Red River Security Solutions International
"So...You want me to tell you what it's like in the Zone? Well then, let me put it like this: Even during my time with the Recces - that was between 2035 and '40, in case you wanted to ask - we did our damn best to stay away from that forsaken place. The first thing you have to understand is that we, the so-called African Union and indeed the entire international community have pretty much given up on the region. After the GLA had wrecked things up, humiliated the Yanks and tore Europe a new arse, the only ones who were crazy enough to take them on in a straight-up fight again were the Euros in North Africa and the Chinese in Somalia and even they realised that Sulaymaan's horde wouldn't give up their new home easily. As a result, everyone went from engaging the GLA to containing it, putting it under quarantine in the same way as we did with the Brazzaville virus. Central Africa was chalked off, just like you foreigners chalked off our entire continent before you came back to dig up our rare earth deposits. No offence to you though. It's just that I wouldn't be in this line of work if I wasn't a cynic."
"But yeah, you didn't come here to listen to the myopic political ramblings of some freelancer like me. You came here for a horror story and I won't disappoint you. Back in '42, our company was approached by this Yankee businessman. My contract doesn't allow me to mention any names, but the guy was one of those typical slimebag corporate types from some American mining company that wanted to 'invest' in Africa's booming economy. The kinda person that sits in a nice penthouse in Jo'burg, throwing fancy dinner parties for our corrupt politicians to get more mining rights and cheap labour. One day, the guy's son, some snotty twenty-something party boy got pulled off the street and abducted into the Zone by one of those anti-capitalist groups linked to the GLA. They demanded two million Dollars - in polished Krugerrands, naturally - to be dropped off at one of their contacts in Ebolowa, Cameroon. Stupidly enough, daddy was acting like a total tryhard and harassed them back at first, only to have the boy's left hand returned to him in a package. After that, he decided to comply and guess who the company sent in to seal the deal."
"Me and ten other blokes took a flight to Gabon, alongside some associate of our client because he didn't want to entrust us with the gold. After the closure of Gitmo and the attack on the Black Sea prison, the CIA chose Gabon as its new 'legal grey area', if you know what I mean. There's only one reason why the place hasn't been overrun by the GLA yet: When the Yanks established their facilities, they turned the entire border into a death strip under constant supervision by a ground-based sensor network and UAVs with a direct link to the nearest Particle Cannon. We checked out at one of the official checkpoints and headed north in one of the company's MRAP vehicles; about a hundred kilometres on roads that didn't deserve that label. Getting into the Zone is actually quite easy and contrary to how it might seem from the outside, you don't get automatically ripped to pieces if you look like a foreigner. You just have to act tough and try not to draw too much attention. It's kinda like being surrounded by starving dogs: The moment they sense that you're scared, you're a dead man but if you look confident, the locals will even try to trade their worthless trinkets with you or tell you their favourite war stories. But if you show weakness, they gang up on you, steal your stuff and use you for entertainment. Basically, all the insane horrors that you outsiders used to associate with Africa are a thing of the past now except for the Zone, which is pure, unfiltered madness sealed away in that place that Sulaymaan likes to imagine as his country."
"Public executions are treated like tourist attractions in the Zone. There was this one trip where I saw a group of captive Euros; Scandinavians, dunno if they were Swedes or Norwegians...Doesn't matter. Just a bunch of leftie students who took a holiday culture trip to Africa and went with the wrong guide. Some of them got forced to gulp crude oil until they choked, others were thrown into a pit with a bunch of rabid hyenas. The locals place their bets with raw diamonds, ammunition or drugs; paper money is only used to wipe your arse. After all these years, the entire place is full of psychopaths. Everyone else just died somewhere along the way. Call it natural selection, if you will. Those with the guns have been fighting in countless tribal or religious conflicts since childhood and spend the entire day chewing khat and shooting things; sometimes each other. Those without guns are slaves that are being worked to death on drug plantations or in mines and the only thing vaguely reminiscent of authority is the GLA. Funny story: It is said that Sulaymaan has issued orders to execute woodcutters, poachers and all those who trade their products inside the Zone. I've seen it during another trip. Sulaymaan's militia bumped into some arsehole who was trying to sell ashtrays made of gorilla hands. First they beat the shite out of him and then they wrapped a bunch of old car tires around him, doused them with kerosene and set them on fire while the entire crowd watched. All that remained was a black mess of charred bones and molten rubber. But as silly as it sounds: Sulaymaan's reign of blood seems to have done more to protect the remaining habitats of endangered species than any international agreement and not even the Chinese want to risk the total PR shitstorm that'd ensue if they torched the entire rainforest to the ground to kill the GLA. Either the guy's trying to be clever or he really does have a soft spot for those animals. I guess even evil has standards."
"I've never been far enough into the Zone to see what their main stronghold is like, but there's all sorts of creepy legends about Sulaymaan supposedly residing in an underground palace full of concubines and treasures while the locals perform tribal blood ceremonies in his honour. Some people refer to this place as Pandemonium - the capital of hell from a John Milton poem, as I was told by one of my more well-read colleagues during another trip. Fokken Collins, man. He was Aussie, a good lad; used to help us out as our designated marksman until he walked into a trap and died with a razor wire noose around his neck."
"Anyway, we met our local contact on a black market square in Ebolowa. They had the boy with them and the associate handed over the suitcase with the Krugerrands. The actual exchange went over rather flawlessly. The company had outfitted us with heavy firepower and the locals weren't dumb enough to try any tricks. Or perhaps it was just too damn hot out in the sun that day. Despite the usual shit we've seen on that trip, it seemed like an easy mission until the blokes who we'd given the suitcase blew the hell up all of a sudden! Turned out the client still wanted to screw them over, so he had the suitcase rigged with explosives and put in a bunch of fake coins. But the bomb went off too early and those who survived went completely ballistic. Suddenly, dozens of fighters swarmed at us from the huts. Some of them came at us with machetes. The associate fell behind and got hacked into pieces on the spot. Our driver put the pedal to the metal and ran over some of them as we blasted off. We did make it back to Gabon safely and headed home. When we dropped off the boy, I walked up to his fokken kont father and punched him in the teeth. His stunt almost got us all killed and after my boss read the after action report, he merely cut my paycheck in half for that month and left it at that. Just another typical trip into the Zone; same shit, different day."
Honed by a lifetime full of war and bloodshed, these Mercenaries form the elite cadre of Sulaymaan's army. Due to their fierce reputation, they tend to enjoy an air of awe and privilege among the GLA, as they are only ones who can ask their leaders for noticeably higher rewards and walk away with their heads still on their shoulders. Unlike the common rabble, Mercenaries have exclusive access to the GLA's special arsenal of looted local weapons from South Africa, including the Vektor R4 assault rifle, the SS-77 machine gun and the Milkor 40mm grenade launcher. In addition, every Mercenary is armed with the single most common weapon on the African continent: A lethal machete that can kill a person with only a single, well executed swipe. In combat, the Mercenaries are not only feared for their superior weapons and raw brutality, but also for their resilience and fearlessness: It has been reported that these men fire themselves up macabre ceremonies before the battle, putting them in a permanent state of blood-crazed frenzy in which their perception of pain - and morality - is numbed.
Whether they lived in the deserts of North Africa, the war-torn cities of the Middle East or the mountains of Afghanistan - These veteran insurgents have fought against the global superpowers and their allies in the defence of their ancestral homelands for decades even prior to the appearance of the GLA in 2019. Throughout the entire war and its aftermath, the Global Liberation Army consisted of a solid nucleus of highly organised cells that shifted their operations around the world, supported by an innumerable mass of local volunteers, tribal groups and strongman militia that rotated in and out of the GLA's ranks as required. Partisans are indomitable fighters who are familiar with the terrain and thus capable to move swiftly and covertly. Their weaponry usually consists of obsolete bolt-action rifles that have been passed down their families for generations, including the venerable British Lee-Enfield, the Russian Mosin-Nagant or the German-made Karabiner 98k. Having honed their marksmanship from the first day they could hold a firearm, the Partisans can still score impressive long-range shots with these dated weapons despite their lack of modern optics. Their sole piece of halfway modern technology is a modified military-grade radio receiver which, upon deployment, allows the Partisans to tap into hostile communications to detect enemies at long range.
As always around this time of the year, the ModDB community can pick its favourites for 2013's mod of the year competition. We want to use this opportunity to thank all of our fans from around the world who have been following and supporting us for several years at this point. Your patience and dedication are truly commendable and we are working hard to bring you the next version of ROTR as soon as possible. Until then, stay tuned for more screenshots and render updates on ModDB, our forums and our Facebook page.