On June 12, 1994, war changed.

Only a few years after the fall of the Eastern Bloc and into what some philosophers called "the end of history," a radar technician in Smolensk sneaked off to enjoy the holiday. Not wanting to leave the post unattended, he left it in fully automated mode, figuring it'd be fine for a few hours. His two direct superiors had done the same to him for the same reason, and while he was the juniormost technician on site, he could still boss a computer around, right? Confident in the automated systems and eager to join the festivities, he trusted that nothing would go wrong in his brief absence.

Complicit in the decrepit state of military network infrastructure of Russia, the Sistema "Perimetr" took that as authorization to activate.

Two hours later, an unusual flock of birds triggered the system.

Perimetr, also known as "Dead Hand," was designed to lie semi-dormant until switched on by a high official in a crisis. It monitored a network of seismic, radiation, and air pressure sensors for signs of nuclear explosions. Before launching any retaliatory strike, the system had to check off four if/then propositions:

If it was turned on, then it would try to determine that a nuclear weapon had hit Soviet soil. Nobody told it that it wasn't Soviet soil anymore.

If it seemed that one had, the system would check to see if any communication links to the war room of the Soviet General Staff remained. Nobody told it that there was no longer such a thing.

And if the line to the General Staff went dead, then Perimetr would infer that apocalypse had arrived. It would immediately transfer launch authority to whoever was manning the system at that moment deep inside a protected bunker—bypassing layers and layers of normal command authority.

It was a national holiday, and many had the same idea as that one technician. By the time anyone in any government had any idea what was going on, two dozen missiles were already on a non-cancelable launch countdown.

Thirty minutes later, the world was awash in nuclear fire. Nobody saw it coming. Even the most hardcore preppers had essentially no warning.

-----------

Nobody knows how long it's been since then; the very old, fifty or even sixty winters on their stooped shoulders, say they remember better times, but it's unclear whether they mean before the apocalypse or before the latest in a long series of crop collapses. History itself is something that will have to be recovered, or rewritten.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tn6oGgArwlk

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The land is parched, dry. Survival of one often comes at the expense of another.

Something strange happened to you, just last evening.

You were attacked by a pack of dogs. One of them was wearing a harness; damaged, torn, but recently made. On the harness was something you recognized from having seen pieces of it at the caravan markets. A radio. It wasn't working, of course, but it too looked relatively new. An earpiece went to the dog's ear, the other probably torn off or scratched off.

The dog pack was weak, famished, as if they'd ran a long long way, but remarkably clear of disease. You had an unusually easy time taking them down. But there was still some meat on the bones.

You ate well yesterday. You rested. You had a dream. A dream of you standing atop the land, rather than crawling upon it.

First of all, what are you good at, and what are you bad at? (Pick one in both cases).

> Leadership and persuasion. You're rarely having to fight alone. Sure, your last confidence trick didn't go well, but it's a fluke.

> Logistics. You've been making a good living as a caravan master (good living meaning you've been eating at least once a day), until you were ambushed, that is. You can not only read, you can even write.

> Farming. The drought has forced you into becoming just another nomad, but until last winter, you had enough to eat without having to trade or steal.

> Fighting. You're good with your fists, feet, and anything long or sharp. You even know how a firearm works and got the rare opportunity to shoot one in anger a few times in your life.

> Rigging. You worked for a warlord making spears and rat traps until his second-in-command killed him in his sleep. You were at odds all the time, so you made yourself scarce before being enslaved.

> Stealth. By the time they notice half their food is gone, you're safely out of sight... usually.
How this is going to work:

Most rolls are 1d100. Low is bad for you, high is good for you. You'll be able to stack the deck. Zero or max means something interesting happens. Some rolls may be 1d10, some may be 1d1000. (LBQ players will remember the latter).

>>6052246
> + Rigging
> - Farming

Intriguing premise for the apocalypse & plot-hook.

>>6052246
>+Farming. The drought has forced you into becoming just another nomad, but until last winter, you had enough to eat without having to trade or steal.

>-Stealth. By the time they notice half their food is gone, you're safely out of sight... usually.

Welcome back.

>>6052254
>>6052255
>>6052237

In general I'm going to count two agreeing responses as consensus, if there are more people that'll change.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Five years ago, there was a drought. This was expected; the old folks said that such droughts come every few years, the river bisecting the valley slows to a trickle and there's a lean year or two coming.

But this drought never stopped, and the river dried out. Water became even more precious than it already was. Soil turned to sand. People retreated around cave springs and ancient wells, giving a terrible, self-enforcing power to their owners. The only reason why there were only a few skirmishes is that everyone was sparing what strength they could. At least two villages you know of were destroyed by attrition -- at incredible human cost their well was dug out and down, but they dug too deep, and too greedily, and filled the water with ancient poisons.

After taking down the dog pack, you boiled the blood, and drank as deeply as you dared.

And slept ten hours after. It was fitful; every little noise would almost wake you, just out of survival instinct. But you had choosen a safe spot to camp.

The dream was confused, as all dreams are. Some of it saw you rule the valley with an iron boot. Some saw you bring its verdancy back. Some saw you literally ascend on a vulture's wings.

You wake up well rested. You can count on your fingers and toes the number of times it's happened in your life.

"I will thrive" you say, using a mouthful of water to wash the taste of blood off your mouth. Maybe the land will thrive with you. Maybe it will burn for you.

>>6052246
> Good: Logistics
> Bad: Stealth

>>6052266
>>6052255

The reason why you chanced upon the odd boon of a parched but healthy pack of dogs is that there was a group of a half dozen -- scavengers, not predators, by the look of it, but the line is often blurred -- who were combing the rocks near where you had made camp. You've never been good at making yourself scarce; maybe you're loud, maybe you stink different than most everyone else.

Should you ever need to take something quietly, or take out someone quietly, well... you should remember that "quietly" can mean "nobody left to witness", too.

You cook what's left of the meat in your campfire's embers so that it will last a few days. The harness and radio you keep; at minimum, they'll make for useful trade goods. You do know that at least two caravans have put a huge bounty on a working radio, and this looks considerably more intact than most you've seen.

You stretch a little. Your stomach is distended, a rarity.

> You stretch without any problems. You're in your twenties. You can take two strategic actions per turn, with a small bonus.

> You have to roll your shoulders. You're in your thirties. You can take one strategic action per turn, with a medium bonus.

> You have to bend this way and that, but you've learned to do it carefully. You're in your forties or early fifties. You can take one strategic action per turn, with a large bonus, but your stamina is lowered and you'll have difficulties running away from things.

>>6052294
> You stretch without any problems. You're in your twenties. You can take two strategic actions per turn, with a small bonus.

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>>6052304

(Okay, so counting the discord chat, that's two votes for "young", and it looks like stealth is out but literally every other skill got one vote. That being the case -- do you want to play a loud generalist? I'll have to adjust some things but it's certainly an option)


------------------------

You put the radio at the bottom of your duffle bag and use a rock to bend back one of the rusty nails holding the bark of your shoe's sole in place. The morning air is brisk, but you'll want to move out soon -- it's never quite too hot, but sweating means having to replace water you don't want to spend, so moving around is best done in the morning and evening.

Old maps call this portion of the world the Arid Zone, although the pre-apocalypse spelling was different. Well, they weren't wrong. How exactly did millions of people used to live here is beyond your understanding.

You're doing incredibly well on food and water, enough so that you can take a day to just rest among the rocks. The scavengers have found nothing, and moved on.


> Food: 9 days
> Water: 5 days
> Apparel: Usable
> Equipment: Broken Radio, Knife, Canteen, Meat, Meat

You get your bearings very quickly; you're about a day away from a small settlement, close enough to get to it but far away enough that an encounter is unlikely.

> Pick a skill, OR tell me you want to be a generalist
> Where are you starting at? Near or far what used to be the river? Far means fewer people, fewer resources, and less danger. Near means the opposite.

>>6052317
I remember Left Beyond! It was wild that angels had no balls. I still think we should have collapsed the frozen firmament on the Temple years before endgame.
---
Let's get in the good graces with a friendly settlement at some point and become their merchant prince. If that means we have to have Mad Max nipple rings, so be it, I don't make the rules.
> Pick a skill:
>Good: Logistics
> Bad: Stealth
For some consensus

> Where are you starting at? Near to what used to be the river?

>>6052330
>Far from a river

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>>6052330

> age group: young (Small strategic bonus, two actions per turn)
> skill: logistics (You can read, write, and most of the trade and travel math will be done for you. You count as having a Trade Ledger, and it cannot be stolen from you since it's in your memory)
> drawback: stealth (You will likely, but not certainly, fail theft or evasion attempts)
> Equipment: Broken Radio, Knife, Canteen, Meat, Meat

At the age of 15, you signed up with your first caravan. The Zone was a couple of years from earning its name of Arid again, and joining a caravan seemed like a way to make a living that would let you see it. You didn't last long doing skut work, and became a full boot-rider (the ever-rare beasts of burden being used to carry goods) in less than a year, thanks to your ability to read and write both the old and new script, and do math in your head.

In a few seasons, the caravan captain would offload the ledger work on you as a matter of course. During the long treks on foot, guiding carts and carrying supplies across the rugged landscape, you earned the nickname "Stampede" for your inability to move quietly, but your other skills more than offset that.

Just last year, you were given the responsibility of caravan captain for the first time, the first in many years without a white hair. It was a moment of pride, a chance to prove your worth and lead a successful expedition.

The journey started well, with your meticulous planning and organization ensuring that everything ran smoothly. But then, disaster struck. Your caravan was ambushed by a group of suspiciously well-organized raiders. The attack was swift and brutal, catching you off guard. Despite your best efforts to defend the caravan, you were overwhelmed. To this day, you suspect that it was a hit: they didn't kill all of you.

Barely surviving the encounter, you found yourself among the few who managed to escape. The other survivors, disheartened and broken, chose to split what little was left of the supplies and go their separate ways. The sense of failure weighed heavily on your shoulders. You're pretty sure that the master trader you worked for assumes you are dead. If he ever sees you again, he may decide you owe him for the lost goods.

> Anyone got a good idea for a name? I will accept Vash. I also heard Jean on Discord.

> Start near or far from the river?

> While we are at it, what is your sex and body type? M/F, and Masculine/feminine. This world is too far behind the tech curve for other options.

>>6052237

(I'm going with semi-realistic, so this matters: much like in the old Mount & Blade, if you choose a feminine body type, some social interactions will be more difficult. On the other hand, you may be able to get your way with some people by shaking your butt. In general, expect manly men to have an easier time with things, realistically. Also, I'm going with 4 options rather than 2 specifically as a fuck-you to this person.).

>>6052358
>Vash
>Far
>M
>Masculine

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>>6052377
>>6052332

Day 1

(Far it is! Now I need a name and a body type.)

You're in the mountains near the hamlet of Left End; to your east is an imposing wall of rock that you wonder how the dogs managed to cross. That way mountain lions and worse lie; most of the Arid Zone you know lies to the west of you.

You're aware of a path to the village of Dogshit City, beyond which is a ruin of an old world settlement, now called Acid Town.

(The numbers at the red lines tell you how many person-days it costs to travel there in terms of food and water. You can stretch food, if you have to, but stretching water is almost always a bad idea.)

Right now, the only decision you have to take is whether you want to take a day, a water ration, and what's left of your campfire to treat the dog hides, maybe to sell later, or go back to Left End immediately.

> Spend 1 day and 1 water ration to tan dog hides, a very modest trade good but it's a start
> Return to Left End within the day and start there

>>6052401
Oh, uh, QM I'm the same guy who voted far before just to let you know. I just voted again because you made another post.

>>6052404
My bad. I'll redo the map if people absolutely want but I'd prefer not to. In the meantime, some lore!

--------------

THE KNOWN DOOMS

Since the first Doom, history has been a succession of catastrophes and periods of rebuilding, known as Meanwhiles, some long, some short. The Keepers of the Story record them as such:

Flashtime (The First Doom):

The First Doom, known as Flashtime, saw the world engulfed in nuclear fire. Cities were reduced to rubble, landscapes turned to wastelands, and countless lives lost. Survivors faced a harsh new reality of radiation and destruction. Society crumbled, and the old ways were lost. The struggle for survival became paramount, and the knowledge of the past faded into legend.

Frosttime:

Following Flashtime, Frosttime brought a prolonged period of cold. Temperatures plummeted, crops failed, and food became scarce. Many lives were claimed by the relentless winter as people struggled to stay warm and find enough to eat. Survivors had to adapt to life in the frozen wasteland, huddling together for warmth and relying on ingenuity to find food. Frosttime tested human resilience, hardening those who endured.

Rusttime:

After Frosttime, Rusttime saw the breakdown of machinery and technology. Even the sturdiest remnants of the old world’s technologies failed, forcing survivors to rely on manual labor and what could be salvaged. Knowledge of pre-apocalyptic technology became a rare asset. As communities adapted, they experienced technological stagnation and slow recovery.

Blighttime:

Blighttime followed Rusttime, marked by an unstoppable plant disease that ravaged crops and vegetation. Famine and conflicts over food stores ensued, causing many communities to collapse. Survivors turned to foraging and hunting, pushing human ingenuity to its limits. Over time, new resistant plant species emerged, leading to a period of cautious agricultural recovery.

Poisontime:

Poisontime brought a massive cloud of poisonous air, causing widespread sickness and deformity. Birth defects and mutations became rampant, and stable communities were decimated. Survivors navigated a world where the air itself could kill, and the birth of a healthy child was rare. Knowledge of safe places and protection became invaluable. After a few years, the poisonous air dissipated, allowing for a brief recovery. Even today what's left of a generation of mutants crawls the land.

The Drought:

The current doom does not have a name yet, but it certainly has turned the AridZone back into its namesake. The river dried up, and soil turned to sand. Water became even more scarce, giving immense power to those who controlled water sources. Skirmishes over water are common, and villages have perished from attrition or digging wells that unearthed ancient poisons. The drought, expected to last only a year, after three shows no signs of relenting, and the struggle for water dominates life.

>>6052415
ok

>>6052401
> Spend 1 day and 1 water ration to tan dog hides, a very modest trade good but it's a start

>>6052401
>>6052401
God damn, welcome back. I remember Left Beyond, that was a ride.

Hehe. I see Burntime, gotta get in on this.

> Name: Vash
> Body Type: M

> Spend 1 day and 1 ration tanning dog hides.

>>6052399
>Flowing Metal also

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>>6052433
>>6052419
>>6052377

Vash, you take the day to rest a while, since you can afford it, and make good use of the dogs' brains to tan the hides. You aren't particularly skilled at this, so the result is of poor quality, but it'll conserve the hides while you travel, and keep flies away besides. It's still quite possible to barter this, even though the quality isn't great.

https://www.outdoorlife.com/blogs/survivalist/2011/11/survival-skills-brain-tanning-hides/

Since you haven't found much wood, you use up what's left of it for your campfire and rudimentally smoke the hides while you're at it.

The next day, you collect your belonging and head south, to Left End.

The trip isn't long, and long before noon you clamber down the rocks. Left End is a tiny hamlet, a few circular yurts and some shacks. Your hides will probably be used as insulation for one of the yurts if you sell them here.

Walking around you see a few people, with a somewhat oddly high amount of mutants limping or hobbling about what business they may conceive of. You remember there being a blighted area nearby, but this place isn't dangerous.

Looks like whoever runs this little town, if anyone, tolerates mutants or at least doesn't care. Or maybe they simply need the manpower. You see smoke from a few of the yurts, and smell fire and a few herbs, so you figure a few people are already preparing the midday meal.

> Trade house
> Water source
> Knock on a metaphorical door (look for someone by name or category)
> Loiter/observe

You're pretty good at estimating a settlement, it was part of your job as a literate bootrider. This hamlet has a population of about 5 dozen; 3 human, 2 mutant. The fields are incredibly meager (1), there no livestock that you can see, and generally seems to be barely hanging on. If it has a lord higher than the local elder, you don't see any flag or crest, so probably not.


Tiny as it is, the hamlet

>>6052515
Tiny as it is, the hamlet has been there a long time; you can tell that it has seen better days, and higher population, by the fact that some of the rock face it's adjacent to has been cut to direct rain into a cistern. Of course, rain is something you remember from years past.

(sorry, hit enter too early)

>>6052515
> Trade house
Might as well earn some good will and get some news. Also makes us seem less like a bandit.

Maybe they will know other areas to trade with. And ask how the water tastes.

>>6052515
>> Loiter/observe

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>>6052686
>>6052562

You look around a little bit. The place is parched, but not dying, not just yet. One of the mutants smells your imperfectly tanned hides, figures you may have meat on you, and asks you for food. He's missing half his face. You push him off; he snarls, but this doesn't start a fight.

As the day gets hotter people retire to their homes for a midday meal, those who can afford it, anyway -- you estimate about half the population fits into that category.

One thing you notice is that this hamlet used to have a greenhouse; you see what's left of it near the path that leads to the rest of the Arid Zone, glass panels smashed, plastic sheets too scratched or decayed to let through any light anymore. You wonder what happened there.

The trade house, such as it is, is tiny -- it's half of a yurt, the other half likely where the woman running it lives. She looks at you wary; you can't guess if normally there are guards and they're gone now, or if she can't afford them. She's pale, with a young face but clumpy white hair.

"You don't look like a trapper, what's your deal?" she asks you. Both of you glance at a battered pitcher of water, with part of a brick on top of it to stop evaporation. She nods, and pours you a tiny bit of it in a shotglass. "Wet your lips so we may talk" she says. She doesn't pour herself any. She's about half your size, and clearly a little intimidated.

Many customs about things like water and tea have gone out of the window with the drought, of course -- these days showing hospitality simply means sharing the shade.

> Accept the water.
> Politely refuse, since you're good on that for now.

There isn't much to buy or sell -- rope, half ancient plastic fibers and half hemp woven in when it grew. It looks like it'll hold your weight. A rake, hammered together. An incongruously pristine pre-Doom teddy bear that looks like it'll fall apart if someone moves it from its little brick pedestal. A window, painstakingly leaded together by some smith somewhere out of fragments of other windows, catching a little sun and making pretty reflections on the side of the yurt. That sort of thing.

> Barter.
> Make conversation.
> Scare her off some of her goods.

>>6052358
We love logistics. Glad this won.
>>6052772
> Politely refuse, since you're good on that for now
I'm wary of her
> Barter.
See if we can trade for food or water
>Ask about the teddy bear
Something like that must have been sealed away someplace interesting.

Nice to see you back running, geist

>>6052772
> Politely refuse, since you're good on that for now.
> Barter.
I doubt the skins will be worth much, at worst trade for information about:
the area / the greenhouse
what goods are popular
local dangers
trade caravans anymore?
and particularly about Acid Town.

>>6052772
These mutant sprites are from Burntime?

>Accept the Water
>Trade the Hides for Food & Water
>Ask about Acid Town, the Greenhouse, & the Window

>>6052960
yes they are. I'll be using some graphics assets from that and other sprite games.

>>6052832
>>6052946
>>6052960

You take the shotglass, touch the side of it to your nose, then hand it back untouched. The woman sees that your lips aren't cracked, takes the shotglass, and drinks it, letting the liquid linger in her mouth a few more seconds than necessary. There's a hint of a smile.

You talk a bit -- her name is Jenna, she doesn't really know much of what goes on these days. What's keeping Left End safe is its location away from trade routes, and with the drought and consequent diminution of travel, you're the first visitor in a handful of days. Which is interesting, because the scavengers who you saw the other day must've come from another direction.

The teddy bear is, you learn, a family heirloom. Originally a six-pack found in some pre-Flashtime box, it was cuddled by generations of Jenna's family, one part here and one there -- every time two broke, they were sewn together. That's what's left. Now that you look at it, the felt limbs are slightly different colors; the repair jobs, or at least the last one, was done with great skill, however.

Jenna is putting it for sale because it's too fragile to give to a child.

The trade picture is overall about as bleak as you expected; everyone wants water, nobody has any to spare. To drink, to irrigate, even to do many simple crafts such as properly bending wood for bows -- you haven't seen a bow hunter in almost a year now. "We had trappers come and go" she reminisces "we still do, there's snakes in the rocks, rats and pika if you're lucky. Just too risky to range too far out without a full canteen."

You ask about the greenhouse; she tells you that it's what used to keep everyone's hopes about the drought. Complicit a fight between two idiots in the first year of the drought, it was finally smashed beyond repair; one of them wanted to declare it his, and the other had a problem with it -- as did many others -- but acted too rashly about it. He was killed; the first man was kicked out of the village, whereupon he said he'd join up with Atlatl's gang and be back. An empty boast, since this was two years ago.

Jenna tells you that a few families took what little glass could be salvaged and made mini-greenhouses for a few plants each, but a bigger one would be more efficient. "That's good, though. It was a target."

Atlatl you know about; he's a rumor on the caravan circuit. Further east near the riverbed, there's supposed to be a gang of raiders who can afford to keep a herd of horses, which they ride and use for fast hit-and-run attacks on caravans and small settlements. You've seen a horse, of course, of course, but a whole herd, grass-fed so they can run? You always marked it down as an exaggeration.

For your dog hides, inexpertly tanned as they are, Jenna offers you an empty glass bottle, or a small pouch of spices, or the rope.

> No
> Rope
> Bottle
> Spices
> Try to buy the teddy bear

>>6053067
> Spices
Probably the closest thing we're going to get to money in this world, barring water.

>>6052223
>Hi folks. Maybe you remember me from "Left Beyond". Maybe not. It's been five years.
I often think about how amazing that quest was and how a 0001 was rolled to oppose the enemy at the end. It was very impressive how much effort you put into it all the way through.

Incredible times, glad to see you back!

>>6053067
> Spices

I doubt the teddy bear would survive any journey.

>>6053067
>ROPE
Although spices would be useful for trade, the rope has a multitude of uses. Might save our ass in a pinch.

>>6053067
> Rope

>>6053067
> Rope
At the stage we’re at, having useful stuff like rope is gonna be more important than trading supplies.

>>6053098
>>6053119
>>6053246
>>6053272
>>6053351
>>6053389

You reckon that you'll be back later for the spices, one way or another -- Jenna even opens the pouch and lets you have a sniff. Strong stuff that'll mask the bitterness of rat meat, if only soil could be spared to make more... but that'll have to come later. If you ever get your own caravan business going, a good cook isn't high on the priority list, but it's absolutely a nice-to-have.

You must be the first visitor to the trade house in a while -- she did mention a few days -- because Jenna shows you a few basic knots, most of which you already knew. But you'd rather be in the shade, and besides, that lets you see that the rope is of decent quality.

Eventually, the midday sun passes. You aren't particularly hungry, but you hear Jenna's stomach growl.

Another voice from the other half of the yurt (older; partner? parent?) calls for Jenna, and she asks you to go.

> Go, and look around the hamlet some more now that there's people about
> Good opportunity to steal something, she's distracted
> Go, and get moving east along the path.

Here's the idea you got this far about this place. Parched like everywhere else, out of the way, but the outcrops have some opportunity for hunting or fur trapping.
(Note: This will eventually transition into more of a strategy quest, once you have people and resources. But for now you're alone.)

>>6053471
> Go, and look around the hamlet some more now that there's people about

>>6053471
> Go, and look around the hamlet some more now that there's people about

Maybe we can find either a guide or the starts of a caravan if there is anyone interested in leaving this place. Probably someone pretty self sufficient at this point, not like we have anything to offer yet.

>>6053569
+1, nice digits & solid thinking

>>6053473
>>6053569
>>6053682

When it's hot and dry, indoors is good, especially with properly built yurts that can catch what little breeze there is. Even so, there's work to do.

Rake the sand brought in by the wind, sift through it for any dried plant matter that can be used as tinder. Check the traps, if they're still there and if they're full. You're not even too surprised to see one of the hides you brought in being put to use as a patch on one of the yurts.

You didn't expect a warm welcome, but neither you're getting a cold one -- that's good, all considered. A man carrying a small mutant, you thought it was a child, lowers her down the well for a visual inspection. The well rope is in significantly worse shape than the one you acquired -- good to know in the future.

You make a bit of conversation, as appropriate. As to whether anyone wants to leave, well -- the problem as always is to go where?

Once you let it know that you have water and meat to spare, the situation changes a little. You're too young and too big to get opportunistically jumped, and this hamlet isn't desperate enough to just prey on traders; you've seen encampments do that and disappear the next month, as soon as word spread. It's a little like farming: never eat your seed grain, unless you're near the end anyway.

Either way, there are some people who might want to leave, and they'd rather do that in company of someone who has food, water and strength.

Each of these people will follow you for the price of a decent meal. (Meat x1)

> Axle. Big guy, probably used to be muscle. Can carry stuff and fight.
> Miria. Small, pale, legless. You'd have to carry her. Currently checking the well. Good at fixing stuff, or so she says.
> Rosko. Smaller than Axle, faster than him, or you, as far as you can tell. Has a knife, won't part with it. Can fight, probably well, at that.

>>6053702
> Axle. Big guy, probably used to be muscle. Can carry stuff and fight.

I like Rosko, but I don't like that he's faster than us and has a weapon. He might not jump us here, but out in the wild...

Maybe this is the time to ask about Acid Town and it's dangers depending on where we wanna go. I imagine scavenging is going to be our primary means of income until we get a leadership position somewhere or find a place with a worthwhile resource to leverage.

If we are going to Acid Town, then maybe include Miria with Axle carrying her, assuming it has old world tech to scavenge.

>>6053702
> Axle. Big guy, probably used to be muscle. Can carry stuff and fight.

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>>6053953
>>6053850

You watch the man devour a slightly charred dog steak in front of you. The gesture is familiar to you -- you did the same thing a couple days ago after all. He gnaws at the bone until all but the barest scraps of meat are gone from it, then smiles at you, and throws it. A child, or a small mutant, scurries to get it.

You've always been warned against eating brains or bone marrow unless you were about to starve or a cook treated them; guess whoever got the bone doesn't care or know about that.

> Move on down the slope, to the town called "Dogshit City".

> Spend the night here, it's safe.

> Grab Miria, literally.

> Grab Miria, with her consent.

Dogshit City took on that name because they did in fact have a surplus of wild dogs in the environs -- and people who would collect their crap. You remember that between Flashtime and Poisontime it was used to make high-quality fuel. Or maybe it was pigs, not dogs? At some point, the fuel-making machine broke, or got blown up, and Dogshit City became an export hub for fertilizer, such as it was.

(Important: The more people you have with you, the more it'll cost to keep them fed and most importantly hydrated)

(Also important: The people here, including you, are used to eating anything that isn't flat out poisonous. Maggots are an opportunistic snack, not a source of disgust.)

These days you suspect the dogs got eaten.

>>6054006
> Move on down the slope, to the town called "Dogshit City".

>>6054006
> Move on down the slope, to the town called "Dogshit City".
Can’t waste time.

>>6054006
>Head to the Doghouse
>Take Miria as long as she only needs half rations/water

>>6054017
>>6054019
>>6054020

After a brief argument with Miria's... boyfriend? older brother? father? owner? about how much she eats, you leave with Axle. Maybe you'll be back for her; as it is, the town needs her to go down the well to do maintenance or down a few holes to check traps, because she's small and light, and you bought the -good- rope.

She's clearly not happy with the current arrangement, as far as you can tell, but it does mean she gets to eat semi-regularly, and she's likely to stay put. Maybe you'll arrange a better deal later.

"Where we going?"

"Dogshit City."

"Work?"

"I need to get to Acid Town."

"Something to sell?"

"Maybe." You don't show Axle the radio, not yet. While it doesn't work, it turns on -- the little red light on it flickered when you jiggered the battery. If you can hint that you know where to get more, you can parlay it into a good deal to the right person, maybe.

> Get there quickly (3 days)

> Get there trying to forage (5 days, 50% chance each of finding enough food and water to cover the trip, so 25% chance of nothing, 25% chance of free trip, 50% chance of food OR water covered)

> Now that you have a rope and someone to hold the other end of it, spend a day spelunking between here and there (4 days, 25% chance of finding something)


You and Axle are good on food for 9 days and on water for 5, and on top of that you're carrying a full canteen and one bak of meat.


Common foodstuffs:

Maggots - 1 day
Purslane weed - 2 days
Rat - 3 days
Legumes - 4 days, also a trade good
Snake - 5 days, also a trade good
Bark bread - 6 days
Dog meat or venison - 7 days, also a trade good
Proper bread - You haven't had any in at least a year, you forget, 9 maybe?

>>6054043
> Now that you have a rope and someone to hold the other end of it, spend a day spelunking between here and there (4 days, 25% chance of finding something)

I will always take the lootbox. Always.

>>6054043
> Get there trying to forage (5 days, 50% chance each of finding enough food and water to cover the trip, so 25% chance of nothing, 25% chance of free trip, 50% chance of food OR water covered)

>>6054043
> Get there trying to forage (5 days, 50% chance each of finding enough food and water to cover the trip, so 25% chance of nothing, 25% chance of free trip, 50% chance of food OR water covered)
>>6054044
Lootbox when we have better odds than 1 in 4

>>6054043
> Get there trying to forage (5 days, 50% chance each of finding enough food and water to cover the trip, so 25% chance of nothing, 25% chance of free trip, 50% chance of food OR water covered)

>>6054043
What's a purslane?
>Forage
Am I to believe that dogmeat is as good as venison?

>>6054043
>> Now that you have a rope and someone to hold the other end of it, spend a day spelunking between here and there (4 days, 25% chance of finding something)

Rolled 48, 15 = 63 (2d100)

>>6054244
It is known scientifically as Portulaca oleracea, and is also called pigweed, little hogweed, fatweed and pusley. Tastes like crap but keeps you alive. I may or may not sprinkle some actual survival tips throughout this game.

>>6054244
Well, no, but nutritionally they're close, surprisingly. In this setting I'm trying to keep it simple.

>>6054044
>>6054052
>>6054162
>>6054170
>>6054252

Now that you have a rope and someone to hold it, you can spelunk a bit... but that's for later. You reckon that if there was a pack of dogs here there's probably something to hunt, and they didn't look dehydrated, so you may find something to prey upon now that they no longer can.

It hasn't rained in a long, long time, but dew will sometimes collect in crevices and linger for a few hours -- if you look for it right after dawn, you might get lucky.

Axle isn't a lot of specific help, but two pairs of eyes are better than one.

>>6054293
On a hunch, you make a brief detour to the site of your kill, and find what's left of the dogs' bones covered in grubs picking them clean. Not quite a feast, and not the best taste after actual meat, but it'll do.

Unfortunately, the path to Dogshit City is quite dry. You have a canteen, and want to not open it unless you have to, but by the time you get there, it's looking mighty tempting.

(Forage food: success. Forage water: fail)

The settlement is larger than Left End, with maybe a couple hundred people, and does have a small field; approaching from the hills you see a walled-off area where vegetables struggle against the dry air. A few people walk up and down the rows, spilling a mouthful of water on each individual plant from whatever containers they have. Two guards surveil them.

The derelict methane plant is just outside the town; it's clearly nonoperational, but there's a line of people at a small concrete building there, likely predating the plant and probably Flashtime at that.

As you approach the town, there's a sign, in new script and with a crude picture besides, for the illiterate. It indicates that killing a dog is a capital offense.

Dogs you only see a few of. They're mangy and malnourished.

> Look around the settlement.

> If there's a line, there's probably something interesting there.

> Yay functioning agriculture, such as it is. Check the field out.

> Approach the methane plant from the backside to see if there's anything to scavenge still.

>>6054343
> Approach the methane plant from the backside to see if there's anything to scavenge still.

>>6054356
+1, lines are for chumps

>>6054343
> Approach the methane plant from the backside to see if there's anything to scavenge still.

>>6054343
> Look around the settlement.
We should get a lay of the land before we do anything.

File: abandoned_plant.jpg (392 KB, 971x680)

392 KB JPG

Rolled 35, 31 = 66 (2d100)

>>6054524
>>6054471
>>6054380
>>6054356

Things built before Flashtime have an unmistakable look; far away, they're large, and up close, it's as if an infinite army of craftsmen built every pipe and fixture just so for a perfect fit. Even after generations of decay, this is still visible.

Your best bet is that the methane plant was built on top of the ruins of an existing structure, reusing part of it; the concrete foundations and corners still stand, as do some outbuildings, including the only one still in use.

You and Axle steer well clear of it, and search around for anything that isn't too rusted or corroded.

You identify what's left of the bellows and pipings that turned dog crap into fuel; later construction that, by the look of it, burned or deflagrated. Maybe the person who knew how to operate the machine died with no heir; maybe there was a fight over dominance.

These buildings often have dank corners, and as much as the place has probably been picked clean, you may get lucky and find an anthill with repletes. (Repletes: Ants that act as the colony's sugar repositories. Safe to eat IRL, surprisingly.)

One thing you do notice is that the outbuilding where people are queued up has a guard, a guy about Axle's size holding a spear and wearing what looks like a red-brown sash.

File: burntime quest day7.png (2.25 MB, 1780x1780)

2.25 MB PNG

>>6054584
Unfortunately, you don't find much of note -- a bit of dried wood that'll go on the next fire you make, if that.

However, the building's lower levels definitely got some moisture to them. Maybe the original structure was, or had, a well? But why contaminate it with dog crap then...

> Look around the settlement.

> Join the line.

> Yay functioning agriculture, such as it is. Check the field out.

> Move on to Acid Town, you can come back here later.

>>6054588
Look around town

>>6054588
> Look around the settlement.

>>6054588
>> Move on to Acid Town, you can come back here later.

>>6054588
> Look around the settlement.

>>6054588
> Look around the settlement.

>>6054588
> Look around the settlement

>>6055342
>>6055136
>>6055012
>>6054990
>>6054980
>>6054693

(Sorry, work happened)

You take a little time to look around Dogshit City. Other than the conspicuous absence of dogshit and, comes to that, dogs -- there's only a few, despite the signs that killing one around here is a capital offense -- it looks a little bit better off than West End. People wearing clothes with actual stitches in them, nobody overtly starving...

Whoever's in charge here has standardized the guard uniform on a red-brown sash which you quickly suss to be a white rag soaked in blood and then allowed to dry; you see at least three guards, so there's probably at least three more, if they have to do shifts.

By the look of it, control is kept by regulating access to the veggie garden, such as it is, and the one intact building in the methane plant, which you reckon to be a well or source since some people are lining up with cups or vases.

You spot about as many mutants as there were in West End, meaning that they're allowed to live if they can survive, but there's fewer of them in the relative, this settlement being somewhat larger.

The landscape is rugged and dry, with houses made from corrugated sheet metal, wood, and other scraps. The most prominent structure is the derelict methane plant, now overgrown and in ruins. Within its crumbling walls lies the town's lifeline: a former pump turned into a bucket well, the only functioning water source.

You do spot a change of the guard, of sorts: it's clear that the well is guarded day and night.

A few children play among the ruins.

> Join the line.

> Yay functioning agriculture, such as it is. Check the field out.

> Move on to Acid Town, you can come back here later.

> See if you can trade and/or recruit someone.

> See if there's work to do -- finding the man in charge shouldn't be hard.

>>6055510

There have been a number of attempts to unify AridZone, all of them lasting a few years at best. The longest-standing was between Rusttime and Blighttime, when a warlord put about half of it under his rule. The blight put an end to it simply because there weren't enough people to carry messages or organize patrols.

After Blighttime it is said that a mutant woman from the West crossed the mountains barefoot and, using a rifle that could shoot as far as the horizon, took down any would-be lord for years, after which she disappeared or was killed. According to storykeepers, she had white hair, but not thin and brittle like a crone's.

These days, small settlements just carry on as best as they can, and larger ones like Dogshit City, well... there isn't "law" so much as "consequences", by the look of it in this case, for crossing the blood-sash men.

The proper towns, such as they are, are usually run by a council of elders; sometimes one of them is preponderant, sometimes not.

>>6055510
>See about work, trade, & more recruits

>>6055510
> See if there's work to do -- finding the man in charge shouldn't be hard.

>>6055510
> See if there's work to do -- finding the man in charge shouldn't be hard.

>>6055982
>>6055980
>>6055657

It doesn't take long to find Karl, Dogshit City's self-appointed boss. Mainly because he finds you.

As people wrap up their day, such as it is, and a few light fires or bundle in blankets in their shacks, you're looking around for any sort of market or trade house, either for today or for tomorrow.

The nicest yurt -- well, half of one, the other half is a shack that has been there a long time be the look of it -- turns out to be occupied by Karl and two of his enforcers, all wearing the bloodstained sash.

"Karl takes what Karl wants, you get water for the day. Don't like, get out. Only trade here now." the guy says. He's smaller than you, with an incongruously deep voice, but he's got a posse and you only got one guy of unknown loyalty.

You quickly make sure you have a way out, but then Karl sends his men to stand out of the door and takes a good look at you.

"You're a boot rider, gotta be. Listen. Maybe we Water pump out in the shed? Keeps crapping out. Fix-it guy got uppity, got beat, didn't wake. Need a replacement."

"You need a replacement pump, or a replacement repairman?"

"Wiseass. Both good."

"What's in it for us?"

"Four rations a day. Fix-it guy's old shack."

> Not interested.

> You'd rather take a large one-off payoff and move on.

> Good deal, although you get the idea that you'll have to pay for protection, but it's a start for a base of operations.

If you wanted to do this, you could

> go to Acid Town and trade for a pump there, an almost-working radio has got to be worth a lot to someone.

> recruit or grab Miria back in West End, and sell her to Karl.

> recruit or grab Miria back in West End, and help her work out an arrangement.

>>6056208
>You'd rather take a large one-off payoff and move on.
>You're gifted with the power of literacy - you would bet good money that there's a manual with that generator or somewhere around it that can guide you through finding out what's wrong and fixing it.
Reading, writing, and math. We're OP if we can get our hands on oldworld documents.

>>6056208
> Good deal, although you get the idea that you'll have to pay for protection, but it's a start for a base of operations.

> recruit or grab Miria back in West End, and help her work out an arrangement.

Water and food, in one place? Not bad at all. Need to figure out how to go to do the radio thing but having a base of operations with guaranteed food or water is pretty great.

>>6056208
>One-Off Pay, while considering staying longer

>>6056208
>> You'd rather take a large one-off payoff and move on.
> recruit or grab Miria back in West End, and help her work out an arrangement.

>>6056208
>Good deal, although you get the idea that you'll have to pay for protection, but it's a start for a base of operations.
> recruit or grab Miria back in West End, and help her work out an arrangement.

>>6056208
>>6056229
+1, though if we can’t find any manuals then we should go grab miria.

(Sorry, stuff happened. Expect more frequent updates.)

>>6056787
>>6056518
>>6056486
>>6056229
>>6056249
>>6056312
>>6056486

"Not staying long" you tell Karl. "All the provisions I and Axle can carry, and we're square."

He thinks about it. It's pretty clear that he can tell you don't trust him. The feeling is clearly mutual. This guy is too much of a thug to be trusted with you leaving anything valuable in Dogshit City while he's in power.

"Done deal" he says after straining to think about it. You still don't trust him any further than you can throw him, which would be a few feet at most.

"My man will be back with a techie then. If you don't have our rations ready to carry when he's back, the deal is off."

"So here's the part where you ask for an advance, yeah?" Karl's underling asks.

"No. You need me. I don't need you."

You haven't exactly made a friend today, but you're alive and it's fairly likely that Karl will keep his half of the deal; he's got five or six guys and there's ten times as many who are clearly not happy with whatever leadership he has.

Neither of you has discussed Miria in any detail; it's likely that Karl will try to keep her there.

------------------

>>6056229
>>6056787

(Yep, thanks for catching it.)

You tell Axle to go get Miria while you stay there and explore the plant. Even apart from whatever ultimately destroyed it, it was a ramshackle affair, built after Flashtime with whatever was available -- you note grimly that what was available then was riches compared to what's available now.

Before then, this place was some sort of waystation for large motorized vehicles, as far as you can tell. The well runs deep; you watch Karl's men operate the hand pump mounted there. People are allowed to come in and spend ten minutes pumping, all for a precious few spurts of water; your best bet is that either the bottom end of the pipe isn't quite reaching the water level anymore, or there's a hole somewhere. You don't know for sure; an expert would.

Having some robust rope lets you explore a little deeper than most; you're likely to go hungry for a couple of days, but you've eaten well lately, and can take it.

The place has been ransacked several times, and converted into a syngas plant besides; two of the large four underground tanks that used to contain liquid fuel are blown open, but the others are intact. They still stink of... you aren't sure, whatever they used to burn instead of alcohol or oil before Flashtime. A quick check with the rope and a scrap of wood tells you that there's nothing to recover, though.

Perhaps the most interesting find is fragile paper, faded printed old script about some location in the middle of a vast body of water, and -- more importantly -- lead-pencil notes about how the plant operated. You can't make heads or tails of it yourself, but someone down the line might. A good thing is that they aren't especially heavy or bulky.

>>6057389

However, the most interesting information you gather from your day of scavenging and people-watching comes from the latter. You're not particularly good at speaking, but you are good at listening, and putting two and two together.

One, pretty much everyone here resents Karl and his five or six goons (one may be ill or wounded).

Two, like damn near everything else, this place is dying, but it's dying a lot slower than elsewhere you've been: dealing with the water situation might generate a surplus, even.

Three, Karl was kicked out by, or left, a bigger gang. Big gangs largely stopped being a thing during the drought -- you do know that between Frosttime and Rusttime AridZone was almost unified by a roving tribe of horse riders, and for a few years after Poisontime a particularly aggressive group of mutants adapted to cave darkness made the entire south impossible for a caravan to safely cross.

There being a bigger gang at all nowadays would be news enough that everyone would know it, but you collected contradicting rumors. Maybe it's a story Karl spread for his own purposes.

Dogshit City has a sawbones, Jones; he's not very good and has little to work with, in your not-so-humble opinion. Karl is riding his ass about getting his sixth henchman back on his feet.

--------

Axle returns after a couple of days in which you tightly ration your own consumption, look around, and listen, carrying Miria on his back.

"The fuck am I doing with a mutant? It's got seven fingers and no toes. Deal's off."

"You, nothing. Me, I help her get down the well and do her work. Deal's still on?"

"Fine. Get the two and a half of you busy."

Miria is clearly scared shitless, and makes some nonverbal noise, but appreciates you being between Karl and her. You get a good look at her; for most intents and purposes her lower half just isn't there. Scarring shows that even that much, someone had to do -- you wonder if it was a stroke of luck or if there is, or was, someone really good at stitching people together in Left End.

To Karl's credit, you see him collect food and water bottles for you to take away. To his discredit, he's done absolutely no planning on it -- his goons are simply walking into people's shacks and collecting whatever reserves they might have. At least you're not getting blamed for it.

Miria is used to being harnessed to fix wells, it was her job in Left End after all. You got maybe three words out of her... until everyone is out of earshot and you and your henchmen, such as they are, are left alone in the pumphouse.

She sounds like a dog toy. "All right! I came. Big leap of faith. Here's my rules: I want half rations on the trail, since I can't walk, but I want full rations in town. If you don't have 'em, we mark it down, and you give me the extra when we get to a market."

> That's fair.

> No, half rations, period. You get two big guys protecting your non-ass, it's enough.

> I'm planning to sell you to Karl, tell me why I shouldn't.

>>6057395

You lower Miria down the well structure while Axle moves the pump's piston where she says to move it. Turns out that you were half right: there's water at the bottom, but air is getting in the pipe which makes it impossible to generate hydraulic head. Miria lets her eyes get used to the gloom and, by what little she can see and by feeling around, she finds the leak. She wraps her little hands around the misplaced section of pipe, tells Axle to work the pump, and water gushes out in healthy spurts rather than anemic ones.

"Can you fix it?"

"Yes! I can bang it back in place and it'll stay for a while."

"Can you fix it properly?"

"I need something to hold it in place! And something that'll make a seal when it gets wet. That'll last a lot longer."

That turns out to be, respectively, a piece of corrugated sheet, and hair, both things that you can get a hold of locally.

> Tell Miria to fix it properly, and look for someone with long hair and a bit of corrugated sheet that can be bent into shape.

> Tell Miria to fix it temporarily, to make sure they need your services again.

Since Miria is here, she can spelunk in places that were too small for you to reach,

> which you have her do before the main job.

> which you skip, don't tire her out.

What's interesting is that there IS water, it's just very deep. Unfortunately, as things are now, digging new wells would require working people to death, by your reckoning.

>>6057398
>> Tell Miria to fix it properly, and look for someone with long hair and a bit of corrugated sheet that can be bent into shape.
> which you skip, don't tire her out.

>>6057398
>>6057395
>Full rations on days you work, half on days you don't, regardless of if we're in town or not. That's the fairest deal.
Accounts for caloric needs when working, doesn't let her abuse our generosity. You work or you don't get a good meal.
>Tell Miria to fix it properly, and look for someone with long hair and a bit of corrugated sheet that can be bent into shape.
>which you skip, don't tire her out.

>>6057871
>>6057481

These days, people who grow their hair well generally do so because they want to sew something. While Axle inexpertly pounds a bit of corrugated sheet found in the plant into shape, under Miria's direction, you look for someone who has long hair who's willing to cut it.

Karl sends one of his goons to shadow you, which results in any sort of negotiation you might have had in mind to turn into an extortion, but you get enough hair to braid; after a few strokes of the pump they'll get wet, make a seal, and allow the pump to work almost at full capacity after this sort of priming.

Janna, the older woman who cuts off her hair with what's left of a straight razor hands them to you, not Karl's goon.

> Just say thank you.
> You'll find a way to compensate her later, privately.
> You'll find a way to compensate her later, publicly, to challenge Karl's authority.

When you get back to the pump, you again find yourself holding Miria up at just the right height while Axle stands ready to prime the pump. The mutant deftly wraps the seals around the makeshift clamp after straining to put it where it's supposed to go; it's almost pitch black down there, so you all have to try three or four times.

Eventually, when she calls for Axle to start pumping, nothing happens for three or four strokes -- and then water gushes out of the end of the pipe, rather than trickling out. Success!

The three of you drink your fill, of course.

You get out of the cramped pump house and explain that the first person who runs the pump each day will have to re-prime it, but other than that, the pump is almost good as new.

Karl's goons have collected old water bottles, flatbread, squished maggots, a few rats on a stick, even a jar of honey. "Looks like I still get the better deal, now that we got all the water we want!" he bellows.

"Maybe we'll be back to trade" you say.

The deal was for all the food and water that you could carry; you'll sort the load properly later. For now the problem is that if one of you is carrying Miria, it cuts down on the amount of loose stuff you can walk off with.

When she starts to collect stuff by holding it in her mouth, managing to say -- surprisingly intelligibly -- that she'll hand-walk off with you and Axle, the mood sours.

"No, no, the deal was for it. Her. Maintenance mutant." Karl rumbles.

"The deal was for fixing the well, and we did. And now we're walking off."

Traditionally, there's a witness for this sort of thing; the other day, there wasn't, just Axle and one of Karl's guys. To your surprise, both speak up in your favor.

"No, you're wrong" Karl tells the guy, who simply says that he's wrong and Karl is right.

> Leave Miria.
> Pointedly slowly walk off with your stuff, if Karl wants to jump you he'll have to do so in view of everyone.
> Tell Karl that you just saved the town and everyone knows it, picking a fight would be unwise.
> Fine, let's rumble. The people are likely to side with you.
> Offer a duel.

>>6057927
>You'll find a way to compensate her later, publicly, to challenge Karl's authority.
>Pretend to be amicable and try to negotiate with him. Act like you want to discuss this like civilized men. When his guard is down, get in close and stab him with your knife. Repeatedly. You'll show him what happens to scum that try to renegotiate with you.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aqPTLn_PTao

>>6057927
> You'll find a way to compensate her later, publicly, to challenge Karl's authority.

> Fine, let's rumble. The people are likely to side with you.

The guys on our side because we're in the right. He'll probably turn against us too if we just start stabbing him lmao.

>>6057947
Nobody here likes Karl. Not even his guards. It's pretty clear.

>>6057927
> Fine, let's rumble. The people are likely to side with you.
> You'll find a way to compensate her later, publicly, to challenge Karl's authority.

We will become king of dogshit now.
We should demonstrate our virtues to the town we have high skills in stewardship, just what a town needs to flourish

>>6057989
We should give carl an out though, give him some rations and banish him out of town.

>>6057950
Do people even fear Carl? That is perhaps more important than like.

>>6057871
+1 to the Miria writein
>>6057927
> You'll find a way to compensate her later, publicly, to challenge Karl's authority
> Fine, let's rumble. The people are likely to side with you.

Rolled 38, 57, 36, 100, 34, 88 = 353 (6d100)

>>6057992
>>6057989
>>6057947
>>6057950
>>6057942
>>6057927
>>6058021

(Write-in accepted, let me work it in)

You put your stuff down and face Karl. "The deal was to repair the pump. It is repaired. You've all seen it. If you don't trust the repair, let's you and me go to the pump house, and you run it, with the door open."

You say this just a little too loud, just a little too slow, so that everyone can hear. What passes for the workday is over, so there's a fair amount of people milling about.

Karl doesn't flinch. "Yeah. Let's see how MY pump works. Follow me, boys!"

As you walk there, you cut a slice of what's left of the dog meat you came in with, and hand it to Jenna, likewise very visibly. "I understand your... mayor doesn't like paying for things. I'm a boot rider, always been, and there's driving a hard bargain and there's flat out taking, and there's a difference. This is for the hair."

People do want to see the pump work; the sun is a little complicit, in that once the door to the pump shack is open, there's a decent amount of light coming in. That would have been handy a couple of hours ago, but such is life. It'd come up empty for the first few strokes if this was next morning, since the hair has to get wet to give a good seal, but it should still be primed right now.

Karl makes to walk in, but thinks better of it at the last minute; he doesn't want to be cornered. "You pump it" he says.

You confidently walk in, and give a good pull to the pump's lever. Water trickles out. You give it another, and now it's gushing, splashing on the floor, making a rainbow dance on the shack's ceiling for a moment as the sun reflects on it. You don't want to waste water, so you stop, your point made.

You try to walk out, but two of Karl's goons get in the way.

"Huh! Good job. Get your man and your freak and leave. Hands empty. For offending me."

Karl turns towards the circle of people, by now most everyone who isn't sleeping and can be arsed to stand up. "Dogshits! Take your rations and bottles back. Karl is a generous king!"

Jenna, who was nibbling on the slice of meat you cut her, walks up to the big man. "You cheat a bootrider, word gets out, we won't see a caravan for a year, pump or no pump."

The woman gets a slap across the face that loses her a tooth, after which Karl decrees, "Good point. Kill them both. Grab the mutant. So orders Karl!"

>>6058036
See, this is why we shoulda just stabbed his ass.

>>6058036

Axle clearly hasn't signed up for any of this, but he quickly realizes that it's not going to matter; one of Karl's goons tries to grab him, and by reflex he grabs the guy's hand and bends it against his own back.

You're outnumbered three to one, but you're fresh. You get lucky; the first of the two thugs that come at you inside the pumphouse is barefoot, and slips on the wet floor. You had time to get your knife out, and stab him. He cries out, a gurgle.

You scream. Axle screams, a bellow. Janna screams. Miria screams, a high-pitched whine.

Someone has enough humanity left to yank the old woman away, at which point she says, as loud as she can, "Fight for yourselves!"

You body check the second goon so that you don't end up trapped in the pumphouse or risk breaking the pump for good; what follows is a brawl. The people here are exhausted, thirsty, hungry. But there's a lot more of them than there is of Karl's guys.

It's a messy fight.

You swear you saw someone break one of the last few remaining taboos and continue gnawing on a goon's leg after he's stopped twitching.

When the last one of them is down -- not even out, the would-be king of Dogshit City throws Miria on the ground, grabs a couple of bottles, and runs downhill, towards the monastery.

King of dogshit, indeed.

The butcher's bill is eight dead. A few irreplaceable glass bottles got broken, and a lot of water was spilled -- which, people realize, is less of a big deal than it was six hours ago.

The goon that didn't die is disarmed, stripped naked, and dragged inside one of the shacks; if he gets better, good for him; if not, he'll join the compost pile.

> You're young and had time to rest; give chase to Karl.

> Let him go. Good time to step into his shoes. Well, one shoe, he ran off with the other one still on.

> Let him go. Good time to make it clear you don't want to be king, although you're definitely hiring.

> Let him go, take your earnings, and leave for Acid Town with your little posse. Someone less idiotic will be in charge here when you get back.

---------------

Earlier, while you were repairing the pump, you negotiated an equitable deal with Miria -- full rations when she's working, half rations when not. She took it, starting today, of course. After you're done with that, she tells you that in Left End she was at half ration most days. "Shit, so was most everyone else other than the trappers."

>>6058039

Probably, but Vash is the opposite of sneaky, so that would not have gone well, in all likelihood. Might want to hire someone with the appropriate skillset.

>>6058051
>You're young and had time to rest; give chase to Karl.
You fuck us, you get fucked.

>>6058051
>Hunt down Karl
>Tell the townsfolk you'll be back to sort out their issues & get more trade their way

>>6058051
>> Let him go. Good time to step into his shoes. Well, one shoe, he ran off with the other one still on.
No need to take unnecessary risks

>>6058051
> Let him go. Good time to step into his shoes. Well, one shoe, he ran off with the other one still on.

>>6058051
>> You're young and had time to rest; give chase to Karl.

File: file-2n73Gl6S9SCiFpRUD753(...).png (257 KB, 558x288)

257 KB PNG

Rolled 37, 23 = 60 (2d100)

>>6058628
>>6058538
>>6058463
>>6058420
>>6058054

You look around. The dead are being dragged off, the wounded are being looked at. Karl is running downhill on the sandy path towards the monastery, one of the few pre-Flashtime structures that are standing in anything like their original shape. You've read part of a book talking about a long-gone tradition of sanctuary in such places, but that's not important right now.

Before anyone can make any decision about Dogshit City, you announce that you're giving chase, and immediately follow through. Karl is bigger than you, but you're better hydrated, and you have a knife.

On one hand, if you sprint and catch the guy quickly, the walk back will be easier, and the incident will be fresh in everyone's minds when you come back with the guy's head. On the other hand, Karl wasn't very bright -- if you pace yourself, you'll catch him eventually and with any luck he'll be tired.

>>6058677
We are not sneaky so if we take it easy he will hear us coming most likely so lets sprint.

File: burntime quest day9.png (2.38 MB, 1780x1780)

2.38 MB PNG

>>6058677

You figure that sprinting is the way to go here, and give chase with a vengeance. Unfortunately, it's you who gets tired early; the path has more sand in it than you remember, which you know to make it harder to run or jog than it is to walk. It is only when you find an empty water bottle, surrounded by wet sand -- which tells you it was gulped down in a hurry -- that you realize Karl has outrun you.

Looking further down the path, you see a figure scarpering along. Barring an attempt to climb into the mountain, the monastery is the only place he can be going to. Past that, he might head to the Big Hole cave complex, or to Numea on the other side of the mountain, or he might in fact seek sanctuary.

(Looks like we're still getting LBQ rolls here...)

> Head back, this isn't worth taking risks.

> Keep giving chase, he's out a shoe so he might injure his foot and slow down.

> Take it seriously, go back, and make the trek with provisions and backup.

>>6058684
> Keep giving chase, he's out a shoe so he might injure his foot and slow down.

Fuck it. I was against it at first, but we decided to do it, so let's see the end.

>>6058684
>> Head back, this isn't worth taking risks.

>>6058684
> Keep giving chase, he's out a shoe so he might injure his foot and slow down.

Rolled 26, 33 = 59 (2d100)

>>6058827
>>6058696
>>6058688

Maybe it's the guy's attitude, maybe it's the fact that he got it into his tiny mind to swindle you, but you let the lizard brain make the call on this one, and keep chasing Karl.

The sands go from yellow to red as the sun goes down. You spot him intermittently, depending on the path's curves and elevation; you're both jogging down a slight slope.

You drop the empty bottle after sucking a few drops out of it -- you don't need it, you drank to satiety when you fixed the pump earlier in the day, but it's habit.

You're going roughly East, and see the first stars ahead of you as the sky starts to darken. You find Karl's shoe -- looks like he abandoned it, preferring risking to be barefoot to having an uneven gait -- and notice a bit of dried blood on it. Maybe he hurt his leg.

Rolled 59 (1d100)

>>6058843

(well, fuck these rolls, too)

As you chase Karl through the rugged terrain, the sun eventually dips below the horizon, casting long shadows. Despite your determination, you find yourself struggling to keep up; your sightings of Karl become rarer and rarer, until they stop. There's only one place he can get to—the Monastery—so you press on.

As night falls, Karl uses the darkness to his advantage, hiding behind a large rock. It's not hard for even a dumbass like him to hear you coming when you jog past.

Karl lunges from his hiding spot, brandishing a broken bottle. You instinctively raise your knife, and the two of you clash in a desperate struggle. The sound of grunts and clashing weapons fills the air as you fight, each driven by rage and survival.

Karl slashes at you with the broken bottle, the jagged edges catching your arm. Ignoring the pain, you strike back, your knife finding its mark and stabbing Karl in the side. The fight becomes a brutal test of endurance and willpower, both of you bleeding profusely.

You land another blow, but Karl retaliates, slashing you across the chest. The pain is blinding, and you stagger, barely able to keep your footing. Karl, too, is weakening, his movements slowing as blood pours from his wounds.

With one final, desperate effort, you drive your knife into Karl’s abdomen. He gasps, eyes wide with shock and pain, and retaliates with a wild swing of his bottle, catching you on the side of the neck. Both of you fall to the ground, the fight draining the last of your strength. You hold your neck, feeling your own pulse.

As you lay there, breathing heavily and fading fast, the stars overhead seem to blur. Your vision dims as blood loss takes its toll. Karl’s labored breaths slow and then stop; you manage a grin, having won the fight. The night is silent, save for your rasping breath and the faint whisper of the wind through the rocks.

You think you hear rats chittering somewhere.

>>6058856
Lmao the rolls really fucked us. You going to run another quest anytime soon?

Thanks for running QM!

File: burntime quest gameover.png (40 KB, 688x516)

40 KB PNG

>>6058852

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yqfoDfQ5Fok

-------------

When Axle and Miria find Vash and Karl the next morning, the only thing they can do is kill some of the rats and then bury the two men in the sand near the path. After stripping the bodies of anything useful, they decide to bury Karl on top of Vash, so that scavengers will ravage that body first. There's no wood to be spared for a cross, so Miria uses your knife to carve your name on the nearby rock face.

---------------

THREE GENERATIONS LATER

A man who never had a name, naked, wounded and starving, screams bereft of words.

His woman tried to break his head with a rock, maybe in revenge for the beating she got last night, maybe to feed her pregnant body.

So, he strangled her.

Now he stumbles out of the cave where they sheltered, a bleak refuge with almost nothing to show humans lived there—sharpened rocks, loosely collected firewood, a piece of rusty metal used as a knife.

His head bleeding, he takes a few steps into the sun and collapses.

A drizzle of rain begins to fall, covering his lifeless body as the coyotes, ever watchful, descend. They reclaim the cave and feast on the last vestiges of humanity, their howls echoing in the landscape.

------------------------


Thank you for playing!

>>6058857

I hope so, I needed to remind myself that I can still write, basically.

I recently helped with the Burntime remake, so I was planning on using the "strategy" part of its engine, such as it is, for food/water/resource calculations while I did the narrative, but it barely even came up.

(Deleted earlier post because I forgot to add the music and didn't quite do the game over screen correctly)

>>6058860
Yeah it's too bad we didn't get to the point where more strategy would be involved.

>>6058862

You can download the remake at https://github.com/jakobharder/burntime/releases

You can download the manual for the original game at https://www.starehry.eu/download/rpg/docs/Burntime-Manual.pdf

(Note that the manual is basically a lore book, as typical of games of that era, the play instructions are in the last third).

>>6058860
I'm down for doing another character after this one, if you want to continue this quest.
Could even create a bit of a narrative with each character's impacts.

>>6058859
Aw man, we should have played it safe. Thanks for running geist

>>6058859
Thanks for the run bossman!
It wouldn't be a proper quest without LBQ dice

Did you guys blew it? Oh well that sucks

>>6058916
>>6059095
>>6059245
>>6059356
>>6058862

That's interesting, actually.

> Axle
> Miria
> New character
> Mulligan (Axle and Miria get to Vash in time)

>>6062425
>New character
And to speed it along in case New character wins, I'll also include the other chargen votes:
>+Rigging, -Stealth
> You have to bend this way and that, but you've learned to do it carefully. You're in your forties or early fifties. You can take one strategic action per turn, with a large bonus, but your stamina is lowered and you'll have difficulties running away from things.

High age means more experience makin' and fixin' shit. Also means our knees creak real bad when we try to be sneaky. But doin things the smart way should mean we won't be needin the stamina required for most things.

>>6062427
Sure seconding

>>6064448
This me, QM wants to mulligan so let me vote in favor of that.