Why do I love Space Marines?
Because they’re just so awesome. I mean, look at them.
I mean, how can they not be utterly awesome? The pinnacle of human ingenuity, scientific progress (which, according to Calvin & Hobbes goes ‘Boink’) and the hope of mankind? They’re seven-foot tall post-human warrior monks (with a collective mental age of about 13). And they have chainswords. And bolters. And flamers. And so many other things far too delicious to mention. They also have jump packs, but I’ll not go there for fear that Aaron Dembski-Bowden will mock me. More.
They have power armour. Sometimes, they have power armour that isn’t all gaudy and garish. They have thumping great space-faring vessels that can destroy an entire planet from space. Just to be sure. They fight the enemies of the Imperium and put their lives on the line for the God Emperor of Mankind who sits around on his Golden Throne watching endless repeats of ‘Supermarket Sweep’.
Does anybody ever say ‘Hey there, Mr. Space Marine? Thanks, you know? Thanks a whole lot for all that you do for us.’ No. Nobody ever sends them cards at Christmas. Nobody ever justs stops them in the street and says ‘thank you’. Such ingratitude. Once upon a time, when the Primarchs still had common sense and their brains hadn’t turned into collective sludge, there were get-togethers and celebrations and all sorts of things. Now, they just zoom around the galaxy like super-human bob-a-jobbers.
Poor Space Marines.
And there’s such a variety of them! There’s the raucous Space
Vikings Wolves with their pre-disposition to accidentally becoming raging beasts. Then there are the noble Blood Vampires Angels whose tempers tend to get the better of them. The Brujah White Scars. The Doozers Imperial Fists. Wait, wait, more pictures needed here:
There’s Loyalist Marines. There are Chaos Marines, and they’re kick ass, yo. The caption says it all.
I love Space Marines.
I love them because they’re super cool. And I get to write about them.
That’s awesome, man.