OPERATION TONDBAD

Spring, high noon, the Gulf of Simorgh.

The actual opening cinematic — captured from the game, not rendered for the trailer.

Raise the colors. Raise a base.

Spring — the Tondbad coast

THE MUTINY

The Simorgh cannot win this war alone. Dead abeam her anchorage stands a regime installation the war already chewed through — ruins in their colors, waiting for ours. Ferry the builders, sling the block tarps, and the crew restores it roof by roof. When the third roof goes on, the Simorgh opens the war book: nine operations across the Parsava Coast. Blind the Marshal, cut his power, bring his prisoners home, and level Forward Command. By spring's end, the coast is ours.

Read the war book ↓

You don't get a base. You fly one in.

Everything the beachhead will ever be rides the Simorgh's deck: six builders beside your pad, block tarps on the foredeck yard. There is no build menu. There is a winch, a hook, and a stretch of contested sand.

FERRY THE CREW

Six souls, six seats, one lift. Land on the Simorgh's pad and the builders run to the skids; land on the claim and they jump out onto the sand, ready to work.

SLING THE TARPS

Hover the cargo yard, winch a tarp of loose blocks, and haul her east — she flies heavy. Three tarps feed the whole takeover; deck riggers lay the bridle before every lift.

THE CREW BUILDS IT

They work the ruins in doctrine order — the pit, then rifles, then wheels — then quarry the pit's own stone and restore the rest of the captured base without you.

NO RADAR UNTIL YOU BUILD ONE

The minimap is a building, not a UI element. Raise the radar and the coast appears; let the regime level it and you are flying blind until the crew rebuilds.

After that the base runs itself: steel from the pit, riflemen from the barracks, fifty-cal jeeps from the war factory. The Marshal will prod the wire once your flag is up — let the crew answer. You fly. The base fights.

Nine operations. One coast.

The Simorgh holds traffic until the beachhead stands. Then the chart opens — and every pin on it is somewhere you have to fly, in the order you decide.

01

BLIND THE MARSHAL

Two early-warning radars sweep the coast, the river crossing and the east dunes. Kill both and every regime gun loses 30% of its aim and reach.

02

LIGHTS OUT

One oil-fired station feeds every outlying factory and barracks — turbine hall, twin stacks, transformer yard, fuel tanks. Drop it and production stops everywhere but headquarters.

03

CLEAR SKIES

SA-13 sites form a belt across the approach. Intel marks three. Hellfires are for the SAMs — don't waste them on trucks, cowboy.

04

GROUNDED

The Marshal's Hind squadron sits fueled on the strip, bought with oil money and flown by men we trained. Hit the field and they will scramble.

05

THE PEN

Azadi sailors locked in tents on the airbase's east flank — he keeps his prisoners where he keeps his Hinds. Towers first, then crack each tent gently. Six souls, six seats.

06

PRESS CORPS

Three foreign reporters paraded on the Legation roof as proof that everything is fine. Give the world a close-up of a winch cable instead — and watch the RPG on the minaret.

07

CUT THE HEAD

Forward Command, southern ridge: production, command, fuel, and the garrison defending all three. Break it down to 30% combat effectiveness and the headquarters is out of the war.

08

THE INFORMANT

The Marshal's spy runs his networks from the command tower, and a man like that always has a hole to crawl out of. Take him alive. What he knows is worth more than the bunker.

09

MAYDAY, MAYDAY

Location unknown. Our recon bird went down on day one — the best damn pilot in the region, and the regime knows it too. The spy knows the grid square. Bring her home and she flies for you.

Not everything on this coast is an objective. A caged white truck runs the coast road under technical escort — kill the escorts, spare the truck, and see who climbs out. And the war doesn't stop at the fence line: put the power station down and the blast marches through the whole oil complex, tank farm to manifold to the wells.

Every district was placed by hand.

Roads first, then the buildings that face them, then whatever grows in the ground nobody claimed. The Tondbad coast is not a generated map with landmarks sprinkled on top — it is an authored country, and each district works the way its real counterpart would.

THE PARS COMPLEX

Field, manifold, tank farm, power plant — laid out in the order the process reads, chained together in thirty-metre pipe runs. Clip the line anywhere and the fire marches both ways.

THE AIR RESERVATION

The Hind strip, the wire pen east of it, a boneyard of picked-over hulks and a working civil airport — one district, stitched by a tow track and a single perimeter wire.

THE OLD ROAD

A drum-bastioned caravanserai with a round courtyard pool, and a fire temple burning on its tell across the road. Older than the regime, and it will outlast him.

WATER RUNS UNDERGROUND

A qanat shows nothing on the surface until its payab. Seven shafts step down from the foothills, and only where the water finally surfaces does the ground go green.

FORWARD COMMAND

The Marshal's citadel on the southern ridge, ringed by its own road, its own armour and its own generation. Cut everything else first — this one has independent power.

THE LEGATION

Foreign ground in a domestic war, with a rooftop full of press and a gunman on the minaret. The only building on the coast where you win by not shooting.

TOWNS THAT LIVE

Houses with real floor plans and four finished elevations, traffic derived from the actual road graph, and civilians who scatter when the shooting starts. They cheer when you fly over.

TOOFAN-E SHEN

Kilometre-wide dust walls march on the live wind field, with an apron of ground streaks racing into the wall face. At noon the flats throw dust devils. None of it is a skybox.

Everything here is full of fuel.

This is an oil war on an oil coast, and the game treats that literally. Every tank is full. Rupture one and it doesn't just explode — it pours.

The tank farm goes up Fire on the film

Spring, on film.

The Simorgh opens fire The field wave The breaking beach The span over Rud-e Kavir Surf on the spring coast Home plate The tank farm, before Forward Command's tower