Friday, March 10, 2006

Faith of the Space Marine

If you don't know, this unit's from Warhammer 40,000: Dawn of War, a real time strategy PC game.

This fella is the grunt. Its fighting capabilities are decent. Its sturdy and will fight till the last drop of blood. Other than attributes and properties which make this class a formidable fighting force, what inspires me is their faith.

Their faith to their emperor, that is.

If you use them during the game, here's some of their lines:

"Ever vigilant!"
"For the Emperor!"
"Stay Vigilant, brothers."
"Onward, to glory!"
"Fear our wrath."
"None shall stop us!"
"For the glory of the Imperium."
"We are the Emperor's chosen."

Their fighting spirit is impressive. They fear no enemy, for their deaths bring glory to their king. Their discipline is of the highest standards - that they rather be "crippled in the body, than corrupt in the mind".

Although its only a game, I sometimes wish I had their kind of motivation. And their faith.

If they are so willing to die for their emperor (who's probably made of flesh), why am I not willing to die for God (who's omnipotent and eternal)?

[Seriously digressing and daydreaming] If one day I have to put on some kind of armour, pick up my rifle and fight God's enemy, what would it be like? I'm not talking about man's enemy (like infantry, tanks or planes), but God's enemy - demons, imps, hellhounds, and the devil himself.

Imagine on the frontlines taking aim from your weapon. The ground trembles and cracks. Crimson beams of light pierce your retinae. Demons are unleashed. They are more than ready to consume human flesh. And torment the spirit inside. Their frenetic bodies charge towards the human garrison.

Placing all man-ly hatred and differences aside, humans have to unite for the last time. Its now or never. People panic. They suddenly realised that all earthly possessions are temporary and that life with Him is eternal. Without that, they all go down. They all go to where those demons came from. And they will be there for a long, long time.

Once those desecrated beasts come within range, my commander gave us the orders to open fire. "Not my will, but Your's be done." I murmured, before I squeezed the trigger. Steaming empty cartridges fell onto the ground, just as some beasts did. But behind the fallen ones, more of their comrades charged toward us. They were getting closer, yet our ranged weapons couldn't hold them off.

Those which came close pounced and ripped apart our fellow infantrymen. There was blood and guts everywhere. Their fangs and claws defeated human armour like a hot knife through butter.

I was getting more and more anxious. I tried to make my shots count. More men were wasted. The commander was getting stressed. His face told us that we would meet our end very soon.

Before the hellhound pins your down and gives you the kiss of death, are you ready to meet your end?

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