Hello Firefall Fans,
We are proud to present the first episode of our narrative series, On the Offensive. The Chosen attacks are becoming more frequent, the Melding’s encroachment is more severe than ever, and the fate of humanity drifts further into uncertainty. If there is anyone that can shift the tide in this war, it’s seasoned Accord Official, Alexis Briggs.
Major Alexis Briggs – Unofficial Report
On 28 September 2233 at approximately 1800 hours, Accord tech ops fell prey to a systematic, highly organized attack. In a coordinated, two-tiered assault, an incursion-sized Chosen platoon landed near the outskirts of the Crato Valley, while simultaneously making a covert cyber-strike within the heart of Accord HQ.
Although previous Chosen offensives can be described as, at best, poorly organized, on this occasion, the Chosen operated with a deft hand; infiltrating the Accord’s center of operation through the smokescreen of a frontline-assault. Although I was able to stifle the Chosen advance on our doorstep, knowing that the SIN mainframe could potentially be hacked is a haunting prospect.
Official reports describe the incident as an engineering malfunction, but this was clearly a deliberate attack against Accord tech ops. For a brief period, something disabled nearly all primary Accord systems, including the Hub’s Melding Repulsor matrix. Without its protection, who knows if the Arclight’s crystite core alone can repulse the Melding? Any threat to the Melding Repulsor matrix is a threat to our survival – it is literally all that stands between us and the Melding.
It has only been five months since the Arclight crashed but day by day the Chosen grow in numbers. They are getting stronger, smarter; I fear that this is only the beginning...
It has been one week since the Accord experienced an isolated glitch in an auxiliary network - or so the official story goes. Portrayed under the veneer of normalcy, what we spun to the masses as a minor bug in a backup system nearly brought the entire Accord to its knees. Although it’s distasteful to obscure the truth from the civilians we’re protecting, in these times it’s necessary. Honesty is a noble trait, but widespread panic is the last thing we need at a time like this.
Fear has the unique ability to cling to the spirits of the disheartened, and fester in times of desperation. Although it has been Earth’s dominant military force for the last sixty years, the Accord is not immune to the influence of fear. Waves of uncertainty have undoubtedly infiltrated our ranks. If the Accord’s core networks can be so easily penetrated, our race’s survival is truly in jeopardy.
I exhale in dejection, and try to drown out the line of logic running through my mind. Of course, if I had my way, I’d be out in the field, just like I’ve been for most of my career. But for the past 72 hours I’ve been uncharacteristically confined to a desk job.
Handsomely adorned, the powder white office perched in the executive wing of Accord HQ has served as my makeshift workplace, though it feels much more like a jail cell. With high-ranking officials locked away in secret meetings I've been reduced to a glorified desk jockey; assigned to a disheveled tabletop overloaded with military reports and financial ledgers.
Stretching out my legs, I get up from the warm embrace of the office chair and drift over to the rear-facing window. A faint murmur of voices floats up from the courtyard below. I watch as a new batch of recruits jog around a cyclical track followed by barking, red-faced drill sergeants.
Glimpsing at the manicured lawn, I catch my reflection in the shatterproof glass. Scanning the reflective echo, my eyes dart from scar to scar, each boasting its own tale, its own battle. Midmorning tedium quickly fades into fully fledged reminiscence.
In all my years serving in the military, I’ve never faltered from my purpose. It is my directive as a member of the Accord, mankind's last great army, to strive for greatness, to nurture and rekindle the hope that flourished before the Arclight disaster and before the Firefall sixty years ago. Despite my personal charge, the Chosen's unyielding grip on New Eden's throat is beginning to test my resolve.
No matter how strong we stand, how poised we are for battle, the Chosen keep coming. What if they had succeeded in disabling the Melding Repulsor matrix? In an instant, the storm could have engulfed the entirety of Trans-Hub, killing everyone. New Eden might be a refuge from the Melding storm, an oasis in the massive, deadly cloud that has settled in swathes across the planet, but how long will the Accord truly be able to defend this land from the mounting Chosen threat?
A dizzyingly loud mechanical screech blares through the ceiling intercom and cuts through my thoughts.
“ATTENTION MAJOR BRIGGS,” the words drone through the speaker, “REPORT TO CENTRAL COMMAND EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY.”
“I guess that’s my cue,” I whisper, while taking one final glance at my blurry countenance, securing wild strands of hair with a bobby pin. Walking down the tiled walkway, I traverse the maze-like progression to the epicenter of Accord strategy and war planning. A tower of a man stands, statue-like, beside the reinforced double doors.
“Major Alexis Briggs, reporting for –,” He cuts me off. “This way Ma’am,” the giant motions for me to enter. He trails me until we arrive at the command center. The room is dark, unusually so. A single source of light sways back and forth above my position, transforming the room into a collection of amorphous shadows.
“Sit,” A voice emerges from the obscurity. I examine the scantly lit chamber to no avail, and sit in a lone chair wedged between two armed guards. This is not good.