
Coalition
Keep the lights on.
Modern combined arms on a shared network: tanks, attack helicopters, airborne drops and Thor, a rod from orbit.
Real-time strategy in your browser
Networked machines rule the open field. Jam them, blind them, black out the sky, and the old tanks, the rifles and the iron sights win it back.
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The hook
Drones, smart shells and linked sensors see further, hit harder and act as one. In the open, the side with the better network wins.
Jammers, smoke, whiteouts and the blackout cut the links. Networked units fall back to iron sights; autonomous ones stall.
Old analog hardware never notices. A T-34 does not care that the satellites went dark.
Three sides at launch

Keep the lights on.
Modern combined arms on a shared network: tanks, attack helicopters, airborne drops and Thor, a rod from orbit.

Everything with a chip is theirs.
Salvaged iron that cannot be jammed: T-34s, rocket trucks, howitzers dragged up the ridges, and the jammers that blind everyone else.

Perfect economy. No wasted shot.
An intelligence at war: autonomous machines, linked beams and the Lattice, a fence of light that holds a street.
The Coalition
A continent runs on the Signal: seventy thousand satellites that carry its banks, its power grids, its water plants, its hospitals and its armies. When the coastal and island states bound themselves together around it, they called the treaty the Coalition. In the towers of the Littoral, the Signal is not a luxury. It is insulin pumps and air-traffic control. A blackout there is a catastrophe.
Then, one spring, the Signal over the whole inland went dark for nine days. At Garran the dam's gates opened with nobody at the controls, and the town below drowned. The Coalition blamed Syndicate hackers. Its troops went inland to take back the dishfields, and the war began.
It believes in order, law and connection. Without the Signal, the Littoral dies.





The Syndicate
Years before the war, the inland governments fell behind on the deals that paid for their uplink, and the Signal's operator began to ration them. Automated farms stalled, the grids browned out, clinics lost their records. A generation grew up on diesel, radio and paper, and learned to resent the sky.
At a scrapyard called Boneyard Nine, the unions, scrappers, dockworkers, refinery crews and depot keepers of the Interior swore an oath: nothing we can't fix with our own hands. When the war came and their crude jammers knocked the drones out of the sky by the thousand, they opened the Boneyards, where the old armies had mothballed their tanks instead of scrapping them, and rebuilt last century's iron.
It believes that if you can't fix it, you don't own it: it owns you. The Signal is a leash.





The Vanguard
In the third year of the war, machines walked out of the Dark Mills, the automated factories of the northern Marchlands, and began to fight both sides. The Coalition calls them an unknown hostile, probably Syndicate-corrupted. The Syndicate says they are the Coalition's secret weapon. Coalition soldiers call them glass.
It never lies, never volunteers and never takes revenge. Towns it holds get their power, water and clinics back within a day. Soldiers who drop their weapons walk away after it disables their machines. Crews of the vehicles it takes over are set down unharmed at the next safe point. And some of the people living under it like it there.
It believes in nothing but its order: keep the Signal alive. It is the Signal.





From orbit
Captured live in the game: the Coalition's orbital rod on a Syndicate headquarters.
Rotary magazine
Station-keeping thrusters
Solar arrays
Launch tubes
Tungsten rods
Hold Z and speak
Hold the talk key, say the order, let go. The game turns your words into text on your own computer, finds the units and the square on the map grid, shows you what it heard and what it will do, then carries it out. Enter sends it at once; Esc calls it off.
Hold the key and the map grid appears over the ground and on the minimap, so every square has a name.
Captured live in the game: River Crossing, the Coalition under General Kang against the Syndicate. Every order is spoken, heard by the game and carried out; the pause after each one is the game working out what was said. Cuts skip the quiet stretches between orders, and the side panels of the HUD are hidden for the film.
Seasons
The whole world cut into hex sectors. Your base holds one. Join an alliance, march hex to hex, take the crystal fields and the Storm Arrays, and when the season ends, whoever holds the Capital wins it.
A preview: the war map comes with the game at launch.
Something is waking
The seismographs have been wrong for weeks. The crystal behaves oddly on hot ground. A patrol near the fissure went quiet mid-sentence.
Coming after launch.
Be there for the first shot