Hey folks. SinSynn here.
So I'm starting my very first Sunday post in grand style, discussing something near and dear to my heart.
The much-beloved Orc.
Or, umm....Ork, depending on where you're reading of them, or who it's written by.
But first, let me properly bless the Sunday air. Start this off right.
*Overly Toothy Xenos Grin*
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| Megan in...not a lot of Armani* |
There ya go. Yer first taste of Sunday Sin.
Mmmmm...ever so delicious.
And now...on to the Orcs. And Orks.
Wage war like no tomorrow, cuz know well there won't be one
For all who deny the struggle, the triumphant overcome
I close my eyes and seize it
I clench my fist and beat it
I light my torch and burn it
I am the beast I worship
- Death Grips, from 'Beware'
One of my favorite scenes to take place in a Black Library book occurs in chapter five of Fifteen Hours, the title of which amusingly describes the average life expectancy of an Imperial Guardsman on some miserable dirtball where humanity is locked in conflict with the Orks.
The main character in the tale is strapped down in the hold of a troop lander. Meanwhile, the pilots are casually navigating their way to the DLZ when a Servitor announces incoming AA fire. One of the pilots checks the screens, seemingly unworried because Orks don't have guided munitions, and his partner announces that the chances of them taking a hit are less than slim to none.
Whoops- these are Orks. There's thousands of missiles on the way, with hundreds more being launched every second.
Brace for impact, and prepare for emergency landing.
Orks never do anything halfway. Stupid Hoomeez.
:)
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| *Although their fashion sense is questionable. Pirate hats are so last millennium* |
Orcs, and Orks, have a long and glorious history within popular fantasy fiction, but for the purpose of this article, we're gonna focus on them that populate the realms created by Games Workshop.
Cuz they're da funniest.
For the most part, most fictional Orcs and Orks act as nothing more than comical cannon fodder for the heroes of whatever tale they're featured in. Any monster that can be capably handled by a friggin' halfling ain't no monster, in my mind.
I mean, really now.
-_-
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| *Originally posted by Gandalf. Proper Orks snack on Hobbits between meals* |
Regarding the Orc (and Orks, as well) Games Workshop did the poor literary creature a great service by appropriating it for use in their games. GW's famous greenies aren't sub-minimum wage employees in the service of some faceless bad guy who never really makes an appearance, and used as a bulwark capable of merely slowing a bare handful of hero types.
Screw that noise.
Proper Orcs and Orks, like those featured in both Warhammer Fantasy and 40k respectively, have their priorities straight. When it comes right down to it, they just wanna party. Unfortunately for the civilized beings in relative proximity to them, both Orcs and Orks party quite violently.
An Orc/Ork 'rave' is known to those subject to it as a 'Waaagh,' which is merely a Xeno term that loosely translates to 'we heard there was an open bar,' so it's no wonder that they'll travel incredible distances to engage in one.
Even if there's no Waaagh goin' on, Orcs and Orks are perfectly happy to party amongst themselves.
Um.
It's important to mention at this point that Orc/Ork parties generally involve a hefty body count.
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| *They usually post signs. Come one, come all! Or maybe run fer yer life. Good luck with that* |
Be that as it may, an Orc/Ork party is delightfully low-budget and more or less no-frills. Got a weapon, or sumpthin' that will suffice as one? Yer in! Aw, no weapon? Ok fine, come along anyhow.
Worried that yer new nickname is 'Rations'? Well, you prolly should be.
Being that the most common Orc and Orkish form of currency is their own teeth, they tend to be a frugal lot. Genuine armor and weapons of actual quality are generally outside the average greenie's purchasing power. Bigger, meaner and nastier specimens might posses them, simply because they have the ability to acquire more monies through various means- usually by forcibly removing them from their bearers.
Despite their lack of ready cash, they love a good party. Orcs and Orks aren't big on planning, however. They're a spontaneous bunch, and once they've gathered in any number it's very likely they'll set out in search of others to party with. While their neighbors might view this as a very bad thing indeed, Orcs and Orks could care less; they just wanna have fun.
Ok, so...sure. The Orc and Orkish idea of 'fun' quite closely resembles all-out warfare that is unlikely to cease until there's no survivors whatsoever, but they remain blissfully unconcerned about niggling details such as this.
Once the party starts, it goes on until there's no one left to participate. Which is prolly why most of the invites they send out read 'from Waagh until question marks...or everyone's dead. Whichever comes first.'
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| *Don't bother to RSVP. They'll come to you* |
Like most obnoxious party guests, Orcs and Orks never show up alone, or with just their 'plus one.' They'll arrive with not just their Boyz (in terribly inconvenient numbers), but their extended families and entourage.
Gretchins, Goblins, Squigs and the occasional odd member of another species might be in tow, and since it's their party no one is likely to protest, or inform them of how horribly impolite such behaviors are. Good luck tryin' to explain it to 'em anyway.
Orcs and Orks have little concern for etiquette, although they never show up empty-handed. At the very least they'll show up with a Choppa, which as far as they're concerned is an excellent party favor.
A decent Orc/Ork Waaagh is entirely self-sustaining, since the clever beasts are able to to turn virtually anything handy to their own ends. They'll appropriate all of your stuffs, and make it Orky. From an outsider's perspective, this closely resembles 'weaponizing in a somewhat haphazard manner.'
Seriously though, any sentient being can duct-tape a gun and some armor plating onto a random vehicle. Duct tape is good like that, as are many of the universe's sentient beings.
What the Orcs and Orks do is an art form, even if it doesn't always work out exactly as planned.
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| *Ready for a fresh coat of Red Paint!* |
Orcs and Orks have a great love of mayhem, and little care for who gets hurt in the process of creating it. They'll happily inflict casualties among their own ranks. While the average career of an Imperial Guardsman on planet dirtball might be a miserably short fifteen hours, it's safe to say the average career of an Ork test pilot is significantly less.
Orcs and Orks are positive thinkers, however. It's one of the many charming qualities Games Workshop has instilled in them.
The Games Workshop Orc/Ork is unburdened by anything but the desire to get his groove on. What separates the GW Orc/Ork from the boring, common old fantasy stereotype is his outlook on life.
Games Workshop's take on this venerable creature is slightly off-center from the norm- their Orcs (and Orks) are funny. Delightfully so.
GW Orcs/Orks perpetuate their race via spores created by their own physiology, making them the worst type of fungal infection to ever infect the universe at large. With no families to worry about, possible retirements to plan for, or any of the concerns the average mortal has to deal with, Orcs and Orks need only to concern themselves with two things- their next meal, and where the party's at.
Their next meal is rarely more than arm's length away. Too bad for that guy, whoever (or whatever) he might be.
The party is where ever they're at, of course.
While many of Games Workshop's co-opted creations are fairly basic reflections of archetypes any fantasy or sci-fi fan is perhaps overly familiar with, they've undoubtedly taken the Orc/Ork and put their own stamp on him. They deserve considerable credit for doing so.
GW Orcs and Orks are, for lack of a better word, characterful.
Gleefully destructive, wantonly violent yet simultaneously hysterical somehow. There's not another species of Xeno that can produce the LOLZ Orcs and Orks do.
Praise the mighty Orcs, and Orks. They bring some much needed levity to the serious business that occurs on our game tables, with their squabbles and self-destructing weapons of war.
Waaagh for the win, baby.
Until next time, folks- Exit with catchphrase!
-SinSynn
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