The Joy of Sucking at Mechanicus
In the grim darkness of the far future, there is only incompetence.
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I am terrible at the game Mechanicus. The number of enemies the Omnissiah's chosen have killed outside of the tutorial can be counted on one hand. Every mission this unfortunate cohort of the Martian priesthood has undertaken has ended in miserable failure. Skitarii forces have been gutted on the battlefield. Sacred pieces of ancient, irreplaceable technology have broken beyond repair, out of reach of recovery. Tech-priest after tech-priest has fallen. Precious data has been forever lost. The Necrons are waking at an alarming rate. This expedition is, by all metrics, a complete disaster.
I, the player, on the other hand, am having a blast.
The Adeptus Mechanicus is one of my favorite factions in 40K. One of the things I love about them is that they are kind of the worst. They are a wonderful mix of genius, madness, and foolishness. They embody, and to a point, drive, the Imperium's superstitions, and are often seen fucking up very important things in very predictable ways. They're some of the Imperium's silliest little guys and I adore them.
In many ways, Warhammer 40K is a black comedy with moments of drama rather than the other way around. In that spirit, I'm not that bothered by sucking at this game. The worse the campaign goes, the funnier it gets. As I don't see myself getting much better at playing it, things are only going to get worse for our cogboys, coggals, and cognonbinary pals.
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Forget the power of knowledge and skill, for the tutorial has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and improvement, for in the grim dark future there is only incompetence. There is no advancement within the narrative, only an eternity of failure and schadenfreude, and the laughter of a bad gamer holding a Nintendo Switch.
