Commanding Officer Application - Warfan1815
What is your BYOND key?
Warfan1815
What is your Discord ID?
warfan
What is your timezone in UTC?
UTC-00
Player Name You Use Most?
Warris ‘Haig’ Fernsby
Ban Appeals, Whitelist and Staff Applications:
Warfan1815 - Moderator Application - Pending Mod Application
Have you been banned in the last 3 months?
no
If so, why?
Command Knowledge:
How familiar are you with command positions?
I know it virtually in and out, have got a bit antiquated with some features over time (I still haven’t worked updating the tacmap into muscle memory yet)
I do have a stronger preference for shipside command, I’m not really a fan of having to mix combat with command (although I enjoy both separately) so I have spent more time as a CE, SO and RO (when that was a thing) than spent time as SL
Hours in XO:
80 hours
Hours in SL:
20 hours
Character Information:
Why did your character decide to become the CO of a ship?
Born in 2130 in the New Albion colony to a mineral mining tycoon businessman. Warris ‘Haig’ Fernsby would spend his early adulthood watching the disgraceful inadequacy of the the RMC during the core conflict versus Hyperdyne Systems, which in 2151 would later lead to the formation of the ICSC. Following the death of his father, Fernsby would sell his mining tycoon to Weyland Yutani so he could startup a munitions manufacturing business (“Fernsby Munitions”) to help the 3WEs be able to reasonably supply a larger RMC force. Because of his lack of interest in his company, he would remain a majority shareholder but would leave day-to-day runnings to other people as he pursued his childhood desire for adventure amongst the stars. Fernsby would obtain a commission after a period of training in 2153. He hoped, in his words, to “avenge the honour of the empie and ensure security for it long into the future” and he believed he would best accomplish this aim by being in command.
How did your character attain the position of CO?
Warris would spend the next 10 years in the RMC, with a disappointingly low amount of combat. He would eventually see first action as a 1st lieutenant of a mechanized company during the major battle at Plymouth in the Tienstein Campaign in 2163 and would eventually be promoted to the RMC major of the company after the death of the previous major when UPP shocktroopers boarded the company’s ship and nearly overran the CIC. After that, he would once again suffer nearly a decade of inactivity, growing more bellicose against the hesitancy of the RMC to ever really get involved in any conflict or even run patrols outside of the core systems. He would begin to write derisively of the RMC structure and would gain a small following in the New Albion press for openly criticising RMC readiness.
His company would be called up to suffer another humiliation, following Australian food riots in 2172 a rebel insurgency had sprung up in Australia. He would then spend the rest of his 10 years fighting on the western seaboard of Australia, fighting in very inhospitable conditions against a guerrilla threat. He would grow increasingly frustrated by how few companies were near to support him, and how his job was a wack-a-mole of putting down insurrection after insurrection only for them to pop back up in places he had cleared. This would all resultingly be sent back for publication in the New Albion press. Following the nuking of Canberra in 2182 by the UA, he would derisively call out a lot of senior officials and began to derisively call the 3WE “the UA’s pet bulldog.” Following such comments, senior officials had had enough of his bellicose criticism, and as a form of punishment he would be selected as one of the RMC commanders to be transferred to the USCM (as a way to ostensibly improve the USCM’s ability to fight insurgencies on 3WE colonies in the frontier.)
It is under such inauspicious circumstances Warris Fernsby was made a USCM CO.
Provide a short story of your CO.
The dull throb of the company’s column of light tanks and apcs shook the very insides of all the men strapped in at double rows in the back. Slightly forward, closer to the two front seats, RMC Major Warris ‘Haig’ Fernsby sat attentively at a short, sharp commander’s desk loaded with a massive array of CRT televisions - the image of most of the screens displayed the arid shrubland that surrounded the dirt road the column was trundling down. Perched precariously on the small amount of the table not taken up by CRTs, a cup of tea (apart of a fine china tea set stored god knows where) had its liquid undulate wildly. It was clear that the suspension of the vehicle was wearing out, and that this vehicle would soon enough have to go back to the HMS Hastings for repairs.
A thick northern voice, coming from lips under a dark green beret, broke the silence: “Australia. What a bloody shite hole.”
“Yes that’s quite enough Lance Corporal Terent,” came a commandeering sergeant’s voice from the row opposite “Under no other circumstances do people get paid for getting a sun tan, so count yourselves lucky.” A light chortle came from the rest of the APC.
“Almost there, Major Fernsby, sir.” Came a crackly voice over the radio comms.
In an assured, short, sharp voice Fernsby responded “Very well, vehicle crews, I want the tanks to fan out into the flanks while the APCs push a spearhead down the road to the entrance of the weyland offices. Captain Adams and 2nd Left-tenant Matthews (Fernsby made a point of emphasising the British pronounication of Lieutenant) you shall have order of the tank crews, direct them to surround the complex with the armour in first platoon encompassing the left surround, and the armour in second encompassing the right. I shall have order of the men as we spearhead into the complex. A reminder of the rules of engagement, command has allowed us to use indiscriminate fire to clear out the complex - we need to sweep the insurgents out before they run away with any of the dammned company’s mugs it would seem,” A light chortle was made by a few in the commander’s APC. “Once more unto the breaches chaps! Make ready!”
The tea cup was drained of its worbling fluid as Fernsby sipped it in a hurry.
=
As many of the vehicles wheeled closer and closer to the complex the height of the main building was made apparent, with its company logo and concrete facade. The fence perimeter of the complex was nearly reached by the vehicles, when from inside there came the distinct shouting of “open fire!” and a mismatch array of AP weaponry and rifles began to appear from the complex’s windows. Some appeared in the very heights of the building, but many-a-rifle poked out from the bungalow office windows of the rest of the complex, all were facing the column.
“Where the bloody hell did they get those!” Fernsby shouted, touching his headset to broadcast his voice “everyone out of your vehicles dismount!” as bullets kept pinging off his vehicle. “You heard him, everyone out!” resounded the sergeant in the back, and Fernsby put on his helmet to join them. The APCs had dismounted just outside of the fence, and although a few RPGs came landing behind the vehicles, the very poor aim of the shooters seem to result in very few of them actually causing any real damage. Nevertheless, the complex was bristling with guns of all kinds and they produced a cacophony of disparate loud bangs. As the men dismounted though, a measured tempo of burst fire began to answer the ineffectual fire of the insurrectionist’s weapons. “Cover fire” “Reload” “Supress that man over there!” And other tactical commands all came like static over Fernsby’s comm set, yet the assault had only begun.
“Right, Sergeant Price! There’s a reason I asked your men to come with me in the command APC, let us be the spear head and storm that front door.” Fernsby pointed resolutely over a weathered concrete carpark, containing burnt out wrecks, and some trucks the insurrectionists no doubt used to get here, to two double doors and a glass facade to the main office’s reception area “Let us get under that dratted Weyland Yutani sign before the aussies know what’s the matter!” Fernsby commanded, resolutely, touching his comms set “I shall be going in with 3rd platoon’s 2nd section, all men, including the tanks, give us covering fire and advance behind us!”
Rubble rained down from the building as autocannon shells and tank shells hit stubborn blocks of insurrrectionist shooters. The 3 round clang of so many rifles sometimes harmonized over screams, orders, and cries, but other times produced dissonance. The command APC, from which Fernsby had dismounted, followed Price’s section and the Major as so many people endeavoured to take cover behind it. A man, running with some UPP rifle or another, in a boonie hat, came running out of one of the bungalow offices flanking the main building, no sooner had he begun making a run for the cigar-smoking Fernsby then he was cut down by the steady fire of the RMC behind.
“On my mark, let us get in that building before the aussies start throwing molotovs down ontop of us!” Fernsby said, as the APCs slow trundle came under the shadow of the monstrous Weyland Yutani building “three, two, one move it chaps!” And the men broke through the glass facade with all the speed afforded to them, while Fernsby lightly jogged, his back straight, pushing open one of the double doors with an assured swing.
Fernsby ducked under the receptionist’s table, which had no doubt seen better days, and began to give orders as rifle fire still rumbled outside while indoor screams and fire produced a much louder noise: “Price’s section has made a clean insert into the building, all other men are to clear the Bungalow offices before making an approach on the main office!” Fernsby drew his trusty service revolver, which he found similar enough to the Webley revolvers he grew fond of shooting in his youth on New Albion, he knew Price could be trusted to clear the lower floors, and he would have to shoot a few aussies, but what really interested is what he would find at the very top…
“We’ve almost reached the top Major!” sounded Price after a long period of time had passed. The Major, who had mainly been spending his time coordinating entry into the main building in the stairwells, began his climb to the upper floors that not been cleared. Up there, no doubt, was some dammned high-ranking pencil pusher, and the most important question was “was he still alive?” Fernsby hoped he wasn’t.
“You fucking brits!” came an aussie insurrectionist running down the stairwell with a machete of some kind, and Fernsby’s revolver made quick work of him, as he slumped backwards onto the stairs by sheer concussive force of 3 rounds in the chest. Trailing behind the major was Sergeant Price and that jokster northerner Lance Corporal Tenent in the blackened gear and green berets of the RMC. Luckily, what proved to be immediately on the penthouse floor was nothing but a discreet little hallway, an overturned receptionist desk, and a hole in the wall made by a shell that no doubt ended the life of the dead aussie next to it. Fernsby began to steal himself for what array of people might be on the other side of the rich-red doors. He hand loaded his revolver to capacity.
=
“Price, left side of the door, Trent, right side”
“Aye sir” they said in unison.
He began to count on his fingers “5… 4… 3… 2… 1…” Fernsby burst in with the full weight of his body pushing the door open and two sets of eyes immediately greeted him. Two of those eyes, coming from a fat, balding man with a white button-up shirt, red tie, and burgundy tweed waistcoat, showed such a terrible fear, as they undulated wildly. The other two eyes, appearing slightly above the fat man’s (for he was slightly short) came from a man with such steely resolve, dressed in improvised body armour that covered most of his features (indeed, later on Fernsby would recall how he looked like a spitting image of Ned Kelly.) Nothing was overtly human in the shapely figure, expect his determined, blood-shot eyes.
Trent, being one to fire prematurely, immediately dumped a 3 round burst of hollow point (as it was understood hollow point was the best ammo type for dealing with insurrections) into the figure, luckily missing the short fat man. It pinged off the armour, and the man under that armour did not respond to it. He simply said with that steely determination, “If you want your prized pig, you’ll let me go,” as he pointed an m1911 square into the side of the fat man’s head. “Pl-pl-please” stuttered the fat man “g-give him what he wan-”
“Shut up!” bellowed the tall figure behind him, probably defening the short man, “They know what I want, they know they’re at the beck and call of the company, they know Australia has been sucked of all its life by people like you, and yet they are still being paid to protect you, and so they wont let you die. Will they?” Undoubtedly this man’s intimidating philosophical ramble with this thick aussie accent could have equally come from Ned Kelly.
“Now my dear boy!” Fernsby said, dropping the serious tone to a familial one, as he lowered his revolver “That may be the case if we were a PMC company! But do you really think I care about this dratted fat pig?” Fernsby laughed “never have I found myself so agreeing with the formative conclusions of a terrorist, the only thing you got wrong was me caring about a person from the company!” He chortled.
“W-What?” The determined tone of the tall figure began to wilt a bit “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh perhaps I should explain, you seem to be under the childish misapprehension that what you’re doing is good and just, but how naive that is! I mean good work scrounging your motly crew together, and I do thank you for taking Weyland Yutani down a peg or two, but- oh well damn… I am going to have to shoot you aren’t I?”
“What, no you won’t!”
“Yes yes… I’m afraid so.” Fernsby had a regrettable tone in his voice, as he lazily raised the revolver “I’m sorry Mr Company man sir, should’ve picked a different profession, you seem to be a nice enough gent, but for one evil to say if you shoot me I’ll shoot another evil well that’s killing two birds with one stone”
The fat, short man, made a pleading little shake of his head
“Now, come quitely the both of you… Or I shall have to kill both of you gents, my apologies.”
The once steely eyes, shrouded by an improvised armour face plate, began to dart around, and the figure slightly began loosening his grip of the fat man. “Ouh - uh urhm. Fuck this!” He turned his pistol to Fernsby, and at that moment, a single bullet from Price’s rifle went square through his temple, he dropped to the floor, limp and loose, with a loud clang of the armour. “Oh come now! Price I was very much hoping to make that shot”
A calm voice came breathing through the gas mask “sorry sir.”
“Ah well, mission accomplished…”
=
The fat man, panting and out of breath, managed to pry himself from the now limp, but still clutching, hand of the scrap-heap corpse. He stumbled up, grabbing his red hankerchief and wiping all the congealed sweat from his brow “fu-fuk me…” he said in a light Aussie accent “What the hell just happened!”
“Nothing but some good application of psychology my dear sir!” Major Fernsby said like he was Sherlock, he strode up to the man and greeted his hand “Why its the oldest trick in the book! You see men like those, with deep convictions, have thought through their ideological philosophy as deep as it can go” he reassured the fat man “to try and reason with such a man… Well we would be here until sunset and I’m rather hungry!” Fernsby chortled, holstering his revolver “But yes, that ideology hasn’t been tested in the fire of emotion, a man like that - well when he is driven to the length of murder is so afraid that his ideology might be wrong that when you incense him with a senseless philosophy he goes about all confused and thinking that maybe he’s wrong. He goes out trying to find your logic, so he can cast it out of hand, but seeing as there is none he grows confused, irritated, and no longer able to apply logic to the stressful situation” Fernsby concluded, with a reassuring pat on the shoulder of short man with his dominant hand “At that point all he can really listen to is his emotions, and by riddiculing his emotions you make him likely to do something very stupid and illogical indeed.” Fernsby paused “oh but let me just say,” Fernsby smiled, casting a look down on the short man “of all the nonsense I spouted let me say this:” He paused for effect “I do hate the company.” He laughed, as the fat man’s frayed nerves induced him - again - to sweat profusely.
Command Actions:
When do you believe it’s appropriate to pardon a prisoner?
Ultimately the commander’s ability to pardon is mainly there because an arrest may cause undue damage to the operation and/or an arrest was unfairly made. When pardoning a CO should take into account the likelihood of them reoffending (as a CO may be responsible for their future behaviour) and also the circumstances of the arrest (was it done contrary to the spirit of marine law etc.) People who are unlikely to reoffend, who will waste their time being in brig when they instead can be helping the operation, and/or were arrested for reasons that do not deserve brig time are prime candidates for pardoning.
Give some examples of when you would or would not use pardon.
I would pardon if - The sole pilot officer was arrested for minor DTGP by breaking a window, which he did to test out a sidearm. I would probably pardon this person as he did the crime for a reason that isn’t senseless (and therefore he is unlikely to go and do it again) and also his release would be in the best interests of the operation.
I would pardon if - A marine trespassed into req, when no CTs were available, broke the window to the cryo item recovery room, and did it simply because he wanted an attachie and couldn’t get one because no CTs were available. Once again he did the crime for a justifiable reason (and is therefore unlikely to do it again) and also an extra marine on the ground is better than one in the brig.
I wouldn’t pardon if - A Specialist shot a marine to crit because he kept on getting disarmed by the marine. He is important to the operation, but by the fact he did it for such a dumb reason it is probable he would do it again - just because you’re important doesn’t mean you should be pardoned.
I wouldn’t pardon if - A marine broke into the corporate liasion’s office just to steal something cosmetic. He isn’t important to the operation, and also because he broke the law due to something so minor means it is likely he break the law again.
When do you believe it’s appropriate to use a Battlefield Execution?
I believe that a strict “only in extreme situations” rule should be taken with BEs. After all, in normal situations people who can be BE’d (unless the commander is groundside) can be arrested for the exact same reasons they can be BE’d. If an arrest cannot be pursued, or if an arrest would not fully put an end to why I can BE, a BE should be pursued in cases outlined by the reasons in ML:
-A threat to command
-A threat to persons
-A threat to ship or operation
Of course I’ve simplified their full reasoning here.
Give some examples of when you would or would not use Battlefield Execution.
I would BE if - A person was shouting during briefing “down with the CO! he fucking sucks!” and no MPs were immediately available - to call an MP might be enough of a delay for my authority to be reasonably undermined
I would BE if - A person was shooting their arresting MP - clearly this person can’t be arrested, so they must be BE’d
I would BE if - A person was threatening to blow up the OB cannon, or another integral part of the ship, and MPs have tried to apprehend them but have failed - an arrest might never be able to happen, and they might cause additional damage to the ship
I wouldn’t BE if - All of delta started shouting in briefing “The CO smells!” - Not only would BEing all of delta damage the operation, but also its simple DASO, the MPs can try and arrest the person who started it if they like
I wouldn’t BE if - Two people were having a fisticuffs fight and there was an MP immediately available - the MP can arrest them both, and there’s no immediate threat, only a potential threat if they somehow kill eachother after a long protracted fisticuffs fight
I wouldn’t BE if - A person went around smashing all the windows of CIC - the MPs can arrest them, in due course, and also the windows of CIC are not important enough to warrant killing someone.