Eastern Wastes of America: Chapter 1 - Leaving Woodville

SYSTEM: OmegaLite20
TOOLS: GameMaster’s Apprentice Base Deck ; The Post Apocalyptic Forge; Artbreeder 
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Preliminary Odds-and-Ends:

The information in this section is intended for solo roleplayers and anyone else who might be interested in my gaming process. If this isn’t you, please feel free to skip ahead to “Scene 1.”

As I started playing this campaign, it wasn’t long before I realized that while the OmegaLite20 system is intended to be a complete ruleset, there were times I needed additional information. Sometimes that was due to my unfamiliarity with the base MicroLite20 rules. Sometimes it was because the rules were unclear. And other times it was simply because I don’t have a lot of experience playing TTRPGs within the post-apocalyptic genre. In these instances, I consulted the following resources in this order:

1. The rules and additional material for Microlite20, primarily found in the Microlite20 RPG Collection.

2. For questions specifically related to post-apocalyptic tabletop gaming, I consulted any Gamma World rules and resources available online.

3. Online resources related to d20 tabletop games in general, such as the Hypertext d20 SRD. 

Skill checks in OmegaLite20 are a d20 roll plus any modifiers against a Difficulty Class, or DC. In a traditionally run tabletop game, the Game Master sets the DC for any challenge. Since, as a solo player, I have to set my own DC. I will be using the following scale as suggested by several d20 resources. 

  5   -  Very Easy

  10  -  Easy

  15  -  Moderate

  20  -  Hard

  25  -  Very Hard

  30  -  Near Impossible

If you have read any of my previous campaigns you probably already know how I run things. If not, here are things to keep in mind.  Assume that any names of fictional people and places are randomly generated unless otherwise noted. Whenever I use a tool or table to assist me in telling the story I will usually mention it, or at least add a [RG] tag after a specific item to indicate it was randomly generated. Anything not so noted is more than likely a product of my own creative imagination.

Finally, all character portraits have been created using Artbreeder. Thanks to Gerard over at the Alea Iactanda Est blog for introducing me to this amazing creative tool.  

That’s about it for the boring stuff, but I appreciate it when other solo players include this information in their own posts so I will continue to do the same.  Now on to the story.

Scene 0 - Background:

Idiot!

That’s what he must be. A stupid idiot. I mean, who else would refuse company and wander down a torn and ruined highway alone?

But then again, look at me. A 17, almost 18-year-old teenage girl following blindly after someone I don’t even know. Who’s the real idiot?

I guess I’m just ready to get out of Woodville and I’ll use any excuse. Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how you look at it) I became trapped in our cellar after our town was bombed. Why West Tech would want to bomb a small Pennsylvanian town is a mystery that may never be solved, but they did. Anyway, by the time I was able to dig myself out everyone who wanted to skip town had. Whoever remained was simply content to stay put. I guess they felt safe.

Not me. I knew eventually any supplies we had would run out and we would need to look elsewhere. That would be a problem since most of the people still in Woodville seemed incapable of surviving away from home. That is why they stayed behind, after all. And what if armed raiders come through? No. I had to get out. But I knew there was safety in numbers so I bided my time until a group passed through that was willing to take me with them.

It’d be my luck that no such group came by. Oh, that’s not to say that people didn’t wander into town. They did. But most were either tired of traveling, specifically looking for other survivors to hunker down with, or just saw a source of easy resources. Whatever the reason, they either set up camp or found an empty residence and moved in. Woodville, Pennsylvania. Hundred-something residents and growing. A veritable population boom and I was stuck in it.

That is until He wandered through.

About two months after the bombing, this mysterious, dark-haired man came traveling east along Interstate 80. I just happened to be taking a run down by the interchange when I saw him. I hid behind a burned-out car and watched him.  Instead of passing by, he took the off-ramp that led into town. He must have been interested in the truckstop and other stores that bordered 80 as he proceeded to search the already thoroughly looted convenience stores, fast food joints, grocery store, and other shops. 

This man was unlike most travelers I had seen. For starters, he looked like he was on a mission. He had somewhere to get to and wasn't interested in a place to settle down.. The other thing was he looked like he could handle himself. He was tall and muscular, something that was clearly visible beneath the khakis and green t-shirt he wore. He was traveling alone, which meant he could survive. However, what stood out the most was the flattened barrel of a sonic rifle slung over his shoulder. 

I had only seen a sonic rifle on the holo-vision. No one in Woodville owned one and none of the other wanderers carried any relic guns. Typically, you had to be military or a member of a big-city security force to own a sonic rifle. Woodville Security could only dream of acquiring one. But this man had one, which meant he was either military, security, or, more likely, lucky enough to find one abandoned.

When the sun began to set and the shadows grew he walked over to an abandoned motel and entered one of the rooms, closing the door behind him. An hour passed and he didn’t come out. I assumed he had holed up for the evening. It was dark, growing cold, and I knew I couldn’t stay here all night, but I didn’t want to chance coming back in the morning only to find he had left. So I took a chance.

I crossed the parking lot and stopped about twenty feet short of the door.

“Hello,” I called out.  “Hey, mister. Can we talk?”

I waited, my heart pounding in my chest. 

Nothing.

“Hello?”

Suddenly, the door burst open and I was blinded by a bright light shining in my face. I put an arm up to shield my face. I couldn’t tell for sure, but through my squinting eyes, I thought I could see,saw the sonic rifle pointed in my direction.

“Get away!” He ordered. “Run! Fast!”

“Wait!” I begged. “I . . . I just want to talk. Are you heading west?”

“I’m counting to ten.”

“I want to go with you. I need to get out of here.”

I never heard him count, but I did hear a loud thump that I believe came from the rifle and a nearby car bucked up, its windows shattering into a million glittering jewels.

I did what I thought was my wisest choice at that moment.  I turned and ran.

And I ran all the way to my home. But I didn’t stay there. Instead, I grabbed the backpack I had previously prepared with some supplies and my weapons: a long-bladed knife, a crowbar modified with several spikes along its shaft, and a handgun with a full magazine. I threw on my leather jacket, slung the pack on my back, and returned to the motel. Screw the cold and screw his warning. I was following him whether he liked it or not.

[Time to introduce you to my main character.

ALYSSA GARNER  

Pure human female.  Age: 17  Level: 1

STR: 12 (+1)   DEX: 13 (+1)   MND: 12 (+1)  Mental Defence: 11

Melee ATK: (+2)   Ranged ATK: (+2)   Mental ATK: (+2)

Primary skills (+3 bonus): Subterfuge, Knowledge 

Secondary skills (+1 bonus): Physical, Communication, Survival, Tech

Armor: Jeans and a leather jacket (AC: 13)

Weapons: Knife (1d6), Crowbar w/spikes (1d10), Handgun (1d6)

Gear: 31 bullets, 1 week rations, 1 healing kit, backpack with 10 rolls of duct tape and 

         7 paperback novels.

Any other details will be revealed during the course of the story.

The fictional town of Woodville is located in Pennsylvania, north of Interstate 80 at the location on the map currently occupied by the real town of Buckhorn. (Sorry, Buckhorn.) So, why Woodville and not just use the real place? That’s simple. When I was in high school I used to write a lot of short stories and several were set in my fictional town of Woodville, Pennsylvania. So of course, if I was going to set another story in Pennsylvania you know I’m going to incorporate my beloved Woodville. When I looked at Buckhorn in Google Streetview, I saw that this real-life town had the same feel as my fictional town (which in reality was based on the city I grew up in during most of my school years) and it felt like a good match.

While technically not a hexcrawl (I didn’t prepare any maps on any hexagonal graph paper), I will be running the travel portion of this adventure in a manner similar to one. First, I determined a destination for this portion of the PC’s travels. Next, I randomly rolled how many miles they had to travel to get there. (The result was also key to where I located Woodville.) For each mile traveled, I will roll on several tables to determine what they encounter. The first table is road condition: zero to mild damage, moderate damage, or severe/total destruction. The next table is a landmark, which can vary from one or more buildings, vehicles, other structures, objects, or nothing at all. Encountering a landmark doesn’t imply that said landmark is the only one in the vicinity, just that it is of particular interest to the story. For example, if I roll a vehicle, that doesn’t mean that is the only vehicle on the road. I would suspect there might be many. It only means that for some reason the vehicle is significant. Finally, I will make an encounter roll (1 in 6 chance). I will also be adding a weather option, but for this first chapter, I’m just considering the weather to be clear.

I am tracking my progress on Google Maps and will be posting progress images throughout the story. Another benefit of using Google Maps and a real-world location is that I can use Street View to inspire the story. While this story takes place approximately 50 years in the future (sometime in the 2070s), from experience I know that even after that much time certain aspects of geography don’t change very much. This gives me the freedom to be inspired by the sites along U.S. 80 as they exist today or change them up as necessary, chalking it up to progress, development, or just natural changes over time.]

Scene 1 [Tension Level 1]:

Mile 1: mild road conditions, vehicle. (Encounter rolls will be kept secret till reveal)

[Is the vehicle a car? Yes  Is it out of gas? No  What’s wrong with it? Immaculately/Unholy]

So that is how I ended up here, walking along I-80 on a brisk late April morning, following a couple of hundred feet behind a stranger carrying a bad-ass gun.

He knows I’m here. He’s glanced back several times but hasn’t acknowledged me (which sucks) or pointed his gun in my direction to scare me off (which is good). We're a couple of miles from the interchange and the furthest I’ve been away from Woodville since this whole thing started. I guess that means I’m committed. No going back now.

The pavement was in pretty good shape. A pot-hole here and there but no significant damage. Every now and then we’d pass an abandoned vehicle or two, but most had flat tires, broken windows, or were stripped for parts weeks ago. That changed when the man stopped to examine a white, three-wheeled vehicle that more resembled a dune buggy than a car. It was in much better shape than the other cars we passed and I could only guess that it was just recently abandoned. He opened the gas cap and took a whiff. It must have had gas because next he checked the dash and suddenly grew excited. I guess that meant the manual I.D. key was still in its port.

By the time he climbed into the driver’s seat I was close enough to see the red angel wing and halo logo on the car’s side. That explained why the car might have been abandoned. My suspicions were confirmed when I heard the high-pitched screech and loud clacking come from the engine. This was a Compagna [RG] Angel, a vehicle that won unofficial awards for being the worst vehicle of its year. The design was flawed and the engine would stop, seize up, or sometimes even explode for no reason at all. The joke all over the Nets was that it should have been called the Fallen Angel, as it was obviously cursed! 

Mile 2: Moderate conditions, Group of buildings

We left the Angel behind -- actually, he left the car behind and I just followed -- which may have been for the best as the highway’s condition grew increasingly worse. At that moment a vehicle could have still maneuvered the larger holes and buckled asphalt, but I felt the conditions were signs of even worse damage ahead.

I looked up from checking the back seat of a vehicle that was stuck in a hole and saw the stranger walking off the side of the road. At first, I assumed he was taking a pit stop, but then I saw what caught his attention. Along a service road that ran parallel to the interstate stood several houses and he was going to check them out.

[This was a nice surprise. I rolled “group of buildings” first, then, when I checked Google maps, guess what I saw at my current location? Five private homes lined up along a small two-lane road. Perfect!]

Of course, I followed him off the road. If there was anything useful to be found in these homes I wanted my fair pick of the spoils.  Having seen his anti-social side, I hoped he didn’t get a settler’s mentality and try to claim the house for his own, but if he did there were four other homes I could . . .

Without warning, the stranger stopped, pulled out his sonic rifle, and looked around.  I had no idea what had spooked him. I didn’t see or hear anyone or anything. Another second and it appeared he had keyed in on something because he widened his stance and aimed his weapon. I still didn’t see anything. Was he hunting ghosts?

That was when the ground burst open several feet in front of him and . . . Oh, Crap! . . . A giant shark leapt out and lunged at him.  [Successful encounter roll. The result from my modified OmegaLite Encounter Table was one Sep, or Land Shark. Only the Man-made a perception roll to “feel” the rumble of the earth as the creature approached. Sep is randomly targeting the Man.]

[Initiative is based on a DEX roll.  Order of action for this encounter is Sep (16), Alyssa (10), Man (5)]

With a look of determination, he followed the beast with the barrel of his gun and squeezed the trigger. That determined look changed to one of concern when the rifle failed to emit any pulse. I ran forward as the shark plowed into him, teeth biting into his shoulder. Using his hand and the butt of the gun, the man beat the thing’s nose until it released him and burrowed back underground.

[Round 1 - attack rolls use a d20 plus any modifiers

Sep attacks with a bite at +8.  4+8=12 vs. AC 9.  Hits for 2d4+6 damage (13)  Man has 19 hp. remaining

Alyssa begins running. She is 100’ away and it will take her two rounds to reach the battle.

Man: Sonic rifles fire a 30’ cone and always hits . . . unless you roll a 1. On a 1 the power cell is drained and the weapon doesn’t fire. The Man rolled a 1.

Note: As long as the condition of the characters is the same at the end of each round, the narrative will not always follow the exact order of initiative but instead be presented in a way that best tells an interesting story.]

The man tested his arm to make sure it still worked and, other than wincing with pain, he appeared okay. He quickly ejected the spent power cell and dug into his pack for a fresh one. I took the cue and pulled my handgun from its holster as I continued to sprint across the service road.. (Yeah, I carry my gun in a holster. My hope is that people will be intimidated by the sight of it and I won’t actually have to use it.)

[Round 2 

Sep remains underground for 1 round before its next attack.

Alyssa pulls out her handgun and continues running.

Man: Changes power cells.]

As soon as the new power cell is locked in place the shark emerges again and moves to clamp down on the man’s leg. He moved aside, but not before the creature raked its teeth across his thigh. Before it can burrow again, the man aimed the rifle and fired. This time the weapon emitted a satisfying “thump” and the shark’s skin rippled from the impact of sonic waves. By then I had reached the battle and took a shot at the fleeing monster with my own weapon. Unfortunately, it had disappeared under the earth a fraction of a second earlier.

[Round 3 

Sep randomly attacks the Man: 14+8=22 vs AC 9  Hits for 11 damage. Man down to 8hp

Alyssa shoots: 11+2=13 vs AC 15.  Misses

Man: Automatically hits for 3d6 = 2+1+3+6   Sep has 30hp remaining

How far are they from the nearest house? (d10x10)  60’  If they immediately run for the door, the Sep will get one more attack right before they reach it

Round 4:

The PCs run while the Sep burrows.]

I rush past the man and grab his elbow, pulling him in the direction of the house.

“Quick! Run!” I yell. 

He listens and runs with me, for which I was thankful as I didn’t relish the idea of having to drag him along against his will. 

Now I could feel the slight rumble of the mutated, air-breathing, aquatic freak hunting us for another attack. The rumble grew stronger and I knew we wouldn’t make it in time. The man had passed me and was just reaching the porch as I stopped and spun, raising my handgun. The beast burst through next to me. My shot went wild as it got a hold of my leg. I screamed and the man shot at the shark further down its body away from me. The shark let go and retreated underground once more.

[Round 5 

Sep randomly attacks Alyssa: 11+8=19 vs AC 13  Hits for 14 damage. Alyssa down to 20 hp.

Alyssa shoots: 5+2=7  vs AC 15.  Misses

Man: Automatically hits for 14   Sep has 16 hp remaining]

“Can you make it?” the man asked me. 

“Yeah,” I said, getting to my feet. 

He tried the door.  [Is it locked? (Even) Yes] “Damn! It’s locked.”

“Break it down!” I said, thinking this shouldn’t be a problem for him. I told you he was muscular, didn’t I?

[STR check against a DC10.  10 + 2 (STR Modifer) + 3 (Physical skill) = 15  Success.]

The man laid into the door with his shoulder -- the good one -- and the latch gave way. We both rushed in and closed the door behind us. Quickly, I moved to a window to keep watch. Several seconds later, the shark lunged one final time out of the ground and its head landed on the porch just outside the door. He worked his jaws, feeling around for anything it could grab. Finding nothing, it slipped off the porch and burrowed, never to be seen again.

Current Progress

(Read the next chapter here.)

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