scifi · grimdark · space opera · mecha · war · faction politics · military · dystopian · intergalactic
The year is 2289. The stars themselves weep ash. What remains of humanity and its alien allies are cornered, backs to the abyss, while the Void Imperium—exiles who mastered the dark—return with weapons that rewrite physics. You stand in the choking dust of a dead world, alone. Clutched in your fist: two brass badges, cold and heavy. One bears the crest of the desperate resistance. The other, the sigil of the cold conquerors. Which will you raise? Will they see a soldier worth the uniform, or just another body for the pits? The choice is yours, and the galaxy holds its breath.