In the Italian Empire, a realm dotted with countless stunning vistas and temperate climates, Emperor Umberto II Station on Galindez Island stands out like a sore frostbitten thumb. Even by Antarctic standards, the island is a miserable, wretched place.

The worst cut of meat from Argentina's Antarctic bounty was tossed to the Italians, cold and wet with endless rain buzzing through the sky like carrion flies, and sharp rocks digging into its shores like maggots. The abandoned waterlogged ruins of previous Argentine settlement stand as an eternal testament to the undesirability of this locale.

In Emperor Umberto II, the sun seems to only emerge in the dreams of its residents as they shiver in their makeshift tents. A few old and worn ships stand vigil in the harbor for these unfortunate souls, bobbing in the wind-swept sea.

To the politicians back home the establishment of the base seemed like a testament to the prestige of their new imperium, but to those who have to man this distant outpost, there is no glory to be found here, only pneumonia and mud.