Dead Heroes of the Apocalypse

The End

Well, the game has ended.

The post apocalyptic nature of the game made it hard to determine where the heroes might have ended up, but i bet they did not suspect that they would end up on what remains of a city, floating in space.

A weird type of space. Space that does not seem to act the way outer space is supposed to…

Are they dead?

We will probably never know.

The point of using Obsidian Portal was to create a place where the entire game group could contribute.OF the four of us, only two of us used it.

One of us was far too apathetic to use it.
One of us was far too busy to use it,
One of us used it but was only using to provide background information to the cast.
One of us used it to post character notes that reflected his experiences with the game.

I will consider how to better use this site before i leap into the next project here.

No matter the output here, i had a lot of fun playing with friends.

E.A.R.L. Audio Log 2012.02-18
subject name: One; recording:

“Well, not a whole lot to say. The trading post is gone, the horrible insect is roaming free, the stinging boxes have found us again, and I was attacked by midgets.

Ok, maybe I should slow down… We did some more trading over the past few days and ultimately decided to go looking around for salvage in order to continue trading. We found this cave, but the strange things living inside were not happy with our exploring, so they attacked us. The others killed the ones inside the cave while I secured our escape by killing another which tried to block off the entrance.

Once it died, I stayed at the cave mouth to make sure nothing else snuck up on us… and those midgets threw fire at me from the bushes! Really, they could throw fire with their minds, it was magic, so they had to be put down. I killed them all and stacked them inside the cave.

Then we searched the cave and found another really big gun! Mr. Green called it a gauss cannon, not sure what that means, but it was really hard to carry back.

Once we got back, the trading post was destroyed! Really! And the flying stinging boxes started throwing bombs at us. We had to break them all. There were, a lot.

We’ve packed up what we could find, loaded the gauss cannon into the back of my truck and are now driving toward Lootapalooza!

E.A.R.L. end log."

E.A.R.L. Audio Log 2012.02-11
subject name: One; recording:

“Now this is going to be a great story for you, magic voice trapping device! We found this huge party in a small complex of buildings. Turns out, they are traders too, and want to set up their own trading posts all over the wasteland. Such a dream can never happen of course, but good on them for thinking big.

Anyway, we traded two of the cars those mean people who attacked us the other night weren’t really using anymore for some additional ammo for the truck and some more armor for the windows and gunner seat.

Our talks broke down for a while though when they said the Pit was opening and everyone got excited. I couldn’t help it, I had to know what it was! Turns out, they have an arena behind the big building and offered me the chance to become a real life gladiator! Of course I said yes, I have never been a gladiator before.

Mistake. I know now not to be a gladiator anymore. I mean, I won. They made me fight a gihumongous cockroach that kept trying to rape my chest. It would have been nice if Mr Green had helped me there, since I saved him from being raped and all, but he didn’t, so I had to kill it myself.

Only when I had finally beat it down, they stopped me from killing it. It makes me sad a little that I didn’t get to pry off some of its shell to make new armor with, but they did reward me with this swell new ancients weapon!

They called it a Warp Field Sword, or something like that… I dunno, but it’s magic! Real magic! I thought birds were the only magic around, but this sword passes through metal and stone and lots of other neat things… it only hurts living things, so I am thinking this is gonna be pretty much nifty.

On a side note, the black man is still sick. He took some medicine and went to bed, but I think he’s even worse off now. Maybe I should give him some juju? Except, the one time I tried to offer it, he ignored me, muttering something about cats and curiosity and how he’s looking forward to it. I didn’t know he liked cats.

E.A.R.L. End log."

Uncle Al's Truck stop
Wait, this place seems familiar...

The three men that had escaped from the ECO facility in orbit around the moon, have been forced to travel in stolen, scrounged together and barely running vehicles that they took from bandits and murderers.

As they drive north, with no real goals or purpose, they see the glow of lights over the hills ahead of them. AS they get closer, they see that there is a small collection of buildings, scattered around both sides of what remains of the highway. Illuminated by tall, brilliant white lights, and protected by armed men bearing bearing long arms and at least one turret mounted weapon that none of the travelers recognized, the sign that stands over everything proclaims that they have arrived at Uncle Al’s Truck stop and Auto-mall.

At least a hundred people are moving about. They seem to be standing around in various stages of inebriation. Loud music is being played from the giant stack of amplifiers and speakers piled up outside the main building. A man there is trading clean water and food, along with anything else he can get away with, in exchange for using his collection of universal jacks and a hand crank generator, to charge up hand held devices and portable entertainment devices. People are getting charged up, trading songs, showing pictures that the Ancients left behind, and discussing the purpose of the many, many icons and apps that they do not understand and likely never will.

Another large group of people are passing beers back and forth, leaning under the hoods of their cars, and swearing at every time smoke bellows from the exhaust, or loud pops indicate that a recent change has not gone well. They seem to be making repairs to several vehicles that are battered, and well armed. At least one of them has a rocket launcher mounted on it!

The rest of the people are mingling. They are trading from the backs of vehicles, tending to the sturdy draft beasts that draw their wagons and carts, or sharing information about distant places and far away people.

For One, it is a typical barter town, albeit a seemingly wealthy one.
For Jack, it is a third world nightmare that shows him in no uncertain terms, that his world, the world of America, and American sensibilities is over.
For Ernest, it is a scene straight out of a lame Australian apocalypse movie. Not only is it seemingly chaotic and dirty, it also fills him with an inexplicable rage and a need to kill.
However, after a moment’s notice, Ernest admits to himself, if not anyone else, that pretty much everything fills him with an inexplicable rage and a need to kill.

One, being the most outgoing, leaves Ernest to explore the truck stop while he helps Jack limp along, with many gasps and grunts of pain, to greet the many people.

One quickly discerns who is in charge when they approach him with rifles and shotguns.
The larger man, calling himself Gates, asks if they are there to offer trade or if they come looking for something specific. One establishes that they are on the way to Lootapalooza.
Once the conversation starts, it is hard to shut Gates up, and he goes on about how the truck stop’s boss, Al, is going to be sending a team to Ruin’s Edge to compete and try to earn enough new stock to open up a franchise in Ruin’s Edge.

Suddenly, some sort of alarm sounds, and people start moving with purpose. They grab extra beers, pick up aluminium and plastic chairs, and head towards the back of the truck stop.

Following along, One, who finally stops holding up Jack, finds a large pit dug into the earth.
The floor of the pit is baked mud, with several strange things in the bottom of it. A patch of red hot coals, a single large refrigerator that leans precariously to one side, a sort of engine mounted upright with several sharp blades that spin at deadly speed, and a couch.

After a quick discussion, One learns that every week, people volunteer to fight in the pit against whatever terrible thing that Al has dreamed up. Sometimes it is some horribly mutated beast from the purple desert, other times it is simply a fight between people in ridiculous and deadly situations. In the past couple of weeks, for example, there have been fights with a scavenged and jury rigged industrial labor robot, men armed with chainsaws that were forced to face off against a man driving a compact car covered in spikes and blades while spectators hurled bowing balls into the pit, and a trio of men that fought a sort of ape, that could somehow turn the blood of it’s victims into a sort of increase to it’s own energy and power.

One was instructed that the rules for the pit indicated that volunteers must be in the pit before they learned what they were going to fight. Once in the pit, they would not be allowed back out until the fight was over, and the fight had to continue until one side or the other was victorious. Being Curious, One volunteered immediately.

As One signed up to be a post-apocalyptic gladiator, Jack was moving slowly through the crowd gathered around the pit. His wounds from the car crash earlier in the day, were very, very serious, and he opted to rest in the cab of the semi until it was time to watch One compete in the pit.

Being unlucky, he had drawn the attention of one of the two legged predators in the crowd…

One watched as several short, brutal fights took place in the pit. These were people with personal grievances to settle, people with something to prove, and people that were paying off debts. While the people in the pit seemed to enjoy the blood sport, they stopped the fights before anyone was maimed or killed. Mostly.

Finally, Jack found his way back to the pit in time to see One leap down to the dried muddy, floor. A group of men climbed down a rope ladder, and started the engine on the spinning blade contraption. One began to think of it as a slice and dice for some reason. Then they poured precious kerosene all over the couch. They did not light it on fire, but it was very close to the bed of coals that the men began to stoke. The refrigerator was not tampered with.

At last, A large box truck backed up to the edge of the pit, and men on it’s top used sharp sticks to poke at something they could see through the hole cut in the top.
A group of smiling, toothless men moved among the crowd, handing out long poles with very, very sharp points on them to everyone at the pit’s edge.

A small pick up truck, with a single elderly man, dressed in overalls and sipping a from a battered beer can riding in the back on an aluminium lawn chair, pulls up into a spot reserved for it. As soon as the truck’s engine shuts off, the box truck nearby, has it’s rolling door thrown up with a clatter.

From inside the truck, a dark piece of disgusting, chitinous, Ugly begins to crawl out, poked and prodded by the men wielding spears. One watched in disgust as an enormous cockroach crawled on incredibly thin legs from inside the cargo space.

Unable to go anywhere but into the pit, the cockroach scurried down the mud walls of the pit, and scanned the arena. It did not see One, who had hidden behind the couch as he fought to control his revulsion at the sight of the massive, gross bug, with it’s pulsing abdomen, and strange, tiny head.

Taking his fate into his hands, One leaped from behind the couch and hurled his spear at the bug before it could catch his scent and hunt him down. He had the drop on it!

For a second, as the spear hurtled with deadly precision towards the hideous bug, One could swear he heard a voice coming from the head of the thing. A voice impossibly curious, and seemingly somewhat befuddled. He thought that it might have said something along the lines of:

“OH! Hello there! Have you any idea what these savages mean to do to us? They seem to have tossed us both into this disgusting pit!’

But then the spear struck home and the roar of the crowd drowned out what must have been simple clicking and gurgling from the twisted and snapping mouth of the cockroach.

After that, One was sure the creature spoke to him.

“What the hell!?” It cried. “You fucking speared me in the thorax you cunt!” It screamed at him.
“For that i am going to chew through your disgusting chest and lay eggs in your lungs!”
Terrified and consumed by blinding rage, the normally docile cockroach charged to try and carry out it’s promise.

One moved close, and was quickly able to determine that the thing had hideous strength to match it’s throbbing, yellow fluid leaking nightmare of a foe. They were evenly matched. One could not help but hit it, each blow from his fierce axe was turned aside by the thick exoskeleton of the cockroach, and each snap of the roaches mandibles was easy for One to avoid, but if the creature grabbed him in it’s jaws even once, One was doomed!

The fight held the attention of everyone at the pit’s edge, especially those that hoped for a chance to prod the combatants with the sharp spears Al had provided them with. Everyone likes to participate. The only person not really paying attention was the woman that was reaching into Jack’s pants.

Jack was keen, and saw her moving in to try and take his gun from his waistband while his attention was diverted by the fight in the pit. He caught her hand, and turned to give her such a look, while showing her that he was still gripping a fully functional stun baton.
No one else really noticed the exchange, but whatever it was she saw in Jack’s eyes, it shook here to her very soul. She was terrified. She had no idea what the stick he threatened her with would do to her, but she could tell by the look on his face, and the determination she saw there, that she would regret trying to steal from Jack if she stayed near him for even one more second.

She ran, as fast as her legs could take her. She did not stop until she collapsed, out of breath, her heart beating nearly out of her chest. She hid herself behind a car near the truck stop’s mechanic’s bay. It was there that Ernest found her. She was not seen again.

Back in the pit, the cockroach had threatened One with a strange, mutated ovipositor. One responded by whacking the disgusting appendage with his axe. Left with no choice, and anxious to avoid the razor sharp mandibles, One used every ounce of his courage, athleticism, and strength to leap onto the creatures back. He struggled for purchase, desperate to keep his balance, One’s mind raced, deciding what his next move would be.

The cockroach could not shake the nimble One from it’s back, so it tried to scrape him off using the whirling blades of the slice and dice. That did not work, so it rolled across the bed of hot coals, going against it’s every instinct screaming to retain it’s footing.

The trick worked, and One and the roach, easily the most deadly enemy he had ever faced, squared off against each other. One moved first. His axe cleaving one of the roaches legs almost clean off as it smashed into a joint where leverage and strength managed to penetrate the bug’s think exoskeleton.

Still screaming obscenities, the roach tried once more to slice the head off it’s enemy, but was too unbalanced to pull it off. One, almost as weary and battered, was able to remove a second leg completely. The roach dropped. it could have crawled away, it could have escaped, but to where? Humans lined the pit’s edge armed with sharp spears that kept it trapped, and the pain from it’s wounds was overwhelming. The bug collapsed in from exhaustion, fear and lack of…whatever the hell that stuff is that was leaking out of it.

The crowd cheered wildly, and someone kicked a rope ladder into the pit for One to use.
Several men descended on the roach, one of them mumbling about using some scrap parts and an old pneumatic drill to replace the missing leg…

Al, the old redneck man in charge, called One over and promised him a prize. One would be allowed to pick from the latest collection of scavenged gear and supplies. It was an unceremonious moment, and One picked up a strange sort of sword. It was well made, and appeared to be slightly humming when he gripped the hilt of it. A few practice swings told One the weapon was one that he should keep. jack was able to convey to him the complexity of the weapon’s design, and explain that it would cut through the armor of his enemies as if it did not exist. One was pleased.

In the morning, after many drinks, some hot food, and a good night’s sleep, One and jack bartered away to cars that they towed from the sight of the previous day’s ambush to the truck stop.
In exchange, they got a pair of rounds for the cannon that was found on the back of One’s semi, as well as a promise of the addition of shield to protect the gunner’s seat, and plates to protect the anyone in the cab.
They intend to role out towards Ruin’s Edge as soon as Jack can travel safely.
In the meantime, something large and very, very angry is homing in on the signal being generated by One’s repeated use of the ECO hand held unit…

E.A.R.L. Audio Log 2012.02-04
subject name: One; recording:

“Ok, so Mr. Green finally got around to teaching me what this metal box really is. All they had to do was tell me it was a magic voice trapping device, how hard is that?

The black man hasn’t spoken to either of us in days. I think maybe he didn’t used to be covered in black insect plates before the flying metal boxes stung him and put him in the standing beds.

I met some gypsies on the road, who told me about Lootapalooza. I am so going to that! An entire ancient city to scavenge! I guess you have to have a team though, so maybe I will convince my new friends to come with me.

Oh, guess what? I can drive a truck! That truck with the gun on the back saved Mr Green’s butt. No, really. His butt. Some angry lady tried to shove a door opening stick inside him… I almost ran her over, but I missed. At least I got out in time to save him. I am not sure what the black man was doing so far behind us, but I guess he was dealing with the bandits we passed during out high speed chase! I got up to 28 miles per hour!! Holy crap, not even a horse could go this fast. We are amazing.

Side note, Mr Green has a new car now. The angry lady blew his up, but I guess she doesn’t need hers anymore.

E.A.R.L. end log. See? I ca—"

E.A.R.L. Audio Log 2012.01-21
subject name: One; recording:

“Metal box? Hey, metal box? … Hey black man, why isn’t the metal box talking back anymore?

I don’t know. Stop talking to me. Tell it another story.

Oh, you think it might be lonely now that we’re so far away from the rest of the metal box. Maybe you’re right, my mom used to tell me stories when I was sad.

Fascinating. I don’t care.

Well, we found a land turtle hiding in a pile of loot smaller than the land turtle itself, only to find out that the pile of loot was part of the land turtle, which made sense in a terrible sort of way. It was a powerful beast, and when I hit it with my spear nothing happened! So after it lunged at me, biting my arm, I climbed onto it’s back and tried to hurt it with the door opening sticks, which the black man said weren’t actually door opening sticks, but I proved him wrong after killing the turtle by opening a door with them. Showed him.

God, I hate you so much.

Anyway, after cutting off the land turtle’s beak to make into a new shield later on, we went out the door I opened with the opening sticks and found a clan of wastelanders smoking around some old cars. I went to see what I could find in the big car with the guns on the back, but I guess the black man and the green man decided to attack the wastelanders instead. I understand that, my new friends seem to have no idea what life is like out here. I feel bad for them. They aren’t as smart as I thought they were, they didn’t even know how to open the door, and they definitely won’t be able to hunt with those blast sticks they threw at the wastelanders… sad really to see people so out of touch with reality.

I swear, there has never been somebody I’ve hated more than you.

What was that, black man? … oh well, must not have been important, since green man is talking to him now. I think they’re best friends. Oh, we also met the mean stinging metal box again, only this time he looked like a chicken with those backwards legs he had. He attacked me though, so I had to cut his legs off. Don’t worry, metal box, I am not a monster. We didn’t eat your brother.

For gods sake, shut up! E.A.R.L. end log!"

Impact in 5...4...3...2...

The landing sequence went just great for the cast of the escape pod.
With the exception of Dustin’s character being rendered helpless by a blow to the head from floating about the pod in zero-g.

As the pod orbited the earth, trying to locate an ECO Safe Signal, the cast had the time to recognize that that the world they had once known was gone. There was far, far less green. And no lights to speak of when nightfall descended on the planet.

As they got even lower, they saw that most cities were in such a state of decay as to be most likely unlivable. Not to mention that there was a lot more desert now than their had been.

Finally, when the pod began it’s horizontal descent, they looked beneath them, through tiny portholes on the side of the pod, and saw a small, shabby group of tents, metal shanties, and the bodies of rusted, trashed out old cars and trucks.

As they watched, the EARL sent the appropriate signals, and the ground beneath the small camp of dirty, ragged, emaciated people began to first shake, then move. In fact it split in half, and a good portion of the camp fell into a black void that seemed to go on forever. Terrified people watched as their makeshift home, unknowingly built upon the ancient doors of an ECO Safe Base, retracted, dropping most of them to their deaths, and letting whole tents, sheds and tetanus laden homes fall into the pit.

For their part, the cast members inside were fairly cheeky about the whole thing.
One they landed, they paid little attention to the EARL unit. They realized that the hangar doors had rolled back into place above them, sealing them into what could very well be a tomb.

They set out to try and find some sort of help or resources, since it seemed that no one was going to be showing up as the EARL had promised. Leaving the unconscious behind, One and Ernest set out to explore the underground base.

Before long, the began to notice signs of how old and run down the base was. Then they found the remains of the poor sods from the surface who had picked the worst place ever to set up a temporary camp.None of those folk had survived.

Before long, they found a corridor, which ended in a room very similar to the command center on the ECO space station. Inside, among a few age mummified bodies and the dark, they found a few exciting things.

They found a Heap Turtle. A sort of ambush predator that had been using the abandoned base to nest before moving farther south where it hoped to one day mate. They discovered a mobile weapons platform that was apparently programmed by the same incompetent programmers as the people that programmed the SecAI, because when it activated, it immediately called them meat-bags, and started to limp it’s frozen servos and rusted joints towards the armory, where it promised to reload the empty weapons it had and then return to murder them all.

Also, at some point here, Ernest began to really notice how unusual he was. His new body type, his ability to lift things with his mind, and most importantly, the ability to use those things to really put a hurting on critters and robots.

They also had a brief conversation with the WP Shard, but were interrupted by strange mutated creatures, and giant robots. Both of which they dispatched handily. One in a fair and dramatic fight, and the other one they dispatched, well let’s just say they got away with it because i failed to remember an important structural detail about giant mobile weapons platforms.

Good for them though, i think the story will be better for it. The last thing they heard the robot vocalizing before it went offline was the word “Transmitting…”

Of course, then they had time to search the abandoned base, and find all sorts of junk, and wuite a few weapons left behind, secured in an armory for ECO personnel.

Scrounging rolls were made, and then it was time to figure out a way to get out of the base.

That didn’t take them long at all.
They managed to crawl out of the base, and under a malfunctioning security door.
Outside they found the remnants of the small camp, gathered around the debris and junk, and the one remaining tent. Vehicles were nearby, and as the six men stood whispering and smoking cigarettes in the hot, dry, dark, the cast planned out exactly how to murder them.

One crept to a powered down vehicle, once some sort of hauler or tractor. It was fitted with a massive cannon of some sort. Meanwhile, Ernest crept along in the other direction, and pulled out one of the prizes he had just scavenged underground in order to kill as many of the smoking men as possible.

Jack, (Which i think is Dustin’s character’s name) stayed where he was by the security door, exercising his cautious hindrance. (He got a bennie for that).

With no real preamble and with no discernible moral concern, Ernest used his scary new powers to hurl a decades old fragmentation grenade a the face of one of the unsuspecting men that had only hours ago lost most of his family, all of his possessions, and more hope than he could afford to spare into a gaping black hole that appeared as if by magic underneath his feat.

The grenade smashed into his head, and he was dead before he hit the ground. Of course the grenade detonated almost immediately, killing the other five men standing with him. It was quick and horrible.

Only two men, one that had been standing alone by his car, planning on leaving the others behind to start over fresh somewhere new…ran away from the shock and terror of the grenade blast towards the semi-truck in an effort to get to the most heavily armored vehicle in miles.

There he found One, who had climbed inside the truck. One bashed the man in the face with the door. Jack, still a little woozy from hitting his head in the escape pod, drew down on the man.
Just as Jack thought the man was going to surrender and stand down, One noticed that the man had a third arm, and was using it to bring a crossbow to bear on the unsuspecting Jack.

That did not go well. If it had not been for Jack’s keen sense of danger, he would not have been able to shoot the man dead.

Ernest, having found only one grenade, used his prized African war axe to subdue the man he was pretty sure was the leader of…well it didn’t matter now, everyone was dead now. The man fell to his knees…and Ernest cruelly attached what looked like duct tape to his eyes so he could not see. What Ernest did not know was that the tape was a technological marvel that had been designed to bond on a molecular level. That tape won’t be coming off. (The player knows this of course.)

So there we stopped. It has been approximately 23 hours since the cast left their cryo-stasis beds. They are exhausted. Some of them are hurt. They have no idea where they are, where their next meal is going to come from, or what kind of world they are going to be living in now. With so many questions, it is good that they have at least one prisoner to interrogate.

Also, that beeping sound coming from the Aegis Mobile is getting annoying…

E.A.R.L. Audio Log 2012.01-07
subject name: One, recording:

“Hey, black man, what is the metal box doing?

It’s listening to your story.

Oh, alright. Hey, black man, what story does it expect me to tell it?

I don’t know. Tell it about our escape, I don’t care. Stop talking to me.

There was a red man who hunted the helpless people in the standing beds, he laughed as he killed them. The black man…

Stop calling me that.

…sorry, the black man strangled him with a clear rope and we all slid down a hole in the floor to avoid the stinging metal boxes. They found us though, and we broke a lot of them. Then we found the metal box I am talking to now. I did find another door opener stick though, so maybe I can trade it for some seeds.

Hey, hillbilly, shut up already. E.A.R.L. end log."

Falling Stars

This was session number one. Both this entry, and Dreamless Void took place on 01.07.2012.

The very first thing that i noticed, was that i refuse to stick to script. I just go on making stuff up, even though i have already made stuff up, and then i change things around, even though i took all the time to write things down in the first place. On the one hand, that is good, on the other hand it seems like a tremendous waste of time.

Now then, in session one, the cast came out of cryosleep and began to struggle against the manipulations of the SecAI. One of them got into an epic melee with a murderous psychopath. In the end, a once soft and meek high school teacher used a piece of medical tubing to strangle the life out of a dangerously unstable madman.

There were electroshock attacks, ladders, and a trip to the part of the facility that provided micro-manufacturing and mechanical resupply. There was a brief stop off at the digitizer, where anything that had been scanned in the past, including the prized possessions of the patients on board, could be reproduced in exact detail.

In the end, there was a run made on the command center, where, for the first time, they cast realized they were in space. Oh, they also realized that among all of the patients that had awakened, they alone seemed to be able to operate on any higher level. Everyone else so far was still suffering from hibernation sickness, or psychosis.

The SecAI put up a struggle, as was expected. The MedAI tried to protect the patients under it’s care, and of course, EARL got the humans, (even the one terribly mutated) off of the ECO base, and hurtling towards Earth.

It Takes A Village
Character creation and game set up

The Dead Heroes like to make characters. We make a lot of characters. We like it so much that we often take our newly crafted characters, and our carefully hand printed character sheets, and beaming with anticipation and enthusiasm, throw dice until the character sheet is torn and dirty, the enthusiasm wanes right around ten PM, when the paladin forbids us to murder the orphans that are running the thieves guild, and the character ends up dead. The whole process usually takes a few hours.

Then we are back to burying our noses in the books, scrolling through internet sites, and cruising bowling alleys looking for new concepts, really kewl names, and pretending to listen to everyone else have fun while we build new characters.

That is how the Dead Heroes traditionally deal with characters. Maybe you do it differently.
Maybe you breath life and animation into the collection of stats and graphs that represent your character in a make believe world of intricate plots and vivid, creative storytelling. Good for you!

We try, we really do, but often it ends…poorly.

So this time i am asking the players to create their characters without having seen the rules at all. They know the world has been destroyed and is slowly being reborn. They know the source material is a lot of Mad Max and a little bit Fallout. They understand that i am going to be making up a lot of stuff as we go. That is what i do, after all. Knowing all of that, they are supposed to be creating characters that we then rebuild using the rules in the Savage Worlds Deluxe game. There are three players in this game so far, and i posted the request for ideas and concepts about a month ago.

ONE of the players responded.

His character is posted in the Character section for perusal, and so he can edit it as we play.
The other two characters, when they eventually show up, if they show up, are doomed now. They have incurred the wrath of an angry and very unjust god. I am Withered, and my wrath is not limited to punishing characters that already exist…i can even punish the characters not yet birthed into the creative fiction we are all swept up in. When their characters get here, they will be sequestered, quarantined, perhaps even ostracized.

Besides, i don’t really expect them to survive for more than a few hours anyway…

Finally, i submit the The Request to the players, in an attempt to garner glory for all of us.


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