Guardsman's Journey Revised

As you wake in your bed, you remember what today is. It is your Decision day, where you wil decide where you will serve for the remainder of your days. You feel pride realizing that today is the day, but deep down there is [[hesitation]]. [[Head to recruitment center]]

You feel both fear and apprehension at making a decision as critical as this one. You would rather stay in your bed and suffer whatever consequences may come that possibly sacrifice your life for a conflict you didn't start. "Game Over" [[Start]]

As you leave your hab-block, you see other Choosers, wearing drab olive fatigues and green helmets striped with white. They are formed into columns by a [[man]] wearing a ankle length trench coat decorated with brass, skull-shaped buttons. Do you join the others or run away from your fate? [[Join]] [[Run!]]

This man is obviously a high ranking official. He wears a cap adorned with a brass grinning skull, marking him as a Commissar, one who keeps the rank and file guardsmen in line. He barks orders at the choosers, telling them to fall in step and that what they are doing is the highest honor a Cadian can perform. [[Head to recruitment center]]

You fall in line quickly, eventually reaching the recruitment center. It is a miles wide facility, from which you can hear the footsteps of thousands of other conscripts marching to their various training facilities. You quickly approach the entrance. Once you've entered the building, you see various [[servitors]] roaming around, guiding the new recruits to various [[terminals]].

You panic, and instinct takes over. Your legs take you as far as you can, but everything goes black. You have been executed for abandoning your post. [[Start]]

You observe the servitor. You can see that it was once human, but the mechanical components decorating its body and its glassy eye clearly show that it is human no longer. It ambles around the main atrium of the recruitment center, guiding your fellow recruits to terminals, at which they will decide where they shall serve their lords. One notices you, and begins to [[approach you]].

You quickly approach an open terminal, its reflective screen staring back at you blankly. On its surface there is a single word. [[Begin]]

The servitor regards you blankly, its eyes, one unblinking, glassy and human, the other red, unfeeling, and mechanical, seeing you without reaction. It then begins to speak in a hollow, mechanical tone. //Please approach a terminal. Compliance is required. Non-compliance will result in termination. Please follow this unit.// With its message delivered, it turns to guide you to one of the available [[terminals]].

As you touch that word, a series of questions appear. They are designed to determine in which branch of the Guard you will serve, whether it be as a simple guardsman, part of the Imperial Navy, or part of an artillery crew. You begin to asnwer the questions, falling into a trance, mindlessly going from one question to the next, until you reach the end of them all, at which point a simple phrase appears on the screen. What do you see? [[Infantry]] [[Tank Crewman]] [[Artilleryman]] [[Drop Trooper]] [[Schola Progenium]] [[Field Medic]] [[Report to the nearest Commissar]]

You are suited to being of the rank and file infantrymen. You are then herded towards the beginning of your [[basic training]].

To serve in the armor of a mighty battle tank, smiting your foes with heavy arms. But first you must go through [[basic training]].

The thundering fire of an artillery cannon calls to your very being. The mortars and shells are an extension of you, but first you must know how to use them. To [[basic training]] you go.

You crave the rush of wind against your face as you plummet from the upper atmoshpere, dropping on top of unsupecting enemies to bring them their judgement. Your [[basic training]] will make sure you live to see their fear.

You are better than your peers. You have the potential to become a formidable storm trooper, carrying firepower that puts your simpler brethern's arms to shame. The [[basic training]] the Schola Progenium will put you through will produce a soldier better than any normal man, save the demigods that are Space Marines.

You have been deemed to be a candidate for medical duties. After this revelation, you are sent to [[basic training]].

Those words fill you with dread, as it can mean only one thing. Through your answers, the system has deemed you to be abberant in one way or another. As you being your slow approach to the commissar, you see another small group surrounding them. They all seem to share your sense of dread. Once you reach the group, the commissar begins to [[address]] all of you assembled there.

//One way or another, the six of you have been deemed to be potential psykers. Since you have been discovered before your psychic powers manifested, you will be trained to use them to better serve your Emperor. Follow me to our transport, and you will begin your training immediately.// You feel some of that dread leave you, realizing that you have not been deemed a traitor that needs to be put down. But that is quickly filled with new [[dread]] as you realize that the path of the psyker is one lined with danger from the powers beyond. You resign yourself to your fate, regardless of what may [[happen]].

Years pass, and your power grows, but is tempered by your connection to your fellow trainees. As your training progresses, fully half of your fellow recruits fall to the temptations of the beyonds, mutating horribly and requiring the Emperor's Peace, or are killed by their own powers consuming them. You and the remaining psykers were lucky, and on your final day of training are bonded together as a triumvirate of power, bonded together forever, stronger together than you ever could be apart. You are now a Wyrdvane psyker, and are sent to the front lines of your homeworld, [[Cadia]]

As you and your bretheren approach the battlefield, you feel the pain and suffering of your fellow Cadians as they fight against the forces of Chaos, daemons and psychic energy ripping them apart, only being held back by the mysterious pylons around the planet. You too feel your powers being surpressed. You are dropped onto the battlefield, and begin the fight, calling fire and lightning to smite your foes, but all of a sudden you feel terrible pain. All of the pylons have been activated, completely shutting out any connection to the beyond. You are defenseless, but the number of foes suddenly drops, with the daemons, being completely made of the same energy you draw upon for your powers, being banished. The guardsmen cry in victory, reinvigorated by the disappearances of their foes. They redouble their efforts, fighting the remaining heretics. But something still feels [[wrong]] to you.

Looking up, you see the sky turn black. A ship the size of a moon slowly approaches the planet. It is aimed at the pylon, seeking to destroy it and the planet with it. After what seems like an eternity, it makes contact, the pylon exploding in green lightning. As this occurs, your head begins to ache, and your comrades seem to follow suit. They clutch their heads, before they suddenly explode, showering you with gore. The pressure in yours increases, knowing that you will share the same fate. You charge the enemy line and call upon your powers, overloading your frail form with energy, seeking to take as many of them with you as you can as you detonate, your perception of the physical plane ending, but anotehr perception begins. That of the Warp, the plane beyond from which your powers were drawn. And it is both beautiful and terrible. You feel your soul being torn apart and reshaped, whispers of the Gods who control this Chaos telling you to give into them, that they will reshape you, make you better and stronger than ever before. Do you accept? [[Gladly]] [[Never]]

You feel excruciating pain, worse than that of your death, and are reformed, becoming the very thing you swore to destroy: a daemon of chaos, sent back to your home to fight for your new masters [[Game over]]

You feel excruciating pain, and your soul is consumed, never to exist, only as fuel for the Gods. [[Game over]]

The years of training are grueling. You are pushed to your breaking point again and again, each time overcoming it and coming out better for it. You familiarize yourself with you weapons, tools of war shaped to bring swift justice to your opposition. On your final day, you and every other troop are sent back to your home to destroy the forces of Chaos threatening to destroy the very universe. You and your comrades are dropped upon the battlefield, and fight with your all. But is it [[enough]]?

You and your comrades begin to drop like flies. You feel fear, but continue fighting, knowing that retreating will mean execution by commissar. You fight for fear of death, for the sake of your home. You never stop fighting, and only death or victory will mean the end of your conflict. When the battle seems to be near its end, with your enemies forces nearly depleted, the [[sky darkens.]]

A massive ship plummets towards you and the planet, signalling doom for the planet, as no amount of flak or artillery fire will destroy the ship before it makes contact. Do you resign yourself to your fate and [[give up]] or [[fight till the end]]?

Feeling that there is no hope, you simply stop fighting and contemplate what led you here. [[Game over]]

You fight with righteous indignation, determined to go down fighting, regardless of how futile your efforts may be. [[Game over]]

The ships crash leads to the destruction of your home, and with it, the galaxy faces one of its greatest threats, strengthened by this defeat. Your sacrifice may have been in vain, like the millions of others that fell. In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war. [[Start]] over?

//Disclaimer: this is a Warhammer 40,000 Fan game, and is meant in no way to infringe on and of Games Workshop's copyrights, but simply designed to be a fun project.// In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war. This is the [[Start]] of yours. You will take the role of a Cadian, a proud civilization of human who have dedicated their lives to both protecting their planet and the ideals of the Immortal God-Emperor, soverign of Mankind, and protector of all His light touches.

That sense of dread seems to overtake you, preventing you from moving. You feel your instincts seeking to take over, the primal fight or flight response taking over. Your brain screams at you to either [[fight]] or [[Run!]] Do you surpress these desires and let the paths of fate take you where they may, and resign yourself to whatever may [[happen]]?

You charge the commissar, seeking to go down fighting for your freedom. As you run, you are spotted, and he takes aim at you. And suddenly, your life ends, executed as a traitor to the Emperor for attempting to abandon your post. ""Game Over"" [[Start]] over?