this paradigm.
Most all [commanders] will wrestle with dual truths: that their strategies and defenses do not match the weapons they wield and face, but in order to win and survive they must face and defeat the enemy.
Addendum to THEATER/ASSEMBLY
Battling in the void of space requires coordination and discipline. Ships often fire at targets a great distance away, visible only by the waste heat, radiation, outbound fire, and comms signatures they throw off – rarely do capital ships find themselves within organic visual range of one another. Hard cover and concealment are just as hard to find; naval combat is, generally, won by those who land the first hit.
These conditions require intense discipline. Aboard a capital ship, your foes are only glowing indicators on a terminal screen and the blow that strikes you down may only be telegraphed by a handful of seconds – if at all. Fighters and subline vessels, tangling with each other in the killbox between mighty ships of the line, might flash within visual range of the enemy, but this merely requires discipline of a different sort: that of seeing the enemy and killing them quickly, before they have a chance to retaliate in kind.
The realities of boarding actions, bombing runs, battery fire – even legionspace engagements – often instill in the people who engage in this warfare a rigidity unfamiliar to ground soldiers. A sailor (or "spacer", "cosmonaut", "astronaut", "suit", "crew", and so on) has an immediate relationship to death that ground-pounders do not. The very environment they operate in, if they were ever to be exposed to it, would kill them; likewise, the vessels that they crew – even in the course of normal maneuvering! – can easily turn them into paste if they aren’t careful. Even the otherwise "normal" procedures required for interstellar travel – stasis-holds for long burns between worlds and gates – might be ventures from which they won’t return. Death is close for the sailor and officer: discipline, regular order, triple-checking systems, and routine are what get them through each deployment.
Crashing against this regular-order impulse are the new weapons of naval warfare and the engagements in which they are employed. After the Deimos Event introduced NHPs to the galaxy and the First Interest War rewrote the facts – if not yet the rules – of naval combat, states and empires have not fully caught up to the changing nature of combat. This is precisely where [we sit]: in the conflict between old strategies and new technologies; the struggle between established doctrine and tactical adaptability; and the clash between the experience of line officers, pilots, and crew against the demands of rear-echelon brass.
[Commanders] will need to sit in this tension. From your vessel’s combat information center, you command not only your own ship, but the other ships in your section – distributing orders to one or more capital ships in order to win the day, rather than the moment. You might not be the one pulling the trigger, but the effect is the same.
[Commanders] are likely to have less freedom in their mission portfolios than [chassis pilots]. The discipline to which these sailors, pilots, and officers are subject is much more present, the field of battle much more conventional, and their commanding officers more used to – and reliant on – established doctrine. [You] should interact with these realities, pushing against them or accepting them, rejecting or relishing this paradigm.
Most all [commanders] will wrestle with dual truths: that their strategies and defenses do not match the weapons they wield and face, but in order to win and survive they must face and defeat the enemy.