(Read the previous chapter here.)
Tools: Gamemaster’s Apprentice Deck, Post Apocalyptic Forge loot tables; UNE
(The above may contain affiliate links)
[At the end of Chapter 1, the PC’s entered a house. What are the odds that someone is in the house? d10 1-3 Bad 4-7 Even 8-10 Good Roll: 7
Is there anyone in the house? (Even) No]
Scene 1 [Tension Lvl: 2]:
“Since when do fish swim in the ground?”
[Is the man familiar with Seps? (Good) Yes.]
“Since scientists spliced, mutated, and totally screwed up their genetics,” the man answered as I worked on cleaning his wounds. “Have you never seen a Sep before?”
“Nope.”
“Not even a science report on the Holo-Vis?”
“I’m not really the sciency type.”
After we were certain the land shark was gone and the house was empty (at least no one answered when we called), we set about tending to our wounds. Luckily, both of us had the foresight to pack healing kits. The man received some serious bites and I was glad we had a couple of containers of B.A. Heal brand spray healant. The B.A. stood for “Biological Accelerating” healant, but the general public attributed a more colorful meaning to the initials. After seeing how quickly the spray sealed up the wounds and began the formation of new skin, I admit I have to agree with the street definition.
[Healing kits allow 1d6 h.p. of healing after combat. Man heals 5 (13 hp). Alyssa heals 3 (23 h.p.)]
You would think two strangers meeting under these circumstances would have a lot to say. The reality was I wasn’t sure how to begin. So I started with the first thing that came to mind.
“Are you?”
He looked at me with a puzzled expression. “Am I what?”
“Irish?” I asked, nodding to his green t-shirt that sported a large white shamrock and the words, “Kiss Me, I’m Irish.”
He chuckled. “No. It’s just something I picked off a clearance rack in an abandoned souvenir shop.”
“What’s your name?” I said, hoping to have something to call him other than “you.”
“Nathan. Nathan Collier.”
“Nate?” I offered.
“Sure.”
“I’m Alyssa.”
“Aly?” he suggested.
“No! Alyssa.” I was shutting that crap down before it even began and quickly turned the conversation back to him. “You’re heading somewhere.”
Nate raised his eyebrow, recognizing my words as a statement, not a question. “You sound sure about that.”
“Most travelers stop in Woodville. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone just pass through. You’re the first. All you were looking for was supplies and a place to rest for the night. Where ya heading?”
He took a moment. I suspect it was to decide if I was trustworthy, before thinking the heck with it. Who’s she going to tell?
“My parents. Haven’t heard from them since the bombings. In fact, seeing tensions rise between the states, I was on my way home to see them and make sure they were okay.”
“Coming home? From where?”
“Germany.”
“Vacation?”
“Work. I work for the Security Division of an international data collection company that is based overseas.”
Data Collection? That could mean a lot of things, but the one thing they all have in common is technology. “Tech For or Tech Is?”
“Huh?” Nate responded, confused.
Apparently, he wasn’t familiar with the local vernacular that expressed what side of the tech debate you were on. If you were “Tech For,” that meant you understood the benefits of technology and scientific advancements and that they would be useful tools to assist mankind in all areas, including industry, medicine, education, entertainment, etc.. However, if you were “Tech Is,” you believed that humans should be free of all mundane, time-consuming, or necessarily dangerous tasks. Instead, robots, computers, and other scientific advancements should eventually perform all jobs, resolve all conflicts, and supply all entertainment. With only a small handful of technicians, scientists, and medical professionals needed to maintain the systems, that would leave the rest of the population to live their lives pursuing their true dreams, desires, and pleasures.
“Do you believe that tech is a tool to be used by humanity or an ultimate replacement for humanity?” I explained. I stared at him in anticipation.
An understanding grin crossed Nate’s face. “I prefer to stay out of American politics. That’s one of the perks of living overseas. But I will tell you this, I’ve seen enough problems with computers to know that relying totally on them is a scary proposition. I wouldn’t trust ‘em. Besides, without purposes and goals and nothing but free time, people tend to become, at best, lazy, unmotivated, and bored, and at worse depressed and on-track to a fast death.”
“That’s a rather grim opinion of mankind,” I noted while also breathing a sigh of relief.
“Perhaps,” Nate agreed. “But I still think work has its benefits beyond just providing a service to the world. Let’s start searching this place for anything useful”
NATHAN COLLIER
Pure human male. Age: 33 Level: 1
STR: 15 (+2) DEX: 8 (-1) MND: 11 (+0) Mental Defence: 10
Melee ATK: (+3) Ranged ATK: (+0) Mental ATK: (+1)
Primary skills (+3 bonus): Physical, Tech
Secondary skills (+1 bonus): Subterfuge, Knowledge, Communication, Survival
Armor: None, only wearing a T-Shirt and khakis {AC: 9 (Base 10 + (-1) DEX)}
Weapons: Knife (1d6), Sock filled w/rocks (1d6), Sonic Rifle (3d6, always hits except on 1)
Gear: 1 week rations, 1 healing kit, Tech Tool Kit, Sack with a battery-operated charger, 11-8 packs of batteries. 6 Manual
PCCs [to be explained later], 2 extra power cells]
I will draw a description for each house and three loot checks using the GMA Deck’s Tag Symbols. Crown, Sword, Shield, and Wand will be normal items. Target will be a Relic. As with the road object, it would be expected that each house is full of mundane items. The ones that are generated are the only ones that might be of interest to the story.
House 1: Description: Eternally Tragic Loot Check: Crown, Wand, Tower (2 Mundane Items)
Nate and I returned the healing kits to our packs and began to wander through the first-floor rooms. Currently, we were in the main living room. One opening led to the dining area and, we assumed, the kitchen beyond it. Another led to a door-lined hall. We chose the hall first.
“I’m surprised you found a flight to the states, with the war and all,” I said.
“Actually, the bombing began while we were still in the air,” Nate explained. “Best as I can tell, the plane was more than halfway across the Atlantic when everything started and couldn’t turn back. We were flying into JFK and the pilot announced on approach that the runways had been damaged but he was going to try to land anyway. I guess major airports were on the top of the target list to keep people from leaving or reinforcements to land.
“The pilot did a commendable job, but couldn’t completely avoid the torn-up portions of the tarmac. The plane ran off the runway, wrecked, and the engines caught flames. Most of the passengers were able to escape the crash and we headed to the terminal for shelter. The next day there were more bombings, explosive and gas, followed by transports that were carrying bots and all sorts of mutated creatures. They swept over the grounds and through the buildings and we were forced into the underground tunnels and rooms to escape the manhunt.”
While Nathan spoke we peeked into several rooms that could be bedrooms or offices. It was unclear because they were clear of all furniture and in the process of remodeling. Ladders, paint cans, and rolls of plastic were scattered throughout. [Random Item 1: 50 s.y. of rolled plastic]
“We hid in those tunnels for two weeks or more. Every few days a group would venture out to see what the situation was and would return with reports of patrolling robots or wandering monsters. Once a group of ten tried to flee but were cut down by blaster fire and eaten by giant rats. There was only one survivor who made it back to tell us what happened.”
“How did you finally escape?” I asked as we returned down the hall to check out the kitchen and dining area.
“After several weeks, most of the bots were gone. We don’t know if they were picked up by transport or moved on to other locations, but with fewer on patrol, we began to discuss leaving. Several wanted to stay longer but I was itching to get to Nebraska to check on my parents. So I and a few others decided to try and run. Without boring you with the details, we obviously made it, or at least I did. One poor girl got tangled in a giant spider web and another man fought off a Warrior Bot so the rest of us could escape. We traveled together for a while, but each of us had our own agendas and eventually parted ways.”
I pulled out all the kitchen drawers looking for anything useful. There were towels, utensils, pots, and pans. Great items if you were going to start a Post-Apocalyptic Cooking Show but not very helpful for surviving in the wild. It looked as though all the canned and packaged food had already been taken, either by the previous owners when they left or by scavengers. What was left in the fridge had decayed to an unrecognizable state. In fact, the only thing of any value was a tiny spray can of mace that was tucked in the back of an odds-and-ends drawer. [Random Item 2: Mace (one use, 1d4 damage, stun for 1d2 rounds)]
“Looks like this place has been pretty well cleared out,” Nate noted.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I guess the owners didn’t want to hang around and took what they could with them. You wanna check upstairs?”
“Why not?”
“You were alone when you arrived in Woodville,” I continued, still interested in this wanderer’s story. “Couldn’t find a travel companion? Not that surprising considering how you . . . “
[Why was Nate stand-offish? Irksome/Scum]
“I met a few,” he cut me off. “But one night someone I thought I could trust rolled me and took my pack. Pissed me off. Stayed on my own after that. That’s why I didn’t want you near me. Didn’t trust you. Heck, still not sure I can, if I’m being honest.”
“I’m sure you’re being honest,” I said right before opening a door off the landing at the top of the stairs.
We were not prepared for what we saw . . . or smelled. The door opened into a large bedroom. Ornate wooden furniture lined the walls and a large four-poster bed stood centered along the far wall. In the bed lay a woman . . . or at least what remained of a woman. The body was in an advanced state of decomposition, with bones beginning to show and the sheet blackened from the sludge emitting from her body. Flies buzzed around the corpse. From the gray hair, I assumed she was rather old. The arms were folded over her chest and tucked underneath them was an old, leather-bound Bible.
“What the F--?” Nate muttered under his breath.
I walked over to the nightstand where an empty glass sat. I picked it up and sniffed. Nothing, but I did see an empty pill bottle on the floor next to the table. I bent to retrieve it and showed it to Nate.
“Suicide perhaps?” I suggested. “But I’d say a better guess is that the family decided to leave and knew granny here couldn’t make the trip. So they helped her along peacefully.”
He gagged as he put his hand to his mouth. “Let’s get out of here.”
Scene 2 [Tension Lvl: 3]:
Neither of us wanted to spend another minute in the death house, so we quickly left and traversed the distance to the next home in the line.
“What about you,” Nathan asked. “Where are your parents?”
“Dead,” I said, simply.
“I’m sorry. The war?”
“Yes. It was the fourth day of bombing. Up until that time all the attention was on the big cities, military bases, and industrial centers. We thought we’d be fine. What interest would Tech-West have in a small town like Woodville?
“My mom sent me down to the pantry in the cellar to get a couple of cans of green beans for dinner. Suddenly, there was a loud explosion and the ground shook, knocking me on my ass. Dust, bugs, and rat droppings fell on me and a couple of beams caved in. I heard a few other explosions, some near, others in the distance. The bastards were bombing us . . . Us!
“I got to my feet and searched for the door. It was gone and the stairway was crumbled. I called out for my mom and dad but got no answer. I called out for anyone and got no answer. I tried to find a way out but couldn’t. My suspicions at the time, which later proved to be correct, was that the bomb had hit near our home and leveled it, killing anyone in the area. Anyone but me that is.
“I kept calling out but no one came to rescue me. The only saving grace was that the previous week we had received our monthly shipment from Wamazon and the pantry was full of food and water.”
Nate did his best to hold back a laugh but failed.
“You think this is funny?” I asked annoyed and ready to give him a whack with my crowbar.
“No,” he apologized, fighting back a smirk. “It’s just that name. It’s ridiculous.”
“What name?”
“Wamazon. I can’t help but think of all the jokes we made as kids when we heard that Wal-Mart was going to merge with Amazon and that was the name they decided to go with. What sound do distributors make when they merge? Wham-azon! What do you call a warrior woman who slaps you with a big stick? A Whamazon. Heh. At least it’s not as bad as Tar-Macy’s.”
I shook my head, having no idea what he was talking about. What’s wrong with Tar-Macy’s?
By now we had reached the door to the next house. Again, Nate had to break it in and again the house was empty. If people were abandoning their homes, why did they feel the need to lock the doors? I continued my story as we searched.
[House 2. Any people in the house? (Bad) No. Description: Helpful/Training]
“I was trapped in my basement for almost two weeks. I learned later that the townsfolk avoided our street because they were afraid of radiation or something from the bomb. That and they were sure no one had survived. I did my best to dig myself out, but it was a slow process. Some days I was only able to remove one board. Finally, I cleared enough away to see the sun. Poking my head out of the hole I saw a kid, some boy, poking around the rubble. I called out to him and ran to get help.”
“That must have been horrible.”
“It was no vacation in Key West, I’ll admit. But I did have some books and enough light seeping through the cracks to read during the day and flashlight batteries to read at night.”
The house proved to be about as fruitless as the first. No dead grandma’s in this one, but it did have a home gym set up on the ground floor decorated with fishing paraphernalia such as nets and mounted bass, and, surprise, a few more rolls of plastic. This house didn’t show any signs of renovations so I can only guess that the local paint shop had a deal on plastic and the owners of the first house decided to share the wealth with their neighbors. [Search: crown, heart, shield (2 mundane items) Hand Fishnet, 50 s.y. of rolled plastic]
As we neared the third house in the row Nate stopped suddenly and sniffed at the air. [Nate makes a DC10 Perception roll with a 13] “You smell that?”
I hadn’t, but taking a deliberate whiff I detected something but didn’t know what it was.
Nate looked around and pointed at some plants growing behind the house. “I knew it. Pot. Be on guard. There’s someone here.” [House 3. Are there people? (Bad) Yes.] “I’m surprised you didn’t recognize the smell”
“Why? Because I’m a teenager?”
“Well . . . “ Nate replied as if teens smoking pot was an assumed fact. If he was going to play that game, I guess I’d just have to throw it back.
“Yeah, I wouldn’t know. I didn’t like hanging with the nerds.” [Why doesn’t Alyssa recognize the smell? Avoid/Technology]
When we reached the porch I waved Nate off, opting to peek in the window myself. [Subterfuge Check (DC10) 13 + 3 skill + 1DEX = 17. Success!] Being careful not to be seen, I looked in the window. I got a clear view of the living room and saw three teenagers sitting on the floor, a light haze of smoke hovered around them. They were passing a joint between them. One of them was black man with his hair wrapped up in braids. Next, I saw a girl with short, curly brown hair dressed in a long, tie-dye t-shirt. If she’s wearing any pants, I couldn't tell. The third figure, however, was the most interesting. It was another male, seemingly of middle-eastern descent. He was much shorter than the other two but didn’t appear to suffer from dwarfism. Just short. But what stood out was his eyes. The pupils were overly large.
I sunk back and relayed what I saw to Nate, including the wide eyes. He suspected the boy was a mutant and his eyes might indicate improved night or dark vision. I wasn’t familiar with Muties. Woodville wasn’t gassed during the bombing and, as I had told Nate just a moment ago, I wasn’t very interested in science. I’d have to pick his brain more about this when we had more time to talk.
[Are the people the homeowners? (Even) No. To better get a feel for this group I drew another GMA card to reveal an “element.” The element drawn was “Air”, which GMA defines as “Life in its most dynamic form. Chaotic but friendly, social. In this specific case . . . Hippies!
Gender and descriptions were all generated randomly. Every NPC not in a town has an even chance of having some sort of mutation. One of the three rolled positive for mutations. Rolling on the OmegaLite 20 tables I determined he had a mutation of darkvision and a defect of being small.]
“I don’t think they live here,” I said. “All these houses are probably abandoned and they are just squatting.”
“Do we move on?” Nate asked, already looking in the direction of the next residence.
“No,” I objected. “There’s a chance they’ll be friendly. For all we know they’ve already scavenged everything useful from the surrounding homes and this might be our only chance to gather any supplies. That is assuming they’re willing to share. Do you have anything to barter?”
“A few PCCs and some batteries, but that’s it.”
Hmm. Nate had some Personal Compact Computers? Good to know.
“Good enough. Just don’t give them all away.”
We both grab our weapons but keep them in as non-threatening a position as possible, Nate's rifle pointed down and my modified crowbar at my side. We enter.
[Reaction roll: 2d6=5 Hostile. I guess they’re not so friendly and social after all.]
The black youth looked up and immediately yelled, “Intruders!” He jumped to his feet and began to charge, his short companion following right behind. Nate instinctively raised his sonic rifle but the two boys continued to approach. [Nate needs a DC10 Communication skill check to convince them to stop. I will use the DEX modifier since he is “communicating” with physical action instead of words. 5 + 1 Com - 1 DEX = 5 Fail.] The girl remains seated, glassy-eyed.
This was getting out of hand fast and I’d rather wanted to avoid any physical altercation, especially since it seemed obvious to me that they were being reckless and stupid due to their intoxicated state. Before my partner could fire I stepped in front of him (hoping he didn’t have a sensitive trigger finger) and held up my spiked crowbar. The black man stopped when his chest touched mine, our faces separated only by my weapon. We locked intent eyes until he eventually backed down and took a step back. [Same Communication check. 9 + 1 Com + 1 DEX = 11 Success!] Large man with a powerful rifle that could potentially cut you down in one shot and they show no fear. A girl with a crowbar and they cower. I am so disappointed by my generation right now.
[Using UNE for NPC conversation. Hostile (per situation) - surrender - future action]
It only takes a moment for the youth to regain his bravado. “I don’t know who you are, but I would suggest giving up now and leaving before me and my friends make you wish you’d never come in here.”
Stupid.
“Your friend over there barely knows what day it is,” I said, motioning to the curly-haired girl who is staring off into space, following some invisible object with her eyes. “And we have a big gun. What’ve you got? A joint?”
He glanced at the smoking butt in his hand and embarrassingly moved it behind his leg out of sight.
“You don’t know what we’ve got!” This came from the smaller of the two, who tried to look threatening despite his barely four feet of height.
“Look,” Nate spoke up. “We’re only looking for supplies. We’re not going to take anything you need, but if you had anything extra you could spare . . . “
[hostile - surrender - current scene]
“We’re not giving up anything,” the first barked back. “Like I said, it’s best you leave now.”
Apparently, he was still unclear as to exactly who had the advantage, but I wasn’t going to argue.
“C’mon, Nate. There are still two houses to check.”
As we walked out the door they called out after us, “And don’t think about taking our plants.”
I glanced over at their garden and called back, “I prefer roses.”
Scene 3 [Tension Lvl: 4]:
The last two homes proved to be rather uneventful. There was nothing of any interest in the fourth house. The last, like the second, contained a home gym complete with lifting weights and one of those multi-exercise machines. The most interesting room was one of the second-floor bedrooms that were decorated with macabre artwork showing scenes of medieval torture and ritual executions. [See this site for some examples.] On some of the tables in the room were similar statues and trophies. A stand with a uniquely L-shaped knife caught my attention. A little brass plaque on the stand identified it as a Tibetan flaying knife. [DC20 Knowledge check for info. Nate will have advantage as he is more traveled oversees. A: 1 + 1MND + 3KNOW = 5 Fail. N: 11 or 20 + 1KNOW = 21 best. Success!]
 |
Tibetan Flaying Knife
“According to Buddhist legend,” Nate explained. “An angry deity would use that knife to dissect and dismember unbelievers. Their goal was to cut out ignorance.”
I grimaced.
“I guess not all Buddhists are peaceful. I’ve seen a few flaying knives in museums and they are usually dull, only for show or symbolic ritual. This one, however, looks to have been sharpened.”
I picked it up and tested the edge with my thumb. Indeed, it was sharp and I decided to hold on to it.
Finding nothing else, Nate and I decided it was time to get back on the highway and continue the journey west.
[House 4: Are there any people in the house? (Bad): No Description: Aggressive Standard Search: skull, Sun, moon nothing
House 5: Are there any people in the house? (Bad): No. Description: Hostile Artistic
Search: wand, shield, sword 3 mundane
Weapons table (see below), Multi-function gym set, Dumbells body building.
Weapon: 1. melee 2. ranged Roll: 1 melee. Per Fallout Melee weapon generator: Knife (1d6) ]
(Read the next chapter here)
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Proverbs 12:11 (What’s this?)
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