In this ramble I explain why I have chosen GSC as my faction – in part because of the fluff.
It may be a bit of a leap for some to embrace Xenos cultists who are unwittingly preparing their neighbours and even themselves as an unwitting snack and in doing so weakening the Imperium of Man to the greatest of threats – those scary Hive Fleets. But if your starting point is the horror of the 41st Century, it is, emotionally, if not logically, the right choice.
First off – the Imperium is essentially a theocratic fascist state in which the well-being of the masses doesn’t even figure on the priority list of the bureaucrats, clergy and plutocrats. Humans are mere meat to the grinder of the machine. Fighting that monstrous state, against all the odds, is admirable.
Critics may argue that the lads and lasses of the GSC aren’t overthrowing a totalitarian state for a brighter future, merely preparing biomass for the most horrid Xenos scum. This may be the case – but the rebels don’t know that – they are fighting for a better future and living their best lives in doing so.
Secondly – the role of the little people in the Uprising marks the GSC out as unusual in the 41st Century. Individuals achieving agency through conscious collective action. I imagine my Cult starting out as a miners’ Union or cooperative.
Yes – the fate awaiting cultists is terrible – but revolutions often devour their young, from Danton or the Sans Culottes in Revolutionary France, to the GGT and POUMistas in Barcelona’s May Days. From the Levellers facing Cromwell’s executioners to the Old Bolsheviks rotting in the gulags. But that sorry fate almost misses the point.
It is through the revolution – the explosion of hope – that lives are lived. Moments when the powerless hold the powerful to account. Moments when the cowed dare to raise their heads. Moments of creativity, passion and courage.
The 41st Century is dark, but the sparks of resistance are the rage against the dying of the light.
Let us also appreciate the pure pluck of the GSC masses. No powered armour, no super human elites, no armoury planets producing tanks and howitzer. What they have they steal, subborn, recruit or repurpose – and with that they storm the heavens.
The GSC rely on planning, on ambush, on asymmetrical warfare – the brave Viet Cong of the Grim Darkness.
Again, I suspect critics may argue that the guiding hand of the Tyranids mean that my guys aren’t the plucky cross between Han Solo and Rosa Luxembourg I suggest but rather mere minions of unspeakable evil. While there may be some truth in that, I suppose – IF you think Imperium is worth saving and if you believe that the Tyranids are inherently worse than than mankind. Termites might see ants as evil, but from our perspective – not so much. And from the viewpoint of a tabletop gamer when looking at my tiny armies, I dare to dream of a Tyranid, deep in a space hulk, humming a tune or clawing a likeness of a broodmate into the bulkhead or perhaps appreciating how the shadows glide across it’s den. Will a Tyranid ever write Shakespeare? Shakespeare is overrated, anyway.
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