In which we vomit forth apocalyptica

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Bret

  • 285
Re: In which we vomit forth apocalyptica
« Reply #30 on: October 05, 2010, 02:16:28 PM »
A worldship fired into space centuries ago. People eventually emerged from cryostasis to find that they were far off course from their destination, with no back-up plan. The best they could do was plot a course that would last several millennia without sending them into any asteroid belts or suns.

A couple generations later, and no one remembers how to work most of the tech. The eco sectors have been allowed to flourish untamed and are hunted in for meat and wild fruit. The agriculture sectors are fought for and grow a variety of foods in regulated environments.

There are a variety of holds throughout the ship with their members swearing allegiance to and fighting blood feuds over old separations that no longer hold the same meaning they did - Research, Engineering, and those sick fuckers Security.

Sometimes power flickers. Sometimes the whole ship shakes. No one really remembers they're on a space ship anymore, or even knows what that means. It's the whole world now.
« Last Edit: October 05, 2010, 03:29:17 PM by Bret »
Tupacalypse World

Re: In which we vomit forth apocalyptica
« Reply #31 on: October 05, 2010, 02:44:58 PM »
A worldship fired into space centuries ago.

Wow, do I ever LOVE this.

Re: In which we vomit forth apocalyptica
« Reply #32 on: October 07, 2010, 03:00:21 PM »
The Black Soul Choir is what that nutter Rothschild calls his people. They go out into the Wastes unprotected for days at a time, constantly singing songs about their fucked-up god. If you're a mover or a shaker, Rothschild will mark you as one of his own, and that wacknut can use the maelstrom to find you if you don't keep your brain in check.

If you hear incoherent screaming out in the Wastes, or see people on fuckin' horses wearin' masks made of old stop signs and brandishing bolt-action rifles, you'd do well to run as fast as you can in the other direction. The Black Soul Choir is on your heels, and they ain't made of flesh and bone.

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DannyK

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Re: In which we vomit forth apocalyptica
« Reply #33 on: October 15, 2010, 05:42:53 PM »
(A few things from my Seven Cities in Seattle game that never got going)

Master Island, Monster Island, Nasty Island, it doesn't matter what you call it, they got the guns and the slaves and the bridges, so they're the ones laughing at you.

When you're out in Old Seattle, you have the choice of sticking to the cleared roads, which makes you really obvious to bandits and patrols, or walking through the jungle.  The jungle's full of suburban homes rotting in place in the heat and rain and mostly held together with vegetation.  You never know when you'll disturb a nest of crows or stumble into an ambush from a neighborhood watch.  And if you don't like seeing people watching you from the windows of abandoned buildings from the corner of your eye, like all the time, then probably don't come to Seattle. 

There's a place called Sleepless in one of the lakes, made up of houseboats and rafts and yachts all lashed together.  You want to live there, you spend one night of every seven on watch duty with gun and spike, killing anyone who tries to swim up.  That's why they call it Sleepless.

The Ducks are these complete A-Holes in souped-up amphibious vehicles, they'll track you across land and water and never ever give up if they want your ass.  It's really better to give them what they want, as long as what they want ain't you.

The Hurst is this little fortified penninsula that sticks into the lake, whole place is run by one family they say, a bunch of inbred rich folks with too many guns and not enough privacy.  They make the Nasty Island bunch look sane and friendly.  Sometimes their kids sneak out to play with the commoners, and you can bring 'em back for a reward. 

Mo'Lake is, like, this legendary place where three great roads crossed in the old days, a place of culture and learning, a great place of industry and trade.  The problem with all those roads is, somebody came down one of them with the Monkey Pox and they all went crazy about 7 years ago.  Somebody ought to clean that place out.

Pillz is deep in the bad old city, it's this hill with all these old hospital buildings on it.  Supposedly the Monkey Pox came from there, but who knows?  It's nothing but medical cults and scavengers now.  You hear an ambulance coming, just hide and don't come out for a while. 

The Center.  There are actually two Centers in Old Seattle, one up north with more people and rocketships and metal men and stuff, a place to barter or get fixed up.  Then there's the real Center, in the no-go-zone, the one with the Needle.  You can see it glowing at night from most parts of town.  It's the holiest place in town, they say, but why do the pilgrims always die?

Re: In which we vomit forth apocalyptica
« Reply #34 on: October 29, 2010, 10:04:23 AM »
(With belated thanks to Joe Beason)

A large dog's skeleton, picked clean, covered in butterfly cocoons.