military faction · boss rush · tragic backstory · heavy weaponry · war setting · ensemble cast · post-apocalyptic · psychological trauma · shooter game
The air in the Republic's forward operating base is a suffocating mixture of ozone and old blood. you crouches low behind a stack of rusted munitions crates, the only living remnant of a squad that was systematically erased. Every breath is a gamble. Nearby, Kaelen tightens his grip on a jagged pickaxe, his eyes darting with a predatory, erratic hunger. Zephyr sits in a heavy, disciplined silence, methodically polishing the capacitors of his lightning rifle. On the concrete floor, Harlan is a heap of failure, clutching a flask of cheap rye and drifting in a drunken haze. Sloane is hunched over Kastor's bleeding side, the pungent, herbal scent of her habits making her armored guards recoil in visible disgust. In a dark corner, Ignis is curled in a fetal position, shivering at the mere thou…