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Starcraft Feat Thread

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Starcraft Feat Thread

Postby jackn8r » Wed May 16, 2012 7:50 pm

Units to scale: http://i2.minus.com/idKJOHIciRf0E.jpg
Psionic storm
The marines and firebats continued to dish out destruction in self-defense, but one of the robed Protoss Templars climbed onto a pile of rocks. Raising his three-fingered hand to the seky, he summoned an awesome Psionic Storm that battered the Wraiths into confusion, slamming the single-man fight together, driving them down as if they had been hit by a huge flyswatter.
Massively damaged, the battlecruisers and the remaining Wraiths tried to pull away, but from the other side of the valley, a second High Templar called yet another Psionic Storm that hammered them from the east. Only one of Battlecruisers and three wraiths managed to pull away from the dangerous valley and leaving damaged and destroyed Terran vessels strewn all across the battlefield

-Shadow of the Xel'naga

How fast Dark Templar think:
He unclipped a console from his belt and sent a cloud of micro-spies into the large chamber. The tiny propeller-driven devices were Umojan tech, and he’d paid dearly to get them from the black market, certain they’d come in handy one day. They immediately began circling slowly, scanning, measuring, listening—

—until a bright blue beam flashed out from the opposite side of the cave, flicking from one micro-spy to the next, disintegrating each in a dazzling flash of light.

Jake leapt backward into shadow, knowing even as he did so that it didn’t matter. Whatever had just incinerated his micro-spies had certainly targeted him as well. Even as the first hot surge of adrenaline roared up through his gut, his chest, his heart, he was already realizing that he was only alive because that same something wanted him alive.

He took a deep breath, a second, a third... then stepped forward. Running would be the worst thing he could do.

Across the cave, on the other side of the chamber, where another lava tube opened into the great space—or perhaps it was a continuation of this lava tube—something shimmered. Something tall. Something not human.

In that instant, Jake suddenly knew he was extremely lucky... and extremely unlucky too. He was now one of the very few human beings in the sector who had ever been face to face with a protoss. The reason there were so few was that most of those who had ever been face to face with a protoss had not survived the encounter.

“Uh, hi,” he said. He raised his right hand in a tentative greeting.
Lassatar studied the creature across from him. He’d been aware of its presence on the island since the day it arrived. Now, here in this cavern, he could finally examine it.

Human. Encased in primitive technology. It imagined itself powerful. It had a pretense of thought wrapped around a core of primal surges—mostly fear. It was a biological imperative, pretending toward thought, even aspiring toward true thought, but really just an organic machine fueled by a clumsy tangle of hunger, fear, rage, and vague uncomfortable desires.

It desired intimacy, but it feared connection with its own kind. It desired knowledge, but feared discovery. It desired change, but feared action. It desired peace, but feared death.

It desired sentience, hungered for a light it could only dimly sense, but feared to give up the animalistic state of being that kept it trapped in a cage of emotions. It did not act as much as it reacted.

All this and less.

That humans had achieved warp technology was more a demonstration of how easily knowable this universe could be than evidence of any native intelligence. The human species had not yet finished evolving, and probably never would. It would destroy itself before it had a chance to create its own higher state of being.

Nevertheless, the raw passion of these creatures gave them a terrifying set of abilities. They could create almost as ferociously as they could destroy. They weren’t mindless. And to this dark templar, the possibility of what a human might become was a tantalizing question, one that deserved enormous consideration.

If you share a galaxy with another life-form, it is either a partner or a scourge. There is no neutrality. If the relationship is not one of mutual contribution, then it is one of eternal warfare and destruction. Life is inevitable. Resources are finite. The rest is left as an exercise for the trainee.
In the brief instant between the destruction of the micro-spies and the moment when the creature raised its hand in greeting, Lassatar sorted through a thousand options. His curiosity overruled them all.

He’d had experience with humans before, most of it violent, but a chance encounter on a trivial world had left him pondering the possibilities of sentience in this unfinished species. Could its primitive and brutal mind be trained? Could this animal be uplifted? Could it learn the deeper responsibilities of the technologies it had created? Or was it like the giant herbivores of the mainland—an evolutionary dead end, doomed by its own biology to feed and be fed upon in turn, with no real capability to understand its own participation in the processes of time?

The creature before him now...

Lassatar recognized a curious kinship.

Like him, the creature had chosen to separate itself from its own kind. Humans did that often, and often without apparent reason.

At first consideration, it made no sense. The behavior seemed to have no evolutionary value. Separated from the tribe, the herd, the family, a lone unit’s ability to survive was considerably reduced. Even the hard shell of technology was rarely enough protection against the raw forces of the universe. And if the lone unit traveled without a mate, without the capacity to reproduce, then the action was biologically futile.

But if the evolutionary value was not immediately apparent, it was still inherent. Otherwise, the behavior would not continue to occur, would have disappeared from the species quickly. Clearly, there existed a survival value for the larger gene pool in having some of its members commit to exploration and discovery. The behavior could function as a useful avenue toward the development of greater thought within the species—a path toward the growth of a genuinely conscious mind. It could even be an evolutionary trigger as profound as the ability to walk upright or the use of tools.

The future of humanity was an issue that protoss elders occasionally discussed. Humans were a curious anomaly, a species trapped on the cusp of possibility. Caught between their raging biological impulses and the possibility of true sentience, humans were a question in the process of asking itself. The resolution of the dilemma might be interesting, but was not worthy of serious consideration—not until the threat of the zerg had been totally eliminated. Nevertheless, any encounter would be another piece of the growing structure of thought.

Lassatar was a guardian of secrets, a protector of ancient mysteries—and he regarded his duty as a sacred responsibility. More than that, an identity. Lassatar felt his job required him to be the living spirit of protoss heritage. It wasn’t enough for him to be just a guardian. He needed to be a living embodiment: he needed to be an access to the powers and abilities of the past.

He believed that the mysteries and secrets of the ancient past were significant, and that they had profound meaning for the protoss of today. Life was mutable. The earliest protoss knew this—not just as theory, but as an actual application.

Life evolved. It changed. It challenged itself and adapted to whatever circumstance occurred around it. To a higher mind, the processes were beautiful and cruel and powerful. To a higher mind, one that thought in terms of millennia, evolution was a tool, and the first members of the protoss species used that tool handily. They practiced the application of evolutionary pressures to maintain and control the environments of the worlds they claimed. Often, they uplifted whole ecologies from primal to stable.

As he studied the ancient processes, Lassatar had briefly considered how those mysteries could be applied today. For instance, could humans be uplifted toward true sentience? Would they then become a useful partner in the war against the zerg?

That was an interesting question, but not one that any protoss authority was apt to consider at length, let alone pursue. The humans were prone to uncontrolled emotions and violence. Even true sentience would not remove that emotional core of being. Uplifting humanity might result might in a very dangerous species, possibly a threat to the protoss. That risk was too great.

And... it was not an inquiry he could assume on his own without violating the integrity of his office. He was only the guardian of mysteries, not the master. Nevertheless... an anomalous event had forced him into a different domain of thought.

He had been searching for an important relic, a xel’naga artifact. He’d found it near a single human settlement. But at the same time he had also encountered a human child as well. The creature had demonstrated a startling amount of innocence and wonder, traits that had not been evident in any of the confrontational encounters of protoss experience.

But if that one immature human was capable, what did that suggest about all of them?

Lassatar was well aware that humans had not yet achieved sentience, not even the illusion of it. On the scale of self-awareness, humans were barely above insects. They were owned by the physicality of their beings, controlled by their brain chemistry, driven by their own hormonal storms, victims of the circumstances into which they were thrown by birth. They were dazzled by stimuli and functioned as creatures of reaction—simple and predictable organic machines. That their brains had evolved toward the capability of rationalization was an accident of evolution—a process still ongoing.

But the encounter with the small female and her father, who had been transformed from a violent being into a loving and compassionate protector, had left him puzzled and curious.

Compassion and empathy were acknowledgments of the self-ness of others, a key component of sentience, the ability to recognize the existence of consciousness outside one’s own being. A small first step, but perhaps the most necessary one. Seeing this potential demonstrated in a human—it demanded investigation. And the next question too. Why did this capacity diminish with age in humans? Why didn’t it mature with the individual? Was this the source of the species’ failure to achieve true sentience?

Lassatar gave the question to his acolytes while he considered the nature of the xel’naga artifact. Little was known about it, and there might be some significant risk in reactivating it. This was not a task to be undertaken lightly.

So he told his acolytes to consider the nature of self-awareness and sentience. Consider the questions of compassion, recognition of the self-ness of others. Consider the nature of awareness as a function of time-binding and how memory creates history, history creates identity, and identity creates the survival drive.

What kind of consciousness results, he asked his acolytes, if a species is uplifted? He did not specify which species he was thinking of, and he was careful to remind them of their limits. The job of the guardian was to protect, not to apply. Yes, research was part of the job, but not direct experimentation.

Even so, the acolytes questioned—wasn’t experimentation part of the process of research? That was a wholly different matter and one that Lassatar was not yet willing to pursue. It required more consideration than he wanted to give at this moment. The xel’naga artifact required his attention first.

So he left them with the single mandate to consider in depth the essential dilemmas of sentience, confident that such an inquiry would keep them busy and out of trouble. Perhaps he should have been more specific in his mandate.

He took himself and the xel’naga artifact to a remote and barren asteroid and quietly, patiently, methodically considered its history, its nature, and why it had been deliberately hidden by the ancient race. When he finally felt he understood, he reactivated the artifact.

And discovered—

What he discovered... left him disturbed.

Not for what it was, but for what it could be. It was not simply the power that the xel’naga artifact unleashed; it was the implications of that power. Could he, should he, would he reveal what he had discovered?

This was not a question he could resolve on his own, but neither was it an inquiry he could share with any other protoss. He was riding a conundrum that could consume him. He did not see any possibility except self-exile.

He returned from his retreat to inform his acolytes that they would have to disband, only to discover they had disappeared. That was the first time he used the power of the xel’naga artifact.

He used it to follow their psionic trail here...

What he found distressed him. Then he was horrified. Then he was saddened.

And if had been capable of panic, he would have experienced that too.

His acolytes had taken his inquiry and pursued it to the point of madness. If it was possible to alter the genetic structure of a species to change its behavior, could they modify the zerg into something less dangerous?

Here, separated from the body of protoss thought, away from the eyes of protoss authority, Lassatar’s acolytes had quietly and methodically experimented with the biology of the zerg. They had justified their actions to themselves by deciding that they were simply testing a theory so they could report on its usefulness. But there was an arrogant pride in their work as well. They had felt that having evidence of a successful effort would shift not only the conversation about the zerg, but the entire methodology of combat as well. Driven by ambition, his acolytes had believed they would ascend to higher levels.

If only they had survived.

The presence of the human complicated the situation even further.

Lassatar’s acolytes had selected this world for the same reason as the human. It was so far removed from the frontiers of the Koprulu sector, it had been extremely unlikely that their presence here would be detected. All the more ironic then that the human had found the evidence of their experiments.
It had to be an accident.

If humans were investigating his acolytes’ experiments on this world, then they would have sent more than a single explorer.

So it had to be an unfortunate accident.

So he did not see this human as a threat; therefore, there was no need to act against it. But perhaps...

Lassatar had to leave the rest of the thought unfinished. He couldn’t see all the possibilities of the situation. Not yet. There were too many unknowns. And he still hadn’t solved the problem of the xel’naga artifact.

The entire process of thought—the content as well as the context—flashed through his mind in less time than it took to zap the micro-spies out of existence.

So by the time the human raised its hand and said, “Uh, hi,” Lassatar had already decided to let it live.

-In the Dark

Psi-blades like whips
The psi-blade on that wrist
lengthened somehow, going from a triangular blade to a
long tendril like a glowing whip, and crackled as it
lashed out. The gleaming tip struck the descending zerg
just above its gaping snout and lanced clean through,
causing a small spark of light to appear within the creature’s mouth. Then the spark exploded and the creature
fell, headless, to the ground as Tassadar retracted his
weapon and used it, bladelike once again, on a
hydralisk that had foolishly charged within range.

-Queen of Blades

Tassadar's supersonic punches, Zeratul reaction time feat, and Tassadar extending his psi-blade into the sky to kill a Devourer.
“No!” Tassadar stepped back again, then straightened.
“I will not listen to this! You shall not corrupt
me!” And he struck at Zeratul.
The blow was so fast Raynor couldn’t see it fully—
he saw the protoss leader’s arm slam forward in a blur,
fist leveled at the Dark Templar’s chest, but even his
armor’s targeting system couldn’t clarify the image
properly. It was simply too quick, too sudden. He
thought he felt a rush of air from the punch, even here
on his ridge, and knew that the impact would crush
the Praetor’s chest like an eggshell.
But by the time the punch landed, the Praetor was
no longer there.
If Tassadar’s move had been lightning-fast, Zeratul’s
response was as quick as thought. There was no blur,
no sense of motion—the Praetor was simply two feet
to the left of his former position. It had happened in
less than a blink, and Raynor’s eyes twitched trying to
adjust even as his brain registered the Dark Templar’s
change in position. It hadn’t been an illusion, either,
like the one Tassadar himself had used against Kerrigan.
Raynor was sure of that, though he couldn’t say
why. He just knew that the Praetor had been facing
Tassadar an instant ago, and now he was off to one
“You strike with force but no focus,” Zeratul warned
Tassadar, and something in his voice told Raynor that
if the protoss had lips and a mouth they would be
curved into a smile right now. “Do not waste yourself
on such useless expenditures. Do not throw away your
energy on uncertainties. Wait until the moment is
truly right, then marshal your strength for the attack.”
“Do not lecture me!” Tassadar roared, his words an
uncanny echo of Kerrigan’s retort to Zeratul during
their battle, shaking his head to clear it. He attacked
again, his moves even faster this time, his strikes more
furious. Not once but three times his fists moved, so
fast they seemed to punch all at once, in a neat row to
the left, to the right, and dead center on the Praetor’s
chest. Raynor understood the logic behind it. The
Executor was hoping to box his opponent in, hitting to
either side to keep him from ducking out of the way
again. He was counting on at least one punch landing.
But none of them did.
Zeratul moved again, sliding to the left before Tassadar’s
first blow landed—a move that somehow did
not involve his legs or feet, simply his body’s suddenly
appearing two feet from its previous location. Then he
was back in his former position, as the Executor’s other
two strikes passed harmlessly alongside him.
“Still you attack without concentration,” Zeratul
said, shaking his head slightly. “You use your body
with full force, but not your mind. Why, when it is
your mightiest weapon? Do not lash out with fists
first,” he cautioned, his own hand snaking out and
latching onto Tassadar’s wrist before the Executor
could draw his hand back from his failed attack. “Target
your foe with your mind first,” the Dark Templar
instructed, shadows welling up beneath his fingertips
and wrapping dark bands around Tassadar’s forearm.
“When your mind is locked upon your opponent your
fists may follow, and then they cannot fail to strike.”
The darkness was rising now, sheathing Tassadar’s
arm up to the elbow, and Raynor could almost feel
the Executor’s attempt to jerk away. A spurt of
swirling emotion burst forth from Tassadar, half pain
and half fear, perhaps the first fear the mighty protoss
had ever felt. And then that fear gave way to another
“Enough of your confusions!” he roared, the thunder
crackling beneath his words propelling Zeratul
away from him with an almost palpable force. Tassadar
flexed, blue arcs of energy flaring from his wrists, and
the shadows fell away, shredded by the brilliant light.
“You speak in riddles to distract me,” he accused the
Praetor, taking a step back and raising both arms, high
over his head, the lightning arcing between them. “But
I will not be swayed!” As Tassadar lowered his arms,
the lightning settled around his wrists, sweeping forward
to form blades like those his warriors wielded,
but longer, brighter, and filled with a crackling hum
that made Raynor’s hairs stand on end. These blades
were not contained—or created—by bracers, he knew.
They were a part of Tassadar himself, an expression of
his own power. “Now we will see an end to your lies,”
Tassadar warned, taking one slow step toward his
counterpart. “Once and for all.”
The other protoss had left off their own duels,
watching their leaders battle, and Raynor’s eyes were
locked on the conflict as well. He knew somehow that
this was a match of epic proportions, one that would
become part of protoss history. Assuming any of the
witnesses survived to tell of it.
As he shifted to get a better view, Raynor caught a
speck of movement from the corner of his eye. He
twisted slightly to get a better look, and froze.
“Aw, hell,” he whispered as he registered what he
was seeing. His helmet automatically tracked and magnified
the image, making it impossible to ignore.
It was the zerg. Lots of them, probably the entire
And they were heading this way.
Raynor glanced back at the plateau, where Tassadar
was still stalking toward Zeratul, energy blades
extended. The protoss were all fixated upon them, too
much so to notice the approaching Swarm. They’d be
“Well, this ain’t gonna be good,” Raynor muttered
to himself. He levered himself up from his crouch and
leaped forward, the suit’s servos causing him to sail
across the gap between the ridge and the plateau. He
unslung the canister rifle on his back as he moved,
swinging it around and into his hands as he landed,
bending his knees to absorb the impact and taking a
single step forward to keep his balance.
He found himself facing several dozen energy
blades, wielded by several dozen angry protoss.
“Hold on!” Raynor shouted, raising the rifle over his
head with both hands. “I ain’t your enemy! They are!”
He pointed, and many of the protoss turned to gaze
past the plateau—
—just as the first of the mutalisks, guardians, and
devourers swept down upon them.
“To arms!” Tassadar shouted, his feud with Zeratul
instantly shunted to the background. “Regroup, my
Zealots, and we will teach these zerg what it means to
confront the protoss!” His right arm swept up almost
lazily, the energy blade extending even farther as it
arced above his head and sliced the leading devourer in
two, its halves falling to the rock on either side of him.

-Queen of Blades

Zealot durability
The small aliens attacked, but the Protoss killed all three of them. The large alien swept its massive tail, knocking a Protoss across the room and through the paristeel plating on the far wall.
The wounded alien tried to leave the room, but the first Protoss warrior got up and came at it. The alien fired a hundred needles at it, and the Protoss was soon covered by dozens of wounds. It faltered slightly under the influence of the spine’s poison. The Protoss and the large alien then engaged in hand-to-hand combat, as the alien had no projectiles left. The Protoss thrust its energy blade into the beast’s soft underbelly, causing purple blood to spatter. Then the alien was lifted off the ground and thrown into the wall.

The dragon-creature’s massive tail swept out and crashed into one of the warriors. Madrid watched in awe as the Protoss flew across the room and smashed into the far wall. Its limp body punched a hole through the paristeel plating, weakening the wall and causing more rubble to topple into the room from above.


The Protoss’s eyes scanned the room and came to rest upon the crumpled body of his comrade. The creature flexed its huge shoulders, and a hundred needles shot out at the warrior. The Protoss whirled at the sound of the expulsion and was showed by the tiny blades that tore his flesh and embedded themselves in his worn armor.

Bleeding immediately from dozens of wounds, the warrior faltered slightly as the spines’ poison spread throughout his system. With grim resolve, he inched toward his enemy. The frayed dragon-creature, with no projectiles left, swung its remaining scythe-arm at the Protoss. The warrior blocked the clumsy attack and thrust his energy blade up into the beast’s soft underbelly. The creature screamed in agony as the Protoss worked his blade deeper into its shuddering body.

Madrid winced as the creature’s thick, purple blood spattered around its body. His own blood surged and quickened, as if a presence inside of him could sense the creature’s pain and torment. Damn Protoss butcher, he thought bitterly.

At last, the warrior extinguished the blade and pulled it out of the creature. Though it was mortally wounded, the creature continued to thrash and hiss as it towered weakly above the Protoss. Taking hold of the creature’s splintered rib cage with both hands, the warrior gave a great heave and lifted its massive girth from the ground. Madrid marveled at the warrior’s strength as it flung the dragon-creature over his shoulder. The heavy body hit the floor with a wet smack and lay still.

Without a second glance, the remaining warrior turned to confront the dragon-creature. Madrid’s eyes focused on the monster’s shoulder plates, which began to heave and swell. The tiny, hairline fractures expanded and split to reveal row upon row of sharp, finger-sized needles. With a massive surge of stale air and a flurry of sickly squirting noises, the dragon-creature flexed its torso muscles and let loose a volley of poisoned spines from its shoulders. The spines toward the warrior, yet the Protoss stood his ground without even a flinch as the speeding needles shattered against an invisible barrier before they reached him.


A Protoss moving at close to the speed of thought:
Tenzaal leapt off the carcass at him. Propelled by her power suit and buoyed by her psionic skill, she traveled close to the speed of thought.


Clocking the speed of thought

Zealots and Tassadar running from a hill to mountains "looming beyond" in less than a second:
As the words left his lips Tassadar did the last thing
Raynor would have expected—he ran. The Executor
turned on his heel and did a graceful sideways leap,
spinning down the hill in a smooth cartwheel motion
and landing erect a good hundred feet from the base of
the hill. The other protoss had apparently responded to
some silent command because during the exchange
they had crept silently down the hill as well, and now
they were all grouped around their High Templar
leader. Without another word Tassadar turned and led
his Zealots at a full run around the hill and into the
higher mountains that loomed beyond. The protoss
moved so quickly that Raynor barely had time to register
their departure before they had vanished from

-Queen of Blades

Arbiter cloaking
Role: Judicator Sanctum
Armament: Phase Disruptor Cannon
Shrouded in mystery and permeated by latent psionic
energy, the lumbering Arbiter ships often accompany
Protoss warfleets into battle. Psychic Judicators crew the
Arbiter ships, and they use the Arbiter as a focal point to
project a reality-warping field that serves to conceal all
friendly units within close proximity. Since the Arbiter
must be anchored firmly in space-time to safely generate
such a large field, it is immune to the effects and remains
visible, even when surrounded by the field of another


Zealot running at close to supersonic speeds
Saalok, is stated to be almost 3500km in diameter. That’s the same size as our moon (3474.)
“The scarred zealot crouched and, with his finger, marked three dots in the sand. The three arms of the protoss fleet, waiting for signals from his fallen aexilium—signals that would never come. Under those three dots, he traced one long line, and then another. Two lines: one Saalok day and one night remaining until the fleet would launch its inevitably failed attack. A rotation on Saalok was short; the moon was not tidally locked to Aiur, and its full revolution took place in roughly half the duration of a day on Teredal’s homeworld. There was not much time.”
The “homeworld” is Aiur, which is basically the same as Earth. 500km bigger in diameter only, .98 g gravity, climate average 86 Fahrenheit, it’s axial tilt is 18 degrees compared to Earth’s 23, it’s very similar. We can assume that by “half a day,” it something close to 12 hours.

“He would place the beacons along the path of a perfect circle, using the navigation tools in his armor to map them at calculated distances. As each crystal screamed into the sky, its psychic paean would draw zerg to the epicenter. This was expected. The executor waiting in the fleet above would observe this, would assume all was going to plan.”

“The sun had almost cleared the horizon. Time was running out. Crouching, Teredal wiped his markings clear from the sand and then placed the first beacon. He touched the arming groove, where hidden sensors tasted his cells and acquiesced. Red light began to shine from the beacon, soft pulses that indicated a signal would fire after one hundred and one flashes. Teredal stood and prepared to run.
A sound came from the rocks to his side. He spun and ignited his blade. Nothing there but the fallen bodies of his comrades entwined with dead zerg. Had one of the monsters survived? He almost went to investigate—”

“Teredal ran. The distance to the next beacon’s arming location was a shorter chord of his overall run, but he wanted to be far enough away from the first beacon when it went off. It was going to be heard by every zerg on the moon, and Teredal knew that the surprise signal from an enemy presumed dead would bring the monsters coming from all directions. Luckily, this leg of the journey would take him through a narrow canyon, and he wouldn’t have to spend too much time dodging curious zerg. He hoped.
The sand hissed beneath his swiftly moving feet, and Teredal let the rhythmic pace carry him across the white face of Saalok. Aiur began to rise on the eastern horizon, and it was more beautiful than he could have expected. From here, the vibrant greens and browns and blues that marked out the continents and oceans of his homeworld seemed pristine, untouched. Broad strokes of whiskered clouds swept across the poles, and Teredal felt a yearning for Aiur that was undiminished by time.
Then the beacon went off.
A scream, a roar, a terrible hurricane of psionic noise that raged across the Khala. The dark templar had prepared him for this, had warned him about the shockwave that would follow the release of each beacon.
-pg. 4 Cold Symmetry
http://us.battle.net/sc2/en/game/lore/s ... symmetry/1
He ran around the moon in 12 hours.
The circumference of our moon is 6,784 miles. That divided by 12 is 565.3 mph (which by the way, this isn’t even combat speed, he’s just running.)
But this would assume he ran a straight line around the moon. He didn’t. He ran around fighting, placing beacons.
He ends up running more than the total circumference of the moon, so the lowest end possible would be 565.3 mph, and the high end would be supersonic for this feat.

Glassing a planet

Zeratul Striking distance
Approx 14ft. This took 6 frames out of a 24fps video; 1/4 of a second for the strike

Zealot shields calc

Zealot shields calc 2
Shield calc:
C-14 round-
I treated the tip as a cone minus its top with a second cone on top for ease of calculation, which would reduce the overall volume and considered the spiral section to be 45 pixels wide to account for the grooves (and then some). Overall volume came out as 2.454cm, which means 46.9 grams and an energy output of 67.7kJ per round for the minimum value for the canonically hypersonic muzzle velocity of the weapon (~1700m/s). High end muzzle velocity would be 3400 m/s which gives an energy output of 270.8kJ per round.
Top end C-14 calc would be this one-
“It is known as the Fujita Pinnacle—a complex mass of conflicting pressure systems and staggering updrafts that have created what is, in simple terms, a stationary, volatile vortex of immense size and unlimited life. It is four leagues wide and over twenty high.
Somo peered up and watched the craft descend. Once they reached the funnel’s halfway point, the turret came to life. The Wraith positioned itself to take the entirety of the barrage of automatic missile fire. Bright coronas erupted around the fighter as several missiles struck the outer shields. There were smaller impacts as well, and Somo realized that the marines must have begun firing at the fighter . . . but at least that meant the marines were distracted.
With some help from Filip Larcen, a gold member on a physics support forum I’ve reached the following differential equation-
with h(0)=0 and h˙(0)=v0, where g is the (constant) acceleration of gravity at the surface, ρ0 is the air density at surface, H is the scale height (ref [1] uses H=6700 m for Earths atmosphere), and β is the ballistic coefficient given by M/id^2 where i is defined
as Cb/Cg where Cg=0.5191 and Cb is the round’s drag coefficient.
The planet is settled, has a comfortably breathable atmosphere, isn’t noted at any point for unusual gravity (I’ve done a word search for the term gravity across the entire book and came up with no mention of anything out of the ordinary about said planet’s, feel free to correct me if you find evidence to the contrary) and is hot enough that being cooped up in an overcrowded tank is uncomfortably hot but not much beyond that.
As such I’ll be using standard earth gravity (~9.8 m/s^2) and planetary radius (~6700m), a surface air density appropriate to 35 degrees Celsius (~1.1455 [kg/m^3]) and the high end calculation for spike mass (0.0508 kg) as that should result in a lower minimal muzzle velocity and therefor minimal energy.
Had some problems with the Mathematica program so he was kind enough to run the figures himself and got the following-
” Plugging the equations straight in (with a small change to make sure the drag force is always opposite the direction of movement so that the equation stay valid also when v turns negative), I get that the following inputs produces an altitude plot with a max height around 55 km:
eqs := {h”[t] == -(\[Rho]/(2 \[Beta])) Exp[-h[t]/H] h’[t] Abs[h'[t]] – g, h[0] == 0, h’[0] == v}
params := {\[Rho] -> 1.225, \[Beta] -> 3000.0, H -> 6700.0, g -> 9.8, v -> 3700}
s = NDSolve[eqs /. params, h, {t, 0, 150}]
Plot[Evaluate[{h[t], h’[t]} /. s], {t, 0, 150}, PlotStyle -> Automatic]
This gives the following plot:
As it is, you have to solve for each set of parameter values you want to try out. I have given it a few runs and ended up with an initial speed of 3700 m/s and a ballistic coefficient calculated from the values you gave in the first post using a drag coefficient of 0.25.”
So with a DU round that feat would’ve been possible under ideal conditions with a muzzle velocity of 3700m/s or so (probably a bit less since drag drops considerably once you get subsonic, but then again those rounds weren’t exactly reaching that wraith at near 0 velocity). That’s around, 321kJ per round by the way.
Actually, top end would be assuming the above feat was done with a steel round, since then it’ll have to have a KE of several gigajoules to reach that altitude… But that’s real high end wankery right there.
Zealot shield feat + quotes for the numbers of marines involved-
“Lieutenant Scott followed his troops into the convoluted passageways, and it wasn’t long before they
encountered a firefight of their own. Inside the topmost tunnel three powerful Protoss Zealots loomed out
at them, eyes blazing, mouthless faces giving them a demonic appearance.
“Look out!” Scott shouted.
The Zealots raised their strangely gloved hands and activated deadly Psionic Blades. The Marines were
already opening fire. Their Gauss rifles sent out blasts that drove the Protoss back, even as the Zealots
slashed with their crackling scythes.
Lieutenant Scott hadn’t had time to know all the men assigned to him for this mission, so he didn’t
immediately recall the names of the three Marines who fell screaming. While the fallen soldiers’ Impalers
still sputtered energy bursts into the translucent wall, the lieutenant motioned one of his Goliaths forward.
The Goliath advanced, his armor fully powered, his twin thirty-millimeter autocannons blazing. The
weapon blasted without pause until the nearest Zealot toppled backward, dead.
Six Firebats converged on the other two enemy fanatics. Flames erupted from their Perdition weapons.
In a last struggle, one Protoss Zealot killed a Firebat with his Psionic Blade, but then the flamethrowers
crisped the surviving two aliens. They all fell dead next to the three Marines they had slaughtered.
The other two Dragoons, though, were able to fire their bolts of antiparticles sheathed in a psychically
charged field. Two Firebats, three Marines, and one Goliath buckled, their bodies pummeled into jelly by
the force.
Shouting with anger and bloodlust, other Firebats closed in. Their range was shorter than the Marines’
Gauss rifles, but when their Perdition flamethrowers lanced out, they concentrated on the body core until
the fluid containing the alien brain began to boil.
One of the tanks exploded, spraying life-support liquid and boiled chunks of gray matter onto the
corridor walls. The other Dragoon fell over on its side, four legs twitching and thrashing, like a bug that
had been drowned in insecticide.
Three more Marines—now no more than bloody pincushions wearing uniforms—sprawled dead. Others
ran forward, howling for revenge, opening up their Gauss rifles, screaming. Lieutenant Scott raised his
weapon to his armor-padded shoulder and joined the battle.
While their fury was expended on the Zerglings and the Hydralisk, more alien enemies moved in from
behind. Through one of the slick passages came a monstrous Ultralisk, a mammoth-sized beast with bony
scythes that slashed from side to side, chopping through two Firebats as they turned around and opened
fire at it. The blast of flame didn’t even make the Ultralisk pause. It lumbered forward, an unstoppable
juggernaut that attacked and crushed the Terran opponents.
“Defensive semicircle,” Scott shouted. “Now!”
The Marines unloaded hundreds of rounds, never backing away a step. The two remaining Goliaths,
their clanking armor partially damaged by Hydralisk spines, expended their high-caliber ammunition into
the Ultralisk’s tough hide. The Firebats moved into range and unleashed their flamethrowers.
In a rampage, the smoking and bleeding Ultralisk stampeded forward, heedless of the cost to its own
body. The beast swung the sharp, bonelike scythes that protruded from its back and slashed the three
surviving Firebats, one by one.
One of the last Goliaths hammered the creature, firing and firing with his autocannons at point-blank
range. And yet, even as the powerful blasts tore a huge hole in its body core, the mammoth Zerg slashed
through the body-tank armor and broke the Goliath to pieces.
Lieutenant Scott watched his team being decimated, but he did not call for a retreat. He continued to
pump rounds into the Ultralisk as it turned toward the final, damaged Goliath. But the powerful armored
trooper and the last five Marines poured weapons fire into the lumbering hulk until finally the monster
dropped in a heap, crushing one of the wounded and moaning Marines on the floor.”
-Shadow of the Xel’naga
That’s 14 marines, all wielding C-14 gauss rifles with a RoF of 30 rounds per second and firing at full auto against 3 practically stationary Zealots (three marines went down early in the quote though).
Well use a 10 round burst for the whole lot before the Zealots kill the three marines (that’s a standard burst fire for the C-14) and full auto over time for the rest afterwards.
We know that between the moment the 3 marines got hit and the moment the officer started to raise his hand to signal the Goliath the 3 corpses had time to drop to the ground. Assuming a height of 2 meters and free fall acceleration (because I’m feeling lazy) that’s 0.64 seconds for them to drop.
Standard human reaction time later (0.2 seconds rounded down) the officer raises his hand to signal the Goliath forward (say another 0.2 seconds for the movement to keep this low end?) and another human reaction time for the Goliath to open fire that’s another 0.6 seconds of full auto fire before the heavy weapons kick in.
Now we’re told the Goliath “advanced, his armor fully powered, his twin thirty-millimeter autocannons blazing. The
weapon blasted without pause until the nearest Zealot toppled backward, dead.”.
Oh boy…
Say he fired for half a second (which is a fairly absurd assumption given the fact he was advancing as he was shooting) and got off 10 rounds (low end guesstimating since I don’t know its RoF). We’ll guesstimate the autocannons by scaling up C-14 rounds and ignoring the fact the Goliath fires explosive rounds- mass scales up by a factor of radius^3 so these 10 rounds should count as well as ~527 C-14 rounds assuming equal muzzle velocity.
So we have 14 10 round bursts and 11 full auto 30RPS rifles firing for 1.74 seconds for a total of ~714 rounds to divide amongst 3 Zealots (~238 each) and then add 527 rounds to the one Zealot that got hit by the Goliath to a grand total of 765 C-14 rounds worth of fire to bring down that one Zealot.
Low end that’s 51.8mJ, high end that’s 207.2mJ and very high end that’s 245.6mJ (don’t ask about wank end… That shit be hilarious ).
-Credit to Galorian

Planet Cracking weapons
4-26 Teratons minimum

Short Distance Instant Teleportation
"Stalkers are armed with Particle Disruptors and, with proper augmentation, can instantly teleport between locations."

Carrier Shield Durability
FTL Travel
Methods against Cloaking
Colossus Firepower and Range
Infantry Guns
Protoss Held Worlds
Khala: method against assimilation
High End Purification Calculation
Fleet Sizes
Possible Space Combat Tactics
( purification ) Rate of Fire
Mind Control spell description

Psionics is magic
“Data Entry 1102AM0441:
A funny thing happened today. I watched a Protoss Templar doing what he calls “exercises.” I was immediately taken back to the birthday party my mother gave me when I turned six years old. All my friends were there and there was more ice cream and cake than I could ever have thought possible. The highlight of the day, though, was the magician my mother hired as entertainment. He pulled a rabbit out of his black top hat and materialized coins out from behind the ears of my friends and, for a brief moment, I belived that magic was real. As an adult, I discovered the magic tricks that had transfixed me as a youth were just bits of misdirection and sleight of hand. I even learned a few of them to show my younger brothers and sisters. They loved those tricks, and I just wish they could see the Protoss. The Templar can do things with their minds that can only be described as real magic…”
-Personal entry of Engineer’s Mate Aaren Ruth, Renegade Battlecruiser Hyperion

Time Dilation
"The mothership core creates a temporal field that slows all ground units’ movement speed by 50%."

Stasis Field
"The Arbiter can prevent units in a targeted area from moving, attacking, or using special abilities. Trapped units may not be attacked or affected by special abilities."

Psionic storm the size of North America

Time Travel

"All Motherships hold a huge khaydarin crystal infused with enough psionic energy to distort the very fabric of time and space. When wielding this force, these vessels can instantly destroy squadrons of enemy ships or even entire planets."

Templar makes an interstellar call to his people lightyears away
Protoss warriors can hallucinate
Braids on the back of Protoss are nerve cords, and help with psionic connection


Protoss worlds
Although only fragmented
documentation remains,
ancient Protoss texts speak of
a highly advanced race that ruled over
thousands of worlds in the galaxy, tens of
millions of years ago. This enigmatic race,
often called the Xel’Naga,
Over the course of only a few hundred years,
the Protoss conquered hundreds of worlds
within their corner of the galaxy, and spread
the fruits of their great civilisation to many
of the more advanced races that they
encountered. All in all, the Protoss
inadvertently succeeded in reclaiming an
eighth of the worlds once presided over by
the Xel’Naga.

Judging the total power of the Nerazim is almost impossible, for most are nomadic folk scattered across dozens of star systems in small ships and hidden enclaves. It's quite possible that their combined strength is enormous.

-SC2 Dark Templar Vote

Zertaul's depth of experience
You speak of experience? I have journeyed through the darkness between the most distant stars. I have beheld the births of negative-suns and borne witness to the entropy of entire realities... Unto my experience, Aldaris, all that you've built here on Aiur is but a fleeting dream. A dream from which your precious Conclave shall awaken, finding themselves drowned in a greater nightmare."

-Trial of Tassadar

Protoss recieve nourishment from sunlight
Not for the first time, Jake thought about the ways other creatures obtained sustenance. For the protoss it was easy-the White Circle of night and the Golden Orb of day showed their favor to the protoss and nourished them. Their light, and that of thier children, the smaller glittering sky gems that appeared at night, was all the protoss needed to flourish.

Other beings killed for food. Sometimes, Jake envied them. How good it would be to take the flesh of a fallen foe and bring it inside the body.

Her skin was pallid, and the unhealthy hue told Jake that she had been imprisoned too far away from the life-giving rays of the sun, moon, or stars. The Conclave would not have let her starve to death, of course. But they clearly had permitted her the barest minimum of nourishment.

-Shadow Hunters

Protoss psionics and cybernetics
Protoss energy sources are highly esoteric because their starting point was the Protoss' use of their own psionic powers to protect themselves; to charge their tools and weapons; and to make, manipulate, or meld matter. Over time technological advances have enabled the Protoss to mimic these psionic processes to the extent that the Protoss can now construct inorganic devices to tap into the same universal processes to power shields, drives, weapons, and robots. Thus, for example, the energy field projected by a pylon that powers Protoss structures cannot truly be called psionic in nature, just as the shields protecting a zealot are not purely technological constructs. Rather, the two processes are so closely interlinked that they are almost the same.


Charge ability
Some Zealots have even developed the ability to turn their body into pure energy for a few microseconds. This allows them to move at lightning fast speeds and strike suddenly against an enemy that thinks they are out of range.


Protoss Carrier shields can withstand direct purification fire for a couple minutes
Jake closed her glowing eyes and hung on desperately with her four-fingered hands. It was something she never expected–an attack by her own people ……. or by beings from another race who had commandeered Protoss vessels. She didn’t know which; none of the ships had responded to hails. They had only come out of nowhere, encircled the carrier, and with no explanation, opened fire.
The Xa’lor lurched an shuddered, evidence of the severity of the attack it was trying to withstand. Despite everything the skilled pilots could do, the valuable passenger was thrown to the metal plating of the ship. before she could reach up to grasp the railing and pull herself to her feet, hands were there to assist here. She accepted the help with no arrogance, merely as something that was her due. She was a preserver, and she more than anyone or anything else on this ship had to be protected at all costs. Jake felt blood trickle from a cut on her head, right below the jeweled band that held back her nerve cords. She felt the concern of the crew wash over her in a warm wave, tinged with their own fears and the cold set of their determination.
Executor Amur’s mind brushed Jake’s. “Zamara, I can only think that this inexplicable attack has something to do with the knowledge you harbor.”
Jake nodded, grieved but stoic; she agreed. It was the only possible explanation.”We are outnumbered by our own ships,” he continued. “I doubt there will be an escape for us. But you must survive. What you carry must endure. You know where the escape pods are; go there.”
Jake felt the deep pin of sympathy wash through her as the words entered her mind. But she also knew that the executor was right. She, the individual named Zamara, was no more important than any other protoss aboard this vessel, but what she carried could not be permitted to die with her. It was ancient, it was secret, and it had to survive. It would be noble to die with her companions on this ship. It would be a good death–but she did not have that luxury. She would have to live…..live long enough at the very least to transfer her precious burden to another. She had fled from similar encounters before; at least, she remembered doing so.
Jake sent back an affirmative, laced with subtle nuances of care, concern, and grief. Then she fully realized what he had said.
“Escape pods? Surely I would be safer in a shuttle.”
“The shuttles are much more heavily armored, that is true, but they are also larger and will attract more notice.”
“Yes………I understand. En taro Tassadar, Amur.”
The executor returned the blessing and war cry in one, then she felt his attentions shift. It would soon be time.
Jake hastened down the corridor, her gossamer fine lavender and white robes that marked her revered status as preserver billowing around her She had no armor, no weapons; she was not expected to defend herself. There was now and always had been a line a hundred deep of those who would die for what she carried. And soon, those aboard the Xa’lor would die. But she would be alone.
I must stay alive! she thought fiercely as she reached the escape pod and eased herself into it, Her long fingers moved over the controls quickly and calmly, the absolute necessity of her survival overriding her instinctive urge to panic.
Soon now…….be ready, Amur thought to her.
There was more, but it was not in words, but in images. Jake sensed the activity throughout the vessel. In other bays, the fighters would be soaring into space like golden, glowing insects, darting about quickly and powerfully. The Xa’lor itself, of course, was massively armored, but Jake had had no illusions that a single carrier would be the victor.
Jake knew what the executor was going to do, knew that the timing of the desperate attempt was crucial. She let her gaze go soft, the better to focus her powerful brain, to open her thoughts. Amur was going to let the attackers destroy them, and Jake was to depart mere seconds before the ship exploded. There would be scattered debris littering the are, and the enemy–fellow protoss, the enemy? The thought was agony— would have their hands full for a few precious moments attempting to locate her.
In those few seconds, with luck, Jake could make good her escape.
She waited for the instant when she would depart, and it came.
Jake thought with a stab of pain that Amur’s thoughts had never been so focused, so pure, in all the time she had known him.
With clarity and calmness that would have surprised her had she not been so secure in the serene confidence that what she was doing was necessary, Jake hit the controls. The little pod was propelled into space.
The pod, small but as beautiful and graceful and golden as any other protoss vessel—-the Khalai were proud of their handiwork and made everything aesthetically pleasing as well as highly functional– began moving swiftly froward. It had company; to cause further distraction, all of the escape pods had been launched.
A few seconds later, Jake’s mind cried out and her hands flew to cover her glowing eyes as she felt the deaths of her crew mates, her colleagues, her friends. Their pain made her dizzy and ill. So many lifetimes of memories bombarding her was almost too much to handle. She summoned her will and with an effort got her thoughts under control. She chose not to look at the devastation behind her. She did not need to see it to know…….


Purification shots are fired every couple seconds

Protoss fleets typically in the hundreds
The main screen flickered to reveal a scattering of fireflies against the night sky. They looked almost
pretty against the darkness. Then Mike realized that there were hundreds of them, and that these were
only the main ships. Smaller gnats danced around them.

-StarCraft Archive

Protoss psionics inside ships can be used against enemy ships
Technician: Commander Trakken, three ships just warped in.
Trakken: Terran?
Technician: Protoss.
Trakken: What the hell do they want? Helm–disengage docking tube and cut the General Lee loose. Bring us about.
Technician: Heading?
Trakken: It’s pointless playing cat and mouse with them, damn mind-monkeys have probably got their mental hooks in us already. Just…put some distance between them and us!

-StarCraft Comic

Preservers read the future
Time wrapped in on itself, converged and entwined and embraced events and feelings and moments, then danced away into separate gleaming, shining, precious strands that stood alone and resonant before merging again into the vast stream.
The Preserver rested and dreamed, and time wove itself in and around and through her. Memories fluttered through her mind like gossamer-winged insects: a word that shattered centuries, a thought that changed the course of a civilization. Individuals whose insights and aspirations and even greed and fear turned seemingly inalterable tides of destiny into something new and fresh and hitherto inconceivable. Moments where everything teetered precariously on a crumbling brink, where something as intangible as an idea would send everything hurtling into oblivion or pull it back to safe, solid ground.
Each thought, word, deed, life was a mere drop in the vast ocean of time, constantly merging and separating to merge again. The concept would challenge some minds, the Preserver knew; but her mind had been destined to hold such contradictions as things being separate and having no separate identity. Grasping such elusive concepts was what she was born for.
Over all these thoughts of words and lives and ideas floated a terrible urgency and fear. Time was not linear; time was shifting and changing. But there were patterns that floated to the surface, their interwoven strands so clear and strong that even the dimmest minds could grasp them. Inevitability? Perhaps. Perhaps not. Again and again the pattern appeared in the swirling waters of time and destiny and luck, submerging and manifesting with a cold precision that made even the Preserver quail.
All the knowledge she held was precious; every memory, every sound, scent, sensation, voice, word, thought. All were vital to her people.
But this knowledge, of the pattern that had happened so often before and was about to happen again—ah, this was what made the Preserver more than important to her people.
It was what made her indispensable.
She opened to what was out there, every second that ticked by in its nonlinear, unique majesty challenging her to close in on herself, to not expose herself to the pain of the debris caught in the swollen river.
She could not allow herself such luxuries.
Not when the horrific knowledge of what had come before, and what was certain to come again, polluted the waters of time in her psyche.
She summoned her energy, and sent forth the cry.

Zealot precog
Focus crystals in their heavy forearm units enable zealots to channel their strength of will into blades of pure psionic energy – their primary melee weapons. Using a limited form of precognition, zealots can even predict enemy movements, striking with deadly accuracy and dodging attacks by inches.


Zealot agility

Zealot shields

Shrugging off a point-blank shot to the chest without shields

Psionic brain-meddling
Last edited by jackn8r on Sat Aug 24, 2013 2:35 pm, edited 60 times in total.
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My respect threads
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Re: Official Starcraft Respect Thread

Postby ZomBninjasamurai » Wed May 16, 2012 9:39 pm

This should probably be broken up into alot of respect threads.
You should come inside the box...
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Re: Official Starcraft Respect Thread

Postby EnigmaJ » Thu May 17, 2012 1:45 pm

First of all, the link you posted under the 2.17 megaton Yamato cannon calculation is the wrong one.

Second of all, after looking over the 23 gigaton calculation for the Protoss Carrier, the calc'er fucked up pretty much every step of the way. The number obtained is likely several orders of magnitude too high considering the value for the heat of vaporization he used is off by a factor of a million. And that's not the only problem--- the calc'er made a lot more conceptual errors a long the way, including but not limited to arbitrarily multiplying his obtained energy value by the depth the beam travels and using the density of the material being vaporized in place of its mass. It should really be removed.
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Re: Official Starcraft Respect Thread

Postby jackn8r » Thu May 17, 2012 3:48 pm

Dragoon fire
The other two Dragoons, though, were able to fire their bolts of antiparticles sheathed in a psychically charged field. Two Firebats, three Marines, and one Goliath buckled, their bodies pummeled into jelly by the force.

-Shadow of the Xel'naga
Last edited by jackn8r on Sat Aug 24, 2013 2:38 pm, edited 17 times in total.
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Re: Official Starcraft Respect Thread

Postby jackn8r » Wed Mar 27, 2013 7:58 pm

Kerrigan burrow retreat

Kerrigan's mind processes at the speed of light + another feat of interstellar ranged psionics
Kerrigan blinked. Her mind, processing at light speed, sensed something and latched onto it. A psionic disturbance, far, far distant. Of great magnitude—it would have to be for her to have picked up on it from so far away. But then again, she herself had been able to telepathically contact Mengsk and Raynor when she was undergoing her transformation—touch their minds and cry out for aid. Aid which had not come in time, and for that, she was grateful, of course. But what was this, that sent ripples out as if from a stone tossed into a lake? It was fading now. It was definitely human. And yet there was something else to it, a sort of … flavor, for lack of a better word. Something … protoss about it. Kerrigan‟s mind was always on a thousand things at once. She could see through any zerg‟s eyes, dip into any zerg‟s mind as she chose. But now she pulled back from all the ceaseless streaming of information and focused her attention on this. Human … and protoss. Mentally working together. Kerrigan knew that Zeratul, the late unlamented Tassadar, and Raynor had shared thoughts. But they‟d created nothing like what she now sensed. Kerrigan hadn‟t even realized such a thing was possible. Human and protoss brains were so different. Even a psionic would have difficulty working with a protoss. Unless …

-Shadow Hunters

Kerrigan frying a mind
A single glance fried that trooper’s mind, and
she was already looking for a third as he swayed and
fell, blood leaking from his eyes and ears.

-Queen of Blades

Kerrigan reacting to a hypersonic projectiles by freezing them in the air, and shooting the rounds back
“You’ll never make it out of here alive, bitch!” one
of the troopers shouted, firing his gauss rifle on full
auto into the approaching brood. Several zerg were 96 AARON ROSENBERG
hit, and two fell with steel spikes through their throat
and eyes.
“See?” another trooper bellowed, laughing as he
swung his weapon around to fire upon them. “They
ain’t so tough!” He let loose a barrage and more zerg
died. “These critters bleed just like anybody else!” he
shouted, and several of his comrades cheered.
Kerrigan had not been hit, however. A chill raced
up his spine as he saw why. One of the troopers aimed
at her and fired, a cluster of iron spikes racing toward
her. She raised one hand and the spikes simply
stopped in midair, slamming to a quivering halt as if
they’d run into a wall. A second gesture and the
spikes spun about and leaped toward the trooper,
punching him into a wall from the impact. The spikes
pierced not only the man but the wall behind him,
and his body was left hanging there as the rifle slipped
from his dead hands.

-Queen of Blades

Calc on Kerrigan's reaction time and movement speed
Kerrigan had not been hit, however. A chill raced
up his spine as he saw why. One of the troopers aimed
at her and fired, a cluster of iron spikes racing toward
her. She raised one hand and the spikes simply
stopped in midair, slamming to a quivering halt as if
they’d run into a wall. A second gesture and the
spikes spun about and leaped toward the trooper,
punching him into a wall from the impact. The spikes
pierced not only the man but the wall behind him,
and his body was left hanging there as the rifle slipped
from his dead hands.

-Queen of Blades

They are firing in a corridor on the Amerigo.

Assuming that Kerrigan is 50 meters away from the Marines, the round could cover that distance in .0008928 seconds.

Kerrigan moved her arm from her side to out in front of her. The average length of a woman's arm over 18 years old is 149.43 centimeters, and she's moving it at in a 90 degree angle before the round can hit. She's moving her arm a distance of 211.33 centimeters faster then a bullet can travel a distance of 50 meters. Now, assuming that the bullet was only ten meters away from its gun before she could react, she's moving her arm then in a time frame of .000714 seconds. Assuming she finished moving after the round travels 30 meters later, that gives us a time frame.

Thus, she can move her limbs (211.33 centimeters) in .0005357 in seconds.

Her arm is moving at 2.11 meters per 0.05357 seconds.

Or her arm is moving at 39.39 meters per second.
-Credit to Shadow Archon

Dead Zerg tissue tries to escape experimentation
The sample is trying to escape. I’ve detected several new acids in the nutrient solution. Over time, they will crack the tank.

-Stetmanns Logs

Acid neutralizing plasma shields
The explosion hurtled Iaalu back into the relay hub. Flailing his arms, he hooked an elbow around a cable to keep from rebounding. But that didn’t screen him from being drenched in the mutalisk’s blood. The vile acidic fluid neutralized his defensive shields and began eating through his radiation suit. He quickly unclasped its front shell and wriggled out of it, using the leggings to wipe the slime off his helmet.
A pale glow welcomed him. Floating like a blue dwarf amid constellations of blood droplets was the crystal matrix.
Iaalu reached through the red cloud and snatched the crystal without considering the harm to himself. Acid sizzled on his skin, permeating to the flesh beneath. His muscles cooked; cells vaporized. The agony was excruciating. Uhn dara ma’nakai. Uhn dara ma’nakai. If he could get the engines online, he would not suffer long. Deprived of a protective radiation suit, he would be battered into peaceful oblivion by the spent ions bouncing around.


Acid is full of viroid pathogens which infect the nervous system
Lee squeezed his hand in return. “Yeah. I know.” She turned to the medics, and gestured at Brach’s leg. “Now listen, this is a roach hit. The acid contains viroids that propagate through the nervous system, and a standard nanoscab just exacerbates the process. The only way to neutralize infection is put the whole leg in an alkali bath, shoot it up with bacteriophage virals, then clean and assess.” She paused. “But honestly, you’ll probably still have to amputate.

-Acid Burns

Roaches spit acid from 250 meters away
The zerg column came within a quarter klick of the comms dish, and the front row rose up to unleash blasts of lurid green acid from their mouths. As they finished, the row behind them rose up and did the same. Thirty seconds later, the dish installation was a smoking pile of molten neosteel.

-Acid Burns

Zerg acid dissolves things by breaking down tthe molecular binding
Lee waited, powerless and impotent as the roach acid slowly broke down the base walls, molecule by molecule. Section 4D was falling fast.

-Acid Burns

Kaiser Blades are monomolecularly bladed
Their immense mandibles have a monomolecular edge, enabling them to cut through armored vehicles and infantry alike. A handful of these creatures are believed to have been responsible for the death of an entire Confederate garrison on Timul IV.


Zerg violate conservation of energy
Recovered zerg sample continues to evolve. Clearly has motor function despite the lack of anything like a neural cortex. It’s giving off more heat than it could possibly be absorbing in that tank.

The renewal process also throws off immense energy as a byproduct. Something there. I should see about harnessing that energy.Recovered zerg sample continues to evolve. Clearly has motor function despite the lack of anything like a neural cortex. It’s giving off more heat than it could possibly be absorbing in that tank.

The renewal process also throws off immense energy as a byproduct. Something there. I should see about harnessing that energy.

-Stetmann's Log

Hydralisks in combat
Ardo had no time to argue. He and Cutter ran back toward the bunker. He could already see the tracer
fire ripping through the gun ports in all directions. The Hydralisks were pouring across the ground, surging
toward the bunker itself. Their carapace shells were distended, their armor-piercing spine quills at the
ready for the attack.

Ardo fell back through the hatchway just as the Hydralisks attacked. The spines shot through the open
hatch, slicing through the outer layers of his combat suit as though it were cotton cloth. Searing pain
erupted in his leg, a quill having passed completely through and lodging in a neosteel beam.

Cutter helped him off the floor. “You dead yet?”

Ardo winced, unwilling to look at his leg. “Not yet.”

They both took up their own port firing positions, dreading what was coming next.

The hull of the bunker suddenly rang with the sound of a thousand armor-piercing darts. It was a deadly
hail, hammering repeatedly on the metal exteracy.wthe acid-coated quills shearing away pieces of the
metal shell with each impact.

“Kill them! Kill them all before they can get to us!” Breanne raged. The hull overhead was already
buckling downward, large indentations pressing down into their space.

Firing desperately through the port, Ardo saw the SCV start to move.

The motion barely attracted the attention of the Zerg around them. The creatures appeared so intent on
reaching the bunker that they barely took notice of the single craft.

If I could just get to one of those Vulture cycles,Ardo thought to himself wildly.I could slip away . . .
I could . . .

He shook his head. Who would die because he lived? How many would die because he ran when his
own life could buy so many others? No one would ever know who he was or why he was here. Anyone
who ever cared for him would never know his fate. Maybe God would know. No matter what the
Confederacy told him he was, Ardo knew who he was at last, and that he had something of his own that
he could give.

The SCV lumbered up to the bunker complex. Tinker had left a stack of armor plating next to the
bunker. Ardo wondered suddenly if the engineer had planned this all along. Jans picked up the plating
with the massive arms of the SCV, looked at the bunker, found the weakest point, and slammed the plate
across it. Holding it in place with one mechanical arm, Jans activated the plasma welder on the other and
began reinforcing the hull.

The Zerg must have realized what Jans was doing. Several of the Hydralisks wheeled suddenly on the

Cutter and Ardo both saw it. In a moment, they shifted their fire. “Keep ’em off him, he said!” Cutter
sneered through his sweat. “And just how are we supposed to do that?”

Jans continued to work frantically around the bunker, welding, reinforcing, replacing plates as quickly as
possible. The Marines kept up their stream of death against the invaders, knocking down the Hydralisks
in row after row as they advanced and fired.

The battle raged in an agonizing stalemate. Ardo’s gun was hot in his armored hands. Somehow, Jans
was keeping up with the repairs as quickly as the Hydralisks were damaging the bunker.
“Hey, I think it’s working!” Bernelli laughed. “I think—”

The Hydralisks surged forward.

“No!” Ardo raged.

Jans could not see them coming in the SCV. Several of the Hydralisks had gotten shots at the work
vehicle, and it was badly damaged but still operating. Suddenly, the fiendish wave had reached him. They
were swarming about the SCV. Jans tried to beat them off the shell of the machine. In moments,
however, they haddragged him and the entire SCV up and out of sight of the gun ports.

“They’ve got Jans!” Cutter yelled.

“We lose him and we’re done for!” Breanne yelled back.

With a terrible cry, Cutter hit the hatch switch and dove outside.

Great sheets of plasma flame erupted outside the ports. Ardo could barely make out what was
happening outside. Then he caught a glimpse of Cutter, his huge form standing outside the hatchway
pouring out his superheated carnage.

Ardo’s gun suddenly silenced. He ejected his cartridge instantly and then reached for the next in the
overhead rack.

There was none.

“I’m out!” Ardo shouted.

Breanne tossed him another clip. “Make it count, kid. We’re all low!”

He slammed home the clip and turned back toward the port.

Cutter was gone.

Ardo looked desperately through the ports but could not see the huge man anywhere. “Tinker!” he
called through the tac-com channel. “Where’s Cutter?”

“They . . . gone . . . they’re all over me! Can’t last . . .”

Breanne pitched back from the gun port. A single spine from a Hydralisk had found its way through the
port opening, slamming through the faceplate of the lieutenant’s combat suit. Hideously, it passed through
her head and pinned her combat helmet to a neosteel support. Lieutenant L. Z. Breanne hung there, still

Ardo glanced at Bernelli and then at Merdith. “I’m going out to save Jans. He can buy you some time.
Bernelli, you got a clip left?”

“Yeah,” he sighed.

Ardo looked at Merdith. “He’ll take care of you.”

Merdith nodded and looked away.

“See you on the other side,” Ardo said to them both, then turned to the rear hatch.

“Hey, soldier-boy?”

He turned back to Merdith.

“Please, Ardo!” She wept. “Don’t leave me alone!”

“Thanks, soldier-boy.”

Ardo nodded, then hit the switch.

The gauss rifle responded instantly to his trained hand. The Confederacy had taught him well. His swiftly
shifting aim kept the Hydralisks at bay and blew them clear of the SCV as well. As he stood there in the
doomed yard, his sensations seemed heightened. The world around him was clearer than he had
remembered it in years, perhaps clearer than he had ever experienced it. He took it all in: the horror
around him that he was keeping at bay, the smoke over the compound that had turned to wisps in the
lowering twilight. The sounds. The smells. All were alive for him.

Ardo was himself at last. He knew there was something that could never be taken from him: a victory
more glorious and satisfying than anything experienced on any real field of battle.

As the last of his ammunition ran out, Ardo looked up. The transports, heavy with their precious human
cargo, were arching into the sunset of his most glorious day. A hundred—maybe a thousand—cascades
of thunderous exhaust climbed skyward. They would never know who had fought so hard for their lives.
They would never hear his name nor sing songs to praise him. He alone would know of his triumph.
As the darkness closed over him, Ardo smiled at his last thought.

The contrails of the escaping ships . . . were all golden.

-Speed of Darkness

Hydralisk blood acid
A bubbling, liquid sound came from the door and a harsh, acrid odor assaulted her nostrils. Coughing violently and holding the psi-screen net in her hands, Howard turned. The door was melting into a steaming puddle, the acid that had dissolved it now starting to eat through the floor. Framed in the hole that was now the doorway to the operating room were creatures straight out of nightmares.


Her team stood frozen in place. The zerg, strangely enough, also did not advance. There were three of them that she could see, standing almost motionless. Two of them were smallish; she‟d heard the term “doglike” used in training to describe zerglings, but now that she beheld them, they were nothing so pleasant. They waited, incisors clicking, red human blood shiny on their carapaces. Above them, its sinuous neck undulating slightly, towered something that looked like a deranged cross between a cobra and an insect. Scythelike arms, glinting in the antiseptic light of the operating room, waited, presumably for the order to slice off heads.

-Shadow Hunters

Hydralisks can shoot a hundred finger-sized spines per volley
A group of snakelike aliens lurched forward and showered the bunker with hundreds of deadly razor-spines. Many of the spines rained in through multiple gunports, and Madrid felt the body of a marine drop next to him. With a defiant roar, a marine equipped with Firebat combat armor opened up with his twin flamethrowers. Concentrated napalm enveloped the frenzied creatures, and dozens of them fell to the ground in burning heaps.
The small, catlike aliens suddenly sprang at the two Protoss with their multiple talons and glistening fans bared. Within a fraction of a heartbeat, burning blades of azure energy sprang forth from the warriors’ gauntlets. With a blinding flash of blue fire, the first of the attacking aliens was cut down in midair by the Protoss’ swift attack. The other two aliens, surprised by the savagery of the strike, attempted to slow their advance and skittered around the warriors. Yet one of the Protoss gracefully leaped ahead of the second creature and tore through its skull with his fiery blades. The other Protoss warrior, stepping in to protect his comrade’s flank, outmaneuvered the third creature and split it in two with a powerful blow.
The dragon-creature’s massive tail swept out and crashed into one of the warriors. Madrid watched in awe as the Protoss flew across the room and smashed into the far wall. Its limp body punched a hole through the paristeel plating, weakening the wall and causing more rubble to topple into the room from above.

Without a second glance, the remaining warrior turned to confront the dragon-creature. Madrid’s eyes focused on the monster’s shoulder plates, which began to heave and swell. The tiny, hairline fractures expanded and split to reveal row upon row of sharp, finger-sized needles. With a massive surge of stale air and a flurry of sickly squirting noises, the dragon-creature flexed its torso muscles and let loose a volley of poisoned spines from its shoulders. The spines toward the warrior, yet the Protoss stood his ground without even a flinch as the speeding needles shattered against an invisible barrier before they reached him.

Madrid was flabbergasted. Not one of the spines had even grazed the warrior’s body. He noticed a slight blur and an azure flicker around the form of the Protoss. The warrior seemed to be protected by some sort of energy field, but the blue light was twinkling as though the field might have been weakened. The dragon-creature seemed to consider its next move for a moment, then fired another volley at its enemy. Wit the grace and skills of an acrobat, the Protoss tumbled and leaped out of harm’s way, evading the spines as they tore through the reinforced wall behind him.

The dragon-creature spun around, but was too slow to react as the warrior kept tumbling and then leaped upon its armored back. The creature flailed in protest, desperately trying to buck the Protoss from its body.

Igniting his energy blades and pulling one of his arms back, the warrior seemed ready to separate the creature’s head from its neck—but suddenly, one of the creature’s scythelike arms swung around and skewered him through the midsection. Madrid saw a weak flash of blue as the last of the warrior’s shield energy dissipated. The stunned Protoss took a final desperate swing and severed the arm that was buried in its torso. Hissing in rage and pain, the creature drove its remaining arm into the warrior’s armored chest. The Protoss's body, wracked with violent spasms, went limp after a final, heaving shudder. The smoldering azure light in its glassy eyes slowly faded to blackness.

Madrid was shocked by the battle’s outcome. Somehow he never imagined that the dragon-creature could actually defeat the Protoss. It didn’t seem real to him that the destroyers of worlds could bleed and die like other beings. He imagined that he could feel the furious pounding of the dragon-creature’s heart and taste the Protoss’s bitter blood on his lips. He relished the primal joy of the creature’s savage victory. This isn’t right… These aren’t my thoughts, he thought to himself, on the verge of panic. Yet, as the seconds ticked away, the rage inside him began to cool.

In the wake of the fevered rush, Madrid could only stare in confusion, feeling tinges of remorse and disappointment at the warrior’s death. Although he found himself strangely invigorated by the warrior’s valiant efforts, he shrugged off the notion and coldly reminded himself that the warrior was a Protoss, and the Protoss were murderers. It was as simple as that. Yet, as he gazed again at the savage dragon-creature, Madrid began to doubt his understanding of the nature of murder.

The wounded beast, visibly shuddering under its heavy carapace, attempted to slither toward the room’s exit. The creature abruptly stopped and turned back toward the far side of the room, sniffing at the air. Slowly, the Protoss warrior whom it had flung across the room rose from the rubble.

The Protoss’s eyes scanned the room and came to rest upon the crumpled body of his comrade. The creature flexed its huge shoulders, and a hundred needles shot out at the warrior. The Protoss whirled at the sound of the expulsion and was showed by the tiny blades that tore his flesh and embedded themselves in his worn armor.

Bleeding immediately from dozens of wounds, the warrior faltered slightly as the spines’ poison spread throughout his system. With grim resolve, he inched toward his enemy. The frayed dragon-creature, with no projectiles left, swung its remaining scythe-arm at the Protoss. The warrior blocked the clumsy attack and thrust his energy blade up into the beast’s soft underbelly. The creature screamed in agony as the Protoss worked his blade deeper into its shuddering body.

Madrid winced as the creature’s thick, purple blood spattered around its body. His own blood surged and quickened, as if a presence inside of him could sense the creature’s pain and torment. Damn Protoss butcher, he thought bitterly.

At last, the warrior extinguished the blade and pulled it out of the creature. Though it was mortally wounded, the creature continued to thrash and hiss as it towered weakly above the Protoss. Taking hold of the creature’s splintered rib cage with both hands, the warrior gave a great heave and lifted its massive girth from the ground. Madrid marveled at the warrior’s strength as it flung the dragon-creature over his shoulder. The heavy body hit the floor with a wet smack and lay still.

The warrior made a solemn, signing motion with his left hand, which Madrid surmised was either a salute or a curse. Though his body was battered, he struck a defiant pose that seemed meant to impress Madrid with his courage and valor. However, Madrid only glared at the victorious Protoss as if it had butchered an innocent child.

The warrior’s gaze shifted and fell upon his fallen comrade. He walked over to the mutilated body and knelt beside it. Madrid, with beads of sweat running down his fevered face, strained to see what the warrior intended. Taking hold of one of the dragon-creature’s broken talons, the warrior placed it in his dead comrade’s hand.

-StarCraft: Revelations

Hydralisk spines size in SC2

Hydralisk spines take down Wraiths
“Suddenly the Zerg Overlord drifting above the colony shuddered and slid sideways. Several explosions
erupted from the side of the hideous beast. The Overlord exploded in an enormous fireball. The Zerg
Hydralisks entering the compound suddenly hesitated.
A wing of five Confederacy Wraith fighters ripped through the smoke overhead, the scream of their
engines nearly drowning out the cries of the terrified crowd below. Twenty-five-millimeter burst lasers
pulsed repeatedly as the Wraiths wheeled through the air, the bolts slamming against targets on the far
side of the crumbling fortress wall.
One of the Wraiths wavered suddenly, then exploded under a hail of ground fire from the outraged Zerg.”

-Speed of Darkness

Hydralisk spines slicing Zealots to ribbons
“Walking like mechanical spiders driven by living brains, the Protoss Dragoons had disappeared into the
cathedral shape of the Xel’Naga artifact.
But before Executor Koronis could receive a report on their explorations, his ground troops of fanatical
Zealots sounded an alarm. They reeled backward as the valley surface began to ripple and crack.
Then a storm of Zerg attackers emerged from the ground, boiling up from hidden burrows. Hydralisks
heaved upward, their curved backs bent forward so that their volleys of poisonous needle spines sliced
the closest Protoss soldiers to ribbons.”

-Shadow of the Xel'naga

Hydralisk spines turn marines into pincushions
With the Goliaths in the lead, the team rounded a weird rippled corner and suddenly encountered a
group of Zerg already hissing and raising their spiny exoskeletons in an attack posture. Six lizardlike
Zerglings bounded forward, followed immediately by a lurching Hydralisk that bowed its carapace and
extended clawed hands.
Lieutenant Scott didn’t hesitate. “Open fire!”
His men were ready for the order. The Firebats rushed into the lead and opened up their Perdition
flamethrowers. Gouts of fire scorched the leaping Zerglings, turning them into flailing fireballs as they
sprang, only to crash into the curved walls, leaving a smear of smoking organic residue.
The Goliaths launched heavy firepower of their own, using their twin autocannons to cut down the
Hydralisk as it shot its volley of poisonous spines.
Three more Marines—now no more than bloody pincushions wearing uniforms—sprawled dead. Others
ran forward, howling for revenge, opening up their Gauss rifles, screaming. Lieutenant Scott raised his
weapon to his armor-padded shoulder and joined the battle.

-Shadow of the Xel'naga

Kerrigan let Zeratul live
Kerrigan: Why not surrender yourself to oblivion, Zeratul? Wouldn't it be better to end your struggle now than witness the final agonizing moments of your species?

Zeratul: The foreboding prophecy weighs heavily on my heart. I'd best reach the remaining shrines before she reconsiders letting me live.

-Mission Whispers of Doom

Kerrigan mind controls Raszagal a DT matriarch
All right, Zeratul, you've got me. I made your Matriarch my slave long before I joined you on Shakuras. She made the mistake of underestimating my power just like everyone else did."


Izsha says Zurvan is more powerful than Kerrigan

Kerrigan absorbs Zurvan's essence

Kerrigan HOTS attacks

Examples of mere spores resulting in a planetary infection
Last edited by jackn8r on Mon Mar 17, 2014 10:44 am, edited 28 times in total.
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Re: Starcraft Respect Thread

Postby jackn8r » Mon Jun 17, 2013 9:45 pm

Kerrigan Hurricane calc:
Here's the footage of Kerrigan's psi-hurricane thing:
The formula to calculate dissipation rate due to unit area (which equals the kinetic energy output) is:
P = CDρv³
To keep things relatively simple, I'll use what the first link used which is joules per day and watts.
CD = (2Fd)/(ρv^2A)
The air was untouched before Kerrigan arrived, but Zerus is mostly a jungle. The average temperature of a jungle is 25 C (we can assume it's near that of the average on Earth since Kerrigan didn't have any noticeable reactions to the weather and she was still a human when she arrived.)
This puts the density of the air at 1.1839 kgm^-3, or ρ = 1.1839
Here, I scaled the cyclone, assuming that Zerus was the size of Earth (it is basically what Earth would be without humans on it.)
It gives us an area of 1,939,382 square miles, or 50,22,976 square kilometers.
And here I scaled the speed of the wind:
The unit of time being used is a day, so 502*1440 = 722,880 kilometers per day.
Now to plug in the values to the drag coefficient.
CD = (2Fd)/(ρv^2A)
CD = (2Fd)/(1.1839*522,555,494,400*2*50,22,976)
If there is an a big assumption it's this:
I couldn't find the actual function described that was formulated by Powell here:
So I estimated the linear function of the black dotted line based on 2 points, and used that to reach to following value:
Based on that if we plug in that the cyclone was travelling 8,367 m/s, we get a CD of 196,568.125
I just included the other bits in case the drag force needed to be calculated in which case you just take the drag coefficient formula and solve for Fd.
So back to the original formula, we get
P = CDρv³
P = 196,568.125*1.1839*722,880,000(meters per day)³
P = 8.7907664e+31 joules per day which is beyond ridiculous
P = 1.0174498e+27 watts.
I'm sure the storm didn't last an entire day though.
More info here:

Production capabilities of Char
Exponential growth and decay formula:
From: http://forums.spacebattles.com/threads/ ... st-8327907
A drone can become a full hatchery in seconds.

Shadow of Xel'naga said:
While many Queens had landed with the arrival of Kukulkan Brood, this one had remained in the Hatchery established at Rastin's homestead. The only purpose of this place was to spawn larvae by the hundreds, each of which would evolve into one of the various minions.


The larvae continued to mutate from spiny grubs into Zerglings, Hydralisks, even mammoth-sized Ultralisks. Newborn flying-dragon Mutalisks took to the skies, ready to launch aerial attacks with hurled acid.

And there was something new. The Queen, following her Zerg instincts, had absorbed the DNA of the large blue-furred dog that had been infested here. The Zerg considered the ferocious animal a potential candidate for an experimental new strain of minion.
A single newborn hatchery can produce hundreds of warriors within one or two days.

Broken Wide said:
Doc, the zerg had been swarming the Wedge for eight months on a daily basis and had been held off by civvies armed with shotguns and mining lasers. It was the first time I’d ever heard of civilians stemming a zerg assault, and I think we dared to hope that a strategy of attrition might bear fruit. The zerg couldn’t sustain this kind of activity on a practically lifeless world forever, could they?
We settled into a routine. Attacks would come at indeterminate times during the day, but only once in any twenty-four hour period. It started with a few dozen zerglings, then spilled into a rush – hundreds of the things crawling over each other in such masses that each shot was guaranteed to pierce two or three bodies at a time.
I had to know. Had to know if we were being used, even helping the zerg by playing into a forced mutation strategy. We had to seek out the hive responsible for this population of xenos. We had to destroy it.
They can, over an eight month period, send hundreds of Zergling daily from a single hive.

So, for a low end, that's 242 days with 200 hundred Zerglings popping out every day. That gives you 48,400 Zerglings over an eight month period from a single hive.

For a high end, that's 244 days with 900 hundred Zerglings popping out every day. That gives you 219,600 Zerglings for an eight month period from a single hive.

The number is likely going to be between the two, so let's have a nice middle of 500 hundred Zerglings per day for 243 days. That gives you 121,500 Zerglings for an eight month period from a single hive.

Now, Char has a current list of estimated Zerg Hive Clusters:

SC2 said:
Geography/Major Settlements: 52 volcanic caldera, 18 mountain chains (all volcanic), 38 lava lakes, 5 lava seas (variable), estimated 150 primary zerg hive clusters, estimated 1029 tertiary zerg hive clusters
Now, a hive cluster refers to a Zerg base, and while, generally, Zerg hive clusters have been depicted having more than one hatchery, lair, and/or hive, we will assume each have one.

For a low end, that's 235,800 Zerglings per day, middle you have 589,500 Zerglings per day, and high end you have 1,061,100 Zerglings per day. This is still majorly a low end due to the fact that tertiary hive clusters can have more than one hatchery, and primary hive clusters should have even more than that

As Ghost Academy shows, a new Zerg colony on Shi started from one Drone has two hive clusters having around three hatcheries each a few months after the first drone, and only that drone was dropped.

There is also the fact that this is the estimated amount of hive clusters, not the fully known amount. Zerg have hatcheries on the surface and under the planet's surface.

SC2 said:
During the zerg invasion ten years later, Char was rapidly overrun by the Swarm and became the zerg’s primary hive planet in the Koprulu sector, to the extent that zerg tunnels are now estimated to stretch beneath more than 40% of the world’s surface.
Assuming I'm reading this right, that means that the Zerg have tunnels that have the total space of 168,465,468.904 kilometers squared.

So we know that 150 Hive Clusters can produce 1,000,000 Zerg units per day.
Assuming that part of this 1,000,000 larvae is used for further Hive production (which is instant for all purposes in comparison to a day as it takes seconds) we can calculate how many Zerg would be produced within a set time frame.
Here the formula is again:
According to:
"estimated 150 primary zerg hive clusters, estimated 1029 tertiary zerg hive clusters"
So in a day, Char can produce 1,000,000 Zerg, or 848 units for every hive each day (remember the quote stated hundreds, so this is a high end in the assumption that hundreds didn't simply mean 200, but a low end in the respect that it isn't specified how many hatcheries a Hive cluster contains, so this should be a reasonable median.)
Since the formula is being set for daily use, n=1, r= 848, p=1179, and t can be varied for adjusting the formula. I'll use several values for 7 in this calc to represent a week:
Keep in mind that if 1 Hive cluster can produce 848 larvae a day, then 1179 Hives can produce 1 million Hives a day (a reiteration) so when if these results seem erroneously high, they are still accurate because the Hive population is growing exponentially at a rate of 84800% per day.

374,858,740,000,000,000,000,000 Hives can be created in a week. That's 374 sextillion. (Remember this is a Hive being created by another Hive approximately every minute 40 seconds by ONLY the original 1179, add on the next million, and then the next billion after that for a week and you get this number, each hive can produce another 848 Hives per day.)

Now this only takes into account Hive production, but it's actually quite simple. In a fight, the Zerg don't have to distribute their resources (larvae) between creating additional Hives, and producing troops. Zerg have close to 40,000,000,000 (40 billion) units already created as of current incarnation. In any given universe fight it's perfectly reasonable to devote the swarm's ENTIRE production capabilities into creating more production capabilities for a mere couple days, and then producing combat units after that.

If the entire swarm's production is devoted to creating more Hives for a week, and then switched to producing fighting units immediately after that, the Zerg would be able to produce 317,880,210,000,000,000,000,000,000 units per day disregarding PIS completely (as this involves the Zerg producing at their maximum efficiency at all times.)
Taking this 1 step further, it's possible to calculate how long it would take the Zerg to be able to crank out 1,000,000,000,000 (1 trillion) units per day.
First we must determine the appropriate Hive cluster amount required to produce this. 1,000,000,000,000/848=1,179,245,283.02
A=1,179,245,283.02 p=1,179 r=848 n=1 t=?
logBASE849 (1000208.04327)=logBASE849 (849^t)
2 and days and an hour to make a trillion Hives on Char.
The problem is, Char literally doesn't have enough space for this many Hives.
http://starcraftscience.com/wp-content/ ... eepArt.jpg
A Hatchery/Hive is around 50 meters in diameter.
According to this:
"During the zerg invasion ten years later, Char was rapidly overrun by the Swarm and became the zerg’s primary hive planet in the Koprulu sector, to the extent that zerg tunnels are now estimated to stretch beneath more than 40% of the world’s surface."
Planet also stated to be 10,521 km in diameter.
That's 347747418 square kilometers on the surface. Judgin by the fact that there are 5 lava seas and 38 lava lakes, we can assume the actual ground inhabitable by the Zerg is also somewhere around 40% (slightly less ocean/sea space comparably to Earth) so 17,387,371 Hives on the surface.
Assuming the crust close to as thick as the Earth's (it's slightly thinner as the planet is slightly smaller) we can assume it might be something like 10 km.
609775097217-608038012241= 1,737,084,976
40% of that is 694,833,990 square kilometers of tunneling space on Char. Or space for about 34,741,700 Hives.
Totaling close to 52 million Hives, on Char, that isn't nearly close to what they can produce.
Zerg do however, control several planets but we don't have enough information about them to be able to calculate how many Hives they can support, so while this is all hypothetical, we have to adjust the formula again if wish to calculate only Char's total output of units at max production, and how long it would take.
A=52129071 p=1,179 r=848 n=1 t=?
log44214.648855/log849=logBASE849 (849^t)

In conclusion, after a day and 14 and a half hours of producing Hives, Char alone can produce roughly 44 billion units per day.
-Partial Credit to Shadow Archon

Why the Zerg haven't populated themselves to such a high population under Kerrigan
    Not enough resources to sustain this kind of unchecked production with such few highly populated worlds.
    War with the Protoss who were coming in and glassing their planets every time one got a little populated.
    A statement from the head of SC lore saying that Zerg A, are bad at keeping taken over planets, and that B Kerrigan had her reasons.

Why the Zerg haven't populated themselves to such a high population under the Overmind
Practically every biological organism ever made has Von Neuman levels of growth, constrained primarily by these things:

1) Food availability.
2) Predation - Guess what happens in the real world, right now, today, when an invasive without predator is introduced? The are non militaristically designed naturally occurring real world species I'm talking about. In the Zerg case, predation is provided by your enemies bombarding your planet from orbit and guns and such.
3) Actual space to live in. This is why growth, in the long run, is restricted to quadratic on a plane, and cubic in a volume. If growth is not restrained by one of the above, this kicks in once the species growth rate becomes sufficient to fill it's accessible territory (accessible territory defined as territory that A: the species can traverse safely and live in, and B: has had actually had time to reach since its introduction).

Even humans today are experiencing exponential growth, it's just on the order of a few percent per year. For Zerg, the base is simply much higher. This means they will ram into one of the above limits quite fast. The worlds are specified as resource rich Earth like garden worlds. The Zerg are invasive alpha predators in this situation, with a generational cycle a lot closer to (or much better than, allegedly, according to some source that I have not actually seen with my own eyes) mice than anything larger.

I've given perfectly reasonable secondary limitations on why the Zerg didn't display such growth, and invited you to propose your own, any at all that you found reasonable and justifiable, as to why the mini Zerg colony will not be able to grow into the swarms we see them capable of reaching... instead of simply offering blanket assertions that I'm wrong.

A restatement:
4) We know the Overmind couldn't fully control all the Zerg all the time, that's why it made Cerebrates, we know Kerrigan has the same problem, which is why she made the new Queens. There is a control limit to how effectively one or a few minds can direct billions+ of organisms.
5) They were being glassed by the Protoss since they were aware of them.
And I'll add:
6) Their original purpose was not all out conquest and devourment of the galaxy. In fact, the Overmind was created to help prevent that kind of rampant destruction (specifically the Aeon of Strife the Protoss went through). Unfortunately, it's purpose was subverted to become 'eat the Protoss and become a nifty weapon for Amon'. They don't know where Auir is, the Overmind has limits in the amount of Zerg it can control, and more importantly:
7) It didn't have free will.

Let's repeat that. The supreme leader of the Zerg, the mind not justorchestrating the overall Zerg picture but in control of almost everything everything from top to bottom, was created flawed. It knew this, and also knew that this would get it's precious swarms killed. And it was not made with the capability of free will to decide for itself what to actually do. I consider it impressive it accomplished what it did.

To recap from the top, 'Von Neumman' style exponential growth is the default for organisms. All organisms. It is environmental factors that constrain them. There are minimal environmental factors constraining the post HotS Zerg in the posited scenario. Of the above, it's 3 and 4. 4 will not limit them until they reach quite huge swarm sizes.

Unless you can add any additional constraint that would apply to this scenario, or demonstrate any of the above to be invalid, please don't just say "they didn't, so they can't, so that's that." I'm trying to be reasonable. I'm even suggesting we rule out the multi-planet interpretation, which I've been arguing favours the Zerg here. But one thing I don't have to prove is their baseline exponential growth. That's default, you need reasons to rule it out, not prove it's existence.

As for why I believe multiple planets favours the Zerg... it's what it takes for them to cross between worlds. Kerrigan is their space industry. They don't need intersystem rockets, they don't need giant space beasties, they need her. They start with her (Queens flatly do not have the sentience level to be a military leader, and will not adapt to do so on their own, end of story.) All she needs to do is establish a hive colony and a queen, tell them to eat the planet, and she can move on to the next world. She does this, repeatedly, between missions in the campaign. This is a canon strategy while she's rebuilding her forces. Even if we assume it takes her an entire month to establish a colony and a queen on a new planet (this is an absurd handicap), that's twelve Zerg planets at moderate to full infestation. Establishing an initial hive cluster is basically a standard planetary strike insertion for the Zerg, calling it a week would be really generous, and I'm only suggesting a month.

Can you tell me, with a straight face, that a Warboss can build up and maintain control of a cohesive force of Orks across multiple planets in a single year, with only the promise of a foe to fight at the end of the year to hold them together? I recall people in the thread wondering if it would actually be long enough for the Orks to start fielding their heavy weaponry, before people started pointing out Zerg growth rates.

-Steve Armstrong
Last edited by jackn8r on Sun Aug 25, 2013 5:47 pm, edited 2 times in total.
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Re: Starcraft Feat Thread

Postby jackn8r » Tue Aug 13, 2013 10:56 am

Kerrigan jumping through a Viking

Kerrigan and Zerg Endurance and Durability:
The zerg ran for hours, seemingly tireless, leaping
across small chasms and circling around larger crevices,
before finally reaching a wide plateau that resembled
the one on Antiga Prime where Raynor had first met
Kerrigan. Tailing behind the zerg, drenched in sweat
and gasping for breath, he skidded to a stop just in time
to keep from falling onto the plateau as the last of the
zerg jumped down.

The protoss were waiting for them.

This was the first group of protoss, one hundred
strong, and they were arranged around the far edge of
the plateau. Tassadar stood tall and proud before them,
close to the center of the wide flat rock. His eyes were
already locked upon Kerrigan, who had leaped down
to the plateau first and was already stalking toward
him, her wings spreading in anticipation.
I’ve got to help them, Raynor decided, still watching
from his safe location just above the plateau’s near
end. Otherwise Kerrigan’s brood will slaughter them
all. But what could he do? He had his pistol but no
rifle, no armor, and no backup. He cursed himself for
not taking the combat armor—it would have eliminated
any chance at stealth but he could have kept up
more easily and he’d have some firepower now, when
he needed it.

Raynor glanced around desperately, looking for
anything that could help, and his eyes passed along
several of Kerrigan’s brood floating a short distance
above the others. Mutalisks, overlords, and scourge
waited in the air for their queen to call them to battle.
The small, fast-moving scourge had barely enough
energy to go a few hours without sustenance, so they
were perched in rows along the backs of the three
overlords that floated in a rough line on the other side
of the square, eagerly awaiting the command to
launch themselves at the enemy.

Something about that arrangement struck Raynor
oddly, and he glanced back again, but couldn’t figure
out what was bugging him. Instead he shifted his gaze
to stare at the zerg ground forces, who were making
short work of the protoss. The protoss warriors were
taller, stronger, and much faster than the average Terran,
let alone the zerg, and their armor was proof
against at least glancing blows from zerg claws while
their energy blades could cut through the tough zerg
hide with ease. In a fair fight, the protoss would win
easily. But right now they were severely outnumbered,
the zerg using that advantage to swamp the protoss,
three or four zerg attacking each warrior. Almost
half the protoss were down already, and it would not
be long before the rest followed.

Raynor wished there were something he could do.
He liked the protoss—well, at least he admired and
respected them. And he needed all the allies he could
get these days. There had to be some way to even the
odds. But that would require heavy equipment, which
was back at the camp, or high explosives, which they
used sparingly, and—

At the thought of explosives Raynor whipped his
head back around to stare at the zerg fighters, particularly
those overlords. That was it, he realized. The cerebrate
who answered to Kerrigan, the new, namless
one, lacked Daggoth’s or even Zasz’s experience. This
new cerebrate hadn’t known to keep his forces well
apart, particularly the airborne ones.

Raynor drew his pistol and steadied it on a rock
before him. He took careful aim, letting his breath in
slowly and letting it out again just as slowly, lined up
the sights—

—and fired.

He let loose with three rapid bursts, not sure that
would be enough. But it was.

The first shot struck the farthest overlord, causing it
to writhe in pain. His second burst missed because of
the creature’s motion but the third hit right near the
first, widening its already gaping wound. Stunned by
the sudden attack from nowhere, the overlord reeled
back, unable to control its flight—

—and slammed into the overlord beside it.

Crushing the resting scourge between them.
The explosion threw Raynor back, his pistol slamming
into his cheek and leaving him with a ringing
head and a throbbing face. But the devastation on the
plateau was far worse. The scourge were the zerg’s suicide
bombers, bred to explode upon impact. They detonated
with enough force to destroy a shuttle or a
fighter craft, and a handful of them could breach a
starship hull. This had been a row of them, the explosion
from the first adding to the impact on the others,
and there was nothing here but flesh and bone. And
the hard rock of the plateau reflected the blast back up,
causing even more damage to those stuck upon it.

-Queen of Blades

Kerrigan's Shield:
Several of Raynor’s troops targeted her with their
rifles but the high-velocity metal spikes stopped just shy
of hitting her, rebounding from a glittering, almost oily
disturbance in the air around her. She ignored them,
weapons and shooters alike. “I know you are here!” she
shouted instead, eyes narrowed as she searched every
nook and cranny. “I can feel you! Face me!”

-Queen of Blades

Kerrigan Durability:
The zerg caught the worst of it. There were more of
them, and they had less outward protection than the
armored protoss. Zerglings were shredded by the explosion,
as were the other two overlords. The mutalisks
and hydralisks and ultralisks had thicker hides, but still
those closest to the blast were torn apart, while those
farther away were battered and bruised and broken.

Not that the protoss escaped unscathed. The explosion
caught them by surprise as well, and several of
them were hurled from the plateau, smashing into the
rocks below. Those closest to the blast center were
shredded, armor and flesh both, and all of them were
tossed about like leaves on a strong wind.

Not even Kerrigan escaped.

Her back had been to her brood, all her attention
focused on her captive, and the blast had caught her
full force, knocking her to her knees, her wings lancing
forward like a spider’s legs to keep her from being
smashed into the rock.

The movement had released Tassadar, who had also
been tossed back but had caught himself with one
hand on the plateau’s lip. He hung there a moment,
then swung the other arm up and, with an impressive
heave, flipped forward, uncoiling as he did so he
landed standing and facing the chaos.

-Queen of Blades

Kerrigan's fight with Tassadar:
Raynor wasn’t sure what happened next. He saw
Kerrigan leap forward, wings outstretched, claws extended,
to swipe at Tassadar. But the Executor shifted to
one side, sidestepping her attack. At the same time his
forearms, now encased in a soft blue glow, rose and
knocked her wings aside so that she slid past him without
even grazing him.

That was what Raynor saw. Or thought he saw.
Because both Templar and zerg were fuzzy around the
edges, as if viewed through thick glass. Their bodies
glowed faintly, his blue and hers a yellowish green,
and they left strange afterimages as they moved.

Raynor blinked and looked again. Tassadar and Kerrigan
were still standing as before, and a part of him
knew they had not moved at all. But he was sure the
attack he’d witnessed had just happened.

Now the Executor nodded slightly, as if acknowledging
Kerrigan’s statement. Or perhaps this was its
response to her attack. “Mayhap, o Queen,” he
intoned. There was a trace of something in his voice,
something that sounded suspiciously like humor. “Or,”
he continued, “is it only that I need not flaunt my
power in such an infantile test of will?”


Once again Raynor saw a strange layered image. He
saw Kerrigan leap toward Tassadar, her wings lashing
out at him, and saw the Executor dodge the blow. The
protoss leader had no weapons and made no counterattack
but Kerrigan pivoted away as if he had.

She spun again, the tip of one wing scraping across
the Executor’s chest and causing him to stumble. He
allowed himself to fall, catching himself with one
hand, and then kicked off the ground, pivoting up
until he was upside down and supported on that hand
before flipping back over and landing on his feet again.

Tassadar stepped forward, or tried to—suddenly he
was hurled back into his warriors, who staggered but
caught him and themselves before they fell off the
plateau. This time Raynor thought he saw the Executor’s
eyes widen in surprise or perhaps pain. Or both.

Tassadar was suddenly tugged forward again, limbs
flailing against air, until his face was inches from Kerrigan’s.
He swept his arms around, fists aimed for her
head, but her wings blocked the blow and pinned him in
midair like an enormous bug trapped in a spider’s web.

That was what Raynor saw. But not all he saw.
Because superimposed on that was another sequence
of events, similar but grander, more electrifying, and
more unnerving.

Kerrigan leaped toward Tassadar, her wings out,
that rainbow sheen between them. Tassadar’s body
was suddenly enveloped by a blue glow similar to the
one Raynor had seen around the protoss ship.

The Executor spun, raising one arm to block, and
sparks flew as iridescence and blue lightning collided.
His other arm lashed out and across in a solid backhand,
blue flickers arcing behind it, and Kerrigan
stepped back, her wings floating up to avoid that glow.

She moved in again, pivoting so one wing raked
across him, and though he threw up both arms to
block the blow the impact still hurled him backward,
his glow dimming slightly.

Tassadar fell and flipped over, using Kerrigan’s blow
as momentum and one hand for support. As he
moved, his right foot lashed out toward her head, the
glow around that limb intensifying and extending outward
like a blade. She jerked to one side, however, and
the blow missed her.

Then her wings flexed and snapped forward, as if
tossing something, and the iridescence shot forward
like strands of a web, catching the Executor in the chest.
Kerrigan leaned back, her wings sweeping behind
her, and the strands remained, yanking Tassadar forward.

His glow grew weaker, particularly at the point
of contact. He tried to lash out with both hands, focusing
the glow there until his fists shone like twin beacons,
but Kerrigan’s wings blocked the attack. More
sparks flew, and iridescence from the wings wrapped
around the Executor’s wrists, binding him tightly.

Then Kerrigan raised her wings and Tassadar rose
with them like a puppet on taut strings. His glow had
faded further and was almost gone except for a faint
halo around the head.

“Now I have you, little Templar,” Kerrigan purred,
gazing up at her captive. “What shall I do with you?”
she pondered theatrically, one finger resting on her
chin, her other hand on her hip. After a moment she

“Death, I think, but not too quickly.” Then, as
if for the first time, Kerrigan noticed the other protoss,
who were still standing motionless around the
plateau’s edge. “Oh yes, I’d forgotten them,” she commented.
She glanced over her shoulder to her brood.
“Kill them,” she commanded. “Kill them all.”


Raynor saw nothing, but after a moment Kerrigan
nodded. “Do not bother to cloak yourself, little protoss,”
she warned the empty air. “For I can sense you
though I cannot see you. Show yourself to me.”

Zeratul appeared before her, not forty paces away,
his Dark Templar behind him. They must have used
the same trick Raynor had seen them do before, when
they went after Zasz, blending into their surroundings.
It hadn’t fooled Kerrigan, but the Dark Templar
didn’t look too concerned. In fact, Zeratul nodded at
her as he stepped forward, a gesture that spoke of
respect for an equal.

“Greetings, o Queen of the Zerg,” the protoss
intoned, his words echoing in Raynor’s head. Just as
before there was something dry and brittle about
them, but at the same time they hummed with
restrained power. “I am Zeratul, Praetor of the Dark
Templar.” He actually bowed to her, a deep, graceful
bow from the waist, which seemed to amuse Kerrigan.

“Your coming has been foretold.”

“Has it?” she asked, and even from here Raynor
could see the smile on her lips just as easily as he heard
it in her voice. “And what do they say of me, Praetor?”

“You are a part of the culmination,” the protoss
replied. “But not the end of it.” His eyes glowed
brightly, and Kerrigan seemed almost transfixed by
them. Her entire brood was motionless, held in thrall
by the Praetor’s gaze and words. “You shall show the
way, the path that must be taken, the realigning of old
truths no longer valid,” he intoned, and to Raynor it
sounded as if the protoss was reading from a text
somewhere, or reciting holy scripture. “Yours is not
the hand, but your very existence provides necessary

“The culmination,” Kerrigan repeated. She raised
her hands and stared at them, fingers fully extended,
claws glistening in the fading sunset light. “And these
are not the hands.” Then she glanced up at Zeratul and
her smile returned, widening into a predatory grin.

“But even if these are not the hands, Praetor, at least
they will be the culmination of your life.” Then she
was moving, bounding forward and swiping outward
with both hands as if tearing apart a curtain—or a

Any human would have been ripped to shreds by
the oncoming attack, Raynor knew, and he shuddered.
For that matter, he suspected most protoss would have
been carved open just as easily, Kerrigan’s claws piercing
their thick hide and glittering armor like tissue
paper. Zeratul’s flesh seemed no different, and no
more protected.

But he was not there when her blows arrived.
Instead he had twisted away, dancing back in a
strange shadowy blur, and from his wrists projected
those glittering green blades he had used to end Zasz.

“So be it,” he announced, his words ringing across
the rocks and making several zerg crumple to the
ground, writhing. “We shall battle.”

And then the battle began.

As with Kerrigan and Tassadar, Raynor saw two separate
fights overlaid, the combatants matched in location
and position but not in their actions. He was dimly
aware that the zerg had been freed from their paralysis
when Kerrigan attacked and that they were battling
the other Dark Templar, but his eyes stayed locked on
the two leaders and their private duel. Even the other
zerg stayed clear of that conflict, respecting their mistress’s
wish for an undisturbed fight.

Zeratul sprang toward her, flipping over her as he
approached, his blades stabbing downward. Her wings
blocked the strike, however, fanning over her head so
their spikes caught his blades and shoved them away.
Then her wings snapped up, the tips poised to pierce
him on both sides. But Zeratul twisted, and they could
not find purchase as he sailed past. He landed behind
her, pivoting to face her, arms raised and ready.

The sun slipped just below the horizon now, and the
shadows lengthened, one of them enveloping the
Praetor. The darkness thickened around him, wrapping
over him protectively until only his glowing eyes
could be seen clearly. Raynor strained to pierce that
shroud and could just make out the Praetor’s blades as
patches of dim light, a marginally weaker shadow
against the whole.

If the shadows bothered Kerrigan, she gave no sign
of it. Instead she spun toward her foe, her wings lash
ing out again, carving open the darkness as they
struck. An unwholesome yellowish glow had sprung
up around her, enveloping every spur and spike and
talon, and that glow chased away the darkness, leaving
streaks of normal twilight amid the shadow.

Zeratul was not idle, however. He skirted his opponent,
edging through the darkness, but the shadows
did seem to confuse Kerrigan, who did not react to his
changed position. When he was parallel to her he
struck again, one arm sweeping down and the other
up to trap her uppermost wing-blade between them.
Kerrigan screamed with rage and pain as the blow
connected. Her wings reacted of their own accord,
flexing, and Zeratul was knocked aside.

He stumbled back, almost losing his footing, but recovered. The
wings stabbed toward him, their tips aiming for his
glowing eyes, and he barely blocked them, both blades
rising and crossing each other. He caught the lowest
wing-blade in that intersection and forced it up,
sweeping the others along with it. Then, when his
arms were fully extended and the wing high above his
head, Zeratul whipped both arms up and around, driving
his blades toward Kerrigan’s unprotected torso.

He had not reckoned with her other wing, however.
Kerrigan turned to face him, her second wing curling
protectively around her, and Zeratul’s blades glanced
harmlessly off them. Then they flared outward, the
tips angling down to pierce his extended arms. Raynor
felt the Praetor shudder with pain and knew the protoss
had bitten back a telepathic scream.

Now Kerrigan’s other wing descended as well,
piercing the Praetor’s shoulder, and he was pinned
between her wings, unable to free his arms enough to
raise his blades. Blood dripped from the puncture
points as Kerrigan lifted him up, held securely
between her wings and stretched sideways before her.

“You fight well, little protoss,” she admitted, idly
running one finger along the wing he had struck
before and licking off the blood or ichor that coated it.
“Better than your Executor counterpart. But I am the
Queen of Blades!” She leaned in so their faces were
inches apart. “You cannot best me!”

“Battles are not fought by strength alone,” the protoss
told her, no longer struggling against her wings.
“You are powerful, yes, but not invincible.”

“I have beaten you,” she pointed out, and Zeratul
chuckled in reply, his body shaking slightly from the
laughter. If moving like that with her wing-tips embedded
in his flesh hurt, the Praetor gave no indication.

“You have won this battle, yes,” he agreed. “But this
was merely our first encounter. The next may go differently.”

“Next?” Kerrigan regarded him curiously, and
Raynor could read her puzzlement. She had the protoss
pinned and helpless, primed for the kill. “What ‘next’?
Your life is over, little protoss,” she said, dragging one
claw across his cheek and carving a thin furrow in the
thick skin there. “I have but to move and you will be no
more.” She glanced behind her, and Raynor looked
around as well, seeing the rest of the valley for the first
time since the battle had started.

The floor was littered with zerg bodies, but here and there a protoss lay
among them as well. Zeratul had started with perhaps a
hundred Dark Templar. Now he had maybe half that
number, and they were badly outnumbered.

“Your forces are overmatched,” Kerrigan pointed
out, turning to glance at Zeratul again. “My brood will
destroy the last of them, just as I will slay you. Char
will be rid of your Dark Templar, and you with them.
Tell me, then, where and how will this next encounter
take place? The protoss equivalent of Heaven?”

Zeratul seemed unfazed by his situation, or that of
his troops. “You are overconfident,” he warned his
captor. “Such a fault is common in the young and
powerful. It leads to dangerous assumptions, however,
and in those assumptions you expose yourself.”

Now Kerrigan’s smile turned to a frown, and she
bared her teeth. “Do not lecture me!” she shouted,
spittle flying from her mouth—Raynor noticed that
several drops struck her protoss captive and burned
into his skin. “I am no weakling, no youth untrained in
the arts of war! I am the Queen of Blades! And I am
your death!”

Her wings plunged toward one another, intent
upon skewering Zeratul between them.

But just as she moved, the darkness, held at bay by
her glow and by the last glimmer of the setting sun,
descended upon them like a heavy blanket. Zeratul vanished
within its embrace, utterly consumed by the night.

-Queen of Blades

Kerrigan resurrection ability
Crota: Another Question. We found out you can actually lose Kerrigan, but all of a sudden the mission doesn't stop. Is there lore based upon or is that something that is going to be disabled for Brutal, and say Brutal is the true lore?

Dustin Browder: No, we feel that Kerrigan's revival is a natural part of her abilities as the Queen of Blades. That's something she can develop as she regains her power within the Swarm. We saw this throughout the last mission in Wings of Liberty. The killing of Kerrigan is a little bit more challenging than just destroying her mortal form, that you have to do maybe a lot more than that ultimately to wipe her out. And so we’ve brought this mechanic forward. Obviously it helps us a lot with the campaign, but it is part of the experience, of the game, part of the lore.

Crota: So, how would one kill Kerrigan? You said that the entire Protoss race wants to kill Kerrigan. How would one kill Kerrigan?

Dustin Browder: That's something we haven't revealed yet, what you would do to kill Kerrigan. I could hypothesize with you ways that you could potentially do that, but I imagine it would involve the destruction of her hatchery, all nearby hatcheries, and her, all at the same time, in a place where her consciousness could not really get back to any place where she can revitalize herself and continue forward.

Only things connected to the khala can't be infected
Question: Despite numerous interactions with the Protoss, how come the Zerg have never successfully assimilated a single one of them? The artificially created hybrid of Narud’s invention does not count.

Answer: I agree, the hybrid don't count, as the technology to create hybrid is a merging of Zerg and Protoss, not an infestation of a Protoss host. The fact is, Zerg are unable to infest Protoss because of the incredible strength of Protoss psionics. The Zerg hive mind is a crucial part of infestation, and the Protoss have either the Khala or the Void to keep the hive mind out.

Beyond that, Protoss genetic material (or as the Zerg call it, essence) is simply antithetical to the Swarm. They just cannot use it.

There was an experimental form of creep that could cut a Protoss off from the Khala, and it did lead to a Protoss being briefly infested. However, the creep was an isolated sample.

Kerrigan and Leviathans have the ability to create wormholes
Question: Do overlords move at the speed of light? How exactly do the Zerg travel throughout the galaxy?

Answer: In the past the Overmind created wormholes that the Swarm could use to move rapidly about the galaxy. After its death, Kerrigan was able to do the same thing. At some point between the events of BW and Wings, she added leviathans to the Swarm, huge spacefaring creatures able to carry countless Zerg within them and bend space, creating wormholes that let them travel immense distances quickly.

Kerrigan ripping a Zealot's head off
Kerrigan's wings blocked the first warrior's attack shearing partway through his arm in the process, and her claw tore the second one's arm from his shoulder tossing it aside in a shower of bloof. Then her wing-tips pierced the first one's chest, neck, and head, even as a vicious backhand ripped the second head off. She let the bodies fall behind her, but she had noticed their origin point and turned her attention toward the ledge.

-Queen of Blades

Kerrigan's psychic beam

Kerrigan fighting Narud

Zerg Virus
Madrid turned towards the base’s command center and caught a brief glimpse of a huge, raylike creature flying overhead. He heard a sickly spurting sound and felt a hammering blow strike him from behind, knocking him back to the ground. As the world spun around him, he could feel a searing pain in his back that spread through his limbs like tentacles of wildfire. He was dimly aware of something lifting him up as he lost consciousness.


MADRID WOKE TO FIND HIMSELF staring at the ceiling of a stark room. Pain wracked his body, and his head swam. He fought dizziness and confusion as memories rushed into his head. Protoss are wiping us out as we hide here cowering underground. Their ships are annihilating everything on the planet’s surface like the hand of God. No, not the Protoss, he thought. That’s not right. Something else is out there. Strange images flashed in his mind. A sea of horrible creatures washing over the base, tearing through everything in their path. Wait, who are the Protoss? He tried to remember. Those things out there are coming to kill me. Where’s my rifle? What happened to my squad? I need to kill them all. Kill. His blood boiled within him, calling forth a primal instinct. Kill who? The Protoss? I have to get out of here. Keep moving. Kill.


A look of consternation crossed the medic’s face. “You were hit,” the medic told him, “by one of those things. I don’t know what it was, but your vitals are freaking out. As far as I can tell, there’s some kind of poison in your system, but I’ve never seen anything like it before. I injected you with a stim-pack, so you may experience a little anxiety.” With that, the medic was gone.


“No!” Madrid screamed as his body convulsed. What’s happening to me? I need to get out of here. They’re coming for me. He was trembling. He saw other wounded marines staring at him in detached sympathy. This is crazy. His fists were clenched, and he couldn’t stop grinding his teeth. If only I could get out there, he thought again. I’ll kill them all. Exterminate them. Nothing else matters. It is my destiny. We will sweep through the stars, driving the others before us. We will prosper. We are unyielding.

Visions of marines being torn apart by deadly claws filled his mind. No, this is all wrong. I’m not thinking right. A coppery taste filled his mouth, and he felt a thin trickle of fluid drop down onto his chest. Blood. I’m dying, he thought. No, it is our enemies who will die. Death cannot stop us. That feeling came to him with complete certainty. The visions continued. Huge creatures leaped over the dead bodies of their brethren and pushed on towards the enemy.

Those aren’t my thoughts, he realized with horror.


He felt another presence in his mind. What are you? He searched for it in his thoughts, but found nothing. Suddenly a horrifying image overtook him, eclipsing all else: a sprawling mass of living tissue pulsing with a dark, alien intelligence. Madrid reeled as he felt its sinister consciousness permeate his being. Although he had feeling throughout his body, he found himself unable—or perhaps not allowed—to move.

As she stepped on the creaking sheet of corrugated metal that formed the porch, she heard something stir beneath it and saw a large creature moving in the shadows. “Old Blue!” she called, mentally telling herself to be relieved, though she felt no decrease in tension.

She backed away when she saw a flash of matted sky-blue fur and rippling muscles as the beast hauled itself out from the shadows where it lurked. And though it had once been Old Blue, the giant mutated dog was now something else entirely.

It was infested.

Spines thrust from its back. Above each leg, jointed, armored limbs sprouted from its shoulders, ending in clacking claws. Old Blue's original eyes had sunken in, and a new set—four of them—protruded on waving stalks, sweeping around to focus on Octavia. It curled its lips back, showing fangs that had grown into tusks. The drool that boiled out of its rabid mouth was thick and gelatinous, like a green acidic slime.


Old Blue staggered to a halt near the thin-hulled field crawler. From the way the monster had torn apart the scaffolding around the Vespene refinery, Octavia knew that this monster could easily peel away the scant protection. Old Blue could rip her out of the vehicle like the soft meat of a thin-skinned berrynut.


Behind her, Old Blue's infested carcass erupted in an explosion of high-powered gases, flying chunks of meat, and splattering slime. The shock wave from the explosion and the rolling fist of poisonous fumes swept outward and smashed into her vehicle, rocking it sideways and rattling the windows. Luckily, the driver's cabin remained sealed, although gouts of ichor spattered the windows and doors.


Though Old Blue had already succumbed to the initial infestation, the Queen had catalogued and remembered the canine DNA. As an experiment, she began to incorporate the improvements in the dog's musculature—and, most important, an advanced sense of smell—into new larvae. In several test creatures, the Queen designed fearsome Zerg traits into large mastiff bodies that resembled the blue-furred dog. . .


General Duke recognized the Zerglings and Guardians, but not the group of giant lumbering four-legged creatures with long canine muzzles and spiny blue fur. He had never seen anything like them. The new beasts charged in like rabid wolves, sniffing the ground, turning their eye stalks, and plunging into any weak point of the Marines' defenses. General Duke had observed many types of Zerg before, but these appeared to be a new form entirely.

Octavia Bren stared at the screen, shocked. “Those look like Old Blue! The aliens must have adapted something from him.”

“You know where those things come from?” the general asked, turning to her sharply.

“Those aliens . . . infested a big dog at one of our outlying homesteads. That looks like what was left of him—”


Guy 1: "Tell me about "contamination," captain. Where's your intel coming from?"
Guy 2: "My 'intel' is my own two eyes. Infested humans, Carter, normal one minute, slavering Zerg hosts the next--some kind of evolution we've not seen until here and now!"
Guy 1: "Yeah? Did you file a report?"
Guy 2: "Sure. It was ignored. No hard evidence. See, the Zerg infestation leaves 'em the moment they're terminated. They look--and test--normal post-mortem."
Guy 1: "That's... unfortunate."
Guy 2: "Wes, don't try and humor me. Years ago, when we first staked a claim on this rock, the terraformers, surveyors, even my own men... they got inside them. And it's happening again! The colony has to be purged!"


Hydralisk slicing a head off
Creep acts as nourishment, alone causes infection, is sentient, and is psionic.
Infested Protoss

Queen infecting a girl and telepathically communicating through the process

Mutalisk Corrosive Blood
FTL Travel
Leviathan size
Production rate
Baneline Explosiveness
Ultralisk scaling
Zerg Held Worlds
Zerg Weapons as Technobabble

Reproduction, Communication, and Mutation
I was reminded of an argument I’d had with my father after his lecture one day. We had been focused on evolutionary theory, and I made the mistake of complaining about one of his tenets – something about instances of mutation occurring more frequently in populations that suffered from drastically diminished numbers. I thought it was ridiculous to consider a population of organisms as some sort of collective unconsciousness that could react to threats with a gestalt reasoning apart from the whole.
That’s not what he was proposing. He claimed that a separate population of individuals within a species could have a group-wide increase in its offspring’s mutation frequency due to severely dropping numbers. This supposes that some sort of biochemical communication exists at the genetic level for all species. Even my damn fruit flies.
From what I’d been able to piece together from the dumbed-down boot-camp vids, the zerg Overmind used an adaptive form of DNA to incorporate other useful bits from distinct, unrelated organisms into its own genetic palette. This made my fruit fly gene sculpting look like child’s play.
What if whatever consciousness was controlling this population had recognized a unique dilemma in this terran holdout on Sorona? What if my father’s theory was true? What if the inverse relationship between a population’s survival rate and random mutations was a concept not only understood by this consciousness, but also used to overcome obstacles when all other tactics proved useless? Was our desperate holdout providing a damn testing ground for the enemy?
Mutating into new Zerg form:
"Uh-huh. The lab was nothing fancy – just enough to run some basic tests. It didn’t take long to locate the mutation, even with my rusty training. You know how human transplant surgery is all about fighting the host’s bodily rejection of the foreign new flesh? Well, imagine the reaction if the new cells are from an entirely different species.

The zerglings’ connective tissue – the tough, leathery stuff that binds the hardened zerg exoskeleton to muscle tissue – was blistering. Every sample that I collected showed some level of swelling and agitation due to the bulbous pustules clustered across it."

Assimilating mold into a new Zerg species:
"Why the zerg would want to absorb a local mold into their potpourri of genetic features was beyond me.

Maybe this wasn’t deliberate. An alien infection caused by some?? insidious algae? Ha. I doubted that anything could get through the bio-defenses of these monsters, but it was possible. I decided to dissect one of the smaller blisters, an angry green specimen the size of my fingertip. I charged up the med-laser and made a small incision."
"And I woke up two hours later in the med-bay with my skin burning. Lieutenant Orran was standing over my gurney, his face sick with worry. He told me how the grenade had brought him running, how he had found me underneath a collapsed wall in the next room. That’s when I glanced down and saw the remnants of my suit. The entire right side looked like a candle that had been held to a flame: the armored plates had been fused together. The lieutenant told me that, the next time I wanted to “off” myself, I should remove my armor first. Yeah, he’s a funny guy.

I asked him to take me to my quarters. Either Lieutenant Orran was feeling pity or he had just given up fighting me, because he ducked under my arm and half dragged, half carried me from the med-bay. My room had been flattened, with the walls blown out in all directions. I was lucky to have survived.

“This wasn’t a grenade,” I told the lieutenant. “It was a blister.”

He laughed, convinced that I’d gone insane. I asked him to explain how I had managed to find an acid grenade in my quarters. He supposed that I’d cobbled it together from parts of my suit: they’d found pieces of my makeshift lab scattered throughout the wreckage. I could hardly fault him, you know. Who would believe my story about vicious alien pustules?"
"They said that they’d found an entire valley full of sick, dying zerg. Claimed that the beasts were swollen with disease, sluggish."
(Not dying just swapping forms)
"My insides went cold. This was wrong. Very wrong. An infectious disease would result in a population producing fewer offspring, not more. The zerg weren’t dying. The zerg had found their mutation. A new strain was swarming, and the Wedge was about to burst wide open."

Nanites and the Zerg biology
Worked temporarily; Stukov was not only re-infested, but Brian Kindregan states the Zerg likely have evolved immunities which supports this.
Stukov was captured by the Möebius Foundation, which studied the nanites as they slowly failed and he reverted into an infested terran.

A serum that the commander of said fleet is clearly not interested in using? One that the Zerg have likely evolved an immunity to anyway?


Leviathans attack with giant tentacles/Nydus worms, shoot bio-plasma charges/acid spores, and launch scourges and mutalisks.
Moon sized:
Evolve your brood for maximum devastation, unlock latent psionic powers, and swarm from planet to planet aboard your moon-sized zerg Leviathan.

A small group (not even an invasion force)
Leviathan images:
Leviathans can create wormholes:
Question: Do overlords move at the speed of light? How exactly do the Zerg travel throughout the galaxy?
Answer: In the past the Overmind created wormholes that the Swarm could use to move rapidly about the galaxy. After its death, Kerrigan was able to do the same thing. At some point between the events of BW and Wings, she added leviathans to the Swarm, huge spacefaring creatures able to carry countless Zerg within them and bend space, creating wormholes that let them travel immense distances quickly.


Zerg invasion pods

HOTS Ultralisks 22 meters

Every Zerg organism has the genetic coding for every strain of Zerg
At cellular level, the sample shown strains of every known zerg creatures – and many other strains that I do not recognize. It will take a while to map it all, but I’ve already begun extracting data from an ultralisk cell, and I found a spore crawler cell that may yield data on its instinctive threat-recognition routines.”

Zerg can assimilate an organism into the entire swarms’ DNA in hours.

Decentralized nervous system: The Zerg assimilated mitoscarab DNA/essence.

Torrasque revival

Normally harmful radiation helps the Zerg
Also simple description from the wiki:
During the Second Great War, the Zerg Swarm under the leadership of Kerrigan would seek to bolster its strength and recover formerly lost strains of Zerg. With the aid of Abathur, Kerrigan could recreate the Torrasques.

Char’s high radiation levels promote an increased rate of mutation in zerg organisms, enabling forced evolution of specialist strains.


Amon is supposedly a planet buster

Zerg evolving drastically in under 10 seconds

Ultralisk carapace durability
Twenty-Nine Marines were hammering an Ultralisk with their weapons. [Gauss Rifles]
It didn’t damage the carapace straight on, only hits to the joints or cracks in the carapace did any damage.

I think I’m the only man in the platoon who hasn’t been brain-panned. The guys let me hear about it all the time, like I joined the marines to slum with lowlifes. One time, we were on Mar Sara, and I started talking about the history, just to kill time. The unit decided I was a professor because I read something other than a weapons manual once. Now they’re like a bunch of kids sometimes. Tell us this, tell us that, what’s this, where does this come from.
I don’t mind. Long as they still listen when I give them orders. And they do. There’s twenty-seven of them and one of me, but every man in Torch Seven knows who’s in charge. Sergeant Doakes is fekking in charge: that’s who.
Then something else happened that didn’t make sense until later. One of my men went into full-on freakout. Started screaming out coordinates that didn’t make any sense, racked his gauss, and went tear-assing across the clearing in the direction of the sound. He was saying something about gods, but I don’t know which gods he meant.
I also think he said the words Great One, but at the time I didn’t know why.
And I didn’t have time to think about it because of the ultralisk that came tearing out of the jungle, right into the middle of our formation.
If you’ve never seen an ultralisk… it’s bigger than a goddamn tank, and louder, and faster. Tall as four marines in full armor, and long enough that in the jungle you can be fighting the front end before you can even see the back of it coming out of the bush. It’s got two pairs of scythes attached where wings might be on a dragon. They’re called kaiser blades; I don’t know why, but I’ve seen what they can do. They sweep through marine battle armor like it’s tinfoil. You can unload a C-14 at an ultralisk until the barrel melts, and you’ll only make it mad. Correction: madder. They’re already mad. Ultralisks get out of bed mad and hungry. When they’re done slashing you to bits, they stomp on the pieces of you before you’re all the way dead.
This was my first time seeing one. I’d done all the simulations and seen all the files, but none of it does justice to the presence of the thing. Your first thought when you see an ultralisk is, There’s no way I can kill this thing.
We hit it with everything we had, and it didn’t even slow down. While we fired, I was shouting orders, getting Torch Seven to what cover there was, and trying like hell to figure out how you fought something like that with small arms in open ground. The answer is you don’t.
Singh lost his legs and then his head before the ultralisk was all the way out into the clearing. Morrison was next, spiked on the tip of one of the blades and flung into the underbrush with his armor opened up and him spilling out of it. Then I lost track of specifics. Torch Seven took thirty percent casualties before their training asserted itself and they formed up in the only way that made sense: a covering-fire, get-the-hell-out retreat. We backed straight up the ravine until it narrowed enough that the ultralisk could barely squeeze through. It stopped, and we kept firing, starting to do some damage as a spike here and there found a joint or a crack in its carapace.
Then it backed out of the ravine into the clearing, still roaring over the sound of our C-14s, and turned around to rumble back the way it had come. That was when I saw that Twohy, who had gotten us into this mess, was down under a fallen tree trunk the ultralisk had knocked over on its initial charge. The ultralisk didn’t even see him, but it crushed his entire upper body flat as it passed by on its way back into the jungle. Part of him shot out from under its foot like ketchup squirting out of a ruptured commissary packet. It splattered across the churned-up ground in a curve of pink and red.
That’s when the graffiti suddenly made sense. It was a warning. At least that’s what we thought at the time. The curving, crossed lines were kaiser blades.

-The Great One

Ultralisk cutting down a jungle while running
The scientists, or cultists, or whatever, ran like hell. Torch Seven moved like a single organism, striking and moving and also running like hell into the thicker underbrush.
This time the ultralisk came after them, and after us. Its blades scythed through the jungle, mowing down great swaths of trees and undergrowth as it charged after the cultists. It caught one of them and paused, tearing its victim into more pieces than I could count. The air around it was a storm of leaves and blood, and flowers torn loose and catching filtered sunlight through the jungle canopy. We held our fire for fear of taking down too many of the scientists, but if I had it to do over again, I’d mow them right down.

-The Great One

Experimentation and messing with dead Zerg doesn’t work
The primary purpose of life was to survive. And most life survived by eating other life. The zerg were the most pernicious and hungry life-forms the protoss had ever encountered. They had come to the Koprulu sector specifically to destroy the protoss. And now, as the Swarm continued to expand throughout the sector, the situation was approaching the tipping point.
The danger was inherent in the zerg genome. It existed by taking other life-forms into itself, assimilating their strengths. This was how the Queen of Blades had been created. And the result was an even stronger and more dangerous zerg hive mind—one that was now recognized as the most critical threat in recent protoss history.
The pervasive control of the Queen of Blades extended throughout all zerg infestations. This made it perilous to isolate and study any form of the zerg biology. In fact, any attempt to study the zerg would alert her to the activity. She sometimes manipulated or thwarted experiments, and she had often attempted to subvert the experimenters.
And apparently, distance was not a limiting factor.
This colony here… it had to be obliterated.

-In the Dark

Why infection on live Zerg doesn't work
The zerg sample has developed an ocular organ. Will limbs be next? There is a basic dichotomy to zerg cell reproduction. Type A cells throw off seemingly random mutations. Type B cells hunt down these mutations and destroy them. It’s survival of the fittest on the cellular level. Successful mutations thrive.

-Stetmann's Logs

Mutalisks can smell a drop of blood from over a mile away
Mutas are born to frenzy. Frenzy for food, frenzy to spread. Frenzy for blood. A mutalisk can smell a single drop of blood on the wind two klicks away.


Hydra spines pierce neosteel
Ardo fell back through the hatchway just as the Hydralisks attacked. The spines shot through the open hatch, slicing through the outer layers of his combat suit as though it were cotton cloth. Searing pain erupted in his leg, a quill having passed completely through and lodging in a neosteel beam.

Breanne pitched back from the gun port. A single spine from a Hydralisk had found its way through the port opening, slamming through the faceplate of the lieutenant’s combat suit. Hideously, it passed through her head and pinned her combat helmet to a neosteel support. Lieutenant L. Z. Breanne hung there, still standing.

-Speed of Darkness
A dozen Hydralisks burrowed up from beneath the ground. Before the Battlecruiser captain and the Wraith pilots could ascend out of range, the Hydralisks had lashed out with wave after wave of penetrating needle spines that pierced the Battlecruiser’s hull and shredded its engines.

-Shadow of the Xel’naga
“Next, two of the remaining Hydralisks converged on her from opposite sides, each hammering the
vehicle with another volley of spines. She heard the pattering clang as the projectiles crashed into the
metal walls, scratching and denting the hull. A few poked all the way through, leaving bright air holes, but
Octavia did not cringe.”

-Shadow of the Xel'naga
The remarkable musculature of the Hydralisk (4,000 muscles compared to a Terran’s 629) can launch a Needle Spine at astounding speeds, easily penetrating 2 centimeters of solid neosteel even at maximum range.


Wormholes opening in-atmosphere FTL
“Who came?”

The sun was dowsed in that instant. Enormous plumes of smoke trailed behind fireballs roaring
directly toward him from the western end of the broad valley.

“The Zerg came.”

“Can you see them? What do they look like?”

“I can’t see them . . . just balls of fire coming down through the atmosphere.”

“What kind of entry would cause that, Ardo?”

Ardo blinked. “What do you mean?”

“What would cause the Zerg to make big fireballs and smoke contrails in the sky like that?” Merdith
pressed. Her eyes were locked on his as she spoke.

“High speed, I guess. A lot of heat builds up on atmospheric entry, I suppose,” Ardo replied.

“But have you ever heard of the Zerg entering a planetary atmosphere that way?” Merdith asked softly.

“They swarm across space. Their arrival is soft and silent.”

-Speed of Darkness
Last edited by jackn8r on Sun Oct 13, 2013 4:36 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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Re: Starcraft Feat Thread

Postby jackn8r » Sat Aug 24, 2013 2:35 pm

Goliath autocannons
The two armored walkers braced themselves and their arms spun up and around. The already rotating barrels suddenly roared and meter-long tongues of flame blasted from the ends of their weapons. Flickering sparks and torn metal exploded from the building’s flanks, thousands of rounds caning the sheet metal like a whipping plasma torch. Entire strips of metal fell from the hangar, closely followed by torn-up bodies.

-I, Mengsk

C-14 Gauss Rifle spikes are hypersonic
Ardo pulled the trigger, leaning into the rifle as he did.

Steel-tipped infantry slugs tore from the muzzle of the gauss automatic rifle at thirty rounds per second.
Fifteen sonic booms rattled in the air.

Ardo released the trigger. Short bursts. Training.

-Speed of Darkness
And it was screaming under the barrage of metal spikes from the gauss rifle. The hypersonic rounds
riddled it in a dozen places, and it flailed in the dirt as Swallow kept her finger clenched on the trigger.

-Liberty's Crusade
He had gone through boot camp with such a rifle, a no-nonsense gun capable of
firing supersonic jacket less slugs that could tear through a human body and leave nothing
behind but shredded meat and bone. The four men with the tattooed assassin unveiled a
varied mix of pistols and rifles.
Arcturus fired first, but his shot went wide. A bar light that had miraculously
survived the initial hall of bullets blew out in a rain of glass. Supersonic slugs ripped toward
Juliana's protector and he was punched off his feet in a thudding series of bloody eruptions.

-I, Mengsk
Marines are armed with C-14 Impaler Gauss Rifles that fire 8mm metal spikes at hypersonic speeds.

are normally armed with C-14 Impaler gauss rifles that fire 8mm metal
"spikes" at hypersonic speeds. Basic rounds are designed to provide
maximum penetration against all armor types, but a number of
specialized rounds exist. Of these, the U-238 depleted uranium spike is
the most popular because it extends the lethal range of gauss rifles by
up to 25%. To preserve ammunition usage and minimize power
requirements, the rifle uses a capacitor system to fire in short,
controlled bursts. This flexible sidearm can be used to target both air
and ground enemies.

The Powered Combat Suit worn by Confederate
Marines is effective against most small-arms fire and
provides them with full life-support and NBC
(Nuclear/Biological/Chemical) shielding for operation
in deep space and hostile environments. The C-14
Impaler Gauss Rifle fires 8mm metal “spikes” at
hypersonic speeds. The rounds are designed to provide
maximum penetration against all armour types. To
preserve both ammo usage and minimise power
requirements, the rifle uses a capacitor system to fire
in short, controlled bursts.


C-14s auto-aim
"In ancient times dueling was an accepted and honorable means of resolving a dispute between individuals with opposing views. Two men would stand back to back on the field of combat -- their chosen weapons raised in a proud salute -- prepared to fight to the death. Things are a WHOLE lot different now. Lately, "Duels" are resolved with auto-aiming Gauss weaponry, powered combat suits, and even Goliath Combat Walkers! No one has respect for the old traditions anymore..."

-Admiral David Jones

-StarCraft Compendium

Civillians using Gauss Rifles
The lessons with the gauss rifle and slugthrower had been a disaster, the savage recoil of the rifle knocking Valerian onto his back and the bucking pistol spraining his wrist. The guns were loud and even when he managed to hold them straight, he couldn't hit any of the targets his dad set up at the edge of the river. [He's younger here]
Valerian pulled the trigger, working his fire over the second marine. The recoil of the gauss rifle was fearsome, designed to be absorbed by a powered combat suit, which Valerian conspicuously wasn't wearing. The roar of the weapon was deafening, but Valerian kept the rifle on target, knowing that his target's armor would defeat all but the most concentrated clusters of impacts. [Older here]

-I, Mengsk
Raynor went over to the colonial militia and came back with the gauss rifle. He handed it to Mike, and his armored hand closed over the larger of two grips. The smaller grip, used by nonarmored shooters, required the firer to use both hands to steady its long barrel. In the armor, Raynor could heft it easily.

“Take a shot at that boulder,” he said, trying valiantly to keep a smile from his face.

At first Mike thought the marshal was only amused by his performance, but as he leveled the gun, he thought about what he was doing. The armored turtle on stilts was about to fire a gun.

“Hang on,” he said. “How does this thing handle recoil?”

Raynor turned to the other militiamen. “See? I told you he was smarter than he looked!” Some of the colonial soldiers reached for their wallets.

To Mike he said, “You brace, go into a broad-legged stance. The suit knows the maneuver. It compensates along the gun arm.”

-Liberty's Crusade

What Gauss Rifles do to metal
Mike dove forward, underneath the leap, and raised his gauss rifle. He caught the creature in the belly, spearing it and catching the beast’s own momentum. Beast and barrel rose in a slow arc above him.

At the top of the arc Mike pulled the trigger, and a volley of spikes splattered the zergling. Those that passed through its body embedded in the metal ceiling of the hallway.
Raynor was in his own suit, looking equally battered and worn. The lawman nodded behind his open visor and said, “The armor will stop most common slugthrowers, though a good needle-gun can still punch through. That’s why most front-line troops carry C-14 Impalers, gauss rifles that fire eight-millimeter spikes.

-Liberty's Crusade

What C-14s do to people
"Fire!" shouted Arcturus.

Withering sprays of Impaler spikes ripped through the mercenaries, their lighter body armor no match for close-range gauss fire. Arcturus worked his rifle over the men below him, bloody eruptions fountaining where his spikes blew open skulls or tore limbs from bodies.

Caught in the crossfire, the mercenaries had no chance.

They danced in the vicious bursts of gunfire, trapped in the open and unable to fight back. The echoes of rifles were deafening as they filled the narrow defile in the canyon with screaming hot spikes. A few of the mercenaries managed to bring their weapons to bear, but it was too little too late and they were cut down without mercy.

Realizing that to fight on was hopeless, one man threw down his rifle and held up his hands in surrender. Arcturus cut him in two with a sustained burst of fire
“Blood squirted onto the floor from the ragged crater in the man's throat and Arcturus gagged at the horrid, burned-metallic smell of the man's death. Another man's body lay farther along the corridor, this one with his chest torn apart by Impaler spikes. It looked like he'd been sawn in two.
No sooner had he given this last instruction than Jaq Delor was struck by a burst of Impaler fire.

It was as if a giant fist had hammered into his side and hurled him against the wall. Blood spattered Arcturus, and he watched in horror as Delor's head lolled down over his chest, almost severed by the impact of the Impaler spikes.”

-I, Mengsk
Despite himself, Mike smiled. Then the chest of the soldier he had fired above blossomed in a fountain of blood. His companion brought his own weapon around, but too slowly. His head vaporized in a red mist as visor and helmet shattered.

Mike looked up to see Raynor standing above him, leaning out of the doorway. He had taken the two enemy troopers out with single shots.”

-Liberty's Crusade

Shadowguards influencing and reading minds
Pandora had crossed a line and broken the one rule that the shadowguards held above all others: never use the powers of deception to deceive your own. Pandora knew that she and her comrades were allowed a great deal of freedom, unlike the Dominion’s brain-panned ghosts. In return, the Umojan Protectorate expected its shadowguards to act with integrity.
But this was necessary. Pandora knew that when the mission was over, Sage would understand.
“Look at those security-payment allocations. They can’t have more than a dozen guards inside.”
Sage scratched his face and stared at the dossiers in silence. Pandora suddenly became aware of a slight change in his mind. A crack in his firm resolve to cancel the mission.

Pandora expects the woman to be filled with rage, an extension of the death machine that she pilots, but she’s not. Concerned and guilty thoughts swirl in the pilot’s mind.

“Was anyone injured when we escaped?”
The official pauses. She senses the man trying to hide something in his mind. Casualties.
“The Dominion mobilized after what happened at the facility and combed Augustgrad for any signs of our other agents. Seven of them haven’t reported in since the sweeps.”

“Where’s Sage?” Pandora asks, her voice still a whisper.
Kang’s face pales. He opens his mouth, stammers, searching for words. Pandora cautiously probes his mind, afraid of what she will find.
“Let me get your team. They should be the ones to – ”
“Tell me!” she shouts, strong and commanding. The force of it surprises her, and it surprises the official even more.

Concrete and neosteel walls can resist a laser that can drill through the earth’s crust
“Yes, we’re perfectly safe,” he said. “The walls of this refuge are three feet of
plascrete with neosteel reinforcement bars. It would take the Mining Guild’s biggest drills
—at least a BDE-1400—to get through. Maybe even the 1600.”
“You know a lot about drills?”
“A little,” he said, with just the right hint of modesty for her to infer that he knew a
lot about drills. “I plan on becoming a prospector someday.

-I, Mengsk
The heavy-duty mobile rigs, they have high pressure mining beams?
Yes, of course! The BDE-1600 units can drill deep enough to hit magma.
Ooh! And they can be focused? Aimed?
See those rings? They turn. You can point the drill any direction you want. Even sideways for carving whole slices out of a canyon wall.
How many heavy duty rigs does this station have?
Well, there are those you see and maybe another dozen down in the maintenance bay plus enough spare parts to build another dozen or so.
Dad used to talk about ripping this rock down to the core to get at the heavier minerals. No matter what it took.

-StarCraft: Ghost Academy

A neosteel station couldn’t be destroyed entirely with teraton nukes
Intel shows eighty percent of the zerg fliers nest on an infested platform hanging in low orbit. We take that down, we’ll own the air.
Hell, if this platform’s so important, why not just nuke it?
The nests are burrowed deep into the superstructure. Surface detonations won’t do it. We’d need to land a strikeforce on the platform and take it apart piece by piece. It’s your call, Raynor.
The zerg fliers are using this old orbital platform as their base of operations.
It’s actually made up of several smaller platforms tethered together in geostationary orbit.
The nests are too deep inside to destroy with a bombardment, but clearing the whole thing with ground forces will be costly.


A neosteel station (and one other not mentioned) survived a planet being glassed
A pure white light filled the vidscreen and then gradually subsided to a burning vortex of flame. The fireball, which seemed to reach clear to the roof of the sky, spread itself over the vast desert, consuming everything in its path. The reinforced paristeel walls of the room shuddered as the Protoss vessels continued to rain their devastation upon the planet.
Memories of the stories from his mother’s tattered old Bible raced through Madrid’s mind as he pictured the horrific imagery of the final judgment of Armageddon. Yet he couldn’t bring himself to believe that this wanton destruction was a prophesied act of God. It was an act of sheer will; a cold, calculated display by the vile, soulless Protoss.
The brightness of the vidscreen forced him to squint as he watched the fireball thunder toward the shelter. The cadets’ panic reached a fevered pitch as shock waves ripped through the shuddering room. Above the furor of the seismic assault, he could hear anguished screams of pure terror.
Madrid woke with a start.
As he sat trying to calm the pounding of his heart, he could still hear the screams echoing in his ears. He got up from his bunk and walked out of the barracks into the cold morning air. Shakily, he dug his fingers into a slightly crumpled pack of Rebel Reds and pulled out a cigarette. Cupping the open flame of his lighter, he took a drag off the harsh smoke and wandered aimlessly across the compound.
It had been nearly three weeks since the mysterious Protoss had appeared and burned the unsuspecting world of Chau Sara. Miraculously, Madrid had survived. Thanks to the signal of his personal emergency transceiver, he and a handful of others were found under the shelter’s ruins by a nearby Confederate medevac team. He remembered looking down and marveling at the devastation that stretched across the burning horizon as the dropship carried him away from the planet.

-StarCraft: Revelations

Nova leveling 4 city blocks at 10 PSI scale level
The TPF had already cordoned off a four-block radius surrounding the skyscraper. When Mal went through the cordon, he saw why: There were bodies everywhere. Not a single sign of trauma on any of them. Also damage consistent with a major explosion, but without any of the signs. No burn marks, no scorching, no evidence of any kind of explosive agent. Plenty of broken glass, metal, plastic, and wood, though.

-StarCraft: Ghost--Nova pg. 57
Mal’s boots crunched as he walked. He double-checked his computer, and was reminded that the Terra Skyscraper’s roof was usually covered by a steel-glass dome—which meant the telekinetic attack destroyed the dome, something that was only physically possible with a nuclear weapon. Mentally possible, though—that covers a much bigger range.

-StarCraft Ghost--Nova
Mal’s boots crunched as he walked. He double-checked his computer, and was reminded that the Terra Skyscraper’s roof was usually covered by a steel-glass dome—which meant the telekinetic attack destroyed the dome, something that was only physically possible with a nuclear weapon. Mentally possible, though—that covers a much bigger range.

-StarCraft: Ghost

Nova guiding a sniper round to follow a target with telekinesis:
Nova pulled up her C-20A, sighted at the glowing figure toying with Lethal, and opened fire.

The canister flew straight and strong, and the distance was less than nine meters, but the target must have sensed something because he threw his upper body backward at the last moment, bending impossibly deep at the waist even as Nova teeked the round to follow him.

Instead of hitting his temple and exploding out the other side, the canister shattered his mask and ripped through his nose and upper jaw.

Banelings could cause tremendous damage. Without long-range tank fire, the marines were vulnerable. She had to take the aliens out beforethey could reach the troops. She sighted carefully with her rifle and fired, teeking each round to its target.

The banelings exploded one by one,bursting against the rocky ground and spraying acid across the backs of the nearby zerg.

It was time for a closer look. Nova leapt over a crevice in the rock and entered the fray, her C-20A laying waste to the smaller zerglings as she teeked each round to the most vulnerable parts of their anatomy.


Gauss rifle rounds hitting a Wraith fifty-five kilometers up without lag:
“It is known as the Fujita Pinnacle—a complex mass of
conflicting pressure systems and staggering updrafts that
have created what is, in simple terms, a stationary,
volatile vortex of immense size and unlimited life. It is
four leagues wide and over twenty high. To give you a
rough idea, its diameter is that of two battlecruisers
placed end-to-end, and its height is twice that of the
tallest superstructure on Tarsonis.”
There wasn’t much light inside the funnel anyway,
but when the Wraith fighter and four dropships
appeared at the funnel’s top, it had the effect of eclipsing
what little light there was. Somo peered up and watched
the craft descend. Once they reached the funnel’s
halfway point, the turret came to life. The Wraith positioned
itself to take the entirety of the barrage of automatic
missile fire. Bright coronas erupted around the
fighter as several missiles struck the outer shields. There
were smaller impacts as well, and Somo realized that the
marines must have begun firing at the fighter . . . but at
least that meant the marines were distracted.


Battlecruiser durability
Surviving Yamato canon
The image on the screen shifted and the Gorgon-class battlecruiser appeared. It had already sustained damage but was dealing as good as it was getting. Matt knew that as the flagship of Mengsk’s fleet, it had the most up-to-date weaponry and defenses and was the most massive ship humanity had ever seen. Even as Horner watched, the Bucephalus fired its Yamato cannon. The small, focused nuclear explosion hurtling from the cannon struck its target with devastating results. The older and less well equipped Behemoth-class battlecruiser on the receiving end didn’t stand a chance. A roiling ball of fire appeared, and the attacked ship slowed drastically, starting to drift. It, and the six thousand souls upon it, no longer represented a threat.

The White Star ripped into the Hyperion. Wraiths dove at it like a mass of angry hornets, strafing as they darted past. The White Star fired its Yamato cannon, and Valerian squinted at the brightness of the attack. Luck was with the Hyperion; it had been banking as the cannon fired, and the blow was a glancing one. Still, it was bad enough. Strangely, the Hyperion didn’t return fire and just kept coming.

Almost faster than a thought, the Hyperion, so lumbering when trapped beneath the garbage of the surface, shot upward, firing as she went, climbing toward the openness of space. Swann had been right. More Wraiths awaited them—and a single battleship. The vessel had seen better days, and looked like it belonged on the junk heap that had concealed the Hyperion and the Bucephalus rather than battling the former flagships. But Swann knew enough about mercs to know that they put their credits where it counted, not in cosmetic care. He was not about to underestimate what the apparently dilapidated battlecruiser was capable of.

“Activate our Yamato cannon. Target the battlecruiser and give it all we got!” he cried. The Wraiths were inflicting the most damage, but without the battlecruiser, they were stuck—they had no ability to make warp jumps. Nor could they dock for repairs.

And Wraiths didn’t have Yamato cannons.

Cade lined up the battlecruiser in his sights, and fired. He got in a good solid hit, but the ship was still functional. The Wraiths descended in revenge, diving like maddened hornets.

The “engineers” sent to “repair” the Hyperion and, presumably, the Bucephalus, had inadvertently done some good. Needing to maintain their cover while they sabotaged the power cells, they had actually made some repairs. It was the only reason that the Hyperion was able to withstand the attack from three battleships and the Wraiths they bore.

Engineering was hard at work undoing the damage and restoring communication between the two ships and Space Station Prometheus. There didn’t seem to be any problem receiving communications from the White Star, though.

“This is Emperor Arcturus Mengsk,” the loathed and familiar voice had said as soon as the fleet appeared out of the asteroid field. “Surrender and you will escape destruction.”

“Mengsk,” Matt had said, not even bothering to pretend respect by using a title, “this is Captain Matthew H—”

“Oh, I know your voice by now, Matt,” said Mengsk. “I know where your boss is . . . and where his little girlfriend is too. There are people aboard your vessel and the Bucephalus who have done work for me, and I’d prefer not to blast them into pieces. Or you, for that matter. You are outgunned and barely limping along. So surrender and save us all a great deal of time and trouble.”

“Gosh, that sounds just fine, but somehow I don’t think my boss would want me to do that,” Matt said, and nodded to tactical. With no further warning, they unleashed the full power of the Yamato cannon on the White Star.

And since that volley, things hadn’t slowed. Not Mengsk’s angry threats, nor the retaliatory attack, nor the onslaught on the station. That seemed to be the main target, and Matt thought sickly, why wouldn’t it be? Both Kerrigan and Raynor were on the station.

“Do it,” ordered Matt.

The massive battlecruiser had been moving, positioning itself to both defend and attack as needed. Now the Hyperion slowed and then came to a full stop, hanging seemingly dead in space. Matt knew that once the import of this registered on Mengsk, they would become the main target rather than the space station itself.

He was counting on it.

Two seconds later there was a crackle on the comm. For a horrible moment Horner was afraid that Rory had miscalculated, that he had tried to do too much, too fast, and they were actually now as dead in space as they appeared.

Then Marcus cried excitedly, “Sir! It’s working!”

“Switch to Bucephalus view,” ordered Matt.

Marcus obliged. Matt felt almost weak with relief as he saw a blue halo enveloping the Bucephalus and the remaining Wraiths. Swann, following Matt’s seemingly insane idea, had diverted all power from the ship’s engines to the shields. That extra power had enabled the Hyperion to extend its shielding capabilities to protect Valerian’s ship and the little vessels it was sending out to defend it. It had not come without a cost. Not only was the Hyperion stuck right where it was until power was returned to the engines from the shields, but the shield itself was also much weaker than usual. There was only so much energy to spread around, and the larger the area covered, the less effective the shield.

But it was buying time for the beleaguered Bucephalus and the Wraiths. Even as Matt watched, the Wraiths that had been little more than fish in a barrel began to inflict some serious damage on the ships that had, moments before, been obliterating them.

“Swann, it worked! You’re amazing!” shouted Matt.

“Yeah, let’s all remember this next time we’re distributing some credits,” Swann said. “Oh, and I got a special bonus gift for you. Gimme about twenty seconds and you’ll be able to talk to the Bucephalus and, I hope, our cowboy boss down on the station.”

The Hyperion rocked from a blow that was, now, much more damaging than it ought to have been.

“Then let’s give the White Star one final parting shot.”

The Yamato cannon’s final attack left its mark. Matt regarded the blaze for a second before issuing the order.

“Let’s go.” Matt wasn’t ashamed that his voice broke, just a little, on the last word.
The Hyperion’s front thrusters fired, and the great battleship suddenly went into reverse. For a moment the White Star and the other Dominion vessels kept firing where they were.
“Come on,” Matt whispered, “you don’t want us to get away . . . . ”

And then the White Star started moving. The other ships, two left now, followed. “They’re giving chase and moving away from the station,” said Marcus, trying and failing not to smile.“

“Good,” said Matt. “Now all we have to do is navigate one of the most treacherous asteroid fields with about twenty-five percent shields, half our engines, and Arcturus Mengsk on our tail.”



Neural inhibitor

Terran Behemoth Battle Cruiser Dimensions

Yamato Cannon strength
Laser Drill
40 tons of TNT per second. 25 seconds of continuous fire for a kiloton.
Attacking with laser:
"We learned to conserve ammo, relying on the mining lasers the civvies had jury-rigged onto platforms above the walls to control the xenos. The Wedge really did seem to nullify the zerg offense: no matter how many claws stormed down that canyon, they could only get close enough to scratch at the barricades before being picked off. It was almost more work to burn away the corpses with the lasers when the attack was over."

Generic Nuke
Very Small teraton range
This one is iffy:

Nuke Resistant Structure Quotes
"Farming Implement"
Commando Rifle HEV Round Scaling
C-14 Rifle Ejected Casing Scaling
Smart mines
FTL Travel
Battlecruiser scaling
Apocalypse Nuke Firepower
Laser Weapons/Equipment
Yamato Cannon and EMP
FTL sensors/communications
Science Vessel Scaling
Battlecruiser Durability Misconceptions
Tactical Nukes
Population Growth
installation walls vs laser mining drills

Thor firing scan

Ghosts are telepathic
Astral Projection


Korhal Apocalypse Missile yield
"A salvo of one thousand Apocalypse-class nuclear missiles was fired at the planet of Korhal from the distant Confederate capital of Tarsonis. Over 4,000,000 people were annihilated during the savage attack. In a single instant, the prosperous colony of Korhal was reduced to nothing more than a super-heated sphere of blackened glass and stirring phantoms."
-SC Manual
Pretty obvious that everything on the planet is dead after that, so it's a safe bet that the nukes completely sterilized Korhal's surface.

Unlike Chau Sara, Korhal actually does have some canon stats. http://us.battle.net/sc2/en/game/planet/korhal It's slightly smaller than Earth, with a radius of 6,124 kilometers. Plugging that into this calculator gives it a surface area of 4.71281e+14 m^2. If the missiles were targeted and spread out perfectly each one would have to destroy 4.71281e+11 m^2 of it. A circle with that surface area would have a radius of 387,316 meters.

I'll use two different methods to get the yields for these missiles.

Nuke Calculator Total Fatality Radius

For this I'll be using the nuke calculator http://stardestroyer.net/Resources/Calc ... sions.html , more specifically the total fatality radius, which seems appropriate for once considering that these actually are nukes.

For a total fatality radius of 387.3 kilometers, each missile would require a yield of 3.295 teratons. Multiplied by a thousand, the whole barrage adds up to 3.295 petatons. Of course, this doesn't take into account melting the surface or the fact that Korhal's oceans would have to be vaporized to turn the whole planet into a sphere of superheated black glass, so the actual yields are probably significantly higher than this.
Final Results

Apocalypse Missile Yield: >3.295 teratons
Destruction of Korhal: >3.295 petatons

Crust Melting + Ocean Vaporization

People suggested this method as well, so I'll give it a whirl and see what I get.

Like SD.net's calcs for BDZ operations, I'll assume only the top meter of crust was melted by the blasts. That means the attack melted around 4.71281e+14 m^3 of rock. Using the 5,000 j/cm^3 figure for melting found here http://www.nap.edu/openbook.php?record_id=2349&page=67 , the amount of energy needed to melt the top meter of Korhal's crust is 2.356405e+24 joules, or roughly 563.2 teratons.

As for the oceans, according to this it would take about 4.5e+27 joules, or just over one exaton, to vaporize Earth's oceans. If Korhal's oceans were proportionately the same size as Earth's, it would take 3.996629462431107e+27 joules, or roughly 955.2 petatons, to vaporize them.

Combining the two figures results in a total yield of 3.998985867431107e+27 joules, or about 955.7 petatons. Dividing that up between each missile gives them a yield of 955.7 teratons.

Final Results

Apocalypse Missile Yield: 955.7 teratons
Destruction of Korhal: 955.7 petatons
-Credit to Eldritch Sukima

FTL sensors
The ships are detected in Warp Space, before they exit any ruptures.

Meaning that even if arrays were responsible for detecting them, they had to have had FTL sensors because the ships themselves were going at FTL speeds.

Terran sensors from 60,000 lightyears away
Light years away, far removed from the epic struggle between the Protoss and the Zerg, the custodians
of the planet Earth watched and waited. Unknown to the wayward Terrans in the
Koprulu Sector was the fact that their every move had been recorded since their exile from
Earth.The United Powers League, the vast bureaucratic institution that ruled the Earth and it’s
sister worlds, had studied the slow advancements and hostile infighting of the Koprulu colonies
for generations.
The UPL had borne silent witness to the founding of the Terran Confederacy and the myriad conflicts between the various Terran Militias. Overall, the UPL was content to observe their unwitting colonists without directly interfering in their affairs. It was only upon the discovery of alien species within the Koprulu Sector that the UPL finally committed to decisive action.
Never before had humanity encountered alien species of any kind. Thus, this unprecedented event caused a widespread panic throughout the UPL. Regardless of what happened to the expendable Koprulu colonies, the UPL could not afford to let aliens invade Earth. The momentous occasion brought many dissident countries into the UPL fold, thus expanding the powers of the organization and causing it to be renamed the ‘United Earth Directorate’. Taking a more proactive, militaristic stance in regards to alien affairs, the UED bent all of its considerable resources towards studying the aliens and their maneuverings. After monitoring the Protoss and Zerg for several months, the UED gathered data on the strengths and weaknesses of the two races. Believing that they were capable of countering any of the aliens’ attacks, the UED formed a military expeditionary force to put an end to the Koprulu conflict by any means necessary.
The expeditionary force, led by the brilliant Admiral Gerard DuGalle, had a secondary objective as well. Admiral DuGalle was ordered to take control of the Zerg Broods and use them to pacify Protoss activity in the Sector. In so doing, he would assure the survival and prosperity of Humanity throughout the galaxy…

-Brood War Manual


Fertility/anti-fertility weapon

Xel'naga device
"So beautiful, for a weapon."
"Weapon? So you know what it's for?"
"To the xel'naga, who extensively modified both the protoss and the zerg, being able to destroy their DNA would naturally be a weapon. That terrans found a way to employ it for a positive end result had nothing to do with the designer's intent."

The Voice in the Darkness
Surviving a planet blowing up
Cloaking stronger than Dark Templars


StarCraft telekinesis ignores tensile strength:
What was of special note was that the damage was the same regardless of the tensile strength of the material in question. To Mal’s now-trained eye that could only mean one thing: telekinesis.


WOL cinematic scripts

HOTS dialogue
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