Emperor Penguin Rikkar

By all means, please continue your nuclear toy-throwing as much as you can. Every detonation hastens the onset of nuclear winter, and with it the promised ascention of the Master-Fowl to the dominant species of Orbis.

I reached tier 9 in WoT before I finally gave up on Wargaming.net and swapped to War Thunder. Less "Glorious Premium master-race" perks, prettier game, and I don't have to wait twenty minutes after I get nuked by an S-51 after spawning in my favorite tank.

As a member of a species that was held captive by the nefarious forces of gravity, it brings me great joy to finally take to the skies in this market acquisition. Ad Victoriam, comrades!

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. Please Stand By, For A Word From Our Bird-Emperor Subversion of Final Victory is a Terminable Offense! Failure to Respond to State Salutes is a Terminable Offense! Victory Stems From Self-Sacrifice.

An excerpt from Dawn of the Master-Fowl: A History of The Nestingland at War, by Nurwoo. '... As the eyes of the Superior State looked ever outward in their quest for dominion, it was inevitable that members of the lesser species would object. During the First Great War of Herringsraum, as members of the Eastern Expansion Fin marched their way towards victory, the armies of the Western Expansion Fin were checked in a violent counterpush by the combined forces of two separate empires. In an attempt to break the deadlock and continue their assault, the western front engaged in a midnight assault across the five hundred mile battleline. Encountering heavy resistance, only the members of the XXVII Krakkian Penguinaries were able to breach the enemy lines, and push into enemy territory. Due to atmospheric interference, the communication lines used by the XXVII were unusable, and a stabilization of the breach was unobtainable. Advancing without support, the XXVII advanced over thirty-seven kilometers within hostile territory. By the time the comm lines were reusable, the enemy lines had re-stabilized, trapping the XXVII. Orders from the Nestingland High Command were simple: Hold their position at all costs. Hoping that the enemy would divert more troops from the front to deal with the Master-Fowl deep within their lines, the Nestingland Department of War ordered an emergency mobilization of reserve troops to aid in the push westward. Due to a fire in the NeDeW command centre, these reserve troops were delayed for eight days, from 20 April to 28 April. The XXVII held out, without support or supplies, against an enemy that outnumbered them over sixty-to-one. When the XIII and VI Krakkian Penguinaries finally reached the last known coordinates of the XXVII, they found no survivors. It is hard to calculate the exact killcount of the XXVII, as the relief element had to retake the site from the enemy, but evidence shows that each Penguinary fired every round they had, many of which were found still clutching their close-quarter combat weapons. Finleader Hurkee, the active General for the XXVII, was found buried under a pile of dead sub-fowl, his ceremonial Baton of Command snapped in half and buried in the eyes of an enemy combatant. An audio recording, made by an unnamed communication officer of the XXVII and dated the night of the 27th, highlights the determination showed by the brave members of the doomed Penguinary force. In it, Hurkee is assumed to be addressing his troops during a lull in the enemy assaults. " This is it, waddlers. We're low on rounds, out of rations. We're down to less than a tenth of our number, and reinforcements aren't coming. We've held out longer than believed possible. Our command assumes us dead, our enemies desire to make that so. But have they yet to beat us? After seven days of constant war, we've held our position. After seven days of hell, we are still standing. Soldiers, Penguinaries of the Twenty-seventh: Can you hear them, our enemies advancing in the night? Listen to their trepidation! Hear the fear, as they know they march to their doom! We are lucky, to be considered already dead. Our fate is sealed, we know what will befall us this night. Our Destiny is clear, our Fate manifest. We will hold our lines to the last. When our enemies ask what the worth of a Penguin is, they will remember the Twenty-Seventh! Penguinaries, to your stations! Our Time has come! Hold, for Emperor and Nestingland!" Later tactical assessments of the Stand of the XXVII show that without their diversion of enemy troop assets, the probability of successful expansion along the western front was statistically infeasible. In memoriam of the brave members of the XXVII, the city of Nestholm was later established on the site of their last stand. The brave colonists of Nestholm were interesting in their own right, but that is a story for a later time...'

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. The Future Is Built On The Sacrifices Of The Past! Please stand by, for a speech from our Bird-Emperor. Hatred Breeds Strength: Report Pacifism, Absenteeism, Half-Heartedism, And Excessive Tolerance Today! It Is Your Duty: Report Even Speckled Eggs Today! Failure To Follow State Doctrine Is A Terminable Offense!

40k by far. The lore alone beats most sci-fi I've seen, canonical or otherwise. Personally, I've got a soft spot for the concept of a universe entrenched in a hopeless war on all fronts, with brutal last stands being the most common form of battlefield tactics. The Grimdark tagline hooked me from the start. And the fact that this same universe has something as amazing as the Angry Marines.

Rally the troops, we march on the rebels at dawn.

Best let the rebels take this one.

#DownwithBLM

Nihilist Anarchist Memester

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. As the Empire digests its newest Herringsraum into the Greater Penguin Nestingland, members of the Nestingchancellery authorized the first wave of colonists to settle the depopulated holdings on the edge of Krakkian territory. Colonists are advised to be on the lookout for armed resistance, and to remember that hard work breeds strength in spirit. Colonists Will Be Determined By Random Lottery, Failure To Relocate Is a Terminable Offense! As the size of the Nestingland has tripled after its conquests, experts predict less food shortages as the Empire industrializes its new coastal areas. Enlist today for an additional Herring Ration! Please Stand By, for a speech from our Bird-Emperor: Failure To Respond To State Salutes Is A Terminable Offense! Loose Beaks Sink Fleets: Report Dissent And Odd Occurrences Immediately! Failure To Report Eggs With Odd Number of Speckles Is A Terminable Offense!

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. Please wait, for a speech from our Emperor-Penguin: Remain Indoors During Curfew Hours To Avoid Loss of Goverment Life! Work Brings Strength: Successful Quotas Bring Us Closer To Final Victory! Failure To Respond To State Salutes Is a Terminable Offence!

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. Strong of Heart, Strong in Will. The Nestingland Ministry of Expansion is proud to announce yet another successful campaign against the ever-encroaching Underbirds. Facing daunting odds on all fronts, the superior species once again has proven itself as worthy of its title as Master-Fowl. As the offensive wars expand into new territory, it is mandated all Fowl to remain indoors during curfew hours, as our cowardly enemies still attempt to enact bombing runs within the Nestingland. Work Breeds Strength. Strength Breeds Honor. Maximize Your Work Quota Today! Please Stand By, for a speech from our Emperor Penguin:

I object to this slanderous piece of bad print. Never before on Orbis have I felt so highly incensed as this malicious mockery has moved me to. It is Emperor Penguin Rikkar. Not simple, untitled Rikkar, as one might find as a clerk in a munitions warehouse. Not meek, simple Rikkar, who might be quickly placed on the Pecking squad roster. Only once this horrendous oversight has been corrected, will I wholeheartedly confirm the unanimous decision to disregard our enemies.

The cleaning crew was going to have a bad day. The fire that broke out in the computation room was due to overheating of the worn-out machine, but the damage it wrought was far worse than simply carbonizing a few rooms and suffocating a few Rockhoppers. The true damage was the halt on production it caused while the entire Nestingland Department of War was shut down to contain it. Though only behind by two days, Nespie knew that those at the Nestingland High Command were angry at their short loss of war production. As such, they sent an emissary from NeMinE to Nespie's superior, who he could hear arguing with the quiet, intimidating bird that arrived mere moments ago. His boss, a fidgety Gentoo penguin, ordered the cleaning crew to clean the building top to bottom in preparation for the NeMinE agent. Much to the Gentoo's chagrin, they were only able to complete most of the repaired computation area before they were ushered away an hour ago. Nespie swallowed nervously and tugged at the too-tight collar around his neck. Reaching for a cigarette, he stopped as a loud shot rang out from behind his superior's door, followed by the crash of an upending chair. The door opened, and Nespie shot to attention as the NeMinE agent walked out. The grizzled King Penguin was cleaning his service pistol with a handkerchief, seemingly oblivious to the blood coating his face and right shoulder. When he spoke, it was with the gravelly croak of a lower Pingfurt-on-Noot dialect. "You the NeDeW Under-Officer?" Nespie stammered out the affirmative. Seemingly pleased with the cleanliness of his weapon, the imposing officer holstered it, fixing his eyes on Nespie's nervous frame. "Your predecessor was required to supply his Nestingland with twenty Me-626 Interceptor-bombers and mobilize ten thousand Penguinaries a day. In this task he failed his Fowl, his Nest, and his Emperor-Penguin. Despite this setback, we have maintained superiority of the frontline through courageous self-sacrifice and unassailable will. You will not make the same mistake. As penance for your former Over-officer's sins, your department is required to field sixty Me-626's and twenty thousand Penguinaries until previous wartime levels are exceeded, and only then will you return to previous production levels. Understood, Over-Officer?" Nespie blinked and ran calculations on the new quotas. He was going to have to bribe some officials and forge some figures to make it, but corruption was more lenient a charge than failing a direct order from NeMinE. As it was, war production was strained beyond capacity. "Yes, my Leader". The King Penguin flashed a cold, terrible smirk. "Good. May your reign as Over-Officer last longer than your predecessor. Fin Hail." "Fin Hail." As the NeMinE agent waddled out of the building, Nespie noticed the blood seeping out from under the door of his new office. The cleaning crew was going to have a bad day.

Trying to find open slots like

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. "Deputies, Fowl of this Superior State: Our Empire is at a crossroads. Long has been our expansion, free of hardship and empty of strife. Our buildings stand tall, our borders stretch beyond the horizon. Our times have been plentiful and bountiful. And yet- Why do our annals show naught of this, but a mere footnote? Why do our history books lay a bare paragraph from nearly a decade of peaceful expansion? My Deputies, of this I will tell- nay, show you: We have been empty of the one thing that rejuvenates our nation's very soul. We have been free of the tribulations that harden our homes into Nests. We, Gentlefowl, have been free of War. This Paradox is, I shall admit, confusing. Why should our great Nestingland crave that which nearly destroyed us; why should we beg for that which burns away our Nests and steals our chicks? Gentlefowl, Deputies of the Nestingland- Does war not drive our industries? Does war not purify our empire, lay bare only the purest and the greatest of Master-Fowl? Does War not pronounce to the world the natural fact of our inherent superiority? Strife carved this nation out among savages and Sub-Fowl. Hardship took mere chirping chicks and forged them into our triumphant Penguinaries. War cements our place in history, not as submissive degenerates, but as proud victors. Even now, our enemies are massing at our borders, awaiting the order to surge like a tidal wave over our lands and ravage what we so proudly have built. Should we await this ravishment? Or should we sweep forward, smash through their defective lines, and crush their armies so utterly that their nations will never recover? I ask of you: Shall We be Meek? Or shall We be TRIUMPHANT? ONE FOWL. ONE NEST. ONE EMPEROR PENGUIN. FIIN! HAIL! FIIIN! HAIL! FIIIIIIN! HAIL.

The Nestingland is intrigued as to how it is perceived internationally.

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. Report all Dissent to Your Nearest NeMinE Nest Today! The Nestingland Ministry of Espionage (NeMinE) has been allocated funding by the State to expand operations to a global scale. Utilizing top agents sequestered into the brutal prizooner-of-war camps across Orbis, these master saboteurs are hard at work training insurgents to fight for the Empire. Surgical Strikes are planned to be utilized soon against those deemed inferior. Internally, NeMinE is expanding its security powers to better catch, predict, and eliminate any threats that might arise against the Nestingland. As crime rates fall to record lows, NeMinE is predicted to focus on catching would-be traitors and Sub-Fowl sympathizers before they commit their heinous crimes. A Safer Nest is a Vigilant Nest. Report Degeneracy To Your Nearest NeMinE Nest Today! One Fowl. One Nest. One Emperor Penguin.

OBEY. WADDLE. PROSPER. As our highly-superior Master-Fowl scientists unlock the secrets of the world, word has spread of a new challenge to Over-Fowl dominance. The proliferation of Nuclear weapons in the hands of the unworthy, combined with their wanton use against lesser nations, has accelerated climate change to distressing levels. With tides rising and the encroachment of lesser nations seeking more habitable lands, the Nestingland sees no choice in delivering a Final Answer to the Global Question: In the name of preserving the Superior Species that is the Master-Fowl, the Nestingland must acquire Nuclear weapons. By attaining such powerful weapons of mass purification, the Nestingland will secure its rightful place in Orbis history. And by utilizing such weapons, the whole of Orbis will- by clever Nestingland Science!- fall sway to a Nuclear Winter the likes of which will leave the entire globe fit for Herringsraum. Our domain will spread from pole to pole, from frozen sea to frozen sea. This is our Destiny made manifest, this is our Purpose made clear. To fail is to die, to succeed is to gain that which is the inherent birthright of the entire species. And we will have our birthright. Failure to Support State Declarations is a Terminable Offense. Failure to Wear State-Mandated Safety Goggles During SCIENCE is a Terminable Offense. Failure to Support Total War Preparation is a Terminable Offense.

Hello, After long hours of innumerable permutations in the name of reaching fascist policies, I've yet to exceed moderate on the scale. Though this might have been a mistake of the weaker sub-fowl that was head of political planning, our glorious new leader has promised results within the day. Might anyone have the cheat sheet for the correct policy match?