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&amp;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.

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.




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?


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.


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&amp;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.




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%.


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.


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>

<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Storm-Trooper_big.jpg"><img class="aligncenter wp-image-6381" title="Storm-Trooper_big" src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Storm-Trooper_big.jpg" alt="" width="581" height="581" /></a></p>

During the closed beta we have invited a few loyal players to act as war correspondents and to provide us with material for the wiki. One of our devoted contributors is coastwardchippy – he also wrote a lot of fan fiction for Iron Grip: Marauders and is now one of the first war correspondents. So far he has submitted two articles for the wiki – about Alliance <a href="http://marchofwar.wikia.com/wiki/Storm_Troopers">Storm Troopers</a> and <a href="http://marchofwar.wikia.com/wiki/Spy">Spies</a>.<br>
If you are interested in writing for us you can send an email to community@isotx.com.</p>

The following piece of fiction is inspired by coastwardchippy’s description of the Storm Troopers:</p>

<a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Military-Parade_blog.jpg"><img class="alignright size-full wp-image-6384" title="Military-Parade_blog" src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Military-Parade_blog.jpg" alt="" width="280" height="280" /></a>

<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>

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.


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.






During the closed beta we have invited a few loyal players to act as war correspondents and to provide us with material for the wiki. One of our devoted contributors is coastwardchippy – he also wrote a lot of fan fiction for Iron Grip: Marauders and is now one of the first war correspondents. So far he has submitted two articles for the wiki – about Alliance Storm Troopers and Spies.

If you are interested in writing for us you can send an email to community@isotx.com.


The following piece of fiction is inspired by coastwardchippy’s description of the Storm Troopers:




“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!”


“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 Engineer. 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.


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.

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.

<a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Demotruck01.jpg"><img class=" wp-image-6348 alignright" title="Demotruck01" src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/Demotruck01.jpg" alt="" width="240" height="240" /></a>

<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.

<a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/featureImagedemoTruck.jpg"><img src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/featureImagedemoTruck.jpg" alt="" title="featureImagedemoTruck" width="603" height="188" class="aligncenter size-full wp-image-6353" /></a>

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>

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.



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.

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>

<a href="https://w.soundcloud.com/player/?url=http%3A%2F%2Fapi.soundcloud.com%2Ftracks%2F90590471" >Listen to the music here</a><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>

<em>“Warlord, are you ready to mount your elephant and reclaim our lands?”</em>
<p>
<a href="http://www.youtube.com/embed/UsyA97xcY1A">Watch the YouTube video here </a>

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.


“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


Listen to the music here


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.




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.


“Warlord, are you ready to mount your elephant and reclaim our lands?”


Watch the YouTube video here

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.

<p style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/warlord-banner.jpg"><img class="aligncenter wp-image-6320" title="warlord banner" src="http://www.isotx.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/05/warlord-banner.jpg" alt="" width="575" height="215" /></a></p>

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>

Want to try the game for yourself? <a href="http://www.bundlestars.com/">You can get Iron Grip: Warlord and nine other games (which aren't as good) on BundleStars.com for only €4,68.</a>

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. You can tune in on Twitch.tv!

Want to try the game for yourself? You can get Iron Grip: Warlord and nine other games (which aren't as good) on BundleStars.com for only €4,68.