Gaming Operations Director Jacob Matthew's Email
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We knew they were coming for years. Most didn't want to believe.
It wouldn't have helped if they had. The Reaper assault was so swift and so brutal that we were caught completely unaware. The initial targets fell within hours. The homeworlds lasted only days.
Once we got over the shock, we picked ourselves up off the mat and set about the grim task of figuring out how we were going to hit back. The armies of the galaxy gathered, save only those races who thought they could stand alone against the Reapers, and combined their resources in an attempt to create a weapon that could turn the tide.
As everyone turned to face their common foe, past hostilities were forgotten altogether or even set to right. Members of the salarian Special Tasks Group broke from the non-involvement stance of their leaders to disperse a cure for the krogan genophage and secure their loyalty. The quarians and the geth united to drive the Reapers from their common homeworld. Humans and turians worked together to form the core of the galactic alliance and bring everyone else together.
Some races selfishly chose to focus on their own interests as the systems around them burned. The salarians trusted in their advanced technology to save them. The asari thought their superior biotics would be enough. Both were proven wrong, in the end, and to make matters worse it was revealed that the asari had known all along of the coming invasion. The same ancient technology that warned them about the Reapers allowed their civilization to develop so much faster than the others. They knew, and they kept silent, and thus went from paragons to pariahs in everyone's eyes.
Yet, despite all the horror and death, we persevered. We sent a continuous stream of supplies to build the weapon while the fleets kept it safe. When it was done, the word went out, and all of us stranded planetside watched as the remnants of the fleet left to escort the weapon to Earth and guard it long enough to work.
For hours, an entire galaxy held its breath, waiting, listening to the few reports sent out. The last thing any of us heard was that Commander Shepard had made it onto the Citadel and was about to fire the weapon. Then every single comm went dead. Most people, those not still fighting desperate holding actions against waves of Reaper husks, looked up to the sky, not really knowing what they expected to see. When no lights flashed or great roar came down from the heavens, everyone feared the worst.
Then came the miracle.
Swarms of husks that threatened to overwhelm the survivors suddenly stopped, milling about as though confused. Reaper ships fell out of the skies, crashing into their own forces as often as not. Survivors rallied quickly, seizing the opportunity to gain ground. Reapers trying to regain control of their creations fell under the sudden onslaught.
And so came our salvation. The weapon we thought was meant to destroy the Reapers simply isolated them, cut them off from their fellows. Instead of a galaxy-wide horde with a single-minded purpose, now each Reaper is alone, stranded, formidable but not insurmountable.
It was only later we learned the terrible price of deliverance. Those few ships that remained ventured out to spread the good news, only to find the mass effect relays dark and lifeless. Without those relays, all travel throughout the galaxy has ceased except for small pockets of nearby worlds. We're cut off from the rest of the galaxy, but we're standing together.
We are the Resistance.
[ Future Games ]