With my upper body poking through the hatch of my vertical tank – essentially a massive gun turret situated atop two equally massive, birdlike metal legs – I observe the surrounding landscape with a pair of binoculars. Spotting my target, I hop back into the cockpit of the VT as one of my crew members begins to crank the engine. I pull the activation lever, sending power to the VT's numerous systems: instrument panels, ammunition gauges and, most importantly, armaments and steering.
I lean into the viewport, watching through the tiny window as the VT rumbles forward and my remote target grows closer. Once we're within range, I pull down the periscope, which will lend much greater accuracy than the viewport's iron sights at this distance. Adjusting my aim slightly above the target, I let loose a shell. The armor-piercing round impacts the enemy VT's leg with such force that it is shorn clean off, sending the tank tumbling to the ground. I silently congratulate myself, but the celebration is cut short when an enemy shell comes screaming out of nowhere, slamming into our VT and knocking me back into my seat.
As my team and I regroup, a second shell rocks the cabin once more, shattering the viewport glass and filling the cockpit with smoke. The panel that houses the ventilator control is tucked away to the right. I pull it forward, lock it into place, reach for the ventilator chain and ... accidentally flick on the headlights. On my second attempt, instead of pulling the ventilator chain, I put the entire control panel away again. I pull the panel out again, reach for the ventilator chain and put the control panel away again. I pull the panel out a third time and reach very, very carefully for the ventilator chain ... at which point my entire crew dies of smoke inhalation.
