FLESHMOON: A Tactical Combat Board Game

When the Fleshmoon entered orbit, it did not drift - it chose. TYR-113 locked into position and swallowed the sun for weeks. In that Eclipse, millions were undone. Some twisted into Congregants, their bodies breaking into claws, bone, and hunger. Others emerged as Gifted, touched by the same power but still recognizably human, wielding what the world called magic. The line between miracle and monstrosity blurred overnight.

The world tore itself apart. Civil wars erupted as mobs hunted anyone touched by the Fleshmoon. Soldiers and police fractured as powers and mutations bloomed inside their own ranks. Governments collapsed, unable to contain the riots or their own infected armies. Chaos became the only law.

Out of that collapse, paramilitary remnants and intelligence black-sites fused into something colder, harder: The Machine - a command structure bound by cold logic, hot weapons, and Operators who refuse to bow to the dark. It sealed megacities, enforced ration laws with rifles, and issued tactical kill orders without hesitation. To the Machine, there is no difference between a Gifted wielding power and a Congregant consumed by it. Both are instability. Both are threats. Its grip is absolute, its methods fascist, its doctrine brutal. And yet, what the Machine forged as instruments of order still carry wills of their own. In the field, the line between objective and choice blurs, and Operators serve as arbiters of life and death - executioners, saviors, or something in between.

Every operation is a dossier: target zones, priority objectives, evac conditions. No backup. No reinforcements. The war is fought room by room, gate by gate, with blood and gunfire. Victory is possible. But you won’t come out clean.