Welcome to the Battlestar: The Line!
So say we all!
It's been four long years. Hundreds of thousand maybe millions of lives lost during this fraking war. The Cylons attacked us, claiming they wanted their freedom. They are machines, and have no sentience, how can they know? But here we are. At war with these toasters. They are killing us, we are killing them. The line needs to be drawn somewhere.
The 12 Colonies are barely be held together under the Articles of Colonization, the president of the Colonies is trying his best to keep the peace. What some of the Colonies are not realizing, is we can't afford to fight 2 wars. If we are fighting each other and the Cylons, we will loose. We will loose everything. We need to keep the peace.
Battlestar: The Line is the story of the First Cylon war in 1948-1960. The story revolves around the Battlestar Neptune and her crew. The story starts in 1952, 4 years into the First Cylon war. The people of the 12 colonies are tired, fighting is all they seem to remember. Their own creation, the robotic Cylons won't give them a break. The Colonies always seem to be on the defensive, not able to strike the heart of the Cylons.
Our story revolves around the Battlestar Venus, a cramped stealth ship. Colonel Soren Wyath is newly promoted after the loss of the Ares. He and some of the crew are given this old ship and a special assignment.
Come join us to defend the 12 colonies, and take the fight to the Cylons. Let's draw the line that the Cylons cannot cross. SO SAY WE ALL!
Top Open Positions
Officer of the Deck
Commander, Air Group
Chief of the Deck
Chief Medical Officer
Battlestar: The Line is rated 18+
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Latest Mission Posts
The group of raptors appeared in the vastness of space. Inside the raptors, groups of survivors from the Neptune were crammed into them. The XO, Lieutenant Colonel Soren Wyath still stood there staring out the front window. It was silent, except for the low hum of the engines. "SITREP." He…
She was falling apart. Sparks flew as the ship shook violently. The lights flickered, people screamed as they gripped their consoles.
"Helm! Evasive pattern 4, course 214 carom 302!" A man yelled from the center of the CIC. His knuckles gripped the tactical table that sat in front of him.…