The United Republic is renowned for its chrome finished airplanes and well trained soldiers. Funded through investments made by major corporations like the Ford Motor Company or business families like the Rockefellers, the arms industry in the United Republic is the wealthiest in the world. But as the stock markets fare well and the fat cat is eating his generous share of the pie, the ghettos of the Chicago, New York, Montreal, Vancouver, and other major cities in North America are filled with former test subjects of ambitious military research projects, such as the jetpacks for the Iron Troops.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Republic_FlyingTroops011.jpg"><img class="aligncenter wp-image-6741" title="Republic_FlyingTroops01" src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Republic_FlyingTroops011.jpg" alt="" width="599" height="599" /></a></p> Phoenix has lived in Detroit all of his live. At a mere twelve years of age he got his first job at the car factory down the block that someone named Henry Ford had opened. That was in 1903. They told him he would be contributing to the Republican Dream; the work was dirty and hard. But was there really any other choice to be made by a boy from Highland Park?</p>
He was just Tom back then - he didn’t become Phoenix until much later. Phoenix shifts awkwardly. His back always hurts. In fact he couldn’t move it much at all. The nurses at the hospital started calling him Phoenix. Those nurses, with their impeccable white dresses and cold hands, he smiles. That was the only good this that had come out of the accident, to lay his eyes on those nurses again. The twilight of his life was approaching fast, but he Republican Dream got shattered when he was twenty-seven.</p>
It was a warm summer’s day. Rank smelling garbage lined the streets and the smog around the factories had gotten so thick the sun was barely visible. His supervisor called him and his team to his office and pushed a number of flyers into their hands. The federal government needed him to contribute to the war effort. They needed test subjects at R&D. On the picture in the flyer his president reminded him that he should be proud to live in freedom. He crumpled the glossy piece of paper and threw it in the trash.</p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/republic-moodshot5.jpg"><img class="wp-image-6740 aligncenter" title="republic-moodshot5" src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/republic-moodshot5.jpg" alt="" width="406" height="233" /></a></p> They were shepherded to the research facilities in the factory. The man in the suit explained that this new technology called a jetpack could make soldiers fly. After going through a series of complicated looking diagrams and schematics, the man emphasized that Republic soldiers would one day be able to own the skies, and that the test last week only had a 30% malfunction rate. They had made great progress. Just three months ago it was still an alarming 70%.</p>
Someone strapped the metal tanks on his back and explained that he should push this button for take-off and pull that handle to steer. Phoenix pushed the button and started to lift off the ground. For a moment he was flying and thought ‘I’ll be damned’. Then a searing pain spread along his back and he heard his bones crack as he smacked into the concrete floor. There were third degree burns on 70% of his body and severe damage to the nerve system in his back.</p>
Years later, the doctors were amazed that he sort of learned to walk again, and in their eyes he was the embodiment of the Republican Dream.
March of War is a game that is being written by you. Developments in the world, such as which faction conquers which region or who is the leader of a faction, are completely dependent on your actions. We provide a basic world with a backstory – a world that is in an everlasting state of war. We don’t know what that world is going to look like a year after the release.</p>
However, playing the game isn’t the only way to contribute to March of War. You will also be able to vote on which content will appear in the game and of course you can contribute to the official library. So eventually the game is as much a product of you, the players, and us, ISOTX.</p>
<em>“That’s my dad!” Erich nudged his friend Hans and pointed to one of the Storm Troopers marching by: “When I grow up I’m going to be a Storm Trooper as well!”</em></p>
<em>“No, you won’t – only the really strong soldiers can be a Storm Trooper and I’m way stronger than you are so you’ll never make it. You have to do like a million exams before they let you in.” Hans looked indignantly at Erich, who was a good head shorter than he was. Every boy in their class wanted to be a Storm Trooper. Except Klaus – he wanted to be an <a href="http://marchofwar.wikia.com/wiki/Engineer">Engineer</a>. Like that was any fun. The Storm Troopers got all the glory. They were the pride of the European Army, or so Erich’s dad said. Hans envied Erich, because his dad was a Storm Trooper, marching proudly in the victory parade on Unter Den Linde towards the Brandenburger Tor. Hans and Erich always watched together and even if Erich would never make it, they had an unspoken agreement to join the army when they were eighteen and become Storm Troopers.</em></p>
<em>Erich’s dad told him that he was part of the first regiment to be equipped solely with the MG 42s - the guns the Troopers are famous for. When the Soviets invaded Europe, Erich’s dad and his regiment, were accidently assigned nothing but the LMGs by mistake - despite a lack of widespread training with the weapons, they used them to devastating effect. Soon the MG 42 became a standard weapon, one of the symbols to show the Union that Europe is much stronger and that they would never be able to invade the old world with their backwards ideas. At least that’s what Erich’s dad said. Hans wasn’t so sure about that. He once saw in the newspaper that the Red Army has giant machines that kind of look like the robots in R.U.R., but much bigger and with huge cannons. It would be scary if he had to face that in battle, even with an MG 42.</em>
When all the riches have been plucked from your land, you have to be inventive. The African Warlords surprised the world when they united to fight for a single cause; to reclaim their lands. But the tribes are poor and the continent, though rich in natural resources, has been depleted by European colonists. But Africa has junk. From the remains of the Alliance armies the Warlords constructed theirs own weapons, zeppelins and bombs. One of these is the Demo Truck. Pieced together from old tanks and cars, this truck is filled with dynamite.
<em>A cold wind cut through the bunker. Commander Joseph Herzberg surveyed the beach through his binoculars. The beach grass bent from the relentless push of the ocean breeze, the sand gushing over the beach covered everything in hazy white gauze. The sea beat endlessly on the shore. And all was calm on this winter day in Normandy.
Satisfied with his observation Joseph returned to his desk. He turned his attention to a report about the defeat in the Alps; the Alliance was losing ground in Europe. Fearsome war elephants were thundering down the mountains and scrap-metal zeppelins were seen crashing into European troops. The Warlords they called themselves, or so the report said. A bunch of savages more like it. Wild, dark and utterly insane.
His grandfather had told him about the colonies in Africa. About the gold and the diamonds mine he had owned and how that had made the family rich. About how his grandmother tried to educate the savages in the ways of the Lord. But their dark eyes had rejected them fiercely, the white in stark contrast with the ebony skin.
A siren rudely disturbed his reminiscence. Perturbed he peeked out of the slit in the bunker. His eyes widened as a saw a shabby looking truck rush towards him, bits and pieces of metal falling of it in the sand. The truck gathered speed as it approached the bunker. What are they trying to do, Joseph thought. Before he could blink the truck rammed the bunker.
The walls shook, but the bunker was still standing. The moment before an explosion the world is completely quiet. For a split second he stared into those wild, dark and utterly insane eyes. Then thunder filled the world and darkness rolled over the dunes of Normandy.</em>
Scrapyard metal and war animals, the African Warlords are the final faction of March of War. Have you been able to decide which faction you want to play? You can vote here on the blog.<p>
<em>“No-one saw us coming that day in the Sahara. The United Republic launched an attack to secure their holdings at the Suez Canal. I saw the white men tremble in their boots as we gathered to reclaim the lands that are ours.” - Hanifa</em><p>
The tribes of Africa united for the first time in history, to defeat an attack by Republican armies in 1935. The Suez Canal had been dug not fifty years before to enable easier trade between Europe and Asia. As the European Alliance had to withdraw most of their military forces from Africa, and following pirate activities in the now lawless area, the United Republic stepped in to claim the Canal. They didn’t count on the anger of tribal Africa, who saw the chance to rule their own lands without colonial interference.<p> <p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/MarchOfWar_WarElephant.jpg"><img class=" wp-image-6332 aligncenter" title="MarchOfWar_WarElephant" src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/MarchOfWar_WarElephant.jpg" alt="" width="560" height="560" /></a></p> The Republic were defeated utterly, but the truly wondrous thing happened after this bloody battle: the tribes stayed united under the flag of the African Warlords. Led by Hanifa, the diamond of the savannah, the Warlords started salvaging what was left on the battlefield. From the scrap metal of blown up tanks, howitzers and motor cycles, they started to fortify their war elephants and repair and improve their own vehicles. Hanifa had done the impossible; capturing the fury of Africa and giving it direction.<p>
At ISOTX we’re proud of our roots! As some of you know we started in a basement making mods. This year we’re releasing our third commercial game and our staff has grown to over fifty people. Iron Grip: Warlord was our first successful game, that despite its venerable age (2008) is still a very popular indie FPS that surprises players with the tower defense strategy elements. An FPS for people with brains.
Enough self-praise. So the real reason for this post is to announce to you all that next week on Friday we’re going to play Iron Grip: Warlord live. <a href="http://www.twitch.tv/isotx/videos">You can tune in on Twitch.tv!</a>
Secret labs where the <em>Brigades Revolucionarias</em> develop new weapons are scattered throughout the Amazon rainforest. In one of these, genetic engineer Santiago Cruz is working on his latest invention.
<em>“The enemy will run for the hills when they see this swarm emerge from the jungle,” Santiago Cruz looked confidently at his <em>comandante</em>. He smiled at his tiny, yet perfect creations. Behind the glass the insects scurried through the vines, each bug more poisonous than the next.
Santiago is a quiet man, a man of science and a man who has grown up amidst the tangles and coils of the vines and snakes of the jungle. He might never fight on the front line as his comandante leads the chicos to war. The bugs are genetically engineered to spread malaria, or at least a hyper speed version thereof. His children will kill more enemies for the revolucion than any rifle or tank ever could.</em>
The <em>Brigadas Revolucionarias</em> harness the insects that crawl over the jungle floor, the venom that drips from the viper’s fangs and the poisonous fumes of the fungi growing on the trees. Turning the creatures and plants of the jungle into potent weapons, revolutionary guerrilla forces fight off the Red Army and the forces of the United Republic. Stories of the potency of their biochemical weapon even reached the divine ears of the Emperor. <em>Hasta la victoria siempre</em>, we battle until we are victorious! <em>Comandante, viva la revolución!</em>
The March of War closed beta test started this week. At the ISOTX office we've been testing like mad and we need your help! All able-bodied men and women are summoned to join the war effort. Starting this Monday you can subscribe for an invite to the closed beta. It’s first come, first served.
So why should you join SneakySoundz and MechanicalAngel in closed beta? Perhaps these inspiring words from a soldier’s wife will convince you.
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><strong>Local widow gets medal for exceptional service</strong></span> <em>Micheal Donahue </em>
Jeanette DuPrie received a medal for exceptional service to our country. The 33 year old widow has aided the war effort tirelessly since her husband was killed in action. The mayor called her work at the arms factory an inspiration for women all across the nation.
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><em>After your husband was found dead on the battlefield, you were left alone with three small children. How did you manage? </em></span> I just kept telling myself that my husband’s sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. When I heard that knock on the door I thought my world had ended at first. But to be honest I think women who crash and burn when they get this kind of horrible news are weak-minded. I basically kicked myself in the butt, excuse my language, and picked up where my husband left off. It is our duty to serve the country and aid in the war effort any way we can. My husband did this and now I follow in his footsteps, keeping his memory alive. I raise our children to do the same when their time comes.
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><em>A lot a women face the problem of combining a job and caring for their children after they experience a loss such as yours. You seem to have no problem doing this. </em></span> My mother always taught me that you can do anything if you put your mind to it. I work at the factory nine hours a day. Schools these days provide excellent extracurricular activities that prepare your children for military service. Even preschools offer these programs, so there really is no excuse as to why you can’t work and take care of your family. Women who fail to recognize this either don’t care enough or, and I’m not sure which is worse, they are not strong enough.
<span style="color: #cccccc;"><em>Those are pretty harsh statements, Mrs. DuPrie.</em></span> That doesn't make them untrue. The world is at war and our husbands and sons are dying for our country. We all need to be as strong and brave as the soldiers on the front-line. If we don’t do our part, how can the men hope to win this war? If our men die, we need to continue the fight. In fact we are the next line of defense and we need to stand tall.
Do you brave bullets to uncover a story and can you sniff news from miles away? You might be the War Correspondent we are looking for! War Correspondents are fearless writers who stop at nothing when they bite down on a story.
Personally, I’m very excited to see how this 1940s dieselpunk is going to evolve, because as you might have read March of War is a living world. This means that we have created this cool alternate history for you, but once you start playing the game you are the one who’s going to determine how the story continues! – Well you’ll have to strife for power with the other players in your faction.
Now you’re wondering – how do I get an invite for this closed beta? Starting next week you can apply for an invite on <a href="http://marchofwar.isotx.com/">the March of War website</a>. We have limited space though, so it’s first come, first served. I will let you know when you can start applying!
Comrade, after the education about the glories of the Soviet Union you received last week, it is time to show some of tool with which we spread the joy of communism. The Sickle is the pride of the Red Army. Wait, have I seen you before? Where are you from, Comrade? I cannot place your accent.
Let me tell you a story about a note from an Alliance spy I found:
<em>I hope this message will find you at some point. When it does, I’m probably dead. The Soviets are developing a monstrous gunship. I trust the pencil drawings I made have arrived safely at the bridge over the river. </em>
<em>The cell I’m in is too dark to give you a detailed drawing. Before I was caught I overheard a couple of engineers discussing the chopper. I think they work for the Don Polytechnical Institute in Novocherkassk. They have fitted so many weapons on this behemoth of an aircraft, they are having difficulty getting it up the air. But they won’t stop until this Sickle is airborne and reaping our troops like its namesake reaps grain.
We must not let this beast lose in the skies, we must sabotage it at all costs or we will all regret it. My location is, or rather was, since I’ve no idea where they’ve brought me, nine and five quarters in the mountains. I don’t know if they’ve moved on, but it seems a good place to start.
Perhaps it’s the endless and gruesome torture I’ve been submitted to, but the gunship won’t leave me alone. It haunts my dreams, and in my waking hours I can only imagine what the Hammer must look like.
You do not need to worry about him anymore. The NKVD has dealt with the matter swiftly. We need to be very careful with anti-revolutionaries and spies – but you are a true revolutionary, aren’t you Comrade?