This is my first playthrough of CHVLR by Susanah Grace using the Wretched & Alone game system. I really like the Neon Genesis Evangelion and Gundam vibes of the game and thought it would be fun to play… or as much fun as a game about the horrors of war could be.
For those who don’t know how the Wretched & Alone system works, and to explain the rather abrupt end of this playthrough: you roll a d6 and draw that number of cards from a standard Poker deck (minus the Jokers). Each card has a prompt associated in the rulebook. Some prompts tell you to remove a block from a Jenga tower.
Your game can end in different ways: you removed all of the 10 counters from a card and your service ends, you draw the last of four Kings and you die, or your Jenga tower falls… and you’ll die, too.
It is absolutely up to you, what kind of conflict you fight and who your enemy is. The game recommends to write your journals in form of AAR mission logs… so here we go!
Orbital Deployment Platform Gamma-Nine
Date: Cycle 784.92
Time: 00:33 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The commencement of my formal training within the CHVLR program occurred today. My designation is CHVLR-4634-OA, and my given name is Okino Aika. At eighteen cycles, I am amongst the oldest initiates in this current cohort. The program itself represents humanity’s last, desperate gamble against the Kryll Hegemony – our response to their brutal conquest of Earth four cycles prior.
Five standard days ago, the SCS (Seigyo Control System) was surgically implanted within my neural pathways. This device is integral to managing and directing the capabilities granted to us; a complex bio-mechanical interface allowing for limited manipulation of our CHVLR. The installation process itself was… clinical. Efficient, certainly, but devoid of any comfort or reassurance. It felt like a permanent tethering to this program, a severing of my former self in preparation for something far greater – and potentially far more destructive.
We are being deployed directly to Xylos, the Kryll homeworld. The objective is simple: inflict maximum damage upon their infrastructure and destabilize their command structure. It is a suicide run, in all but name. There is no room for sentimentality; Earth’s survival hinges on the success of this operation, however improbable it may seem. I understand that my participation is not a matter of choice, but an obligation born from the Kryll’s devastation and humanity’s desperate need to retaliate. The future of our species rests upon the shoulders of those willing – or perhaps forced – to carry out this grim task.
Berserker-5 initializing.
Systems green.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 1 – Recon Zone Delta
Date: Cycle 784.95
Time: 14:21 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The reconnaissance mission on the surface of Xylos took a disastrous turn. We encountered an unexpected Kryll patrol near a designated settlement. The initial engagement was swift and brutal. One of our unit’s CHVLR pilots, 6734-TU, sustained significant damage to his system during the skirmish. His mobility was severely compromised, leaving him vulnerable to an approaching Kryll combat unit – a particularly aggressive variant equipped with energy disruptors.
A decision had to be made instantaneously: either fire upon the approaching Kryll, risking collateral damage within the settlement, or allow 6734-TU’s CHVLR to be destroyed and potentially resulting in his death. The parameters of our mission directives were clear – preservation of fellow operatives took precedence. I authorized a full-spectrum discharge from my own CHVLR. The ensuing blast incapacitated the Kryll unit, but it also resulted in significant structural damage to several buildings within the settlement. Surprisingly, despite the destruction, there was no immediate emotional response; no regret or hesitation. It felt… clinical. The Kryll demonstrated no such restraint when they initiated their assault on Earth, and I found myself mirroring that detachment.
Despite the complications, we managed to secure 6734-TU’s damaged CHVLR and extract him from the area. Medical teams confirmed his condition was stable, albeit requiring extensive repairs. The mission objective of securing his unit was achieved; a grim success in this conflict. Preliminary reports indicate that the settlement damage will be assessed later by higher command.
Upon returning to Orbital Deployment Platform Gamma-Nine, I discovered an unsettling detail regarding my assigned accommodation. It appears that the previous occupant, CHVLR-8129-RM, perished just days prior to my arrival – a casualty of a training exercise gone wrong. The realization of this proximity to death, coupled with the events of the day’s mission, has created a peculiar and unsettling feeling. There is an unnerving sense of transience, a stark reminder of the precariousness of our existence within this program. It’s difficult to shake the impression that I am occupying space previously claimed by someone who shared my fate – or was destined to share it.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 2 – Deep Recon Zone Sigma
Date: Cycle 784.98
Time: 21:57 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The Kryll’s knowledge of our operations has become disturbingly apparent. What began as a reconnaissance mission has escalated into a full-scale engagement, with the enemy deploying overwhelming force against us. Their intelligence capabilities are far more advanced than initially assessed – we were clearly anticipated. The situation is rapidly deteriorating.
During a sortie deep within Kryll territory, my CHVLR sustained significant damage. The impact was severe; I experienced a cascade of system failures and structural compromise. This level of assault was not accounted for in our training simulations. The prepared scenarios focused on skirmishes and targeted strikes, not this relentless barrage. The feeling is one of profound vulnerability – piloting this advanced machine feels like inhabiting a walking coffin, exposed and fragile amidst the chaos.
The absence of immediate support is particularly concerning. I am attempting to diagnose and repair the damage myself, but my efforts feel increasingly futile. There’s a distinct possibility that my attempts at remediation have exacerbated the situation, causing further instability within the CHVLR’s systems. The diagnostic readouts are fragmented and contradictory; it’s difficult to discern which repairs are beneficial and which are detrimental.
My return journey towards Evacuation Point Echo-Seven was interrupted by another ambush. A heavy kinetic impact from the side sent me careening into a structure that resembled a skyscraper – an anomaly in Kryll architecture, but undeniably present. The resulting collision triggered a catastrophic structural failure; the building collapsed entirely. I can only hope that the collapse did not result in civilian casualties, though on Xylos, such considerations are secondary to strategic imperatives.
The impact also directly compromised my cockpit. Debris struck the canopy, causing a significant crack and initiating an oxygen leak. Atmospheric pressure is dropping rapidly. My current priority is reaching Evacuation Point Echo-Seven before life support fails completely. The situation is critical; I am operating on dwindling resources and with increasingly limited functionality.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 3 – Deep Recon Zone Sigma
Date: Cycle 785.01
Time: 03:12 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The landscape is a tableau of devastation. Twisted metal, shattered structures, and the lingering scent of ozone permeate the air. Amidst this wreckage, I reported the mangled remains of another CHVLR unit – 8942-KL. The memory of her plight haunts me.
I confess to a failure that will likely burden my conscience for the remainder of my operational lifespan, if I survive this ordeal. While witnessing 8942-KL’s descent into chaos, I was incapacitated by shock. My systems locked; I was unable to respond or offer assistance. I watched, paralyzed, as her CHVLR impacted with sickening force and saw the horrifying spectacle of melting metal and a burning pilot struggling within. The experience triggered a visceral reaction – I vomited violently within my own unit. I desperately hope that these logs remain unread; that no one will ever know the depth of my failure.
Moments later, after attempting repairs on my damaged CHVLR, I was struck by something unexpected – not a projectile from heavy weaponry, but a smaller, more insidious impact. Exiting the crippled unit to assess the damage, I encountered the source: a Kryll soldier. His armor and gear were disheveled and worn, indicative of prolonged combat or desperation. His expression was gaunt and drawn, his eyes narrowed in a snarl that spoke volumes about the hopelessness of his situation.
Instinct took over. I raised my blaster and issued an order – a futile gesture, given the circumstances – demanding he relinquish his weapon. There is no reasoning with such a creature; no room for diplomacy amidst this carnage. He attacked without hesitation, lunging forward with surprising ferocity. The response was immediate and decisive. A single burst from my blaster created a cavity in his head large enough to accommodate my fist. The Kryll collapsed, ending the encounter abruptly.
The act felt… anticlimactic. There was no surge of triumph or satisfaction, only a profound weariness and the lingering taste of bile. This conflict has eroded any semblance of humanity I once possessed. Survival is all that matters now. Evacuation Point Alpha-Two remains my objective.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 4 – Evacuation Zone Delta
Date: Cycle 785.04
Time: 09:53 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
Deployment occurred at a vast body of water, reminiscent of Earth’s lakes. The reports were accurate – the liquid was once described as a pristine azure before our arrival. Now, it is stained an unsettling green hue, a testament to the Kryll blood spilled upon this world. A disturbing sense of euphoria washes over me when I contemplate the scale of destruction that has occurred here; a perverse satisfaction in witnessing the Kryll’s downfall.
The realization of my own descent into something… less than human… is deeply troubling. The Kryll are monstrous, embodying every fear and nightmare conjured by humanity’s fictional narratives. Yet, what truly frightens me is not their alien nature, but the unsettling ease with which I have embraced killing them – indiscriminately. Civilian or military, male or female, even their hatchlings… all reduced to targets in my calculations. The line between soldier and monster has blurred, perhaps vanished entirely.
The contemplation was abruptly shattered by a searing jolt that ripped through my brain. A Kryll SCS disruptor had been deployed, severing the connection between my own SCS implant and my CHVLR unit. My control systems are now rendered useless; I am effectively blind and deaf within this machine. The link has been severed completely.
I managed to disconnect from the CHVLR, a desperate measure born of instinct rather than conscious thought. Now, I operate autonomously, relying solely on rudimentary piloting protocols and sheer willpower. It is an exercise in futility, but it’s all that remains. Since first integrating with this machine, I’ve noticed a growing dissonance between my own body and its movements. Coordination has become increasingly difficult without the SCS guidance; a creeping sense of alienation from my physical form. My fingertips are losing sensation, and my legs feel strangely numb – symptoms of neurological degradation, likely accelerated by the disruption.
My ascent towards orbit is proving treacherous. I am navigating through a vast debris field composed of shattered CHVLR wrecks – a graveyard of failed missions and lost lives. The task is nearly impossible without the SCS’s navigational assistance; I am completely overwhelmed by the sheer scale of the destruction. Each maneuver feels like a gamble, a desperate attempt to avoid collision with the remnants of my fallen comrades.
I am operating on instinct alone now, adrift in a sea of wreckage and despair. The odds are stacked against me. Survival is unlikely.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 5 – Xylos Surface
Date: Cycle 785.06
Time: 14:47 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The situation has escalated further. Despite laying an ambush for a Kryll patrol, we were counter-ambushed by a larger force. The engagement is chaotic and brutal, with the air thick with energy discharges and the stench of burning metal. I find myself in the midst of it, operating my CHVLR with increasing difficulty due to heavy damage.
Directly before me lies a wounded Kryll soldier, struggling to rise and retrieve his weapon. He is clearly injured, but still poses a potential threat. Without hesitation – without any discernible emotional response – I maneuvered one of the massive legs of my CHVLR unit, crushing him beneath its weight. The act was swift, efficient, and utterly devoid of remorse.
The realization of what I have become weighs heavily upon me. I am starting to believe that I am evolving into something far more monstrous than the Kryll themselves – a predator stripped of all humanity, driven solely by cold logic and ruthless efficiency. It is a terrifying prospect.
I suspect my CHVLR unit plays a role in this transformation. There’s a growing conviction that it doesn’t merely enhance my capabilities; it amplifies and supports my emotionless actions, creating a feedback loop that accelerates my descent into something alien and detached. The machine seems to feed on the absence of feeling, becoming more responsive and powerful as I shed what little remains of my humanity.
The unsettling train of thought was interrupted by a familiar, calm voice – the automated announcement from the evacuation ship. “Evacuation vessel approaching. CHVLR-4634-OA, maintain heightened vigilance for Kryll units until complete evacuation is achieved.” The directive is clear: continue operating as if nothing has changed, despite the growing sense of dread and the unsettling transformation I am undergoing. The irony is not lost on me – to remain vigilant against a foe while simultaneously becoming something akin to them.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 6 – Sector Gamma
Date: Cycle 785.09
Time: 21:12 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The situation in this larger settlement has deteriorated into a brutal, close-quarters engagement. We encountered unexpectedly heavy resistance from the Kryll, and my primary weapon system suffered a catastrophic malfunction – a complete jamming of its energy projector. There was no alternative; I was forced to engage in melee combat.
It was then that something truly disturbing occurred. Despite my attempts to maintain control, my CHVLR unit began moving independently – with alarming speed and ferocity. The movements were not calculated or strategic; they were fast, frenetic, almost primal in their intensity. It attacked the Kryll forces before me with a relentless brutality I did not initiate, nor consciously authorize.
I was powerless to intervene as the CHVLR tore through the enemy ranks. Its strikes were savage and efficient, reducing the Kryll soldiers to mangled heaps of alien flesh and metal. The engagement continued until the enemies I was facing bore no resemblance to what they once were – a sign of the machine’s unrestrained violence.
A harrowing scream, originating from deep within the CHVLR unit itself, echoed through the settlement. It was not a mechanical error; it sounded disturbingly… organic, as if something within the machine was experiencing anger, pain or anguish. The sound sent a shiver down my spine, further unsettling me.
The experience has triggered a profound shift in my perception of this machine. I am beginning to harbor a deep and visceral hatred for this CHVLR unit – not merely for its malfunction, but for what it represents: the erosion of my control, the amplification of violence, and the potential for becoming something utterly devoid of humanity. The line between soldier and weapon has blurred beyond recognition, and I fear that I am losing myself within this metal shell.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 7 – Perimeter Zone Delta
Date: Cycle 785.14
Time: 09:32 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The weight of recent events continues to press down on me, a crushing burden that threatens to overwhelm my already fragile mental state. Today marked the loss of CHVLR-1223-EV, my closest friend within this operation. Her CHVLR unit suffered a catastrophic core breach during an engagement with Kryll infantry. The explosion was devastating; there was nothing anyone could do.
What haunts me most is what occurred moments before her demise. As her unit’s energy core destabilized, she managed to establish a brief connection through the comms unit. Her face, contorted in pain but illuminated by an unsettling calm, appeared on my screen. She smiled – a gesture that felt both poignant and accusatory – and uttered those chilling words: “It’s all on you now.”
Later in the day, I encountered a Kryll Heavy Cavalry Unit during a routine patrol. The engagement was brief but intense. A bizarre technical anomaly occurred – my comms unit inexplicably connected to their frequency. Suddenly, the face of one of the Kryll warriors appeared on my screen, his mandibles clicking in what might have been anticipation or threat. Just as he seemed about to speak, the connection was abruptly severed by a directive from HQ. The image vanished, leaving behind an unsettling sense of unease and unanswered questions.
The physical manifestations of this operation continue to plague me. The site of my SCS implant itches incessantly – a constant reminder of the intrusion within my body. It’s become impossible to ignore. Furthermore, I am subjected to hostile stares and averted gazes from both regular personnel and civilians. They regard me with suspicion and fear, as if I were an abomination – a consequence of the very technology meant to save them. I volunteered for this procedure, believing it would aid in our mission, but now I am treated like a pariah.
Beyond the physical discomfort and social ostracization, there is a more insidious feeling that has taken root within me – the distinct sensation of being watched. It’s subtle yet persistent, a prickling awareness at the back of my neck that refuses to dissipate. Whether it’s a psychological manifestation of stress or something far more sinister, I cannot shake the feeling that someone – or something – is observing my every move. The SCS implant may not only be controlling me physically but also opening me up to some form of surveillance, further eroding my sense of agency and autonomy.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 8 – Xylos Settlement
Date: Cycle 785.16
Time: 14:57 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The protracted engagement with the Kryll Heavy Cavalry Units has continued for what feels like an eternity, a frustrating stalemate where neither side gains or loses significant ground. The battle was characterized by its repetitive nature, each maneuver met with equal force and countered with precision. Then, unexpectedly, a fleeting opportunity presented itself – a momentary lapse in the enemy’s defenses, a gap in their otherwise impenetrable shield of coordinated aggression.
I seized the opening, striking with calculated ferocity. My attack landed true, gaining me a decisive advantage. The Kryll warrior visibly recoiled, displaying signs of fear and attempting to initiate a retreat. However, I did not permit it. Driven by an instinct that was both my own and seemingly dictated by the CHVLR unit itself, I pressed the assault relentlessly.
A sudden jolt surged through my SCS implant, radiating down my spine with surprising intensity. Anticipating pain or some form of system malfunction, I braced myself. Instead, a wave of dizzying euphoria washed over me as my unit’s systems fully opened up, integrating seamlessly with my own consciousness. The sensation was unlike anything I had previously experienced – a complete and utter synchronisation between myself and the CHVLR. We moved as one; we thought as one.
This newfound unity brought with it an unexpected clarity of understanding. Suddenly, I possessed an intuitive grasp of Kryll tactics, their motivations, and their strategies. I could anticipate their every move, predict their formations, and understand the underlying logic behind their seemingly chaotic actions. It was a chilling revelation – a glimpse into the alien mind that had plagued our world for so long.
Later, at Orbital Deployment Platform Gamma-Nine, I resolved to inform my Colonel of this extraordinary development. Approaching his office, however, I inadvertently interrupted an ongoing teleconference. The scene within his office sent a wave of cold dread through me. Across each screen – and there were many – appeared shadowy figures, their faces deliberately obscured, their voices lowered to a conspiratorial murmur.
My Colonel was at the center of the discussion, addressing these unseen individuals with a tone that suggested utmost secrecy. I overheard snippets of conversation regarding a “test project” involving a new generation of SCS units. Then came the phrase that sent a shiver down my spine: “…the test subject is showing signs of something strange.”
The implication was undeniable. Were they referring to me? Had this synchronisation with the CHVLR unit triggered an unforeseen consequence, rendering me an anomaly in their experiment? Without a word, and unnoticed by those within the office, I slowly and deliberately retreated, leaving behind the unsettling scene and the growing certainty that my situation had become far more complex – and potentially dangerous – than I could have ever imagined.
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Mission 9 – Perimeter Zone Delta
Date: Cycle 785.20
Time: 03:12 hours
Designation: CHVLR-4634-OA
Unit: Berserker-5
The recent engagement with the Kryll concluded with a pyrrhic victory. While we successfully repelled their advance and inflicted significant damage, the cost was substantial. The battle itself was brutal, demanding every ounce of my focus and skill. Following the cessation of hostilities, I secured a trophy – the severed head of one of the fallen Kryll soldiers. It felt… necessary, a tangible representation of our hard-won victory.
As I exited my cockpit with the intent of attaching the trophy to my CHVLR unit, a wave of profound vulnerability washed over me. Stripped of the protection and augmentation provided by the CHVLR, I was acutely aware of how small and exposed I felt – a fragile human adrift in this hostile environment. The realization was jarring, almost physically painful. Without hesitation, I hastily retreated back into the relative safety of my cockpit, sealing myself within its metallic embrace.
The atmosphere at Orbital Deployment Platform Gamma-Nine has deteriorated significantly over the past two days. A state of heightened alert persists throughout the base, fueled by a series of unexplained anomalies and a general sense of unease. Sleep is a luxury few can afford; exhaustion hangs heavy in the air, palpable even to those who haven’t directly experienced it. Morale is demonstrably low – a pervasive gloom that permeates every interaction and undermines our collective resolve. I have not been immune to this decline; fatigue gnaws at my focus and amplifies the unsettling sensations I’ve been experiencing.
Amidst this oppressive environment, my cockpit has become an unlikely sanctuary – the only place where I’ve managed to find any semblance of peace and serenity on the base. Increasingly, I find myself drawn to it during off-duty hours, poring over mission reports and simply spending time within the confines of my CHVLR unit. It’s a refuge from the anxieties that plague me, a space where I can momentarily escape the weight of our situation.
The complete synchronization achieved with my CHVLR has undoubtedly altered my perception of reality. The ability to anticipate Kryll movements and understand their strategies is both a boon and a burden. But could this increased reliance on – and comfort within – my unit be more than just a consequence of that synchronisation? Is it possible that the 100% integration with the CHVLR has fostered an emotional dependency, a preference for the simulated stability of its systems over the unpredictable chaos of the external world?
CHVLR-4634-OA, signing off.
Orbital Deployment Platform Gamma-Nine
MEMORANDUM – URGENT – EYES ONLY
To: General Petrov, Strategic Command – Earth Defense Initiative
From: Colonel Elias Meyers, CHVLR Deployment Unit 789
Date: Cycle 785.24
Subject: KIA Report – CHVLR-4634-OA (Aika Okino) & Xylos Capital Siege Attempt
I have to report the regrettable loss of Aika Okino, designation CHVLR-4634-OA, during a recent attempt to lay siege to the Kryll High Command’s primary headquarters located within the Xylos capital city. The operation, designated Operation Silent Echo, was intended as a bold strike to disrupt enemy command and control capabilities, but tragically resulted in the KIA of CHVLR-4634-OA and significant losses for our forces.
On Cycle 785.23, CHVLR-4634-OA, along with a vanguard of six other CHVLR units, initiated the assault on the Xylos capital. Initial reports indicated promising progress; CHVLR-4634-OA demonstrated exceptional tactical acumen and an uncanny ability to anticipate Kryll counter-maneuvers. She was instrumental in breaching the initial perimeter defenses and securing a foothold within the city’s outer districts.
However, the situation rapidly deteriorated. The Kryll deployed significantly more forces than anticipated, utilizing advanced defensive technologies and employing tactics that demonstrated an unexpected level of adaptability. CHVLR-4634-OA found herself isolated amidst heavy enemy fire and was subjected to sustained attacks from multiple Kryll units, including several specialized anti-CHVLR platforms. Despite her best efforts – and exhibiting a remarkable degree of resilience – she ultimately succumbed to overwhelming force. The last transmission received indicated a catastrophic system failure within CHVLR-4634-OA’s unit, followed by complete signal loss. Recovery teams were dispatched immediately but arrived too late; the unit was irretrievably destroyed.
The loss of CHVLR-4634-OA is deeply felt throughout our deployment. Her performance during Operation Silent Echo was unprecedented. While the siege attempt ultimately failed due to the heavy losses sustained, it is undeniable that CHVLR-4634-OA’s contribution significantly prolonged the engagement and inflicted considerable damage on the Kryll forces.
Given her exceptional bravery, tactical skill, and ultimate sacrifice in the line of duty, I strongly recommend that CHVLR-4634-OA be awarded a posthumous Medal of Honor. Her actions represent the pinnacle of dedication to the Earth Defense Initiative and serve as an inspiration to all those who fight against the Kryll threat.
I am submitting a full damage assessment report separately detailing the losses sustained during Operation Silent Echo. I request immediate authorization for psychological support services for the remaining personnel involved in the operation, given the significant trauma they have experienced.
End of Transmission.
