Little Things

Everybody will know the big changes years from now, but there are a lot of smaller details the museums aren't covering. Everyday occurrences, that are so often lost - you can name the presidents of the US, but not what they usually ate for breakfast - right?

Cats were everywhere after the event. Independent ones that escaped, or hand raised little kittens. It was really kind of symbolic of protecting and feeling like you made a difference in something's life. People would rescue cats, or try to avoid ever giving them up during the event. And of course, their services as pest exterminators was needed more than ever.

There was a lot less sweetness in cooking. Who is going to be growing sugar after all, or importing it from an island? Most people would choose sugar cane over potatoes, but we all know which would get planted anyway. And of course, no one was distributing soda, or packaging donuts - or even the ingredients to make them.

Lights after dark became hard to come-by. At the most harmless, they attracted bugs, but raiders or reanimates could see burning lanterns as well. No electricity meant alternate light sources were often fire hazards, and in ramshackle accommodations, a fire could get out of control quickly.

Guitar strings rust, pianos can't be moved, music players need batteries, and playing cards quickly get bent or dirty. A lot of common games and music just wasn't so practical.

You would be surprised how hard it was to find a working pen after a while. No one thought to grab dozens of them while running from reanimates, and they run dry, freeze, or crack. Pencils fared a little better, but more writing ended up on personal devices than parer after a while.

It Lives

I've been dealing with some non-gaming issues and haven't kept up the blog as I would have liked. Nor have I gotten as much work done on the game itself as hoped. My plans to get a play-test going locally fell through. Spam sites like "Vampirestat" are still the number one source of hits on this page, rather than people who actually read it. About the best thing I can say is that for once "readership" went down when there were no posts so they seem to be tapering off.

There are nearly 400 posts on this blog - if conditions had allowed, I'd be over that number just about now. That is something to be proud of at least. My simple twenty page game I wrote for one Halloween has become my number one project and most developed setting, with more material than almost everything else I've done combined.

Rather than rush out another Dead of Winter edition, I'm going for a bit more of an in depth plan.

First of all, the game is at about eighty pages, so I'm going to shoot for a cap of 100 (possibly 128 like old school folios). This will be five to eight pages each on the two simpler settings - 2552 and Oroborus, while the Anarchy Zone setting will remain mostly an introduction in the main book. Information about GMing, sample locations, and more monsters, sample vehicles, and some equipment will hopefully make an appearance as well.

Secondly, I want to take some photographs of old industrial areas and abandoned buildings around here so as to have some more illustration and get the graphic layout better. A real artist would be nice, but some place holders and planning will help.

More editing of AZ material and collecting it into short story collections will happen at some point.

Finally, I want to open up a pay-pal account and make the document available as "Pay what you want" on publishing sites like DriveThroughRPG. It still feels too incomplete to demand a full price, but the increased visibility and the nice thought of earning something off of it could be a nice motivation.

I also want to start some sort of Podcast or Vlog. It will probably be more general RPG topics than just "Dead... and Back".

D&D has been under revision and evolution for over thirty years. I hope that you can forgive that a one man project is taking a while as well.

Happy new year, and aim for the head.

10 Things about the Anarchy Zone

1. Pure Lands
• Nature has been quick to recover from the absence of humanity. Rivers already look cleaner without discharges, the air lacks haze, and the nights are quiet but full of stars that were normally outshone by electric lights. Many houses are already infiltrated by vines or small plants, weeds and bushes are turning suburbs into tangled jungle already. Animal territories are expanding across the highways.
2. Corrupt Lands
• While no one has found a reactor that exploded like Chernobyl yet, many other industrial plants have suffered mechanical failures,  leaking pesticides, industrial solutions, and tailings into the environment.
3. Hamlets and Villages
•  In many places, groups of twenty to a hundred people have settled - often starting as one or two families and inviting in a few others. In some places, small communities have reclaimed all or part of suburbs and continue to live in subdivisions of pre-Event towns. The limits of subsistence agriculture limit most of those not used to the work to smaller settlements. Going beyond this stage or finding a patron to assist are major goals of many outside the known city-states.
4. Unexpected Loot vs Needed Items
• What  people remembered to take with them, and what they did not can often lead to interesting finds. Hundreds of cameras, watches, tons of silverware and jewelery are all out for the taking, but flashlights and pocket knives are amazingly rare.
5. 10,000 Guns, Zero Bullets
• More problematic than what has been lost is what is still being used. While many places have taken to hand-loading when they have the materials, the average person can't make nitrocellulose or mine lead. 
6. Pockets of Tech
• How the EMP bounced through the ionosphere was somewhat random, as was the status of many items - whether they were off, on, in a car, or out on a table, plugged in or on battery - all factored into its survival. While most of the subsystems that ran modern society did shut down, or at least popped their breakers temporarily, large areas with working technology still exist.
7. 1880's All Over Again
• Communication and delivery are a booming business in the zone. So too is setting up canals or clearing routes between villages. Judges and lawyers ride circuits from town to town, town hall meetings are as much about being social as simple votes. Gas-lamps and kerosene have returned in force. Nothing so fanciful as steampunk, but in many ways it is like the industrial revolution.
8. Press Gangs and Patrols
• One of the larger threats in the zone is City-State forces. They are always looking for experienced guides, couriers, or soldiers. Good mechanics and knowledgeable farmers are also in high demand. At best they accept volunteers temporarily. But all too often they will take people away by force as necessary to serve.
9. Predator Explosion
• With the end of human extermination campaigns both planned and incidental, the population of vermin and seasonally hunted animals exploded. It takes a few years for the population of predators to catch up, and it often overshoots the mark. Although few are man-eaters or desperate yet, the chance of encountering wolves, bears, coyotes, lions and other creatures is quite high.
10. New Creatures
• The most Northern dwelling primate is of course, Human beings, but the second is the Japanese Snow Macaque monkey. You might not find alligators in Chicago, nor polar bears in the deep South, but creatures from another continent can be found here and there, in some exotic places there are even breeding populations. Although rumors abound, the Citizens haven't begun cloning any of their larger fauna, so for the time being, it is only terrestrial creatures of note.

10 Things about Planetary Citizens

1. Glass and Carbon Without Steel
• Citizen technology progressed in a different order than human industry. They always had less easily accessible metal and less hydrocarbons. (Rather like Japan, without the stagnation of the Shogunate.) Most of their constructs are far more reliant of materials like ceramics, fiberglass, and carbon composite laminates than on metal or plastic.
2. Individual Personalities
• It is hard to get a sense of the individual when they are only encountered in combat situations, but Citizens do show as much variability as humans. Some do mark their vehicles with family, guild, or national marks or other distinct paint patterns, and can easily become reoccurring friends or enemies.
3. Making Friends
• There are places where the live and let live mentality goes on to mutual cooperation. Usually this takes the form of Citizens delivering messages, or using their helicopters as sky cranes in recovery and building projects. Mutual defense, scouting, bartering salvage,or hunting bandits are also possibilities.
4. Start Simple
• Despite the obvious use of Faster-Than-Light travel to get to Earth, the Planetary Citizens show very little in the way of technology beyond human understanding. Part of it is because the colony was a mostly civilian effort, and thus the most advanced shielding mechanisms were unavailable. Mostly, however, is that there would be no factories waiting for them when they landed, so everything needed to be simple to maintain until an actual infrastructure could be set up.
5.  Lacking Strongholds
•  Hard rock mines, power plants, aircraft factories - all of these are long term projects that the citizens have had trouble setting up so far. Human attacks, reanimates, and scattered landing sites continue to push back completion dates.
6. Parliament by the Numbers
•  Unlike the various human social experiments throughout the zone, Citizens have maintained a respect for their parliamentary democracy, even with the inefficiency that come with it.
7. Outnumbered, but no Outgunned
• The human population is still close to a billion people, PC numbers are barely ten percent of that. On the other hand, they still have aircraft and beam weaponry that requires recharging rather than reloading. Extended conflicts are far more in their favor.
8. Military Intelligence
• Citizens have some capability of maintaining satellite surveillance, and have far greater access to aircraft than all but the biggest human factions. The orbiting machines move in predictable patterns, and the flying ones are not up constantly. But generally, they can see everything that isn't painstakingly hidden from them.
9. Hit and Run
• Humans have familiarity with the terrain, and anti-armor weapons. A long fight might go their way, but not a big one. Thus they are unwilling to attack large enclaves (and certainly not a city-state) directly.
10. Separate and Unequal
• Most zones controlled by the aliens are no larger than a city - ten or twenty square miles of terrain, and patrols or laser towers set up at farther intervals. These territories can be dozens or even hundreds of miles apart, effectively making them states to themselves. Available resources and presence of human civilization mean that actual claimed size and power can vary wildly.

10 Things about Las Vegas

1. Military HQ
• There are other places where a company to battalion sized group of soldiers can be found, but rarely do they have much - if any - equipment intact. At least some of them seek to rejoin at Vegas. It is a tough journey, and their units are often separated and reintegrated with others, making for a heartbreaking end. 
2. No More Area 51
• Although rumors persist of prototype weapons, secret caches of aircraft, or factories ready to pump out new rifles - no wasteland scav nor the government is going to find them. For now the US has the biggest and most impressive arsenal, but much of it can only be maintained through diligent labor, warehousing until absolutely necessary, or rampant cannibalization. Equipment recovery will often come before personnel, since they can recruit and train new soldiers easily.
3. The Gun Club
• This is the rumored cabal in charge of reintegrating settlements into the old United States. Publicly, they are known to offer the olive branch, funding, support, and arms to those who pay tithes to Vegas. Towns that refuse to cooperate tend to see food shortages, coups, raider attacks, plagues, and otherwise disappear...
4. Civ Gov and Mil Gov
• The military holds a lot of power in the day to day operations of the city, and some degree of veto power over who can enter or leave the city. (Usually in the form of no un-escorted people can leave, and we can't spare soldiers for such duty). However, the generals only make up a portion of the ruling council, which also includes presidential cabinet members, hospital staff, the city's mayor, and heads of the utility maintenance gangs. 
5. Experiment Rumors
• Vegas maintains the best health care and immunization rates of anywhere in the former US. However, the constant medical monitoring and monthly injections have made some people nervous. Tales of type five experimental reanimates, mind control, intentional sterilization and aphrodisiacs to control the next generation - few things are too wild to be dismissed out of hand.
6. Outside Allies
• Washington DC is mostly a burnt symbol, and many military centers were hit by orbital bombardment. However, the Planetary Citizens generally chose to hit transportation arteries to tie up supplies and divert attention from war fighting to relief efforts. Many capitals and government facilities remain intact, and at least nominally assisting the effort. Elements of the Canadian and Mexican governments also help where they can.
7. The Lights are Still On
• Food supplies can be rough at times, water usage limits constantly imposed, and curfews a way of life. Yet schools, buses, trains, casinos, and shops still run to some extent. Vegas continues to be very metropolitan, while the outlying areas usually exist in a state akin to the early 1940s during the wartime rationing. 
8. Wasteland Patrol
• Far more than any other city state, Las Vegas projects beyond its borders, and makes honest attempts at restoring the nation. A primitive postal service, new cellular towers, and traveling circuit judges are available to those who are willing to accept an agreement with the government. They are often rebuffed as relics, outsiders, or power hungry. 
9. President Grey is on Borrowed Time
• Legally, Grey is past the end of his second term as president, and while martial law is in effect, he is not a dictator and would like honest elections held soon. 
10. Old Habits Die Hard
• Even as the old US lies in ruins, there are still some within the government that longer term plans of how to stop others from rebuilding, and extend their dominion beyond the old national borders. 

Biopreparat Location A-112, “Conservatory”

Before I came to this place, it never really occurred to me that goats were edible. Now it seems that the few times we do get much meat, it's always some sort of sheep. Local herders far and wide across Azerbaijan. We get more stuff from as “nearby acquisition” than should be allowed in any modern army. If we could be called that anyway – most of our weapons are the same ones our grandfathers used thrifty-five years ago during the world war! You can get an AK-74 on the Chinese border, but we have PPSh submachineguns?

Someone knows we're here, and ships stuff constantly. Locked box cars and tankers full of unknown chemicals make their way to underground storage facilities.  A pair of An-12s sit in one of the hangers, a half dozen Mi-8s sit in shelters not far from the runway. They rarely move, yet always seem stocked and ready for combat. BMD-1 infantry fighting vehicles are loaded in their retro-rocket cradles ready to be drooped into a fight, and two of the helicopters are equipped with rockets and napalm tanks.  Yet this just a refueling stop airport, not home to a unit of desant nor air-transport. According to the official papers, we're just a border patrol and internal security unit – glorified riot police, subordinate to the KGB, not the army.

Pale scientist looking types occasionally bubble up from somewhere underneath the strip like an artisan spring. They wander around for a bit, sun their livid bodies, and then disappear into the siding where the trains go. I never see the trains leave. I wonder where the exit is.

Perhaps the direct opposites of the scientists are the odd soldiers we see around here. Not part of our group at least. Everyone of them has the stature and movement of an Olympic athlete – prime candidates for spetznaz troops. Yet a second glace makes it seem as if they are somewhere past dead. Their faces are usually dark – almost burned – black veins run close under the skin, eyes red, and every centimeter of their arms show injection scars. They sound like other soldiers, a few are even friendly on the rare chances the airport staff talk to them. Yet they also disappear into the train tunnel.

Overall, this is a pretty easy assignment. Its hot, but a dry heat. You're not going to get a promotion out of this, but you don't have to spit shine your boots daily either. Just keep in mind a few simple rules. Do not ask about what is on the trains. Do not ask what the numeral 2552 means. Do not ask about Biopreparat. And for gods sake – if anyone mentions the term “Manor House” avoid eye contact, do not speak, call attention to yourself, or volunteer!. Those who do go into the train tunnel.

Plenty of worse places to be than Azerbaijan. Very few quite as odd however.

October 2013

I haven't been having a great couple of months, and the materiel on this site is thinner that I would hope. Its been harder to keep my commitment to you than I'd like.

To make it up, let me show off some of the other work that I have produced.

A Teenage Texas Road Trip 
While still in draft form, is a longer piece of fiction set in the zone, and deals with a group of teenagers exploring the area outside of the Lone Star arcology. It contains an encounter with both the Planetary Citizens and Type One/Alpha reanimates. I think the story gives a good impression of entering a new town and dealing with the aliens.

The Last of Second Platoon, Charlie Company
This story is a fairly good example of how I want to eventually anthologize the sort of stories on this blog. While some of it should be recognizable from the archives, they are linked fairly well and the last section gives a good feeling for both operating a power armor and fighting Beta reanimates.

On My Way to Birobidzhan
This has no relation whatsoever to Dead... and Back, I just want to show I can write things that aren't related to zombies, and do so pretty well in fact.

Remington, IBM, Smith-Corona, and Underworld Typewriter Repair
Also unrelated to the game, but part of a different demon infested  cosmology I occasionally write about.

Let us not forget - its October 31st. Time for a music video to inspire your games. This time around, its scenes from "Hellsing"

There is no reason you can't replicate vampires in my game, and I certainly hope the above gives some good pointers on how to destroy ghouls with style.

Good luck with your gaming, and aim for the head!

Japan Tourist (Part One)

Japan just sounded like a neat place to visit. For all the energy shortages, social security problems, and rising sea levels there was still something to experience. Somehow it maintained or recreated that image from the late nineties - half samurai mysticism, half neon insanity. It seemed like a parody, like they were trying too hard to hold on to the days when economists talked of the coming war between the great economic powers. (No really, I've got a book "The Coming War With Japan"). You kind of just had to go and see what was real.

Well, I finally managed to find a tour group and uploaded translation software into a brand new set of headphones. It was going well - that perfect mid part of a trip when you're over jet lag, but still have some fresh clothes, and have not yet experienced stomach problems from the big shift in diet and eating street foods.

That is when The Event hit.

Everything in your life suddenly shutting down and states of national emergency are bad enough. When you don't know the language, your computer is wiped clean, outside communication is shut down, and all your currency records are wiped out?

I woke up in a hospital. Apparently it was just a panic attack, but bad enough I couldn't breath and passed out anyway. It didn't go full on movie cliche, fortunately. There was plenty of staff, they took excellent care, and even put me in contact with a girl who spoke fluent English. She's an otaku, but for Dungeons and Dragons of all things. Simply could not ask for a more perfect match.

Reanimates didn't show up immediately in the wake of the Citizens arrival, but things were in rationing and emergency mode pretty quickly. Probably comes from living with tsunamis, and the limited resources of the island. I imagine Israel got through it all pretty well too - albeit for less natural reasons.

I also imagine that the USA fared decently well due to the high per-capita gun ownership when reanimates really did show up. In a place where most of the police don't have firearms - it was hammers, kitchen knives, and table legs - the JSDF at one point was dropping loads of baseball bats and golf clubs onto rooftops to give people they couldn't get too a fighting chance!

The nation changed from the "land of the rising sun", to the "land of only sun". Reanimates have better night vision than humans, even if they can't see as well overall. Everything just shuts down and locks up a bit before sundown. I've been through orthodox Jewish neighborhoods on Friday night, and it still isn't as quiet as this. I swear the fog horn that sounds the all clear each morning is actually the nation's collected farts because they're that unwilling to make noise in the darkness.

Colonel Isaac Bradbury

Isaac felt old well before the The Event occurred. Fifty years as a first firefighter and national guard officer do that to a man. He even looks the part despite nano-medicine, bald, sagging jowls, lined face, and shifted weight. But his mind remains sharp, his will strong, and his sense of duty unshakable. If he could get out of the office long enough to march into hell, the other guardsmen would gladly follow him.

Unfortunately - many of the other residents want to send him there as soon as possible.

Colonel Bradbury maintains absolute devotion to the United States first, and to the NEST VIII outpost second. He does not show any great favor to leaving the NEST, and is cool to the notion of stretching the resources by inviting more in. The colonel stands by the military justice system, rather than the jury rigged one of the complex. This also makes him an impartial party in decisions and gains him a great deal of respect.

On the other hand, this makes him an impartial party in decisions where many of the other complex leaders would like to have support. There have already been a few attempts on his life in order to install a more favorable underling.

While none of the attempts have come particularly close to killing him, Isaac has become somewhat paranoid and withdrawn, avoiding contact with people outside the national guard or his hand-picked RATs. He is still one of the most powerful people in the NEST, however, being in charge of the military, most of the RATs and almost all of the armory. In total, he has nearly three hundred soldiers, a dozen light armored vehicles, and about 100 trained scavengers. (Of course, there are others in the complex to fill needs Bradbury will not commit to.)

Strength 4
Quick 4
Tech 4
Wits 4
Range 2
Close Combat 4

Animus: 10
Lucidity: 8
Deadening: 8
Up-Rise: 8 (16 kg in backpack)
Pack: 8 (8 slots/48 kg on hand)

Investigation (Very good at paperwork and logistics)
Access (Firefighter and Soldier)
SA: Rank/Society: National Guard

Equipment of note:
Col. Bradbury has an M-32 PDW in his office and a 9mm pistol on his belt, both of which he can use proficiently - even if his eyesight isn't what it used to be. His office is full of firefighter memorabilia, and he keeps his old turn out gear in his apartment - thought he acknowledges that its for the best to leave the job to younger people (as of 2055 he is 68).

Role in a Game:
Colonel Isaac Bradbury is a major figure in NEST VIII - and more likely than not, is going to be the player characters' boss. He is in charge of the RATs and Military.

Back to Texas

Adam drained his second canteen, and wiped the sweat from his brow. Dry heat wasn't supposed to be as bad, but everything counts in large amounts. It had been a long time since he was in this part of the country, and needed to acclimate once again. Another few days, and the tacky giant glass disco ball that formed part of the arcology complex would be visible. It contained high class restaurants and five star hotels, yes, but that would never change his opinion of the architecture. None of them would be quite so fancy five years of the apocalypse anyway..

Other feats of engineering were already visible - roads, construction depots, clusters of adobe houses, and metal shelters. Two entire communities popped up around the mega construction project. One was just the workers seeking to avoid commutes and costs by living nearby. Adams father had been one of those. Farther South of the complex was a refugee camp where his mother had lived. It almost seemed like Moses had parted Central America, sending people flying North and South - though sea rise and desertification had more to do with it.

There had been some attempts to make the place more livable than a shanty town. Few of the official actions had amounted to much, but a very large number of women had unofficially become tile layers and painters for the project. Normal union rules didn't apply, since the area had been declared and EDGE special economic zone. The government decided getting things done was more important than being right, and had let private interests take a free hand.

Even now, that was part of the reason why the young man was reluctant to return. There were many people who still held large amounts of the old money and a feeling that they owned the place. Legally that was true, but did those old rules mean they got to be the uncollected de-facto rulers of the complex? A legislative body existed, but the old rich held veto power over all but the biggest majorities. Maybe it was just a bit of low class resentment, but it just didn't seem right that there be kings in America.

Other problems waited there as well. To the East were the holy soldiers of New Birmingham, always eager to assimilate the complex. West and North were a pair of Planetary Citizen - tribes? Swarms? Nations? Groups - and opposed to each other no less. Alternately both sided would cajole or threaten the people of Lone Star to get supplies for their conflict, and none of the humans were really quite sure which to support. Mexico to the South had returned to the semi-feudal Hacienda system, a patchwork of plantations, some owned by the former government, some by independents, and many by former criminals. It was the 1910 revolution all over again, complete with soldier trains and horse cavalry. No brilliant general Obregon to bring it to a close, however.

For now, all that could wait. Only a few hours remained until sundown, and traveling at night was rarely a good idea. Better to stop now and find a residence. Provided they were free of reanimates, the old adobe houses up ahead would be the best accommodation Adam had in months.

Hatching a Game in a NEST

A massive hive like structure that can contain and entertain a human for their entire lifespan. Whether its one massive skyscraper, or multiple thirty-story blocks connected by a web of sky-ways, its a construct larger than most towns. It would seem daunting to map all the passageways, to plan out a settlement for thousands of people, and describe a building unlike anything the players have seen.

Yet a NEST - or other arcology megastructure - is probably one of the better places for introducing new players to the world of Dead and Back's Anarchy Zone. Behind the gigantic walls are very familiar settings. Being largely self-contained and decently populated means there are plenty of alliances and conflicts waiting, aside from simply shooting reanimates. People from all walks of life survive inside the halls, so players are free to make characters outside the basic survivalist mold, and can easily replace them as necessary.

While the scale might be huge on the outside, within the NEST is very familiar territory. Medium to small apartments (many of them single room studios), fast food restaurants, school rooms, theaters - it is like any other city, just without sky. Although many places may be dark or dingy after five years of neglect, most of the interior has not fallen to ruin like exposed structures. Interior green spaces look like a mall's atrium or city botanical gardens, just with roof heights of between three and five stories.

A small city is too large for direct democracy, there will be bureaucracy and competition. Should the doors be opened to other survivors, or must some of the current population be expelled due to over crowding? How should the former property of others be divided among the survivors? Leaders will change, either through clever elections or more violent means, and the players can be their to exert influence, either for their bosses, or to gain some power themselves.

Many new stories are possible because many people survived thanks to the buildings inherent disaster isolation elements. Outside, much of the world belongs to raiders, ex-military, survivalists, and the savvy - though the simply lucky make for a good percentage as well. Few people would think of playing "Conan the Barber", cutting hair across the wasteland. But a stylist that maintains their business within a NEST, and over hears the discussions of the powerful because of it, could end up in some political intrigue. A teacher would struggle not for them-self alone, but with the question of what to teach in the new world, and how to keep a classroom as a safe and inspiring place when outside there is so much danger.

NEST VIII

Before The Event, Nest VIII was like a Florida retirement community. Pleasant climate, stores, meeting people in open spaces to talk, sports clubs, shuffling about, and at night each retreated to a little box containing little more than a bed, closet, and old TV set. After The Event, it still had that Florida vibe. Now it was the swamps, however. Warm, dark, stagnant. No alligators, but plenty of other predators.

Advertisement spoke of a strangely retro city of tomorrow. Neatly manicured with each person in their place, easy commutes and modern conveniences. Reality was a bit more like a cross between a shopping mall and a prison. Turn out from bed, eat in a cafeteria, walk to work, relax in common area, back to little cell for the night. No parole. The apartment you reserved was generally the one you kept no matter the changes. Overbooked even before construction finished, space to move was lacking.

Not even the dead rising could lessen the crowding. Many apartments now were unowned, but not necessarily unoccupied. If anything, space constraints became tighter with refugees from locked off floors.

Most of the systems that kept the spaces habitable for so many shut down in short order. The great condensers that maintained temperature, the gargantuan banks of lights, and the grand Moloch incinerators that purified organic waste - all silent now.

Residents can't even walk about the floors normally. The once neat layout is in shambles from the haphazard pattern of closed passages. It is a maze of halls and shuttered security doors that separate the dark warrens from the overrun apartment blocks. No one is quite sure how the reanimates remain alive, much less occasionally active even after five years of being locked away. The living inhabitants have set up aquaculture in the fountains and farms in the atrium, but what have the many neighbors been up to?

Freighter Captain

I was at sea when the aliens arrived. Scary as S--. Reanimates, you can do something, hide at least, or shoot them. But all the bombs mankind has ever made don't mean a thing to the Atlantic. All the satellites go down when you're in the Northern waters? Its like war - if you've never been - no mere words quite do it justice.

You might have guessed that I wasn't one of the many that died on the waves. Sure there are aliens wandering about, but lets be reasonable here!

Reanimates don't swim too well, least not to my knowledge. If you're a few miles from shore its pretty safe. Catch is, you do need to eat. Not many places you can call a real port of call. Who operates the cranes and tugs - provided the machines haven't fallen to rust and ruin? Ports tended to attract large populations of business, factories, workers, immigrants - and wherever there were lots of people, now there are lots of reanimates. 

You can send out a jetty, or wait for people to come out to the ship themselves. Neither is a good option - one puts a small number of your people at the mercy of others far from help, and the other allows strangers on your ship. Too small boats meeting sometimes works, buts its hard to transfer much cargo of any type when you have two pitching dhingys. 

There are basically four types of captains these days. 

If you ran an old burner - coal, CNG, oil - your tanks are dry or spoiled, and few places have a few hundred tons of fuel to sell. So in that case, you're just an off-shore island, offering sanctuary or ahem, "social services" (People still got that itch you know, and we are going to have to rebuild the population some how...)

Next we have the two types of Windjammers, both of which are better off. To some extent, at least they can still move. A few brave ones still face the oceans and trade winds, taking month long journeys to keep the world connected. The balance though, just flit up and down the coasts carrying local goods and passengers. Its lucrative, but you meet a lot more people, and some of them just don't have your best interests in mind.

Finally, we have the nuclear cruisers. You can ply the sea-lanes or power an entire city off their atomic piles. A lot less risk when you can make a voyage in weeks rather than months - when whole towns can disappear in a bad winter, being gone for three months means you might never see it again. Port facilities are even harder to find, and finding enough cargo, or the right kind, to by a few hundred kilos of uranium... 

Sometimes my job seems about as bad as a paper dog chasing an asbestos cat through hell. But I'm not at war, and I'm not wondering who is the rightful government - the old law of the land, or the current holders of the territory. I know its just me, god, and the deep blue sea. 

Life on the Normandy Coast

Its not a bad life here, I'd dare say it might be pretty good. But it is a small life, a boring life and that - and that- and umm...hmmph.

Well, what is your measurement? Each generation tries a little better, and hopes a little greater for those that follow. From let none of our children get eaten or die horribly to own a little plot, to a big one, to be be educated, to not be hungry... there are still some beaches south of here where you see the remains of when we fought for higher ideals. We were at a time, even with all the ecological problems, when most of those were solved, at least here in Europe. Might even be able to say that with the world and Sphere at your fingertips, the struggle was against boredom and callousness.

The world has gotten both smaller and larger after The Event. You live more local, and everything else has moved farther away. For all the pride in French cuisine, sometimes tamales or a gyro sandwich just seems like a nice change of pace. Can't get those spices anymore. Five years ago we had satellites in orbit everywhere, now we have to worry about scurvy during the winter months, since vitamin C rich foods can't be imported easily.

In theory there is still trade with other towns. In theory. Two catches though. First of all, you need to have something worth trading - small villages don't have much, and cites usually don't have the resources to produce. Secondly, the way is broken up and unsafe - so you either hire free companies - which can be very expensive - or you make the run yourself, which is pretty dangerous.

We're pretty lucky actually - rich for the modern age. Fishing in the English channel, farms, sheep a lot of places are worse off. Most of us around here won't even say the capitals name, and cross ourselves if its even whispered - the stories of slaughter by the reanimates... The city of lights has survived a lot, but no true Frenchman would desecrate that grave for a long time to come.

Joy Ride

The Eekaide sang as it powered up, a strange chorus of warnings and status outputs, but humans would call it music if only their ears could hear the high-pitched tones. This particular piece of music was extra special to Shipwright G#G#BCb-8 x'k-LA Ozensosk - known to most humans as "Sing Sing". 

Most of the time, she was afraid. Afraid of other citizens who held vendettas against her family, afraid of citizens with dreams of power and conquest now that they were on a new world, and afraid of the humans that fought back. Mr. Hobbes and Senior Diego were nice enough, but they were giant humans and many of the questions they asked for their radio show couldn't be answered by one like her. In the scheme of things, Sing Sing was just a barely qualified mechanic and laborer only recently old enough to vote.

A single encounter unit wasn't much in the face of a hostile planet and centuries of blood debts either. But it was enough for her. It took a very humorless person to be unsatisfied by a machine that amplified your height six times, your strength several dozen, and allowed almost an order of magnitude more speed. Never mind the projector that could kill targets through armor and the shoulder mounted missile tubes. This was as much power and authority anyone of her status could hope for.

With a final flourish of beeps, the robot's overture ended, and it was ready to go. Sing Sing flexed her upper arms, while the lower left toggled the cameras so she could watch the suits actuators move with her limbs. There was always a delay in reaction, and seeing it for yourself was better than trusting abstract numbers on the readout. Satisfied, she toggled the throttle with the lower right arm, and stomped the steering pedals for a quick side-step. With only a moment's hesitation, the huge machine moved.

Slowly laying on the power, the suit's pace quickened. the insulated cabin reduced the footfalls to merely felt thumps - but it was still loud within. Squeaking hydraulics and the whine of the gyros that kept the machine upright despite missing two legs (at least from a quadruped citizen's point of view), chimes from a dozen different readouts and a crackling radio. It was cluttered, confined, and noisy - an little clearance for antennas mad it uncomfortable as well.

Sing Sing did't care. She was bounding across the terrain at twice her fastest running speed, and stepping over obstacles that would come up to her neck under normal circumstances. For the time being, she was free.

(In case you don't know musical notation, her name is G-sharp, G-sharp, B, C-flat as a "signature whistle"

Drawl on about City States

Gef out of here! Go! Raus! Skedaddle.

Dose hateful dings! Whaf daf man was sayin abouf New Birmingham - Lord have mercy. And de old Govment, I spit whenever I hear dat so called presiden's name.

Mind you, even the devil tells the truf if it suis his own purposes. It be true that all dem NES' folks are a bunch of tieves, don build nofing new adall - jus stell from de dead of all de old cities. And dose army troopers, dey goo de best guns and ello coppers, well skooled - you ain't hear no arguin fro me, dey good. But dey be servn evil people, and we migh no beat 'em in dis life, but de nex don look too good for dem.

'Corse what I hear is dat most de army now be deserters or criminals, given guns and an a license to loof - em and em domain you know.

Now if you wan a good lif, you do never speak of dat Desla Place, now arround her you don. If one ding for a man in powah like the presidn to be empted to sin. Bu dis is a whole cidy up an ouf de-fyien god, dinken deir computers and sy-bear-nef-iks can save 'em de way Jesus can! All sors of sinners line up a de gates, an dey be dold to serve de Desla massers and give up dere children for entry! Be glad dey so far away in de Rocky Monts.

Naw if you lookn for good people closer doo home, you gof Lone Star, alon de Dexas side of de gulf. Dey gof a nuclear powah plan an a half completed arcology, and be good friends wif da men on da naval bass and. I don dink dey in leauge wif de old govermen, but dey don ave much fuel neither, so it be hard to knwo when do go an fight. Dere be a lota aliens around der, like big shrimps wif laser guns! Aliens still gof an army, wi big demon robot and ello coppers dat look like fire breathn catfish. Pray for dem Lone Star folks - won you?

Now some say dat de aliens fight each another, or pay off humans to do it for dem. California be de nastiest bunch of dem around, while udders mig be willn to sit an jaw a while. You imagine dat - talkin to a shrimp? Nah, I jus stay here, nice an safe. Righ Dought folks might be over eager, but Sheppard's Hand is good people. So wa if he calls 'em police and nof an army? We be in a civilized town dat needs police and pastors, not troopahs and dictators. We's got Sunday picnics every week when most in the wasteland would fight each udder for a can o beans. Der be sho-shops and soda pop, dentists and mechanics all about us here, like a good little down - almost as if De Event never happened, alright.

Ah say again, dis be a good place, a righteous place, and fine in de eyes of de Lord. Some covet technology too much, or govermen powah, or try to keep ol ruins alive with bits o de dead. Here we care about people, all the childrens get school, all da wives keep dere homes. Dere be weeds in out gahden, but it bears might fine fruit, while all de udders be twisted or barren. To be po' here is better dan to be rich out der.

(My apologies to anyone who actually is in the Deep South, I'm trying to change up my writing, not mock you.)

Working for the Man (Part One)

"Be not afraid of greatness: some are born great, some achieve greatness and some have greatness thrust upon them". - (Quote Act II, Scene V). Twelfth Night, Shakespeare

I guess that is of some comfort. Most people, whether they be in a massive city-state or a tiny commune don't go out hunting reanimates and dodging citizens. There are cock-ups to be sure, but generally action only comes around if you ask for it. In turn, that means signing up for a citizen militia or similar organisation. City defense forces are as varied as the places they represent, I'll run you through a few.

Thieves and cowards with more self-preservation than respect for authority are the Bread and butter of the NEST RAT sandwich. It is strictly bring your own equipment and volunteer work, though some get "volunteered" to repay debts, if you catch my meaning. Rapid Access Technicians put resource recovery far above search and destroy and avoid direct combat when possible. Indirect combat via ambush and booby traps is a hobby for some of them, but the real defense of the arcology towers rests on the remnants of the national guard units stationed within.

New Birmingham's Citizen Militia is more of a police force than an army, and Right Though an ecclesiastical SWAT team. They all work together and have guns - but there is a big difference between breaking up a domestic disturbance and busting up a bunker. I wouldn't want to rob a bank down South - a conscript army is still an army you know - but most are chant bible verse first, shoot second. Heck, their ghouls are better trained than most of the Sheppard's Hand. You hear that right. Take everything you hate about Reanimates and most of what you dislike about being shot at, and you get the holy roller's secret weapon. Only come out for big trouble and only outside the city gates, but what defines "big" or "trouble" is kind of malleable.

If you truly want to be among the military, and the best it has to offer at that, you're looking for Crossbow - the US Government Special Forces Team. They're the ones who make sure that no one messes with old depots or missile silos while the government has its back turned. 'Course, if you're not already a navy SEAL who hiked out to Area 51 with nothing but a K-bar, chances are you won't make the grade. Rumor has it these guys have military cybernetics or other black project gear to aid them. The same has been said about Tesla's "Out Reach" force - but really, who is more likely to have that stuff - army commandos or trans-human geek nut-jobs?

Ten Years Before - ICATs Intro

I'm sure you've read a cyberpunk novel before - about how the rich hoard the power and information technology while the poor live off dog food? Where there always seems to be a bold group of heavily armed thugs to fight for the highest bidder, or once in a blue moon - stand up for the little guy?

2045 avoided being like that. Barely.

The signature contracted personnel of the Pre-Event days did carry arms - but it was more because people were out to get them, than for the need to fulfill assassination contracts. ICATs were less "street samurai" and more prohibition era revenuers or Pinkerton Detectives. Independently Contracted Assessment Technician. Sounds like someone to audit taxes or inspect a home for roaches right? Heck, chances are they probably did both of those things. On a really, really, big scale.

I think the idea was more or less established by 2035 - possibly earlier. The wasn't really a single day that the world went down the tubes, more of a series of trends. Deforestation meant new tropical diseases spread faster, crop seasons got all the more unpredictable due to global warming, a disrupted gulf stream meant Europe cooled a good bit despite the desertification of other areas, some big earthquakes and small wars got people migrating... We needed to rethink and redo how people were fed, where they would live, and how to keep them healthy like never before. Comparable to the 70's green revolution, 60's's vaccination programs, 50's atomic power, and post war housing projects, all at once - at least according to some of the more vocal talking heads on the news. Not everywhere was so bad, but where it was, it tended to be terrible.

Good news - nano vaccine and super projects like the NEST arcology buildings really did help. Bad news - they were really, really expensive. With that much money being thrown around, the opportunities for graft, extortion, human trafficking, illicit knock-offs and other ills were simply staggering. No one government could truly focus on it, nor have total trust in its agents, or cut through international red tape.

ICATs were bounty hunters, inspectors, accountants, and spies. They were also incredibly well paid and compensated to lessen the incentive to work for the other side. Some of the top level ones even got a percentage of what they were helping - a decimal point, five zeros and a one - but when your looking at a national GDP scale budget, that is a pretty penny. The danger often matched the reward though. Doctors  sent into Ebola outbreak zones to make sure no one was selling fake cures or trying to weapon the disease would be an example of a safe assignment! For accountants, the death toll was staggering.

Don't get me wrong, there were other people on the fringes, and there were major projects achieved with minimal amounts of law breaking. Possibly even the majority of them. But if you wanted a life like a movie character, signing up to be a government bonded electrician for refugee camps would give you more excitement than the bomb squad.

Sorry about the Wasted August

I've been feeling very ill lately, and have have been making preparations to move to Wisconsin for much of the moth. As you may have noticed, this has resulted in almost no posts this month - and for this, I profusely apologize.

Blogger still shows a record number of hits this month, but I think its mostly automated systems phishing for sites and ads, not real people - I'd love to have 700 people visiting  a month, but that seems unlikely.

Although I hope to do complete blocks of stories for make-up weeks, the prose well is a bit dry right now. I've got a few ideas for discussing what the world of 2045 is like, just before the citizens arrive. Perhaps a few more pieces focusing on Europe will appear as well.

Some other projects might take over for a while - I'm about a quarter done with a game called "Rock Star Spies" and there are a few other ideas that deserve attention in my old files.

Tesla External Games (Draft)

Tesla is supposed to be the city on the hill, social experiment of total freedom, open up the human race - yes? Yet all we see from outside is preformed concrete walls and guard towers like a prison, and that damned lightning spewing disco ball in the center. They demand tribute for entrance, and focus on their Dr. Moreau Experiments rather than the real human beings outside. Some bright future it is surrounded by shanty-towns.

People come to the "Free City" because they think its safe - few reanimates, some remaining government forces, and over the mountains from Citizen territory. Damned irony is, its not the city that makes it safe, but all the hopefuls. So many of us are around we can have proper patrols, and work gangs fulfilling jobs from sanitation to fortification. A functional city outside the city. It tough to feed that many, and there is no proper sewage yet - but from barbers to X-ray technicians, we have everything else.

Sometimes we think about storming the walls. If they were just people, I'd give us better than a fifty-percent chance of doing it. But we aren't sure if its just people at all. They have military drones by the swarm, and a bunch of other advanced military equipment the actual solders had left behind as too maintenance intensive. Even the citizens know better than taking on tanks! And the... inhuman stuff spoken of in whispers. Some say its cyborg super-solders, some say genetic modification. I even heard that they can reprogram the berserk nano-vac in reanimates - that's why they're so rare around here despite all the people.

Maybe its worse than that. They do trade some food and medicine to outsiders. What if there is controllable vaccine in those things? God, they could turn us against each other with a flip of a switch! I was wary of the damned stuff when it came out and the government had a hand in it - now now its a bunch of crazy techno-wizards with no government supervision and I know it turns people into monsters.

Others are a bit more trusting. They point out the city does trade, provide some health services, and does equip at least some outsiders as a de facto police force, and keeps drones aloft to assist people during resource gathering missions. Might be sincere, might be playing us against each other.

Not much to do about it in the short term I guess. Though I have to wonder why they want so much useless junk. Titanium aircraft components for instance - steel you can reforge easily enough, sections of wing not so much. Industrial wastes, chemicals, coal - they want toxic stuff other city-states would pay you to get rid of. That makes things a lot more dangerous than trading with other towns. A lot of people prefer long term health issues to short term beaten to death by the undead.

You know, maybe this whole city-state thing is overrated. We just need enough people in one area, and not worry about salvaging a power structure That survived the Event. Could work. Doesn't mean we're leaving though - Tower Reversed loves to prey on people emigrating to Tesla. I wonder if they work together, TR gaining wealth and forcing people to stay here. Hmm. You'd think the end of world government would mean less conspiracies, not more huh?