MechWarrior (1989 Video Game)/Main Story

The following scenes were transcribed from a YouTube playthrough. Some details may change from playthrough to playthrough.

Starting World [Randomized]

Burning purpose. Etched forever in the mind as slow curves pulled upward into spikes. Dark wings framing an almost human death skull. Almost, but for the fangs of the beast. A crest for killers. Find it and you find the chalice, and the Dark Wing. Only five years remain.

Meeting Grig Griez

His voice is thick and sinister, and his conversation carries no small talk. It's straight to the point. "Does your winged skull look like this?" He rasps, activating a com screen. It looked exactly like that. "I will trade you this information if you are willing. You must carry some merchandise to Dustball for me. My Techs will seal it to your body with a plastic pseudo-flesh bandage. When you deliver the package on Dustball, my agent there will give you what you seek. Do you agree?"

If Gideon accepts:

Grig's eyes gleam. "That is most excellent."

Dustball

The pleasure domes of Dustball are said to be capable of satisfying any desire, as long as you have money. In the midst of this hedonistic carnival, a small, unremarkable man approaches and identifies himself as Brown, an agent of Grig Griez. "This way," he says, and moves into the crowds.

Soon, the lights and people are left behind, and the bright streets give way to dark alleys and disrepair. Through a battered door and across an empty warehouse lies an office with a table and a meager supply of med-tech gear. In a few moments, the pseudo-flesh packet is removed and Brown steps back, wiping his hands with a rag. "And now as to your payment, Grig was most explicit about that." The rag disappears and you find yourself staring into the barrel of a Nakjima laser pistol. "It seems you are to be eliminated."

A moment is frozen in time as muscles honed for battle snap into the classic Dragon Whips Tail spinning kick. The laser spouts fire as Dragon and target meet and the searing trail of pain lancing up arm and shoulder tell the tale, wounded but still alive. The pistol ricochets off the far wall and falls to the floor, its recharge light glowing like a bright red gem. In that second, the pseudo-flesh packet bursts like a fungus spreading its spores. A white, nearly transparent mist blossoms from the pouch.

The packet's distraction allows time for a fast exit. Brown is hard on your heels. The shadows of the warehouse drift across his face as he stares back into the little room. "That bastard!" he shouts with fury. "After all these years…" His breathing slows and his tone changes to a death march. "I don't know who you are to Grig or why he wants you dead so bad he'd kill me too, but I do know he was worried you might know about a ship. A JumpShip we sometimes use for smuggling." His gaze becomes furtive. "Perhaps I can turn the screw on ol' grease boy. It's called the Stone Arrow," he says as he melts into the darkness. Then, from the shadows: "Watch your back, he won't give up so easy."

Wendall Puritan

In the last bay on the end squats the spider-like form of an SCP-1N Scorpion, its regular PPC and Marvel 6-load SRM rack augmented by twin autoloading heavy mortars and a Sperry Browning machine gun. You don't see many of these anymore. The man cursing over the cabling inside the right front leg turns from his work. The name patch on his coveralls reads "Puritan."

"No, you don't see many. She's one of the last of her kind," he says with a grunt as he pulls a cable free. Conversation is easy as it moves through the modification he's made to the old 'Mech, but it bogs down when the subject changes to his brother. "Willard and me…we don't get along, but I figure if you want to find him, it's probably for a bad reason." He eyes you speculatively and grins. "If I were you, I'd look on [random world]. He's got a woman there."

The walk back from the 'Mech complex has a long trek through a rundown industrial center. Some buildings stand gutted, with broken glass windows. Others are still in use, but their condition is only marginally better. Halfway, the buildings on the right give way to a long stretch of chain-link separating the traffic from ten Saladin Assault Hover Tanks. Bored sentries lean against the sleek, streamlined tanks, smoking. A dark figure silhouetted by the wall-mounted lights steps casually from between two buildings. The shadow is unclear, but as he brings his arms to shoulder level, the unmistakable snap of a gyroslug carbine is followed by the scream of the tiny rocket as it tears the air between him and you. The fence next to your face explodes in a fiery ball.

A short run and a diving roll brings a nearby building wall up in a hard slam. In the compound, the sentries are yelling and taking cover behind the tanks. The sharp report of machine guns cuts the air. The lone sniper sights down the line of buildings and gets off two more shots. Brick disintegrates in a blaze of fire, shrapnel, and masonry. Another round of fire from the compound, and the silhouette vanishes as quickly as it appeared.

Kearney and Grim Jim

The hat is weathered. The eyes that look up from under it are hard, with a quick, searching intelligence. "Name's Kearney. I've been expecting you. Sit down," he says, easily.

He pours hot sake from a small decanter into a tiny cup and downs the shot in a single swallow. "I'm an MIIO agent. We monitored that little fiasco on Ander's Moon. Quintus Allard himself put me on the case. We have reason to believe that a dissident faction within the ISF instigated the events for purposes of their own." His eyes never stop their searching as he speaks. "Kangaroo Jack's ship was used to transport a renegade band of Wolf's Dragoons to Ander's Moon. They're the ones who attacked. Their 'Mechs were painted with phony crests to support McBrin's story. Usually, they wear a black spider. You think about that and then meet me at this address in an hour if you want to talk to Kangaroo Jack." He leaves a slip of paper with a single line of neatly scripted letters.

Outside, the street is quiet. The scrap of paper rustles in a light wind.

The address leads to a second class business district and a professional complex filled with small import/export offices. With working hours done, everything is deserted. The specified office's door stands ajar, like a scene from a detective holovid. The office is dark and, on the floor, in front of a glass and chrome desk, lies a still form. Shadows dance over what turns out to be a corpse. The random pattern of holes that has turned the face and chest into hamburger is the work of a needler gun. A bush hat with the rim pinned up to the crown by a tiny kangaroo lies beside the body. A sound. The quiet click of a weapon. In the doorway, a shadow with a rifle.

Your Mydron auto-pistol shatters the glass in the office door and shreds the doorjamb in a flurry of plaster dust. The gunman grunts in surprise or pain, and falls to the ground. But, the fall doesn't stop. He rolls into a kneeling position inside the office and fires a burst. The desk erupts in a fountain of glass and a window caves in. A diving roll takes you out of his line of fire as he continues to sweep the office. The other windows follow the first, and then a pause as a new magazine is slammed home. Your chance. The rest of the auto-pistol magazine gets unloaded into the gunman's torso. He slams back against the wall in a bloody heap.

Revenge on Griez

Against a weathered brick wall sits a drunk in tattered clothes clutching a mostly empty bottle of cheap whiskey. A patch covers one eye, and his pockmarked face sports the stubble of an unkempt beard. As you pass, he speaks just loud enough for you to hear. "Word is you've no love fer Grig or 'is bunch. That true?" And if it is? "Well now, there's quite a reward on 'is head fer the feller wot's man enough ta' claim it. You think maybe you be that man?"

"So 'appens I've been on this dirtball a long time, I 'ave, waitin' fer me chance at that pig. Seen a thing-r-two, I 'ave, but not bein' a warrior sort like yerself, I've 'ad ta' wait. But now I think me waitin's over. There's a big shipment goin' out tonight. He'll see ta' that personally, he will. Won't 'ave but two guards with him. That's when ya' can nail him. An' that's me price. Ya' got ta' kill 'em. Takin' him in's no good. He has ta' die. Deal?"

The dark comes alive as lights appear at the edges of the old landing site. Once used by the military, it has been abandoned for years, except for the occasional dark night business deal. Overhead, a Star moves across the heavens and slowly begins to grow. Within minutes, it has grown to fill the sky with a blazing blue-white glory. The roar of the engines dominates the night as, ever so slowly, 12,000 tons of Mule-class DropShip settle onto the burning ferrocrete. Once the engines have died, the apparently empty warehouses on the far edge of the field come to life.

Heavy vehicles move out onto the still smoking landing pad toward the cargo ramps dropping from the ship. Men appear, moving crates from the trucks to the ship. Amidst it all, a long, black luxury hovercraft moves like a shark. It stops near the loading operation and two powerful looking men step out, weapons at the ready. One wears night vision goggles. From behind them appears the bloated form of Grig Griez. The old man was right about the when and where, but the pad is swarming with armed men as well as the expected two personal guards.

The loading finishes and the trucks return to the far side of the field. The black hovercraft glides soundlessly to rest behind a blast screen directly below you. So, the old man was right. Grig and his guards step out of the craft as the engines of the Mule begin to howl.

A gyroslug carbine carries 20 rounds in a clip. It takes only four to splatter both guards against the hovercraft. Grig's bloodstained face turns up as you drop easily into the shadow of the blast screen. "You!" he recovers quickly, eyes searching restlessly for an out. "Well, well, I suppose you have ideas about the price on my head, or perhaps you're a little upset about my agent's actions on Dustball. He acted on his own! I never told him to kill you. As to the reward, I'll double it… besides, you don't think you can get out of here alive, do you?" He nods toward the distant buildings.

He watches for an answer, feigning indifference, and pushes the ruined body of his former guard off the hood of the hovercraft. "Seems I'll need to find some new talent," he says, and then his hand flies up. A blood-soaked machine pistol gleams in the night. The carbine in your arms coughs twice and Grig slams against the vehicle as the explosive shells rip into him.

You make quite a scene at the Civilian Guidance Corps center as you pull up in the sleek black hovercraft. The official there is less than thrilled to see the corpse of his former employer in the back, but there is little he can do, as a crowd has gathered. At its fringes, and old man watches. He catches your eye and nods, a smile pulling at the corner of his mouth. The voice of the CGC official cuts in. "I'll have your bounty for you very soon, and then, if I were you, I'd get the hell off this planet as fast as I could."

The Black Widow

Smoke drifts through the crowded room, obscuring the patrons, but the loud group near the center are easy to spot. The black spider on a red field stands out on their jackets, and the woman in the center of the group is unmistakable. Thick, flowing red hair accents her stunning beauty as she lounges, the queen in her court. Nestled in the provocative deep vee of her fatigue hangs a crystal spider with a ruby hour glass on its abdomen. A direct approach is the only way into the group. Too quick, accusations fly. Looks of surprise turn to ones of anger. A chair falls over as its occupant, a giant grey-eyed man, slams to his feet. The woman's gaze is cold. "Look, pup," she says. "I'm sorry to hear about your family, but you're barkin' up the wrong tree. The Widows have kicked a lot of Davion butt lately, but we've never pulled a job on…on…Ander's whatever. Hell, I've never even heard of it."

The glaring grey eyes of the man already on his feet never waver as he says: "Would the Captain please give me permission to turn this rat's rear end into a bloody pulp?" Before the woman can respond, another of the group is acting. "Afraid I'm not as polite as you, [Colin Maclaren|Colin]," he says as he breaks his chair against your diaphragm. Colin's fist follows into your face. You get in a fair kick to the first man's crotch on your way down. Quick as light, the vibrating hum of a stun lance enters the fray. A woman dressed in knee-high bioflex boots and a VTOL flight jacket spins the lance with obvious martial training, and the one called Colin crashes to the floor. Three of Colin's lancemates soon follow as they try to press the young woman.

Amidst the falling bodies, the Black Widow draws a pearl-handled pistol and takes aim at the lance wielder, but the hum of the lance has gone to the high pitch of the kill level, and the woman is holding it dangerously close to the neck of the unconscious Colin. She and the Widow lock eyes for a long, tense moment, as all motion freezes, hanging on their decision. The Widow gives the young woman a slight not of respect and eases off on her aim. Putting the pistol back in its holster, she says: "OK, honey, he's all yours. But keep him out of trouble from now on."

The woman grabs you by the collar and backs away from the group, keeping her eyes on the mercenaries. At a table on the far side of the room, she pushes you into a seat and takes the one opposite. She introduces herself as Tasha. Sea-green eyes that never miss a beat. Wild, tangled hair sweeping up and over in a single fall framing the right side of her face. Delicate features. All of it contrasts sharply with the wildcat just unleashed on the Black Widows. "Gideon B. Vandenburg," she says, as though making a discovery she's not sure she's pleased with. "What the hell were you trying to do? Explanations seem in order, but halfway through she holds up a hand. "And you fell for that? Christ, Vandenburg! Kearny's not MIIO. He's ISF! A word in your ear and off you go, trying to talk the Widows into killing you."

"Kearny kills two birds with one stone," she snorts, derisively. "And that's what you think this is all about? Some sinister plot to discredit you so House Kurita can take over Ander's Moon?" Eyes on the table, she shakes her head in disbelief. "I hate to break this to you, but I doubt if Takashi Kurita has even heard of Ander's Moon. Matabushi Incorporated is your target. I should know, I'm MI6, and right now, they're my target, too."

Matabushi Ambush

Dust devils spin in the too-thin air, and a sound like distant thunder rolls over the dry mountains. Another minute and the thunder builds to a roar as seven Karnov heavy lift choppers rise over the ridges in a tight vee formation, their tilting rotors already in the vertical landing positions. Still in formation, they settle in a storm of dust before a pair of massive two-story high steel vaulted doors set into the cracked face of a cliff. Kurita infantry pour from both sides of each machine and quickly establish a defense perimeter in the choking dust.

A map showing the landing site with a time, and signed simply: "A friend," smells of another trap, but it's the only lead, and at least it's produced something interesting. And besides, a good auto-pistol with plenty of extra clips should handle any surprises. Behind the cliff face, the sun fills the sky with a blazing red as it sets and the shadows begin to stretch across the desert landscape. The giant doors crack, and light spills out in greater amounts as the crack spreads and the doors open on silent hinges. More troops, this time in Matabushi security uniforms double-time out in two neat rows and form up, creating a guarded roadway to the VTOL craft. Tracked vehicles appear from inside the mountain, and the loading begins. The six craft forming the wings of the formation are loaded first with a seemingly endless stream of coffin-sized metallic containers. Last, a single container with special guards is loaded onto the lead aircraft. The tracked vehicles return to the vault and the security guards break formation.

In that instant, the ground around the landing site erupts as troops in desert camo rise up out of the sand like returning dead, their lasers and automatic rifles blazing. The Kurita guard, taken by surprise, are ravaged before they can regroup, and even then they have already lost at least half their number. An intense firefight ensures, as the Kurita troops fall back into the cargo holds of the VTOLs. The air begins to churn as the choppers crank up for an escape, but for some it's too late, as the mysterious attackers board the craft in a murderous onslaught.

One chopper leaves the ground in a hurry, but two LAW rockets arc out from the ground and connect in a thunderous, fiery blast that showers the scene below in a glowing metal rain. The wreck crashes to the ground in front of the vault, crushing the remaining security force and effectively cutting off any support from that end, for the moment. And then, in the middle of the fight, a woman in knee-high bioflex boots and a VTOL flight jacket cuts across the carnage. Her long hair hangs free as she fights like a wildcat across the landing site. She's heading for the lead craft.

In the smoke, dust, and confusion, it's an easy run to the open cargo door. Bodies lay sprawled on the ground, and one hangs half-in, half-out of the doorway. The aircraft is already lifting off, and it requires a jump just to catch the edge as the nose points towards the ground and the Karnov speeds off across the desert. The ground begins rushing past your feet as the 30-ton chopper gains altitude. One slip now…but it's amazing what a little adrenaline can do. Looking back from the bay door, the cliff is aglow from the fire of the burning wreck, and the remaining VTOLs are airborne now and speeding off in different directions. Inside, there are more bodies strewn about the hold like cast-away toys.

Auto-pistol out, safety off, and a slow walk through the short passage to the cockpit. Just three steps ahead, another man in a tan jumpsuit is making the same trip. As he reaches the cockpit, his arm moves out gracefully and pushes the barrel of his gun against the long, tangled hair of the pilot. "So sorry to disappoint you, Tasha," Kearny says smoothly. You can see Tasha calculating possibilities as the Karnov makes a sudden plunge to the left. With blinding speed, she disarms Kearney as he falls toward her. The aircraft levels out and Tasha is out of the seat, and she and Kearney square off as you step through the door. The look of surprise on both their faces is almost comical.

"Just in time!" Kearney says with a smile. Tasha glares at him. "Don't listen to him, he's ISF," she says, quickly. "What? She's the ISF agent!" Kearny replies, in surprise.

No dice, Kearney. Tasha flashes a healthy smile your way. "Nice work, partner." Her hand flashes out and chops Kearney neatly along the back of the neck. As he slumps to the floor, she takes the pilot seat again, shutting down the autopilot. The VTOL makes a hard bank right. "We hit Matabushi pretty hard tonight," she says, after a while. "Caught 'em with their pants down. That won't happen again." She studies you, and the instrument light glint in her eyes. "You're wondering what's going on, no doubt. Well, I'll tell you what I can. We're MI6, a special group of Davion agents, and coincidentally, on this mission, you and MI6 had the same target, Matabushi."

"We got wind that they would be making a large move of assets, and decided to hit. That's what we got: gold bullion, a lot of captured cash ready for laundering, some LosTech items, and a large set of computer files. That's where you come in. In those files is the location of the group who destroyed your home, and where they're keeping your precious chalice. I figure with that info and, say, a five million C-bill share of tonight's haul, you ought to be able to close down their Ander's Moon operation. I kill two birds with one throw – deal?" She grins at you. "I thought it might be. One last thing, everything I've told you is confidential. To everyone else, MI6 does not exist. So keep it to yourself."

Later, with a fatter bank account, you scan the disk she gave you on Operation INROAD. The overall plan: set up a cover operation in the Federated Suns, mostly for money laundering and smuggling. Expenses: A JumpShip supplied by Matabushi Trade's partner, Grig Griez; A special lance of 'Mechs consisting of a Warhammer and four BattleMasters, known as the Dark Wing; a large payroll for agents and bribes on Ander's Moon, including one J. Rowe. And right now, the Chalice of Herne sits guarded by the Dark Wing on [random world].

Dark Wing Base

Data from the disk on operation INROAD is specific about the location of the Dark Wing base.

Recovering the Chalice

As oily smoke begins to rise from the last Dark Wing 'Mech, the infantry flees. Inside the abandoned bunker, a high security vault breaks under concentrated laser fire. Beyond the ruined door, the sacred Chalice of Herne sparkles with reflected light.

Back on Ander's Moon, the Chalice and the data disk on Operation INROAD clear the Vandenburg name, and the family title and honor is restored.