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Realistic or Modern T-Minus Never Lore
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Vudukudu
Farseer to the Warsong Clan
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Big credit to (especially) Red Markets, L4D, the Zombie Survival Guide, and too many other pieces of zombie media to count!
Big credit to (especially) Red Markets, L4D, the Zombie Survival Guide, and too many other pieces of zombie media to count!
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Vudukudu
Farseer to the Warsong Clan
Around spring of 2023, as far as we can tell with our scant access to old records, the infection began to spread.
The What: It's sort of absurd for me to be writing this, because I can’t imagine a person who doesn’t know the basics by now, but seeing as there are still assholes in the world blaming the Blight on everything from GMOs to divine wrath to fluoride in the water, here we are.
We don’t know what it is. It behaves like a virus when attacking human tissue, but replicates faster than the most fertile bacteria. Neither explains the physical structures in constructs in a relatively short timeline, which suggests some sort of asexually reproducing multi-cellular parasite that can disperse, distribute, and reassemble its cells. Then there are the Blight pustules that breach the skin, which is a fungal behavior, but there are no spores or aerosol infections we know of. As best we can tell, it violates conservation of energy, too - the undead eat people, but they don’t have to. No one has a convincing answer for how they do it, and most of us have given up on thinking about it because there are more pressing matters at hand, but maybe the first physicist to figure it out can get a pat on the back instead of a Nobel prize.
There are two strains, hot and cold. Hot is spread by still living hosts that we call Vectors. Once you’ve been bitten, the Blight starts spreading through your body eating your organs and replacing them with its own structures. During that time, a period of about three days, it begins overwhelming the infected’s hormonal patterns, prompting extreme aggression, breaking down higher brain functioning, shutting down pain receptors, and all governors of physical exertion are switched off. You know the stories about a mother with adrenaline flipping a car to save her child? Vectors are like that, 24/7. Worse, some cruel twist of fate usually means their synapses are still firing enough for them to scream apologies as they sprint down the street at you to rip you apart bare-handed. Getting bitten by a Vector almost always infects you with the hot strain - you have about 60 seconds to make peace with your god before you join the ranks of the infected, assuming the Vector doesn’t kill you outright.
After about three days in that condition, the spread of the Blight kills the living host, or sufficient bodily trauma puts them down, they enter a torpor state. According to pre-Crash science, dead things cannot move. The dead have no way to turn food into energy, and no energy means no muscle movement. Even if they did, they have no way of repairing or preserving cells damaged by exertion. That doesn’t stop the Blight. After a day or so in torpor, you get your garden variety living dead - shambling, groaning, nightmares that move with puppet-like clumsiness. A “cold” bite gives you.. Well, something between an hour and a week of fever, chills, and convulsions until you go Vector. Cold bites are less infectious than hot, but still, maybe you want to write a will before going outside.
Either way, put a bullet in the brain. The Blight seems happy to hijack our central nervous system, so destroying it does the trick. At least we got that part right in the movies.
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The Why: I hate pseudoscience and guessing as much as the next guy, but here’s my best attempt at gathering some of the more reasonable explanations for the Blight.
Science: Nobody wants to believe it, but human science just… doesn’t work on the Blight. See the black veins in the undead? The Black Shit? Zoom in on it with a microscope capable of going down to 0.3 nanometers, the smallest measurement available to modern equipment. Use shorter wavelengths to improve resolution. Hook up some GUI software to blow the image up on ultra-HD plasma screens. What do you see? More black shit. A plane of indistinguishable, black nothingness where even the smallest cells in existence would be flashing their organelles and secrets. Matter packed so tightly as to be completely indistinguishable. A pure black smear of void. Break out an electron microscope, this is the end of all life, after all. Get to the bottom of it. Pure. Black.Void. And let's not get into the physics - something so tightly bonded as to resist magnification is closer to the density of a black hole than any other solid. It should be harder than diamonds, so why can bullets and knives penetrate it? Why aren’t they as heavy as mountains? More worryingly, how are they lighter in death than in life?
Alien: When in doubt, blame space. The alien weapon theory is supported by the widespread emergence of the Blight, as, after all, the near simultaneous emergence of Patient Zeroes all over the world suggests planning. The Blight’s ability to poison all life on earth also suggests a bit of a grudge against our planet. But if its an alien bioweapon, why doesn’t it work better? If it can violate the laws of physics, why not just use a laser or gamma ray burst to turn us into ash from the convenience of home?
Singularity Event: Some people want to explain the Blight as nanotechnology, and to be fair, it would explain its resistance to our efforts as counterintelligence, its manifestation as our zombie cultural nightmare as a psychological weapon, and more. But if this is some rogue AI gone mad, why zombies? There are more effective weapons for something that can manipulate matter at the molecular level, and why would it kill the one thing responsible for maintaining the global computer network it lives on? And where did it manufacture these dark miracles?
Bioweapon: Look, we’ve gone over the science, or lack thereof, but there are still people out there who believe some mad scientist or group thereof did this to us. Maybe it was cooked up in some biolab run by the CIA or their angry cousins, but I’ve used colanders less leaky than intelligence agencies. Maybe it was a company or a terrorist group, but for what purpose? The only saving grace of the bioweapon theory is that if someone made it, maybe someone can unmake it, and I guess I can’t blame you for holding out hope.
Mutation: A random mutation would explain why the Blight resembles a disease, but it doesn’t explain how a terrestrial organism suddenly evolved to become the densest material ever discovered. Or how it did it without any change in mass. Viruses, even scary ones, don’t turn into dark matter overnight.
Natural: Unlike other mass extinction events in history, science attributes the death of mega-fauna to human overhunting. The fossil records suggest that these creatures died by being cut into, hacked to pieces by tools or chewed on by teeth. But little in anthropology suggests our ancestors were sophisticated enough to succeed in hunts against such massive creatures, not to mention to the point where we wiped out thousands of species. The possible explanations before the Crash were that we underestimated our ancestors, or that there was a massive, transcontinental epidemic that did the killing. Once, there were massive, resource-intensive creatures that ruled the land until there was a widespread outbreak of disease that spread inexplicably and coincided with humans eating ever more than before, despite their physiological limitations. Sound familiar?
The Supernatural: Look, I’m not usually inclined to believe this sort of thing, but.. The Blight certainly feels capital W-Wrong. When monsters beat down your door, it's enough to make anyone wonder if there isn’t something bigger out there that hates you. As much as I’d like to dismiss it, I can’t muster the certainty, and if this Blight does turn out to be God's wrath, I’m glad I never prayed to the bastard.
The What: It's sort of absurd for me to be writing this, because I can’t imagine a person who doesn’t know the basics by now, but seeing as there are still assholes in the world blaming the Blight on everything from GMOs to divine wrath to fluoride in the water, here we are.
We don’t know what it is. It behaves like a virus when attacking human tissue, but replicates faster than the most fertile bacteria. Neither explains the physical structures in constructs in a relatively short timeline, which suggests some sort of asexually reproducing multi-cellular parasite that can disperse, distribute, and reassemble its cells. Then there are the Blight pustules that breach the skin, which is a fungal behavior, but there are no spores or aerosol infections we know of. As best we can tell, it violates conservation of energy, too - the undead eat people, but they don’t have to. No one has a convincing answer for how they do it, and most of us have given up on thinking about it because there are more pressing matters at hand, but maybe the first physicist to figure it out can get a pat on the back instead of a Nobel prize.
There are two strains, hot and cold. Hot is spread by still living hosts that we call Vectors. Once you’ve been bitten, the Blight starts spreading through your body eating your organs and replacing them with its own structures. During that time, a period of about three days, it begins overwhelming the infected’s hormonal patterns, prompting extreme aggression, breaking down higher brain functioning, shutting down pain receptors, and all governors of physical exertion are switched off. You know the stories about a mother with adrenaline flipping a car to save her child? Vectors are like that, 24/7. Worse, some cruel twist of fate usually means their synapses are still firing enough for them to scream apologies as they sprint down the street at you to rip you apart bare-handed. Getting bitten by a Vector almost always infects you with the hot strain - you have about 60 seconds to make peace with your god before you join the ranks of the infected, assuming the Vector doesn’t kill you outright.
After about three days in that condition, the spread of the Blight kills the living host, or sufficient bodily trauma puts them down, they enter a torpor state. According to pre-Crash science, dead things cannot move. The dead have no way to turn food into energy, and no energy means no muscle movement. Even if they did, they have no way of repairing or preserving cells damaged by exertion. That doesn’t stop the Blight. After a day or so in torpor, you get your garden variety living dead - shambling, groaning, nightmares that move with puppet-like clumsiness. A “cold” bite gives you.. Well, something between an hour and a week of fever, chills, and convulsions until you go Vector. Cold bites are less infectious than hot, but still, maybe you want to write a will before going outside.
Either way, put a bullet in the brain. The Blight seems happy to hijack our central nervous system, so destroying it does the trick. At least we got that part right in the movies.
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The Why: I hate pseudoscience and guessing as much as the next guy, but here’s my best attempt at gathering some of the more reasonable explanations for the Blight.
Science: Nobody wants to believe it, but human science just… doesn’t work on the Blight. See the black veins in the undead? The Black Shit? Zoom in on it with a microscope capable of going down to 0.3 nanometers, the smallest measurement available to modern equipment. Use shorter wavelengths to improve resolution. Hook up some GUI software to blow the image up on ultra-HD plasma screens. What do you see? More black shit. A plane of indistinguishable, black nothingness where even the smallest cells in existence would be flashing their organelles and secrets. Matter packed so tightly as to be completely indistinguishable. A pure black smear of void. Break out an electron microscope, this is the end of all life, after all. Get to the bottom of it. Pure. Black.Void. And let's not get into the physics - something so tightly bonded as to resist magnification is closer to the density of a black hole than any other solid. It should be harder than diamonds, so why can bullets and knives penetrate it? Why aren’t they as heavy as mountains? More worryingly, how are they lighter in death than in life?
Alien: When in doubt, blame space. The alien weapon theory is supported by the widespread emergence of the Blight, as, after all, the near simultaneous emergence of Patient Zeroes all over the world suggests planning. The Blight’s ability to poison all life on earth also suggests a bit of a grudge against our planet. But if its an alien bioweapon, why doesn’t it work better? If it can violate the laws of physics, why not just use a laser or gamma ray burst to turn us into ash from the convenience of home?
Singularity Event: Some people want to explain the Blight as nanotechnology, and to be fair, it would explain its resistance to our efforts as counterintelligence, its manifestation as our zombie cultural nightmare as a psychological weapon, and more. But if this is some rogue AI gone mad, why zombies? There are more effective weapons for something that can manipulate matter at the molecular level, and why would it kill the one thing responsible for maintaining the global computer network it lives on? And where did it manufacture these dark miracles?
Bioweapon: Look, we’ve gone over the science, or lack thereof, but there are still people out there who believe some mad scientist or group thereof did this to us. Maybe it was cooked up in some biolab run by the CIA or their angry cousins, but I’ve used colanders less leaky than intelligence agencies. Maybe it was a company or a terrorist group, but for what purpose? The only saving grace of the bioweapon theory is that if someone made it, maybe someone can unmake it, and I guess I can’t blame you for holding out hope.
Mutation: A random mutation would explain why the Blight resembles a disease, but it doesn’t explain how a terrestrial organism suddenly evolved to become the densest material ever discovered. Or how it did it without any change in mass. Viruses, even scary ones, don’t turn into dark matter overnight.
Natural: Unlike other mass extinction events in history, science attributes the death of mega-fauna to human overhunting. The fossil records suggest that these creatures died by being cut into, hacked to pieces by tools or chewed on by teeth. But little in anthropology suggests our ancestors were sophisticated enough to succeed in hunts against such massive creatures, not to mention to the point where we wiped out thousands of species. The possible explanations before the Crash were that we underestimated our ancestors, or that there was a massive, transcontinental epidemic that did the killing. Once, there were massive, resource-intensive creatures that ruled the land until there was a widespread outbreak of disease that spread inexplicably and coincided with humans eating ever more than before, despite their physiological limitations. Sound familiar?
The Supernatural: Look, I’m not usually inclined to believe this sort of thing, but.. The Blight certainly feels capital W-Wrong. When monsters beat down your door, it's enough to make anyone wonder if there isn’t something bigger out there that hates you. As much as I’d like to dismiss it, I can’t muster the certainty, and if this Blight does turn out to be God's wrath, I’m glad I never prayed to the bastard.
Its taken me a long time to write this, not just because of the research, but because I don't want to write it and we had a containment breach last week. Promise we're still doing good - fuck you, Colonel Miller. Test me one more time.
Anyway, this is the story of how the world ended - not with a bang, but with a Crash.
As I've said, spring of 2023 was the Crash, but you have to understand what was happening before that to understand how it all got handled the way it did.
-Climate Change: Lets compare the world on the day before the Crash to that same day in 1950. The world population was 75% smaller, it had 1.5 million more plant and animal species, 90% more fish, and 60% more oxygen producing phytoplankton. Drinking water and trees were 3x more plentiful, and there was 40% less CO2 and methane in the atmosphere. In 2022, islands sank, fields turned fallow, the works. This is an oversimplification - some nations started getting serious a decade early. Scandinavia had gone almost entirely green by then, a key reason they're now major powers, not to mention their small populations and other benefits. When the Crash came, information and manufacturing economies got thrown back onto their agricultural base, hard. Regular seasons had been reduced to a mere suggestion by the time of the Crash, natural disasters were occurring more commonly than ever before, and the extinction curve was approaching vertical before the Blight. Before the worst pandemic in history, we were already struggling to feed everyone.
-Political Upheaval: Most neoliberal first-world democracies insulate themselves from the effects of climate change using money, so environmental issues were rarely on the platform. Monsanto made crops that could grow year-round despite temperature fluctuations, but that meant agriculture became the realm of corporations and technical experts - farmers became scientists who helped program drones to harvest crops. The lowest end of the economic spectrum was phased out of the world's most essential profession. In many nations, this led to mass migration or wars, either of which usually led to urbanization as refugees flooded towns. Poverty skyrocketed, police looking like space marines became the norm, and people naturally became dissatisfied with crushing existential angst. The political extremes exploded, elections became unpredictable crapshoots full of insurgent candidates that gambled years of progress and GDP on a whim. In retrospect, its no surprise no one knew what the hell to do when the Crash hit.
-The Cybergeddon: God I hate this term. Here's the short version - in the 2010s, people were already fighting court battles over limited bandwidth and domains. Data leaks became a daily matter of fact. When net neutrality ended and providers started holding bandwidth hostage, every script kiddie on earth rebelled, which only made the problem worse. Data leaks got more severe, crackdowns more draconian, and the cycle continued. The Data Bank emerged as a solution - its own massive network, free, with none of the BS. That also destroyed every ISP out there, putting millions out of work. Oops.
-The Good: Tech was booming. Super-hardy GMO crops. Carbon nanotubes being the lightest and strongest material ever constructed by man - many of the technologies that keep the east safe wouldn't be possible without them. "Mississippi dragnets," those razor-nets they've strung the river with to turn every zombie that tries to cross into mincemeat? That's nanotubing. Same goes for Denial Door Jams, those lovely little bombs that spray carbon nano-death fencing across a doorway. 3D printing, which used to be a dumb nerd hobby, "oh, I made a belt buckle out of blue plastic, how cool" is now useful - manufacturing is dead, and if you can get your hands on some filament and a working printer, you can have free access to our catalogue of open source designs on the Data Bank servers. You never know - a plastic .22 pistol hot off the press might just save your life. Commercial drones were just taking off, and you have no idea how useful they are for recon if you've never had the fortune of flying one.
The Crash: The Blight began to spread in Spring 2023. We can argue about exact dates until the end of time - there's no telling how many early infections were quietly handled by police who had a habit of shooting first, or if some rural community with barely any contact with the rest of the world got it first - what we do know is it started popping up around the globe over the course of a few weeks, sometime in spring, or what we used to call spring, of 2023. I like March 3rd, personally.
The fact of the matter is that the blight emerged all over the world, seemingly at once. Quarantine was nearly impossible from the start - the infection had travelled too far before it was recognized as a threat. But unlike the flu, the Blight's symptoms include eating people. How the hell did we miss that?
1. Proto-latency: Maybe we still don't understand the Blight's life cycle. Maybe it has lain dormant in hosts for months or years, and some sort of genetic timer or environmental trigger is just waiting. Maybe we're all infected, and our bodies are just waiting for the right cue.
2. The Conspiracy: Those more paranoid among us ascribe the impossibly widespread dispersal to enemy action. If you're trying to wipe out mankind with the most efficient bioweapon ever seen, it would make sense to cause as many concurrent emergence events as possible to confuse emergency response. If that's true, it nearly worked.
3. God: But if there's anyone out there with a track record of conspiring against the human race, look no further than the big G. The last explanation, if one could call it that, is that the Blight just was one day. It didn't exist one second, and then it did, which means it could do so again at any moment, anywhere.
The Global Outbreaks: In the US, the West Coast got the worst of it. If we believe in proto-latency, California is a major contender for the singular origin of the Blight. It got hit with emergence events in multiple locations along the coast, not to mention outbreaks in Oregon, Washington, and Nevada. The sensationalism of the media kept the state from standing out as a frontrunner during the early days, but hindsight puts the brunt far west. Texas was bad off too, but sparse population density and a propensity for military bases left the Blight running west to east rather than south to north. The East Coast had minor incidents in Virginia, but the really bad events like the fall of Manhattan and the Maine Migration didn't occur until later.
I'm an American boy, but I know the gist of the global story. Canada got hit along the northwestern border of its population band, but the barren cold of the North made sure the Vectors hunted southbound. They probably would have been fine if it hadn't been for Our Great Betrayal, but the nukes shattered governmental response and surviving state power in Canada remains scattered and inconsistent to this day. Mexico was a failing state before the Crash; the last thing it needed was for the initial outbreak to start in Mexico City. Our southern neighbors were among some of the first nations to fall, and their population of dead migrated in every direction.
South America didn't need Mexico's undead to help. Emergence events in Peru, Bolivia, Venezuela, and Uruguay dotted the whole continent with infection. Brazil was hit hardest of all, which makes it all the more remarkable that any clean territory remains. Those refugees that managed to escape their infected homelands did so across the Andes, but the Chilean's extreme anti-immigration measures doomed most. However, its also the only reason Chile survives.
The UK was actually hit very early in the process, but the surveillance state they'd set up to counter the resurgent IRA minimized the amount of time it took for the government to believe what they were seeing. In spite of that, England, Ireland, and Scotland owe more to the efforts of EU nations fleeing the terror of mainland Europe. Spain, Germany, and France all had unchecked emergence events, and the exponentially growing hordes spun out in all directions. The remains of their shattered military forces evacuated to the UK, where they helped cleanse the Isles in return for a place to stay.
Similarly to the Brits, Italy mainly survived by dint of geography and foreign military diaspora. The Scandinavian states handled outbreaks in their isolated population centers with relative ease, and their later intervention helped Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania survive. Each had been spared initial outbreaks and managed to cap the slow advance of casualties through frozen and mountainous terrain. Sweden, which already had geographical isolation and a militarized populace going for it, suffered no real emergence events. Aside from some lost imports and exports, Sweden is paradise on earth.
Ironically, the sheer hellishness of the conflicts raging in the Middle East kept it safe. Its few emergence events were isolated enough by desert that they rarely spread to secondary infections in major city centers. Most of the cities that did get hard were already in the midst of civil war, meaning everyone was armed already, or got bombed to hell by Iran and the Israelis. By happy accident, Turkey's invasion of Greece and Russia's continued Ukrainian/Georgian aggression served to buffer the onslaught of European casualty migration, insulating the largely clean Arab states. Sadly, the respite did nothing to end conflict in the Middle East, but at least the world still has its major oil suppliers - otherwise, the apocalypse would have finished us off with an energy crisis.
Africa's thick jungles, endless savannah, and crap transportation infrastructure meant the initial outbreaks never turned into the giant stampedes of thousands seen on other continents. Mali and surrounding nations fell early, but the Blight never spread far enough to take out Libya, Egypt, or the Sudan. The DRC is the corner of the area known as the African Loss, a box which starts on the West Coast, bisects the continent laterally until it reaches the East African Rift zone. The swamplands and rivers kept the dead from migrating, so the East Coast survived and Madagascar became a literal bastion for the African Union. Angola and Zambia are barely hanging on against the corpses trickling out of the Congo's jungles, but they're supported by the relative prosperity of every nation further south.
Many nations owe their survival to arming up to resist Russian encroachment pre-Crash. However, those same wars left the Bear ill-equipped when the Blight started in Moscow. Though the state still technically survives behind the Urals, there's nothing of the old nation left beyond nomadic bands that fled into Kazakhstan and Mongolia, trailing hungry dead behind them. India was really the worst-case scenario for emergence, and we know of at least three distinct sites where primary infection occurred. The population density doomed the country. Indian casualties flooded over the border into Pakistan and the two countries turned each other into nuclear glass, but not before millions of dead flooded into China.
The Chinese government still survives, locked in a three-way naval war for territory against the shaky Thai Alliance and Australia. I couldn't tell you where the capital is, though. The outbreak was so diffuse and China so huge that there's no characterizing what happened after things settled down because things still haven't settled down. A city will be there one month, gone the next, and then refugees pop up later in some ghost city constructed in the middle of the Mongolian steppe. The government maintains its flotilla of ships, but the Chinese on the mainland survive by migrating away from the dead.
North Korea's inability to do literally anything right kept South Korea safe as Chinese casualties consumed the North. Keeping the North Korean infected from crossing the most militarized border in the world proved easy enough - the South Koreans tossed a few low-yield nukes over the wall to make a new wall. And I think Japan's okay? Their navy is still in play and someone answers the phone when NUSA calls, but the populace is completely off the Data Bank's network. Maybe they went isolationist, or maybe the Crash hit them real hard and they don't want anyone to know.
Australia and New Zealand are fine. One major outbreak occurred in Sydney, but the population retreated into the interior, euthanized the casualties during torpor, and reclaimed the coastline. The only thing that keeps Australia on its toes is competition with the Thai Alliance and China, both of whom see Australia's safe, unspoiled continent as a prize for their refugees. Of course, all this border drawing happened later - we did a lot of dying first.
The Persistence of the Mundane: One last torture humanity inflicts upon itself - idiocy. Without a clear start date and time, its hard to tell how stupid we were. How long did we ignore the signs and let the Blight run free? The low end of estimates is about a week, but there's some convincing evidence that as much as a month passed before the public at large even acknowledged the apocalypse. The next generation can't possibly understand our inaction as anything but sheer insanity. They're not from a culture so fucked up as to find the apocalypse a comforting thought. Let me explain:
Before the Crash, humanity was engaged in a decades-long obsession with its own demise. Comet strikes, alien invasions, deadly pandemics, and yes, even zombies - any story would sell if it talked about the death of society. Why did we repeat this over and over? Maybe our primitive monkey brains couldn't process global culture, and we wanted the simplification only mass death could bring. And because we sought out that simplification, we rarely focused on how it would happen. The narratives about the end times never focus on how time ended. They focused on the concise, clean metaphor of the simplified world after.
Reality doesn't work that way. There's always a way out, and if there isn't, the dead end could have been prevented with some foresight earlier. Its a responsibility we wanted to escape as our environment and economy continued their collapse. We wanted absolution from our sins, so we peppered our stories with absolute endings that our characters had no responsibility in creating. At the time of the Crash, entire generations had been raised on apocalypse narratives. We knew to be worried when people came for us in war convoys, screaming for our gasoline. But when we pulled up to a gas station to find it unlocked and empty? The clerk must have had a family emergency and forgot to lock the door. Watching a gang of monsters tear someone apart would be a sign to start hording food and water, but when all that's wrong is police sirens in the distance? People withdrew back into their homes, tsk-tsking about the state of the neighborhood and their property values.
Maybe if messages of doom had broken on the news all at once on all frequencies, we'd have known to freak out. But when the news was only on a few channels? And other options said nothing, or refuted the claims, or continued to stream netflix without interruption? The warnings were dismissed as tragedies to ignore for the sake of self-care. It wasn't the clarion call from the Book of Revelation, it was another downer we didn't have time for to be filed away with all the school shootings and general depression. But reality doesn't care what you want the world to look like. Entire cities had fallen before humanity collectively woke up, and even then, our stupidity still ruled the day. The persistence of normality past any point where it made sense was the beginning of the Romero Effect.
The Romero Effect: Why did it take so long for governments to act? The Romero Effect. Why were so many of their solutions idiotic? The Romero Effect. How did anyone survive the combination of certain doom and continued bungling? The Romero Effect. As a singular answer to all those multi-faceted questions, the Romero Effect is absolutely reductive and absolutely accurate. First off, the term has an official definition we rarely cite. The phrase was coined by Doctor Emily Dale a year after the Crash in the same paper where she diagnosed the populace of her survivor enclave with Post-Apocalyptic Stress Syndrome (P.A.S.S). She used director George Romero's name as a label for a cadre of cognitive biases causing serious harm to the mindset of Crash survivors. I'll save you a lot of dry academic reading here and just break that list down for you that combined under the Romero Effect to almost kill us. To do so, I'll place myself in the history.
Individuals are cognitively incapable of discerning when they are lying to themselves because once they become capable of it, they've already convinced themselves they never lie. So I'm as guilty of confabulation as everyone else in the early days. I stupidly listened to appeals to authority when the news told me everything was under control, and I looked to every status update, working streetlight, and open business to fuel my confirmation bias. When I was out with friends touring a food truck festival in Denver, we heard a scream blocks away, but nobody did anything, so I didn't do anything, and we all fell for the bystander effect. And as the occurrences of odd screams, unexplained "car backfires," dogs choking mid-bark, and sprinting footfalls in the night built up the tonal landscape, I kept up my conformity to the norm of doing nothing. If I acknowledged something was going on, I'd betray my sense of self. I'm not a callous, selfish person like everyone else, my brain would repeat, silencing the terror outside as I slept in my loft apartment.
People started ranting about hordes of undead on social media. I ignored them; they'd fallen for that stupid zombie meme going around. True to the third person effect, I considered myself above such petty persuasion even as I continued listening to censored news coverage. When other people in my network started dropping out entirely, the misinformation effect convinced me they'd all just gotten tired of the zombie shit too and unplugged. They definitely hadn't been eaten. Besides, they were just internet people, not the 150 or so real people Dunbar's Number allowed my brain to consider real.
On the last day I drove down from my apartment to base, before I came to live there permanently, I saw a man in torn bloody pajamas chasing a cyclist down the street. He was screaming nonsense and crying blood as he tackled the biker onto the sidewalk. The poor guy managed to kick his attacker off and start sprinting down the street - the strangely abandoned street. The bloody guy landed in the crosswalk, prone for a few seconds. I could have run him over with my car. It might have saved a life. But what if I was misunderstanding? What if I murdered a sick man for no reason? I'd lose my job, my stuff, everything I'd ever worked for. I'd spend the rest of my life in jail, because I thought... what? Some guy was a zombie? Is watching too many movies a legal defense? Yeah, right. And so, due to loss aversion, I protected myself against a discomfort I understood rather than gamble on saving the life of a man I didn't know from a threat I couldn't comprehend.
Besides, the guy in the car behind me got out to help, my brain played the public goods game and assured me that guy would handle it. I was free to just call the cops, who didn't answer by then, and pretend like I'd done my part. At work, when we saw the first small horde descending on the base, we didn't even shoot until they jumped over our checkpoint fencing. I mean, really. We shouted and tried riot suppression on a horde of Vectors, because when we saw them, no shots rang out. Refusing to murder people is a behavior human beings have to unlearn, and even us, the goddamn US Army, failed to unlearn it. Shooting your neighbors and coworkers requires overcoming the extinction burst that tries to keep that old behavior alive. When it kept our gunners from firing the second they saw Vectors? They were already dead. Then another dumbass picked up a gun and failed even harder by failing to shoot his friend. We whittled our on-base numbers from 44 to 7 in a flash. I hid in a closet for three days. I had nothing to do but shit in a bucket, stay quiet, and relive what a fool we had been. By the time soldiers rescued us, I hadn't been cured of my biases. The memory once used to store them had been overwritten by shame.
In short, the Romero Effect is all the reasons why the human brain was fundamentally incapable of accepting the Crash's shifting reality. It also encompasses the idiocy of most reactions when cognitive dissonance failed to keep the truth out. Finally, all these cognitive biases responsible for Romero exist to keep people sane: they maintain the sense of self and filter our perceptions down to a tolerable level. Those lucky enough to survive the first two stages have their biases removed, at least in regard to the undead. But the removal of such a vital cognitive coping mechanism can drive a person insane, too. My story was repeated all over the world, and it always ended in one of three ways: people denied doom until it consumed them, they ran towards death with false confidence, or they reacted appropriately, contained the threat, and were forever scarred as a result. Disbelief. Ignorance. Acceptance. Madness.
Anyway, this is the story of how the world ended - not with a bang, but with a Crash.
As I've said, spring of 2023 was the Crash, but you have to understand what was happening before that to understand how it all got handled the way it did.
-Climate Change: Lets compare the world on the day before the Crash to that same day in 1950. The world population was 75% smaller, it had 1.5 million more plant and animal species, 90% more fish, and 60% more oxygen producing phytoplankton. Drinking water and trees were 3x more plentiful, and there was 40% less CO2 and methane in the atmosphere. In 2022, islands sank, fields turned fallow, the works. This is an oversimplification - some nations started getting serious a decade early. Scandinavia had gone almost entirely green by then, a key reason they're now major powers, not to mention their small populations and other benefits. When the Crash came, information and manufacturing economies got thrown back onto their agricultural base, hard. Regular seasons had been reduced to a mere suggestion by the time of the Crash, natural disasters were occurring more commonly than ever before, and the extinction curve was approaching vertical before the Blight. Before the worst pandemic in history, we were already struggling to feed everyone.
-Political Upheaval: Most neoliberal first-world democracies insulate themselves from the effects of climate change using money, so environmental issues were rarely on the platform. Monsanto made crops that could grow year-round despite temperature fluctuations, but that meant agriculture became the realm of corporations and technical experts - farmers became scientists who helped program drones to harvest crops. The lowest end of the economic spectrum was phased out of the world's most essential profession. In many nations, this led to mass migration or wars, either of which usually led to urbanization as refugees flooded towns. Poverty skyrocketed, police looking like space marines became the norm, and people naturally became dissatisfied with crushing existential angst. The political extremes exploded, elections became unpredictable crapshoots full of insurgent candidates that gambled years of progress and GDP on a whim. In retrospect, its no surprise no one knew what the hell to do when the Crash hit.
-The Cybergeddon: God I hate this term. Here's the short version - in the 2010s, people were already fighting court battles over limited bandwidth and domains. Data leaks became a daily matter of fact. When net neutrality ended and providers started holding bandwidth hostage, every script kiddie on earth rebelled, which only made the problem worse. Data leaks got more severe, crackdowns more draconian, and the cycle continued. The Data Bank emerged as a solution - its own massive network, free, with none of the BS. That also destroyed every ISP out there, putting millions out of work. Oops.
-The Good: Tech was booming. Super-hardy GMO crops. Carbon nanotubes being the lightest and strongest material ever constructed by man - many of the technologies that keep the east safe wouldn't be possible without them. "Mississippi dragnets," those razor-nets they've strung the river with to turn every zombie that tries to cross into mincemeat? That's nanotubing. Same goes for Denial Door Jams, those lovely little bombs that spray carbon nano-death fencing across a doorway. 3D printing, which used to be a dumb nerd hobby, "oh, I made a belt buckle out of blue plastic, how cool" is now useful - manufacturing is dead, and if you can get your hands on some filament and a working printer, you can have free access to our catalogue of open source designs on the Data Bank servers. You never know - a plastic .22 pistol hot off the press might just save your life. Commercial drones were just taking off, and you have no idea how useful they are for recon if you've never had the fortune of flying one.
The Crash: The Blight began to spread in Spring 2023. We can argue about exact dates until the end of time - there's no telling how many early infections were quietly handled by police who had a habit of shooting first, or if some rural community with barely any contact with the rest of the world got it first - what we do know is it started popping up around the globe over the course of a few weeks, sometime in spring, or what we used to call spring, of 2023. I like March 3rd, personally.
The fact of the matter is that the blight emerged all over the world, seemingly at once. Quarantine was nearly impossible from the start - the infection had travelled too far before it was recognized as a threat. But unlike the flu, the Blight's symptoms include eating people. How the hell did we miss that?
1. Proto-latency: Maybe we still don't understand the Blight's life cycle. Maybe it has lain dormant in hosts for months or years, and some sort of genetic timer or environmental trigger is just waiting. Maybe we're all infected, and our bodies are just waiting for the right cue.
2. The Conspiracy: Those more paranoid among us ascribe the impossibly widespread dispersal to enemy action. If you're trying to wipe out mankind with the most efficient bioweapon ever seen, it would make sense to cause as many concurrent emergence events as possible to confuse emergency response. If that's true, it nearly worked.
3. God: But if there's anyone out there with a track record of conspiring against the human race, look no further than the big G. The last explanation, if one could call it that, is that the Blight just was one day. It didn't exist one second, and then it did, which means it could do so again at any moment, anywhere.
The Global Outbreaks: In the US, the West Coast got the worst of it. If we believe in proto-latency, California is a major contender for the singular origin of the Blight. It got hit with emergence events in multiple locations along the coast, not to mention outbreaks in Oregon, Washington, and Nevada. The sensationalism of the media kept the state from standing out as a frontrunner during the early days, but hindsight puts the brunt far west. Texas was bad off too, but sparse population density and a propensity for military bases left the Blight running west to east rather than south to north. The East Coast had minor incidents in Virginia, but the really bad events like the fall of Manhattan and the Maine Migration didn't occur until later.
I'm an American boy, but I know the gist of the global story. Canada got hit along the northwestern border of its population band, but the barren cold of the North made sure the Vectors hunted southbound. They probably would have been fine if it hadn't been for Our Great Betrayal, but the nukes shattered governmental response and surviving state power in Canada remains scattered and inconsistent to this day. Mexico was a failing state before the Crash; the last thing it needed was for the initial outbreak to start in Mexico City. Our southern neighbors were among some of the first nations to fall, and their population of dead migrated in every direction.
South America didn't need Mexico's undead to help. Emergence events in Peru, Bolivia, Venezuela, and Uruguay dotted the whole continent with infection. Brazil was hit hardest of all, which makes it all the more remarkable that any clean territory remains. Those refugees that managed to escape their infected homelands did so across the Andes, but the Chilean's extreme anti-immigration measures doomed most. However, its also the only reason Chile survives.
The UK was actually hit very early in the process, but the surveillance state they'd set up to counter the resurgent IRA minimized the amount of time it took for the government to believe what they were seeing. In spite of that, England, Ireland, and Scotland owe more to the efforts of EU nations fleeing the terror of mainland Europe. Spain, Germany, and France all had unchecked emergence events, and the exponentially growing hordes spun out in all directions. The remains of their shattered military forces evacuated to the UK, where they helped cleanse the Isles in return for a place to stay.
Similarly to the Brits, Italy mainly survived by dint of geography and foreign military diaspora. The Scandinavian states handled outbreaks in their isolated population centers with relative ease, and their later intervention helped Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania survive. Each had been spared initial outbreaks and managed to cap the slow advance of casualties through frozen and mountainous terrain. Sweden, which already had geographical isolation and a militarized populace going for it, suffered no real emergence events. Aside from some lost imports and exports, Sweden is paradise on earth.
Ironically, the sheer hellishness of the conflicts raging in the Middle East kept it safe. Its few emergence events were isolated enough by desert that they rarely spread to secondary infections in major city centers. Most of the cities that did get hard were already in the midst of civil war, meaning everyone was armed already, or got bombed to hell by Iran and the Israelis. By happy accident, Turkey's invasion of Greece and Russia's continued Ukrainian/Georgian aggression served to buffer the onslaught of European casualty migration, insulating the largely clean Arab states. Sadly, the respite did nothing to end conflict in the Middle East, but at least the world still has its major oil suppliers - otherwise, the apocalypse would have finished us off with an energy crisis.
Africa's thick jungles, endless savannah, and crap transportation infrastructure meant the initial outbreaks never turned into the giant stampedes of thousands seen on other continents. Mali and surrounding nations fell early, but the Blight never spread far enough to take out Libya, Egypt, or the Sudan. The DRC is the corner of the area known as the African Loss, a box which starts on the West Coast, bisects the continent laterally until it reaches the East African Rift zone. The swamplands and rivers kept the dead from migrating, so the East Coast survived and Madagascar became a literal bastion for the African Union. Angola and Zambia are barely hanging on against the corpses trickling out of the Congo's jungles, but they're supported by the relative prosperity of every nation further south.
Many nations owe their survival to arming up to resist Russian encroachment pre-Crash. However, those same wars left the Bear ill-equipped when the Blight started in Moscow. Though the state still technically survives behind the Urals, there's nothing of the old nation left beyond nomadic bands that fled into Kazakhstan and Mongolia, trailing hungry dead behind them. India was really the worst-case scenario for emergence, and we know of at least three distinct sites where primary infection occurred. The population density doomed the country. Indian casualties flooded over the border into Pakistan and the two countries turned each other into nuclear glass, but not before millions of dead flooded into China.
The Chinese government still survives, locked in a three-way naval war for territory against the shaky Thai Alliance and Australia. I couldn't tell you where the capital is, though. The outbreak was so diffuse and China so huge that there's no characterizing what happened after things settled down because things still haven't settled down. A city will be there one month, gone the next, and then refugees pop up later in some ghost city constructed in the middle of the Mongolian steppe. The government maintains its flotilla of ships, but the Chinese on the mainland survive by migrating away from the dead.
North Korea's inability to do literally anything right kept South Korea safe as Chinese casualties consumed the North. Keeping the North Korean infected from crossing the most militarized border in the world proved easy enough - the South Koreans tossed a few low-yield nukes over the wall to make a new wall. And I think Japan's okay? Their navy is still in play and someone answers the phone when NUSA calls, but the populace is completely off the Data Bank's network. Maybe they went isolationist, or maybe the Crash hit them real hard and they don't want anyone to know.
Australia and New Zealand are fine. One major outbreak occurred in Sydney, but the population retreated into the interior, euthanized the casualties during torpor, and reclaimed the coastline. The only thing that keeps Australia on its toes is competition with the Thai Alliance and China, both of whom see Australia's safe, unspoiled continent as a prize for their refugees. Of course, all this border drawing happened later - we did a lot of dying first.
The Persistence of the Mundane: One last torture humanity inflicts upon itself - idiocy. Without a clear start date and time, its hard to tell how stupid we were. How long did we ignore the signs and let the Blight run free? The low end of estimates is about a week, but there's some convincing evidence that as much as a month passed before the public at large even acknowledged the apocalypse. The next generation can't possibly understand our inaction as anything but sheer insanity. They're not from a culture so fucked up as to find the apocalypse a comforting thought. Let me explain:
Before the Crash, humanity was engaged in a decades-long obsession with its own demise. Comet strikes, alien invasions, deadly pandemics, and yes, even zombies - any story would sell if it talked about the death of society. Why did we repeat this over and over? Maybe our primitive monkey brains couldn't process global culture, and we wanted the simplification only mass death could bring. And because we sought out that simplification, we rarely focused on how it would happen. The narratives about the end times never focus on how time ended. They focused on the concise, clean metaphor of the simplified world after.
Reality doesn't work that way. There's always a way out, and if there isn't, the dead end could have been prevented with some foresight earlier. Its a responsibility we wanted to escape as our environment and economy continued their collapse. We wanted absolution from our sins, so we peppered our stories with absolute endings that our characters had no responsibility in creating. At the time of the Crash, entire generations had been raised on apocalypse narratives. We knew to be worried when people came for us in war convoys, screaming for our gasoline. But when we pulled up to a gas station to find it unlocked and empty? The clerk must have had a family emergency and forgot to lock the door. Watching a gang of monsters tear someone apart would be a sign to start hording food and water, but when all that's wrong is police sirens in the distance? People withdrew back into their homes, tsk-tsking about the state of the neighborhood and their property values.
Maybe if messages of doom had broken on the news all at once on all frequencies, we'd have known to freak out. But when the news was only on a few channels? And other options said nothing, or refuted the claims, or continued to stream netflix without interruption? The warnings were dismissed as tragedies to ignore for the sake of self-care. It wasn't the clarion call from the Book of Revelation, it was another downer we didn't have time for to be filed away with all the school shootings and general depression. But reality doesn't care what you want the world to look like. Entire cities had fallen before humanity collectively woke up, and even then, our stupidity still ruled the day. The persistence of normality past any point where it made sense was the beginning of the Romero Effect.
The Romero Effect: Why did it take so long for governments to act? The Romero Effect. Why were so many of their solutions idiotic? The Romero Effect. How did anyone survive the combination of certain doom and continued bungling? The Romero Effect. As a singular answer to all those multi-faceted questions, the Romero Effect is absolutely reductive and absolutely accurate. First off, the term has an official definition we rarely cite. The phrase was coined by Doctor Emily Dale a year after the Crash in the same paper where she diagnosed the populace of her survivor enclave with Post-Apocalyptic Stress Syndrome (P.A.S.S). She used director George Romero's name as a label for a cadre of cognitive biases causing serious harm to the mindset of Crash survivors. I'll save you a lot of dry academic reading here and just break that list down for you that combined under the Romero Effect to almost kill us. To do so, I'll place myself in the history.
Individuals are cognitively incapable of discerning when they are lying to themselves because once they become capable of it, they've already convinced themselves they never lie. So I'm as guilty of confabulation as everyone else in the early days. I stupidly listened to appeals to authority when the news told me everything was under control, and I looked to every status update, working streetlight, and open business to fuel my confirmation bias. When I was out with friends touring a food truck festival in Denver, we heard a scream blocks away, but nobody did anything, so I didn't do anything, and we all fell for the bystander effect. And as the occurrences of odd screams, unexplained "car backfires," dogs choking mid-bark, and sprinting footfalls in the night built up the tonal landscape, I kept up my conformity to the norm of doing nothing. If I acknowledged something was going on, I'd betray my sense of self. I'm not a callous, selfish person like everyone else, my brain would repeat, silencing the terror outside as I slept in my loft apartment.
People started ranting about hordes of undead on social media. I ignored them; they'd fallen for that stupid zombie meme going around. True to the third person effect, I considered myself above such petty persuasion even as I continued listening to censored news coverage. When other people in my network started dropping out entirely, the misinformation effect convinced me they'd all just gotten tired of the zombie shit too and unplugged. They definitely hadn't been eaten. Besides, they were just internet people, not the 150 or so real people Dunbar's Number allowed my brain to consider real.
On the last day I drove down from my apartment to base, before I came to live there permanently, I saw a man in torn bloody pajamas chasing a cyclist down the street. He was screaming nonsense and crying blood as he tackled the biker onto the sidewalk. The poor guy managed to kick his attacker off and start sprinting down the street - the strangely abandoned street. The bloody guy landed in the crosswalk, prone for a few seconds. I could have run him over with my car. It might have saved a life. But what if I was misunderstanding? What if I murdered a sick man for no reason? I'd lose my job, my stuff, everything I'd ever worked for. I'd spend the rest of my life in jail, because I thought... what? Some guy was a zombie? Is watching too many movies a legal defense? Yeah, right. And so, due to loss aversion, I protected myself against a discomfort I understood rather than gamble on saving the life of a man I didn't know from a threat I couldn't comprehend.
Besides, the guy in the car behind me got out to help, my brain played the public goods game and assured me that guy would handle it. I was free to just call the cops, who didn't answer by then, and pretend like I'd done my part. At work, when we saw the first small horde descending on the base, we didn't even shoot until they jumped over our checkpoint fencing. I mean, really. We shouted and tried riot suppression on a horde of Vectors, because when we saw them, no shots rang out. Refusing to murder people is a behavior human beings have to unlearn, and even us, the goddamn US Army, failed to unlearn it. Shooting your neighbors and coworkers requires overcoming the extinction burst that tries to keep that old behavior alive. When it kept our gunners from firing the second they saw Vectors? They were already dead. Then another dumbass picked up a gun and failed even harder by failing to shoot his friend. We whittled our on-base numbers from 44 to 7 in a flash. I hid in a closet for three days. I had nothing to do but shit in a bucket, stay quiet, and relive what a fool we had been. By the time soldiers rescued us, I hadn't been cured of my biases. The memory once used to store them had been overwritten by shame.
In short, the Romero Effect is all the reasons why the human brain was fundamentally incapable of accepting the Crash's shifting reality. It also encompasses the idiocy of most reactions when cognitive dissonance failed to keep the truth out. Finally, all these cognitive biases responsible for Romero exist to keep people sane: they maintain the sense of self and filter our perceptions down to a tolerable level. Those lucky enough to survive the first two stages have their biases removed, at least in regard to the undead. But the removal of such a vital cognitive coping mechanism can drive a person insane, too. My story was repeated all over the world, and it always ended in one of three ways: people denied doom until it consumed them, they ran towards death with false confidence, or they reacted appropriately, contained the threat, and were forever scarred as a result. Disbelief. Ignorance. Acceptance. Madness.
Look, I've barely got this running and I figure if you're still alive you know this already, but in case you didn't, here we go. The Blight exists in two stages, hot and cold, and seems to have emerged initially in its hot stage. If something is running at you and screaming, its chock-full of hot blight. If its stumbling and moaning, cold. The first we call Vectors, the second we call Casualties. If you get infected, and remember, NOT EVERY BITE IS INFECTIOUS SO STOP SHOOTING YOUR FRIENDS UNTIL YOU SEE THEM SQUIRM. your timer depends on the temperature. Hot bites will send you Vector in 60 seconds or less. Cold gives you somewhere between three hours and three days to make peace with god before the cold strain in you goes hot and turns you Vec'.
Casualties: I hate the name, but its what we all seem to have agreed on. If you don't remember in the early days, reporting on the Crash was sterilized - Cincinatti wasn't eating itself in a bloodbath, it was "taking casualties." Somehow it made things better to call them that, because we all know from the movies you're not supposed to call them zombies. Onto the important parts - Casualties are slow, stupid, and attracted to sound, which makes them remarkably easy to deal with in small numbers. The problem is that's rarely how you find them - their own groaning and wheezing attracts them to each other, or you'll find buildings people took shelter in during the crash to be full of them, and STAY AWAY FROM CITIES. I am so tired of people thinking they can get around in a place like Portland, or San Francisco, or anywhere else that was home to literally hundreds of thousands of people who are all C's now. Casualties are like the weather - a little rain isn't likely to get you, but torrential rain might give you hypothermia if you're not quick to find shelter or came with the gear you needed. But don't get cocky either, asshole - it only takes one mistake to lose a chunk of arm and go Vector.
Vectors: If Casualties are like bad weather, Vectors are tornadoes and earthquakes. Leave it to the government to assign Vectors the most sterile and bureaucratic name out there, but it stuck. These "contamination vectors" are technically still alive as far as science is concerned - its just that Blight is holding the wheel. Hot Blight seems to, as far as we can tell this early in the Crash, override your brain's impulse controls. You know those videos about panicked mothers pushing cars to save their kids, or any other adrenaline moment where the human body pushes to its actual limit? That's Vectors, 24/7, so do not get comfortable on those high walls of yours and DO NOT get close, I don't care how cool you think your sword is. They last in this phase about a week or so unless killed or sufficient bodily trauma sends them into torpor. After about six hours in torpor, they pop back up as Casualties. If you see it sprinting, screaming apologies, and ripping your buddy in half at the waist, sprint the other way or put every bullet you have in it. If you're not a good shot, don't bother going for the head - you can put a Vector into torpor with enough trauma, and then just remember to bust the skull open while it naps. Take center of mass - it still needs muscles to move, and if you can disable its core, spine, or other vital parts of the muscular system, you might just get it to stumble over. Mostly? Pray you don't ever see one again. (Updating this: We're 8 years in. Vectors are naturally rarer because there are few people getting bit, so if you dumbasses could please stop eating my bandwidth by theorizing about a mutation in the Blight, that'd be nice. Less survivors --> less biting --> less Vectors --> less Vector sightings. God damn.
Casualties: I hate the name, but its what we all seem to have agreed on. If you don't remember in the early days, reporting on the Crash was sterilized - Cincinatti wasn't eating itself in a bloodbath, it was "taking casualties." Somehow it made things better to call them that, because we all know from the movies you're not supposed to call them zombies. Onto the important parts - Casualties are slow, stupid, and attracted to sound, which makes them remarkably easy to deal with in small numbers. The problem is that's rarely how you find them - their own groaning and wheezing attracts them to each other, or you'll find buildings people took shelter in during the crash to be full of them, and STAY AWAY FROM CITIES. I am so tired of people thinking they can get around in a place like Portland, or San Francisco, or anywhere else that was home to literally hundreds of thousands of people who are all C's now. Casualties are like the weather - a little rain isn't likely to get you, but torrential rain might give you hypothermia if you're not quick to find shelter or came with the gear you needed. But don't get cocky either, asshole - it only takes one mistake to lose a chunk of arm and go Vector.
Vectors: If Casualties are like bad weather, Vectors are tornadoes and earthquakes. Leave it to the government to assign Vectors the most sterile and bureaucratic name out there, but it stuck. These "contamination vectors" are technically still alive as far as science is concerned - its just that Blight is holding the wheel. Hot Blight seems to, as far as we can tell this early in the Crash, override your brain's impulse controls. You know those videos about panicked mothers pushing cars to save their kids, or any other adrenaline moment where the human body pushes to its actual limit? That's Vectors, 24/7, so do not get comfortable on those high walls of yours and DO NOT get close, I don't care how cool you think your sword is. They last in this phase about a week or so unless killed or sufficient bodily trauma sends them into torpor. After about six hours in torpor, they pop back up as Casualties. If you see it sprinting, screaming apologies, and ripping your buddy in half at the waist, sprint the other way or put every bullet you have in it. If you're not a good shot, don't bother going for the head - you can put a Vector into torpor with enough trauma, and then just remember to bust the skull open while it naps. Take center of mass - it still needs muscles to move, and if you can disable its core, spine, or other vital parts of the muscular system, you might just get it to stumble over. Mostly? Pray you don't ever see one again. (Updating this: We're 8 years in. Vectors are naturally rarer because there are few people getting bit, so if you dumbasses could please stop eating my bandwidth by theorizing about a mutation in the Blight, that'd be nice. Less survivors --> less biting --> less Vectors --> less Vector sightings. God damn.
So much for the Mighty Million Man March, right? T-Minus Never finally comes, DHQS decides its finally time to roll over Cleveland and reclaim its old steel mills for the war effort, and what do we get? Our own goddamn Stalingrad.
Cleveland was a mess during the Crash, but the city had quieted down. The occasional drone strike in non-valuable areas to obliterate herds, flying helicopters over the city to draw the dead back to the city center, and DHQS managed to blow the highways and get a perimeter established long enough to contain most of the city proper. In the interim, they put most of the suburbs to the torch or have been using them to quarter troops to man the Cleveland Perimeter, securing themselves a nice open field. Cleveland has been quiet for most of the apocalypse, choking on the dead and left to rot. The problem is Cleveland is one of the few American cities that was still housing modern steel production facilities before the Crash - America's rail network was expanding and homemade steel was politically popular, and Cleveland was roughly central to construction efforts. DHQS saw an opportunity - nearly double NUSA's steel manufacturing capabilities, get a big win to cheer on the beginning of the Reclamation, show the whole world and us rats across the river how competent they are. The Cavalry Is Coming.
The Cleveland Campaign couldn't use substantial air power like they have in other cities, though. The risk of damage to "critical infrastructure" was deemed too high, and besides, NUSA's dropped most of the bombs they have. They put snipers on the wall, blasted sound to the city, and began a slow, brutal grind of putting bullets in heads, immolating the mountains of corpses growing at the foot of the wall, and after expending hundreds of thousands of rounds, decided it was time to start pushing into the city and take it block by block. The gates opened, the few precision airstrikes DHQS was willing to authorize launched, and the Mighty Million Man March into Cleveland began.
What DHQS intel didn't realize is that, during the Crash, tens of thousands of people had tried to escape into and fortify the old abandoned subway tunnels, out of use for decades by then. They'd hoped maybe to hike to Detroit through the old tunnels maybe, or just hold out somewhere the Vectors wouldn't get them, who knows, but the airstrikes loosened up the old rubble. As DHQS forces swept the city, all hell broke loose. Casualties came crawling up out of the ground in zones that had been declared clear, conscripts panicked, and the trucks delivering ammunition to the front lines found themselves blocked off by shambling herds. Command ordered a full retreat, the rear guard crumbled, and thousands of conscripts and veterans alike got trapped. Soldiers got bit - they went hot, and Vector outbreaks ripped through units and sent troops fleeing for any shelter they could find. Some made it back to the wall, but most didn't. Millions of dollars worth of DHQS equipment, training, and thousands of lives were lost in the first catastrophic bungling of the Reclamation. If you see a DHQS guy, gaunt, dead-look in his eyes, and a tally count scarred on his arm? That's a count of days stuck in Cleveland, living on vermin and rations he scrounged from the bodies of his dead friends. DHQS calls them heroes, the sort of men we need to take the country back. I met one - seems more like a ghost to me.
The second push came more than thirty days later as reserve troops reached Cleveland with additional supplies. Mortars were authorized - there's no telling how many of those killed survivors trapped in the city, but they did blow it to hell. DHQS has Cleveland now, and they're resettling it to get the old steel mills running. Maybe in a decade we'll know if it was worth it.
Cleveland was a mess during the Crash, but the city had quieted down. The occasional drone strike in non-valuable areas to obliterate herds, flying helicopters over the city to draw the dead back to the city center, and DHQS managed to blow the highways and get a perimeter established long enough to contain most of the city proper. In the interim, they put most of the suburbs to the torch or have been using them to quarter troops to man the Cleveland Perimeter, securing themselves a nice open field. Cleveland has been quiet for most of the apocalypse, choking on the dead and left to rot. The problem is Cleveland is one of the few American cities that was still housing modern steel production facilities before the Crash - America's rail network was expanding and homemade steel was politically popular, and Cleveland was roughly central to construction efforts. DHQS saw an opportunity - nearly double NUSA's steel manufacturing capabilities, get a big win to cheer on the beginning of the Reclamation, show the whole world and us rats across the river how competent they are. The Cavalry Is Coming.
The Cleveland Campaign couldn't use substantial air power like they have in other cities, though. The risk of damage to "critical infrastructure" was deemed too high, and besides, NUSA's dropped most of the bombs they have. They put snipers on the wall, blasted sound to the city, and began a slow, brutal grind of putting bullets in heads, immolating the mountains of corpses growing at the foot of the wall, and after expending hundreds of thousands of rounds, decided it was time to start pushing into the city and take it block by block. The gates opened, the few precision airstrikes DHQS was willing to authorize launched, and the Mighty Million Man March into Cleveland began.
What DHQS intel didn't realize is that, during the Crash, tens of thousands of people had tried to escape into and fortify the old abandoned subway tunnels, out of use for decades by then. They'd hoped maybe to hike to Detroit through the old tunnels maybe, or just hold out somewhere the Vectors wouldn't get them, who knows, but the airstrikes loosened up the old rubble. As DHQS forces swept the city, all hell broke loose. Casualties came crawling up out of the ground in zones that had been declared clear, conscripts panicked, and the trucks delivering ammunition to the front lines found themselves blocked off by shambling herds. Command ordered a full retreat, the rear guard crumbled, and thousands of conscripts and veterans alike got trapped. Soldiers got bit - they went hot, and Vector outbreaks ripped through units and sent troops fleeing for any shelter they could find. Some made it back to the wall, but most didn't. Millions of dollars worth of DHQS equipment, training, and thousands of lives were lost in the first catastrophic bungling of the Reclamation. If you see a DHQS guy, gaunt, dead-look in his eyes, and a tally count scarred on his arm? That's a count of days stuck in Cleveland, living on vermin and rations he scrounged from the bodies of his dead friends. DHQS calls them heroes, the sort of men we need to take the country back. I met one - seems more like a ghost to me.
The second push came more than thirty days later as reserve troops reached Cleveland with additional supplies. Mortars were authorized - there's no telling how many of those killed survivors trapped in the city, but they did blow it to hell. DHQS has Cleveland now, and they're resettling it to get the old steel mills running. Maybe in a decade we'll know if it was worth it.
A surprisingly cogent piece I found on the forums for you guys. Enjoy.
"The Crash kicked down all the old pillars of faith. Jesus, Mohammad, all the gods refused to save us. Science stammers over its explanations. History was caught off-guard. The "absent" heavens seemed to dismiss atheist dismissal by raining down hell. Democracy sold out its citizens and retreated into dystopic fascism. Afterwards, what was left to build on the ashes? Maybe some enclaves or sheltered easterners harbor the old beliefs still, but anyone that has spent time deep in the West is likely to invest in a new delusion or kill themselves. Criminals and rebels may have fled to the comforting realities of capitalism and politics, the only gods capable of weathering the Blight, but others have found.. deeper faiths. I recognize my faith may be madness. Religion, like madness, is never diminished by introspection.
The Meek: Obviously it is important to keep believers in perspective. To dismiss them as crazy is wrong, dangerous, and selfish. But even I must begin with a group that invented every negative stereotype, as hatred never seems more justified than when considering the Meek. The "theology" of the Meek, if you could call it that, is that the Blight is holy. It came to earth to save mankind and grant eternal life. The great sin of mankind is that we have fought this enlightenment. The Meek themselves resisted the change, but they regret it. In a sick quest for redemption, they seek to "save" as many as possible before becoming Vectors themselves. They do this by spreading the infection. Meek cultists have smuggled themselves into enclaves, injected syringes of hot Blight into their necks, suicide bombings via Vector outbreak. They've dropped casualties by helicopter into enclaves or east of the river. They erect traps along trade routes rigged to release floods of casualties onto passing traders. They've raided enclaves, kidnapped children from schools, and returned them as Vectors. No one knows how people become Meek. They don't have meetings. They don't write books. They don't recruit through anything save murder, but somehow, they always find each other. Most burn out after their first suicidal act of worship, but some have been mass murdering for years, refusing to taste Blight themselves until the last of the living are infected. They are a mockery of faith, a virus, a suicidal impulse that demands company. Of all believers, they are the only group that is completely, hopelessly insane. Killing one does it a favor.
Shepherds: Most consider becoming a casualty interchangeable with dead. To consider anything worse weighs down life with even more fear. To think of infection as another form of life is to invite more guilt than most can stand. Yet the truth and what people rationalize rarely intersects. We know that a Vector's apologies echo from its last life. Casualties roam their old homes. Something of the soul remains. Shepherds do not turn away from this truth. They refuse to slay Casualties or Vectors. The source of the pacifism varies. Some sects believe the Blight will one day be cured, and they've a responsibility to protect its sufferers. Some refuse violence out of a sense of naturalism, the way a hunter would refrain from shooting a lion. Christianity or other old religions stay hands, as do a sheer inability to put down infected family members. Shepherds do not fight the Blight, even if it means death. Many believe them to be the early stage of turning Meek, and many hate them for herding "flocks" of casualties into unexpected places, but I've never met a Shepherd with an ounce of malice. They do not fool themselves - killing a Casualty is murder, perhaps a merciful one, but murder.
The Black Math:
When a Vector kills, it reduces the human population, creating a new Vector in minutes. When a casualty kills, it snuffs out another human life and might create another Vector in days. When a human kills, it might kill one of its own. Even if it slays a casualty, it doesn’t reproduce in the process. Making a new human takes nine months, and it’s more than a decade before it can fight. The math is not on our side. The Black Math realizes this. They recruit from the most hardened and desperate veterans of the apocalypse: rebels burnt-out after five years of hopeless war, scavengers that have lost entire crews, raiders gone vacant-eyed with slaughter. They propose a simple argument. “You are broken,” the Math says. If humanity survives, it will not be with one so thoroughly used and spent. But humanity will not survive. Every person on earth could kill a casualty tomorrow, and we would still be wiped out. The only hope is for some among us — the truly strong — to carry the bulk of the duty themselves. There may be nothing good left inside a broken survivor like you, but holiness is defined solely by the number of monsters you slay. Salvation is in the slaughter and slaughter alone. The Black Math are ascetics that worship a kill/death ratio. Piety is measured in casualties slain. Most mathematicians form crews that exclusively accept extermination contracts. They spend resources only on the bare essentials; all else goes towards weapons and ammunition. Some go on for years like this, but retirement isn’t an option and the goal isn’t survival. The goal is to die in what the members refer to as “A Significant Subtraction.”
The Chosen: The Chosen are criticized as Blight worshipers, but how exactly is that worship carried out? What has a Latent done except be bitten or injected? How would the Blight even receive our praise? Every day, Latents live with an alien creature in their veins. It protects them from its wrath even as it murders millions, defying all earthly science in the process. What should they call this thing? An infection? Bad luck? “God” is the only name that fits, but the cleans feel as if that name is synonymous with love. We don’t live in your children’s tales with pantheons of imaginary friends! Our god forces itself inside us. It announces its arrival with agony and black veins. A god does not need to love you, precisely because it is a god. You don’t need to love it back to be in its thrall. Acknowledge the fact that the Latent are better equipped to survive in this world than any other. Recognize that the Blight is greater than humanity by far, and the bodies it spares from its endless hunger are part of a larger plan. Accept the plan is beyond understanding and control. Take comfort in the certainty that Latents shall play a role. See the sinews in your flesh as what they are: badges of terrible purpose. This is all it means to be Chosen. There are denominational squabbles: immune-tolerant, naturals-only, Supressin-evangelical, etc. These details are paltry in comparison to our single truth. Latency is a divine calling.
Triage:
Being Chosen is about Latents learning to accept the role forced upon them. A portion of the weak, jealous cleans cannot tolerate this truth. They’ve invented cosmology around this hate. Members of Triage won’t admit to being believers, insisting instead they are a movement of concerned citizens. But once they start talking, it’s only a matter of time before they start spewing fantasies more absurd than any religious text. A favorite starting point is the “new studies” that prove the Blight can covertly infect the brains of Latents, turning them into brainwashed sleeper agents. If trying to infiltrate a traditional faith community, they’ll hand out pamphlets about how God warned mankind about Latents with “the mark of Cain.” Eventually, the message becomes action. Triage takes to the streets to protect the citizenry from gangs of Latents playing the “infection game” as ritual initiation into the “Chosen death cult.” They burn down clinics that produce side-effect treatments so that the Latents can’t “boost their infection airborne.” Given enough time, they’ll find a Latent in hiding, don hazmat suits, and lynch the poor fool. As the innocent dies, they’ll film propaganda ads about the danger of latency. They make certain to catch footage of the body turning Vector before slowly chopping off the restrained creature’s limbs, saving the head for last like children torturing butterflies. The old prejudices are as strong as always, but the Crash reduced many who thought themselves progressive to the pure line of hatred that runs through all humanity. These broken things believe they’re “protecting the children,” making the “hard choices,” or whatever other rationalizations speeds them toward the next fix of rage.
"The Crash kicked down all the old pillars of faith. Jesus, Mohammad, all the gods refused to save us. Science stammers over its explanations. History was caught off-guard. The "absent" heavens seemed to dismiss atheist dismissal by raining down hell. Democracy sold out its citizens and retreated into dystopic fascism. Afterwards, what was left to build on the ashes? Maybe some enclaves or sheltered easterners harbor the old beliefs still, but anyone that has spent time deep in the West is likely to invest in a new delusion or kill themselves. Criminals and rebels may have fled to the comforting realities of capitalism and politics, the only gods capable of weathering the Blight, but others have found.. deeper faiths. I recognize my faith may be madness. Religion, like madness, is never diminished by introspection.
The Meek: Obviously it is important to keep believers in perspective. To dismiss them as crazy is wrong, dangerous, and selfish. But even I must begin with a group that invented every negative stereotype, as hatred never seems more justified than when considering the Meek. The "theology" of the Meek, if you could call it that, is that the Blight is holy. It came to earth to save mankind and grant eternal life. The great sin of mankind is that we have fought this enlightenment. The Meek themselves resisted the change, but they regret it. In a sick quest for redemption, they seek to "save" as many as possible before becoming Vectors themselves. They do this by spreading the infection. Meek cultists have smuggled themselves into enclaves, injected syringes of hot Blight into their necks, suicide bombings via Vector outbreak. They've dropped casualties by helicopter into enclaves or east of the river. They erect traps along trade routes rigged to release floods of casualties onto passing traders. They've raided enclaves, kidnapped children from schools, and returned them as Vectors. No one knows how people become Meek. They don't have meetings. They don't write books. They don't recruit through anything save murder, but somehow, they always find each other. Most burn out after their first suicidal act of worship, but some have been mass murdering for years, refusing to taste Blight themselves until the last of the living are infected. They are a mockery of faith, a virus, a suicidal impulse that demands company. Of all believers, they are the only group that is completely, hopelessly insane. Killing one does it a favor.
Shepherds: Most consider becoming a casualty interchangeable with dead. To consider anything worse weighs down life with even more fear. To think of infection as another form of life is to invite more guilt than most can stand. Yet the truth and what people rationalize rarely intersects. We know that a Vector's apologies echo from its last life. Casualties roam their old homes. Something of the soul remains. Shepherds do not turn away from this truth. They refuse to slay Casualties or Vectors. The source of the pacifism varies. Some sects believe the Blight will one day be cured, and they've a responsibility to protect its sufferers. Some refuse violence out of a sense of naturalism, the way a hunter would refrain from shooting a lion. Christianity or other old religions stay hands, as do a sheer inability to put down infected family members. Shepherds do not fight the Blight, even if it means death. Many believe them to be the early stage of turning Meek, and many hate them for herding "flocks" of casualties into unexpected places, but I've never met a Shepherd with an ounce of malice. They do not fool themselves - killing a Casualty is murder, perhaps a merciful one, but murder.
The Black Math:
When a Vector kills, it reduces the human population, creating a new Vector in minutes. When a casualty kills, it snuffs out another human life and might create another Vector in days. When a human kills, it might kill one of its own. Even if it slays a casualty, it doesn’t reproduce in the process. Making a new human takes nine months, and it’s more than a decade before it can fight. The math is not on our side. The Black Math realizes this. They recruit from the most hardened and desperate veterans of the apocalypse: rebels burnt-out after five years of hopeless war, scavengers that have lost entire crews, raiders gone vacant-eyed with slaughter. They propose a simple argument. “You are broken,” the Math says. If humanity survives, it will not be with one so thoroughly used and spent. But humanity will not survive. Every person on earth could kill a casualty tomorrow, and we would still be wiped out. The only hope is for some among us — the truly strong — to carry the bulk of the duty themselves. There may be nothing good left inside a broken survivor like you, but holiness is defined solely by the number of monsters you slay. Salvation is in the slaughter and slaughter alone. The Black Math are ascetics that worship a kill/death ratio. Piety is measured in casualties slain. Most mathematicians form crews that exclusively accept extermination contracts. They spend resources only on the bare essentials; all else goes towards weapons and ammunition. Some go on for years like this, but retirement isn’t an option and the goal isn’t survival. The goal is to die in what the members refer to as “A Significant Subtraction.”
The Chosen: The Chosen are criticized as Blight worshipers, but how exactly is that worship carried out? What has a Latent done except be bitten or injected? How would the Blight even receive our praise? Every day, Latents live with an alien creature in their veins. It protects them from its wrath even as it murders millions, defying all earthly science in the process. What should they call this thing? An infection? Bad luck? “God” is the only name that fits, but the cleans feel as if that name is synonymous with love. We don’t live in your children’s tales with pantheons of imaginary friends! Our god forces itself inside us. It announces its arrival with agony and black veins. A god does not need to love you, precisely because it is a god. You don’t need to love it back to be in its thrall. Acknowledge the fact that the Latent are better equipped to survive in this world than any other. Recognize that the Blight is greater than humanity by far, and the bodies it spares from its endless hunger are part of a larger plan. Accept the plan is beyond understanding and control. Take comfort in the certainty that Latents shall play a role. See the sinews in your flesh as what they are: badges of terrible purpose. This is all it means to be Chosen. There are denominational squabbles: immune-tolerant, naturals-only, Supressin-evangelical, etc. These details are paltry in comparison to our single truth. Latency is a divine calling.
Triage:
Being Chosen is about Latents learning to accept the role forced upon them. A portion of the weak, jealous cleans cannot tolerate this truth. They’ve invented cosmology around this hate. Members of Triage won’t admit to being believers, insisting instead they are a movement of concerned citizens. But once they start talking, it’s only a matter of time before they start spewing fantasies more absurd than any religious text. A favorite starting point is the “new studies” that prove the Blight can covertly infect the brains of Latents, turning them into brainwashed sleeper agents. If trying to infiltrate a traditional faith community, they’ll hand out pamphlets about how God warned mankind about Latents with “the mark of Cain.” Eventually, the message becomes action. Triage takes to the streets to protect the citizenry from gangs of Latents playing the “infection game” as ritual initiation into the “Chosen death cult.” They burn down clinics that produce side-effect treatments so that the Latents can’t “boost their infection airborne.” Given enough time, they’ll find a Latent in hiding, don hazmat suits, and lynch the poor fool. As the innocent dies, they’ll film propaganda ads about the danger of latency. They make certain to catch footage of the body turning Vector before slowly chopping off the restrained creature’s limbs, saving the head for last like children torturing butterflies. The old prejudices are as strong as always, but the Crash reduced many who thought themselves progressive to the pure line of hatred that runs through all humanity. These broken things believe they’re “protecting the children,” making the “hard choices,” or whatever other rationalizations speeds them toward the next fix of rage.
Last edited:
queendilettante
🤍 Heart Problems 🤍
The following is a Radio Broadcast from the NUSA Famous journalist and report, Mike Yuan, with the self appointed and self sustained governor of The Mall, Daniel Jones.
Mike: Hey folks! Here we are with the Governor of The Mall himself, Daniel Jones. Mr. Jones, thanks so much for being here with me today.
Jones: Not at all, Mike, happy to talk about this wonderful little safe haven we’ve built for ourselves!
Mike: It is wonderful, I can hardly believe it myself! But that’s neither here nor there, let’s get right to it! Give it to me straight, Mr. Jones. The Mall: How’d you find a building in such good shape?
Jones: To be honest, none of us could believe The Mall was untouched. Four whole years after the world ended and a group of us just stumbled upon this mall in the middle of Missouri that looked like it never checked the “Zombie Apocalypse” notification. If it weren’t for the total lack of people and all of the dust everywhere, you’d think the mall was just closed for the day.
Mike: That’s amazing.
Jones: Right? I mean, with luck that great, how could we not decide to stay here? Prebuilt walls, strong enough doors, solar panels on the roof, and enough clothes to last the dozen and a half of us original founders a lifetime. It took almost a full day to make sure the entire building was secure, but once we did, nothing was gonna convince us to leave.
Mike: I mean, surely it didn’t just fall into your lap with no challenges, right?
Jones: Oh, no no no no. The hardest part was broadcasting ourselves as a safe haven to any other passersby. We figured the first thing to do would be to get the electricity up and running. Thank God, that fickle motherfucker himself, that we had a pre-Crash electrician with us. He had to do everything by himself though. I mean, Christ, the hell was I going to do? Stare at a fucking wire? Ahahahaha. Not likely. The electrician... What was his name? Fuck, I should know this… Uh… fuck. Hey, hey! Angie! An- Yes, you dumb fu-..., I’m talking to you. Sorry man, I know you’re busy. Please cut all of this out from the broadca- Angie! What the fuck are you doing? Mike, I’m so sorry, this whore’s got more tits than braincells, but-
Angie: Fuck you, Danny! Fuck you and fuck Eddy.
Jones: Eddy! That was his name. Leave, Angie, I’m working. So sorry about this let’s cut all of that, alright Mike?
Mike: Uhm, Mr. Jones, we’re live-
Jones: So yes, the electrician with us, Eddy, he was a lifesaver. It only took him a few days to get the solar panels wired exclusively to the mall and it’s parking lot. I can’t believe he did it! I mean, those pre-Crash electric companies tried to make that shit impossible, right? They didn’t want you to just, use your own electric, did they?
Mike: Oh… Uhm, I’m not entirely sure myse-
Jones: Eh, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Eddy the electrician saved our asses. It’s a goddamn shame he fell off the roof a few months ago. Everyone’s been heartbroken ever since. I mean, Christ, Eddy, he was basically my brother, Mike!
Mike: I’m sure that must have been terrible, Mr. Jones.
Jones: It was, seriously. God, poor Ed.
Mike: Well, uh, let’s move on, shall we! You've gotta be nearing a few thousand people here now, right? How’d you get them all?
Jones: I’m telling you, Mike, once what’s his face got the lights on, it was like moths to a fuckin’ flame. Dianne, my ex-wife, Satan take her, told me that it was a waste of power to run the parking lot lights at night. But nope! I did not listen to her and look where it got us! When people started seeing lights on at night, they realized we were safe.
Mike: What did they do once they got here?
Jones: It depended. At first, most people just needed shelter and, you know, god, I’m not a psycho, Mike. We weren’t gonna turn those poor souls back into the fuckin’ hellscape outside! They just needed to work for it!
Mike: Work for it?
Jones: Well, yes, of course. Here at The Mall, we all work together to keep ourselves safe and the settlement running smoothly. Naturally, since we founded this oasis, the dozen and a half of us founders comprise the government, and the immigrants and merchants cover the rest.
Mike: Does anyone else have a say in local politics?
Jones: Oh, of course! The merchants have a seat at any meeting they want to attend, of course. And the immigrants, you know, all of the people that just live here, they have their chance too! Every 6 months, they get to elect a representative. The Immigrant Rep gets to attend every third meeting to advocate for the problems facing the common people here at The Mall.
Mike: How incredibly… generous of you, Mr. Jones.
Jones: I’m so glad you think so!
Mike: But, you mentioned the merchants! How did The Mall become such a bazaar?
Jones: Where else? Hahahaha. No but seriously, where the hell else? We got walls, sections of stores from pre-Crash, and more room than we need. Merchants come here, rent our space, and they’re free to set up shop in one of the many storefronts! With their rent and a reasonable tax, they’re free to stay here and make all of us money for as long as they want!
Mike: Seems you’re a real paradise here, Mr. Jones.
Jones: That’s what all of us here at The Mall think!
Mike: So, if you don’t mind me asking, what do the immigrants do?
Jones: Work! There’s always cleaning, upkeep, cooking, repairs, and farming to be done!
Mike: What about security?
Jones: Oh, we have a separate Security Department. They handle all merchant escort missions and securing the property. They’re the backbone of this settlement, through and through! ‘Should probly give them a raise soon, now that it’s on my mind…
Mike: Oh, so does everyone get paid for the work they do?
Jones: Do you take me for a slaver, Mike? Of course, anyone not pulling in cash as a merchant isn’t going to get rich, but it’s the idea of it that matters, right? Afterall, better in here than out there.
Mike: Too true. *clears throat* Well, that was certainly quite the interview! Is there anything you’d like to add, Mr. Jones?
Jones: The Mall is the Oasis of the West! We have everything you need and we’re really a family here. All of, from top to the very very bottom, work together to turn the cogs of this wheel. We’re a little slice of pre-Crash America that isn’t going anywhere!
Mike: You heard it here first, folks! Thanks so much for your time, Mr. Jones!
Jones: It’s been a pleasure, Matt!
Jones: Not at all, Mike, happy to talk about this wonderful little safe haven we’ve built for ourselves!
Mike: It is wonderful, I can hardly believe it myself! But that’s neither here nor there, let’s get right to it! Give it to me straight, Mr. Jones. The Mall: How’d you find a building in such good shape?
Jones: To be honest, none of us could believe The Mall was untouched. Four whole years after the world ended and a group of us just stumbled upon this mall in the middle of Missouri that looked like it never checked the “Zombie Apocalypse” notification. If it weren’t for the total lack of people and all of the dust everywhere, you’d think the mall was just closed for the day.
Mike: That’s amazing.
Jones: Right? I mean, with luck that great, how could we not decide to stay here? Prebuilt walls, strong enough doors, solar panels on the roof, and enough clothes to last the dozen and a half of us original founders a lifetime. It took almost a full day to make sure the entire building was secure, but once we did, nothing was gonna convince us to leave.
Mike: I mean, surely it didn’t just fall into your lap with no challenges, right?
Jones: Oh, no no no no. The hardest part was broadcasting ourselves as a safe haven to any other passersby. We figured the first thing to do would be to get the electricity up and running. Thank God, that fickle motherfucker himself, that we had a pre-Crash electrician with us. He had to do everything by himself though. I mean, Christ, the hell was I going to do? Stare at a fucking wire? Ahahahaha. Not likely. The electrician... What was his name? Fuck, I should know this… Uh… fuck. Hey, hey! Angie! An- Yes, you dumb fu-..., I’m talking to you. Sorry man, I know you’re busy. Please cut all of this out from the broadca- Angie! What the fuck are you doing? Mike, I’m so sorry, this whore’s got more tits than braincells, but-
Angie: Fuck you, Danny! Fuck you and fuck Eddy.
Jones: Eddy! That was his name. Leave, Angie, I’m working. So sorry about this let’s cut all of that, alright Mike?
Mike: Uhm, Mr. Jones, we’re live-
Jones: So yes, the electrician with us, Eddy, he was a lifesaver. It only took him a few days to get the solar panels wired exclusively to the mall and it’s parking lot. I can’t believe he did it! I mean, those pre-Crash electric companies tried to make that shit impossible, right? They didn’t want you to just, use your own electric, did they?
Mike: Oh… Uhm, I’m not entirely sure myse-
Jones: Eh, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that Eddy the electrician saved our asses. It’s a goddamn shame he fell off the roof a few months ago. Everyone’s been heartbroken ever since. I mean, Christ, Eddy, he was basically my brother, Mike!
Mike: I’m sure that must have been terrible, Mr. Jones.
Jones: It was, seriously. God, poor Ed.
Mike: Well, uh, let’s move on, shall we! You've gotta be nearing a few thousand people here now, right? How’d you get them all?
Jones: I’m telling you, Mike, once what’s his face got the lights on, it was like moths to a fuckin’ flame. Dianne, my ex-wife, Satan take her, told me that it was a waste of power to run the parking lot lights at night. But nope! I did not listen to her and look where it got us! When people started seeing lights on at night, they realized we were safe.
Mike: What did they do once they got here?
Jones: It depended. At first, most people just needed shelter and, you know, god, I’m not a psycho, Mike. We weren’t gonna turn those poor souls back into the fuckin’ hellscape outside! They just needed to work for it!
Mike: Work for it?
Jones: Well, yes, of course. Here at The Mall, we all work together to keep ourselves safe and the settlement running smoothly. Naturally, since we founded this oasis, the dozen and a half of us founders comprise the government, and the immigrants and merchants cover the rest.
Mike: Does anyone else have a say in local politics?
Jones: Oh, of course! The merchants have a seat at any meeting they want to attend, of course. And the immigrants, you know, all of the people that just live here, they have their chance too! Every 6 months, they get to elect a representative. The Immigrant Rep gets to attend every third meeting to advocate for the problems facing the common people here at The Mall.
Mike: How incredibly… generous of you, Mr. Jones.
Jones: I’m so glad you think so!
Mike: But, you mentioned the merchants! How did The Mall become such a bazaar?
Jones: Where else? Hahahaha. No but seriously, where the hell else? We got walls, sections of stores from pre-Crash, and more room than we need. Merchants come here, rent our space, and they’re free to set up shop in one of the many storefronts! With their rent and a reasonable tax, they’re free to stay here and make all of us money for as long as they want!
Mike: Seems you’re a real paradise here, Mr. Jones.
Jones: That’s what all of us here at The Mall think!
Mike: So, if you don’t mind me asking, what do the immigrants do?
Jones: Work! There’s always cleaning, upkeep, cooking, repairs, and farming to be done!
Mike: What about security?
Jones: Oh, we have a separate Security Department. They handle all merchant escort missions and securing the property. They’re the backbone of this settlement, through and through! ‘Should probly give them a raise soon, now that it’s on my mind…
Mike: Oh, so does everyone get paid for the work they do?
Jones: Do you take me for a slaver, Mike? Of course, anyone not pulling in cash as a merchant isn’t going to get rich, but it’s the idea of it that matters, right? Afterall, better in here than out there.
Mike: Too true. *clears throat* Well, that was certainly quite the interview! Is there anything you’d like to add, Mr. Jones?
Jones: The Mall is the Oasis of the West! We have everything you need and we’re really a family here. All of, from top to the very very bottom, work together to turn the cogs of this wheel. We’re a little slice of pre-Crash America that isn’t going anywhere!
Mike: You heard it here first, folks! Thanks so much for your time, Mr. Jones!
Jones: It’s been a pleasure, Matt!
Last edited:
queendilettante
🤍 Heart Problems 🤍
The following is a leaked copy of The Mall's Immigrant Orientation Form written by Founder Kat Roberts.
Welcome To The Mall!
**PLEASE NOTE: If you are a new merchant arrival, this orientation form is not for you and should be disregarded. Please contact the nearest Founder, Security Department liaison, or your Zone’s elected representative for the correct form.**
Hello and welcome to our glorious little Oasis west of the Mississippi River, The Mall. My name is Kat Roberts, and I’m here to guide all of the new immigrants into settling into life at The Mall swiftly and painlessly. When us Founders reclaimed this mall, the last thing any of us expected was that we would reach the heights that we have today; all we dreamed was that we’d be able to help people. Thanks in no small part to Governor Jones’ unrivaled ambition and leadership prowess, The Mall was able to become a beacon of hope for all lost souls in this desolate and forgotten world. We’re so glad you’ve safely found us. Welcome home.
Throughout this orientation, I will speak with you frankly on all of the ins and outs of life and prosperity at The Mall. As a new immigrant to The Mall, you have a set of rights and responsibilities corresponding to your Immigration Status; all of us understand that we have to work together in order to keep our Oasis fruitful! Keep in mind, as this is as good a time as any to address the elephant in the room: your surrendered weapon(s) will be returned to you as soon as we finish your welcome interview and you agree to the terms of the form. Please do not harass any of our staff about your gun(s) until you have completed all steps for immigration.
Outdoor Layout:
Anywho! Let’s start off with the general layout of The Mall. Let’s start with the outside, which if you’re reading this, you’ve already seen at least part of! Every day, we’re making strides toward reclaiming Columbia, MO., so the current area of our control could have already expanded beyond what this form indicates! But, as it stands now, the first checkpoint you probably passed through was one of the many gates on our triple-buffer fence around the perimeter of our secured area! Thanks to the trade we’ve established with different settlements across the west and the importance of our limited-but-ever-expanding manufacturing, we were able to secure a bigger area of safety than we ever dreamed! Generous donations from neighboring settlements as well have enabled us to reliably secure a multi-acre swath of land on all sides of The Mall. We are forever indebted to the sacrifices made to allow us to have the resources for the fencing and gates.
The Western Outdoor Area is protected by the outer triple-buffered fencing and extends almost a mile from the next fenced area. The fields we’ve set up with seeds donated to us by some of the wonderful neighboring settlements that used to populate the area enable us to be self reliant during periods of low trade or external food shortages. It’s not enough food to sustain ourselves independently year round, but through the free trade we welcome from all settlements, everyone is able to thrive! In addition to the fields, there is a small area of woods for any nature types to have a getaway, a controlled bamboo forest for paper products, a stable for the horses we’ve protected, found, and bred since The Crash, and an old church with a graveyard. If you’re spiritual, feel free to sit in this nondenominational place of worship and pray to your gods, but know that the second floor and the basement are used as important outposts for the Security Department!
The Eastern Outdoor Area is much smaller, only .2 miles across and half a mile North-South, but is filled with secured and maintained buildings! One of the most important structures within the EOA is the pre-Crash body shop. Security Department leader and mechanic extraordinaire, Sybille Rayne, has assisted us in transforming the old auto parts store into an unparalleled location for any mechanical needs: Rayney Day Mechanics. All of The Mall’s reclaimed and proprietary vehicles are produced, maintained, and repaired under her and her trained mechanics’ watchful eyes. When machinery fails, head to RDM and they’ll fix any problem for a modest price!
In addition to RDM, the EOA houses most of The Mall’s manufacturing. Nothing is quite on the level of a pre-Crash factory, but through good ol’ fashioned Mallovation, we have procured the ability to produce some necessary supplies. Naturally, raw materials are a separate problem entirely, but through the manufacturing buildings within the EOA, we have limited textile, metallurgy, and glasswork capabilities in addition to the mechanical prowess of RDM. By renovating buildings with the EOA, we’re able to use our friends and allies across the West to trade for materials that we can turn into something beneficial for all of us; such is the joy of cooperation with The Mall!
The final zone within the triple-buffer area is to the north. The Northern Outdoor Area houses very little in and of itself. The NOA, in addition to an added buffer for the inner zones, serves as a quarantine facility. New arrivals are always escorted by the Security Department, so you probably didn’t go through Quarantine, but whenever any immigrant or citizen returns to The Mall, they are required to be kept in Quarantine for 15 minutes. It’s mostly performative, as we all know that infections happen in much less time than 15 minutes, but it’s an extra security blanket that helps ease the minds of our civilians with all of the coming and going.
As you can tell, we take security incredibly seriously! Depending on which direction you entered from, you may have passed through another double-buffer gated area. This zone, the Double-Buffer Outer Area (DBOA), is much closer to the central area of The Mall, making it all the more important for us to have our wonderful Security Department patrol that area closely. In the novel event that one of the triple-buffer outer fence sections are breached by bandits or the infected, the internal double-buffer fencing will easily prove enough to contain it.
There are many renovated buildings within the DBOA! Many merchants like to sell to the Security Department and other helpful Immigrants as they come and go on missions. In addition to that, the super-hardy GMO crops we’ve developed proprietarily for our fields are processed and shipped across The Mall from Honorary Chef Linda’s store! Since you’re reading this on paper, you may be wondering how that’s crafted! Well, Zach’s Paper Supply, owned by the Founder himself, Zach Williams, manages bamboo that was found growing in a pre-Crash store within The Mall. Our newspaper, The Daily Mall, this pamphlet, and all other Mall-produced paper products like tax forms are produced and distributed from Zach’s! Plus, like every other zone both in and outside, the Security Department has numerous outposts inside the DBOA. Similarly to the roofs of all outer buildings, The Mall SD created and maintains a network of pathways between buildings for sentries to patrol and keep all of us safe! Once you’re cleared for immigration, make sure to take a stroll through the DBOA and say hi to Captain Marissa of the SD!
Step inside to the final outer area of The Mall! Within the Outer Zones, The Mall’s yard space is protected with a 10 foot wall running around a limited perimeter. The two gates (Northern and Eastern) within the wall can be raised and lowered by Security Department guards on either side. This Wall Area is a last resort protection that is much harder to breach than any buffered fencing. We have never been faced with such a crisis, but the Wall exists to protect us from the possibility!
Despite being the smallest outdoor area next to the NOA, the WA is densely populated! The first thing to catch most eyes is the Outdoor Medical Pavilion, a large tent staffed by some of our doctors. It’s not the main hospital wing, don’t worry, but it’s easier to access and more open than our primary medical wing. You will appreciate it if you ever twist your ankle out by the church! Next to the Outdoor Medical Pavilion is the primary Security Department Building. Originally a cafe/bookstore, the Security Department transformed the small building in the parking lot into a thriving headquarters! Plus, word on the street is that 5-Star General, Larry Della, makes a mean cup of coffee! The second floor of their headquarters doubles as a barracks, but the SD soldiers also have housing inside the main rectangular stretch of The Mall proper. Of course, all outdoor outposts have beds as well.
Many people that prefer the outdoor air prefer to sleep in tents outside! That is always an option, and the Tent Quarter of the Wall Area is where those members of The Mall Family set up their spaces! The benefits of such a living arrangement is dedicated personal space, but you miss out on our indoor air conditioning! Outside in the WA, we also store our property-traversing vehicles! Various carts and other motorized vehicles are stored here for special use. Make sure you never try to drive one without permission, however! I hear Captain Ishikawa gets angry when people touch his prized cars!
Inside Layout
Now that we’ve finally covered most of the outdoor space, let’s head inside, shall we? The Mall itself is comprised of five main anchor stores, plus a sixth smaller anchor-adjacent store. These five main anchor stores are connected to each other through a large rectangular area between them. All areas in The Mall have three floors in addition to limited basement space and the roof. Pre-Crash, the anchor stores were Target, JCPenney, Barnes & Noble, Level Up Entertainment, Macy’s, and the much smaller diagonally connected anchor store, Nordstrom. Of course, none of those failed corporations exist anymore! Instead, we’ve rejuvenated life into the areas by giving them new purpose!
Most of the western store formerly known as Target is now the Hospital Wing. The first floor has been converted into receptionist areas, waiting areas for patients, and small sections for medical professionals to see them about smaller problems. The second floor is where our expert medical team handles all serious operations and attempts life saving procedures. The third floor includes a recovery area for patients, the Mall Primary Health Insurance office (of which all civilians are encouraged to buy!), numerous supply closets, and a R&R area for our medical staff! We sincerely hope that, as an immigrant to The Mall, you never have to spend any time in our Hospital Wing, but know you’re in great hands if you do!
The Barnes & Noble, the northernmost store, is the best merchant real estate in The Mall! As the entrance to The Mall from the primary WA gate, most immigrants, SD officers, and even Founders come through Barnes & Noble to get home! Stalls have been set up on all floors for your enjoyment and consumption needs!
JCPenney, The Mall’s southernmost anchor store, is home to the Founders! Truly, the Founders live like everyone, but as government officials, they require that their housing be separate. After all, running such a kingdom is taxing on the mind and body! Civilians are not allowed inside JCPenney without an invitation, so there’s no need to worry yourself on the Founders’ living space!
Macy’s, the southwestern anchor store, is a grab bag of different places! The basement has been converted into prisons for our less-than-reputable civilians, the first floor functions as a Security Department office, the second floor as the Founders’ legislative and political offices, and the third floor as a power room. Keeping the solar panels and all generated electricity operable and manageable from one location easily allows our electricians to isolate and respond to any incidents.
The final main anchor store, the northeastern Level Up Entertainment remains truest in spirit to its purpose pre-Crash. The third floor of LUE has been revamped into an entertainment venue for our musically inclined immigrants! During special occasions, the Founders will hire notable Mall musicians and other entertainers to perform for them, the merchants, and special SD and immigrant guests! During those occasions, the Founders splurge on the food stores for the guests, so do what you can to get yourself invited someday!
The Nordstrom, a small and less notable storefront, is purely for storage. Old pre-Crash merchandise, tech, salvage, janitorial supplies, and all other storage is kept tightly secured there.
To go between floors, The Mall boasts escalators with state-of-the-art collapsible ramp technology. An artifact from the pre-Crash world, escalators, when under too much pressure, could snap into a ramp that’s virtually impossible to ascend. In a worst case scenario, the Security Department can induce the stress to break the escalators and seal off higher floors. The escalators are not powered in the way they were pre-Crash, as that is a gross waste of power for nothing more than moving stairs.
Another internal security measure is in the form of metal gates that can descend from the ceiling. Every hallway and multiple sections of stores can be barricaded and locked down at a given time, so know you are always safe within the walls of The Mall!
Within the main area of The Mall, the old storefronts have been turned into a village of sorts! Many stores have been converted into makeshift apartment complexes for the immigrants, some are still utilized by merchants and other manufacturers, and many have unique purposes that we encourage you to find out by exploring your new home! To make one thing clear, though, there are plenty of weapons and armor merchants throughout The Mall; do not fear! And never forget the Food Court! Half of the second floor is filled with kitchens and food to buy!
And, before I move on: I'm sure you're wondering about where to do your business. Well, each floor has bathrooms designated for use by the citizens of each floor. There are showers outfitted inside as well as numerous showering stations outside.
Currency:
The Mall is dedicated to restoring and preserving pre-Crash American ideals. Free trade, essential to the capitalist ideals of the old world, is protected within The Mall and its subsidiary vassal settlements. The Mall honors the following currencies beyond bartering, which in and of itself is not an acceptable way to pay fees and taxes to The Mall.
Rights and Responsibilities:
Now that we have gotten through the layout and structure of The Mall, let’s move on to what we at The Mall expect of immigrants. The most important rule of thumb is that everyone has to row this boat. Sure, everyone gets knocked down occasionally, but you must make sure you contribute in some way toward protecting and expanding the interests of our home.
As an immigrant to The Mall, there are many ways you can pull your weight. For the adventurous among you, the Security Department is always willing to train new members. If you have any other specific skills, please seek out the responsible department. Doctors, mechanics, gunsmiths, armorers, cooks, farmers, stablehands, electricians, plumbers, etc., can all seek out those respective employees to work in your fields. For unskilled laborers, the janitorial staff, childcare services, lawn care, the manufacturing buildings, and many merchants are always hiring. Of course, more sections of our Mall are filled every day! So feel free to explore and find what suits you!
Naturally, your efforts will be rewarded for your work! Different jobs pay different amounts, but every worker within The Mall earns a fair share of wages. After all, someone must purchase from the merchants!
Laws:
The following are some of the basic laws outlined in The Mall’s Constitution:
Please check The Mall’s Constitution for an in depth breakdown on all laws, rights, and expectations of civilians.
That’s it! Every day, new immigrants arrive and every day, our family expands. In the last quarterly census, we were shocked to realize we've blown through 1000 people in our community. Please sign your name below and be sure to submit your application fee in the form of one of our accepted currencies to add your name to that growing list!
**EXTRA INFORMATION: DO NOT COPY; LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE ONLY**
SDSO Larry Della Incident Report #147
The community college didn’t put up much of a fight. As soon as the SDSO got inside the auditorium where they were staying, the leadership immediately surrendered all of the civilians they were supposedly looking after. Cowards that malleable shouldn’t have survived this long. It’s a shame that civilians were there to see us; I hate killing people without weapons. It won’t keep me up at night, though; only fools would choose some small college next to the River instead of The Mall.
Luckily, we got more out of it than stains to clean. They had procured fences from God knows where, so we should be able to repair some of the triple-buffer fences’ outer layers soon. Angie said that the officially published story will be the same as always: It was a successful connection establishment mission and we were given fences as a show of good faith. Next week, we’ll receive word that they were attacked and publish that to remind everyone here that we’re the only Oasis that can protect them. Seems a bit derivative to me, but whatever. It’s not like I have any say in what pre-Crash dramas the Founders want to plagiarize.
- Larry
Larry, this is your last warning: If you continue to criticize us in your reports, Jones is going to see it and he’ll turn your skin into hide for the textile workers to play with. You get results, but your mouth is going to get you killed if you don’t learn to hold your tongue.
- Kat
**PLEASE NOTE: If you are a new merchant arrival, this orientation form is not for you and should be disregarded. Please contact the nearest Founder, Security Department liaison, or your Zone’s elected representative for the correct form.**
Hello and welcome to our glorious little Oasis west of the Mississippi River, The Mall. My name is Kat Roberts, and I’m here to guide all of the new immigrants into settling into life at The Mall swiftly and painlessly. When us Founders reclaimed this mall, the last thing any of us expected was that we would reach the heights that we have today; all we dreamed was that we’d be able to help people. Thanks in no small part to Governor Jones’ unrivaled ambition and leadership prowess, The Mall was able to become a beacon of hope for all lost souls in this desolate and forgotten world. We’re so glad you’ve safely found us. Welcome home.
Throughout this orientation, I will speak with you frankly on all of the ins and outs of life and prosperity at The Mall. As a new immigrant to The Mall, you have a set of rights and responsibilities corresponding to your Immigration Status; all of us understand that we have to work together in order to keep our Oasis fruitful! Keep in mind, as this is as good a time as any to address the elephant in the room: your surrendered weapon(s) will be returned to you as soon as we finish your welcome interview and you agree to the terms of the form. Please do not harass any of our staff about your gun(s) until you have completed all steps for immigration.
Outdoor Layout:
Anywho! Let’s start off with the general layout of The Mall. Let’s start with the outside, which if you’re reading this, you’ve already seen at least part of! Every day, we’re making strides toward reclaiming Columbia, MO., so the current area of our control could have already expanded beyond what this form indicates! But, as it stands now, the first checkpoint you probably passed through was one of the many gates on our triple-buffer fence around the perimeter of our secured area! Thanks to the trade we’ve established with different settlements across the west and the importance of our limited-but-ever-expanding manufacturing, we were able to secure a bigger area of safety than we ever dreamed! Generous donations from neighboring settlements as well have enabled us to reliably secure a multi-acre swath of land on all sides of The Mall. We are forever indebted to the sacrifices made to allow us to have the resources for the fencing and gates.
The Western Outdoor Area is protected by the outer triple-buffered fencing and extends almost a mile from the next fenced area. The fields we’ve set up with seeds donated to us by some of the wonderful neighboring settlements that used to populate the area enable us to be self reliant during periods of low trade or external food shortages. It’s not enough food to sustain ourselves independently year round, but through the free trade we welcome from all settlements, everyone is able to thrive! In addition to the fields, there is a small area of woods for any nature types to have a getaway, a controlled bamboo forest for paper products, a stable for the horses we’ve protected, found, and bred since The Crash, and an old church with a graveyard. If you’re spiritual, feel free to sit in this nondenominational place of worship and pray to your gods, but know that the second floor and the basement are used as important outposts for the Security Department!
The Eastern Outdoor Area is much smaller, only .2 miles across and half a mile North-South, but is filled with secured and maintained buildings! One of the most important structures within the EOA is the pre-Crash body shop. Security Department leader and mechanic extraordinaire, Sybille Rayne, has assisted us in transforming the old auto parts store into an unparalleled location for any mechanical needs: Rayney Day Mechanics. All of The Mall’s reclaimed and proprietary vehicles are produced, maintained, and repaired under her and her trained mechanics’ watchful eyes. When machinery fails, head to RDM and they’ll fix any problem for a modest price!
In addition to RDM, the EOA houses most of The Mall’s manufacturing. Nothing is quite on the level of a pre-Crash factory, but through good ol’ fashioned Mallovation, we have procured the ability to produce some necessary supplies. Naturally, raw materials are a separate problem entirely, but through the manufacturing buildings within the EOA, we have limited textile, metallurgy, and glasswork capabilities in addition to the mechanical prowess of RDM. By renovating buildings with the EOA, we’re able to use our friends and allies across the West to trade for materials that we can turn into something beneficial for all of us; such is the joy of cooperation with The Mall!
The final zone within the triple-buffer area is to the north. The Northern Outdoor Area houses very little in and of itself. The NOA, in addition to an added buffer for the inner zones, serves as a quarantine facility. New arrivals are always escorted by the Security Department, so you probably didn’t go through Quarantine, but whenever any immigrant or citizen returns to The Mall, they are required to be kept in Quarantine for 15 minutes. It’s mostly performative, as we all know that infections happen in much less time than 15 minutes, but it’s an extra security blanket that helps ease the minds of our civilians with all of the coming and going.
As you can tell, we take security incredibly seriously! Depending on which direction you entered from, you may have passed through another double-buffer gated area. This zone, the Double-Buffer Outer Area (DBOA), is much closer to the central area of The Mall, making it all the more important for us to have our wonderful Security Department patrol that area closely. In the novel event that one of the triple-buffer outer fence sections are breached by bandits or the infected, the internal double-buffer fencing will easily prove enough to contain it.
There are many renovated buildings within the DBOA! Many merchants like to sell to the Security Department and other helpful Immigrants as they come and go on missions. In addition to that, the super-hardy GMO crops we’ve developed proprietarily for our fields are processed and shipped across The Mall from Honorary Chef Linda’s store! Since you’re reading this on paper, you may be wondering how that’s crafted! Well, Zach’s Paper Supply, owned by the Founder himself, Zach Williams, manages bamboo that was found growing in a pre-Crash store within The Mall. Our newspaper, The Daily Mall, this pamphlet, and all other Mall-produced paper products like tax forms are produced and distributed from Zach’s! Plus, like every other zone both in and outside, the Security Department has numerous outposts inside the DBOA. Similarly to the roofs of all outer buildings, The Mall SD created and maintains a network of pathways between buildings for sentries to patrol and keep all of us safe! Once you’re cleared for immigration, make sure to take a stroll through the DBOA and say hi to Captain Marissa of the SD!
Step inside to the final outer area of The Mall! Within the Outer Zones, The Mall’s yard space is protected with a 10 foot wall running around a limited perimeter. The two gates (Northern and Eastern) within the wall can be raised and lowered by Security Department guards on either side. This Wall Area is a last resort protection that is much harder to breach than any buffered fencing. We have never been faced with such a crisis, but the Wall exists to protect us from the possibility!
Despite being the smallest outdoor area next to the NOA, the WA is densely populated! The first thing to catch most eyes is the Outdoor Medical Pavilion, a large tent staffed by some of our doctors. It’s not the main hospital wing, don’t worry, but it’s easier to access and more open than our primary medical wing. You will appreciate it if you ever twist your ankle out by the church! Next to the Outdoor Medical Pavilion is the primary Security Department Building. Originally a cafe/bookstore, the Security Department transformed the small building in the parking lot into a thriving headquarters! Plus, word on the street is that 5-Star General, Larry Della, makes a mean cup of coffee! The second floor of their headquarters doubles as a barracks, but the SD soldiers also have housing inside the main rectangular stretch of The Mall proper. Of course, all outdoor outposts have beds as well.
Many people that prefer the outdoor air prefer to sleep in tents outside! That is always an option, and the Tent Quarter of the Wall Area is where those members of The Mall Family set up their spaces! The benefits of such a living arrangement is dedicated personal space, but you miss out on our indoor air conditioning! Outside in the WA, we also store our property-traversing vehicles! Various carts and other motorized vehicles are stored here for special use. Make sure you never try to drive one without permission, however! I hear Captain Ishikawa gets angry when people touch his prized cars!
Inside Layout
Now that we’ve finally covered most of the outdoor space, let’s head inside, shall we? The Mall itself is comprised of five main anchor stores, plus a sixth smaller anchor-adjacent store. These five main anchor stores are connected to each other through a large rectangular area between them. All areas in The Mall have three floors in addition to limited basement space and the roof. Pre-Crash, the anchor stores were Target, JCPenney, Barnes & Noble, Level Up Entertainment, Macy’s, and the much smaller diagonally connected anchor store, Nordstrom. Of course, none of those failed corporations exist anymore! Instead, we’ve rejuvenated life into the areas by giving them new purpose!
Most of the western store formerly known as Target is now the Hospital Wing. The first floor has been converted into receptionist areas, waiting areas for patients, and small sections for medical professionals to see them about smaller problems. The second floor is where our expert medical team handles all serious operations and attempts life saving procedures. The third floor includes a recovery area for patients, the Mall Primary Health Insurance office (of which all civilians are encouraged to buy!), numerous supply closets, and a R&R area for our medical staff! We sincerely hope that, as an immigrant to The Mall, you never have to spend any time in our Hospital Wing, but know you’re in great hands if you do!
The Barnes & Noble, the northernmost store, is the best merchant real estate in The Mall! As the entrance to The Mall from the primary WA gate, most immigrants, SD officers, and even Founders come through Barnes & Noble to get home! Stalls have been set up on all floors for your enjoyment and consumption needs!
JCPenney, The Mall’s southernmost anchor store, is home to the Founders! Truly, the Founders live like everyone, but as government officials, they require that their housing be separate. After all, running such a kingdom is taxing on the mind and body! Civilians are not allowed inside JCPenney without an invitation, so there’s no need to worry yourself on the Founders’ living space!
Macy’s, the southwestern anchor store, is a grab bag of different places! The basement has been converted into prisons for our less-than-reputable civilians, the first floor functions as a Security Department office, the second floor as the Founders’ legislative and political offices, and the third floor as a power room. Keeping the solar panels and all generated electricity operable and manageable from one location easily allows our electricians to isolate and respond to any incidents.
The final main anchor store, the northeastern Level Up Entertainment remains truest in spirit to its purpose pre-Crash. The third floor of LUE has been revamped into an entertainment venue for our musically inclined immigrants! During special occasions, the Founders will hire notable Mall musicians and other entertainers to perform for them, the merchants, and special SD and immigrant guests! During those occasions, the Founders splurge on the food stores for the guests, so do what you can to get yourself invited someday!
The Nordstrom, a small and less notable storefront, is purely for storage. Old pre-Crash merchandise, tech, salvage, janitorial supplies, and all other storage is kept tightly secured there.
To go between floors, The Mall boasts escalators with state-of-the-art collapsible ramp technology. An artifact from the pre-Crash world, escalators, when under too much pressure, could snap into a ramp that’s virtually impossible to ascend. In a worst case scenario, the Security Department can induce the stress to break the escalators and seal off higher floors. The escalators are not powered in the way they were pre-Crash, as that is a gross waste of power for nothing more than moving stairs.
Another internal security measure is in the form of metal gates that can descend from the ceiling. Every hallway and multiple sections of stores can be barricaded and locked down at a given time, so know you are always safe within the walls of The Mall!
Within the main area of The Mall, the old storefronts have been turned into a village of sorts! Many stores have been converted into makeshift apartment complexes for the immigrants, some are still utilized by merchants and other manufacturers, and many have unique purposes that we encourage you to find out by exploring your new home! To make one thing clear, though, there are plenty of weapons and armor merchants throughout The Mall; do not fear! And never forget the Food Court! Half of the second floor is filled with kitchens and food to buy!
And, before I move on: I'm sure you're wondering about where to do your business. Well, each floor has bathrooms designated for use by the citizens of each floor. There are showers outfitted inside as well as numerous showering stations outside.
Currency:
The Mall is dedicated to restoring and preserving pre-Crash American ideals. Free trade, essential to the capitalist ideals of the old world, is protected within The Mall and its subsidiary vassal settlements. The Mall honors the following currencies beyond bartering, which in and of itself is not an acceptable way to pay fees and taxes to The Mall.
- Reclaimed US Dollars: This is the standard unit of currency in the west. $1 USD is equal exactly to $1 MD.
- Aluminum: This is the standard unit of currency. $1 MD(Mall/Western dollar) is equal to 218g of aluminum (average weight of 100 aluminum bottle caps).
- Copper: 1g of copper is worth about $1 MD
- Gold: 1g of gold is worth about $20 MD
- Silver: 2g of silver is worth about $1 MD
- Gems and fine jewels: This depends on the specific gem or jewel in question. See the chart on page 16 of your separate Immigration Packet for details on gem conversions.
- Salt: 200g of salt is worth about $1 MD
- Spices: This depends on the specific spices in question. See the chart on page 17 of your separate Immigration Packet for details on spice conversions.
Rights and Responsibilities:
Now that we have gotten through the layout and structure of The Mall, let’s move on to what we at The Mall expect of immigrants. The most important rule of thumb is that everyone has to row this boat. Sure, everyone gets knocked down occasionally, but you must make sure you contribute in some way toward protecting and expanding the interests of our home.
As an immigrant to The Mall, there are many ways you can pull your weight. For the adventurous among you, the Security Department is always willing to train new members. If you have any other specific skills, please seek out the responsible department. Doctors, mechanics, gunsmiths, armorers, cooks, farmers, stablehands, electricians, plumbers, etc., can all seek out those respective employees to work in your fields. For unskilled laborers, the janitorial staff, childcare services, lawn care, the manufacturing buildings, and many merchants are always hiring. Of course, more sections of our Mall are filled every day! So feel free to explore and find what suits you!
Naturally, your efforts will be rewarded for your work! Different jobs pay different amounts, but every worker within The Mall earns a fair share of wages. After all, someone must purchase from the merchants!
Laws:
The following are some of the basic laws outlined in The Mall’s Constitution:
- Do not assault, harass, murder, threaten, or otherwise harm another member of The Mall.
- Always pay your fair share of taxes to your Zone representative on time and with interest if not.
- Do not steal. Free and fair trade is what keeps our Oasis from returning to the sands in which it rose; if you steal anything within The Mall, you will be reprimanded swiftly and heavily.
- Never insult or disrespect the Founders. Their generosity is the only reason any of us have such a wonderful Oasis to call our home.
- We severely reprimand counterfeit currency. See above for all legal currencies.
Please check The Mall’s Constitution for an in depth breakdown on all laws, rights, and expectations of civilians.
That’s it! Every day, new immigrants arrive and every day, our family expands. In the last quarterly census, we were shocked to realize we've blown through 1000 people in our community. Please sign your name below and be sure to submit your application fee in the form of one of our accepted currencies to add your name to that growing list!
**EXTRA INFORMATION: DO NOT COPY; LEVEL 5 CLEARANCE ONLY**
SDSO Larry Della Incident Report #147
The community college didn’t put up much of a fight. As soon as the SDSO got inside the auditorium where they were staying, the leadership immediately surrendered all of the civilians they were supposedly looking after. Cowards that malleable shouldn’t have survived this long. It’s a shame that civilians were there to see us; I hate killing people without weapons. It won’t keep me up at night, though; only fools would choose some small college next to the River instead of The Mall.
Luckily, we got more out of it than stains to clean. They had procured fences from God knows where, so we should be able to repair some of the triple-buffer fences’ outer layers soon. Angie said that the officially published story will be the same as always: It was a successful connection establishment mission and we were given fences as a show of good faith. Next week, we’ll receive word that they were attacked and publish that to remind everyone here that we’re the only Oasis that can protect them. Seems a bit derivative to me, but whatever. It’s not like I have any say in what pre-Crash dramas the Founders want to plagiarize.
- Larry
Larry, this is your last warning: If you continue to criticize us in your reports, Jones is going to see it and he’ll turn your skin into hide for the textile workers to play with. You get results, but your mouth is going to get you killed if you don’t learn to hold your tongue.
- Kat
Last edited:
Vudukudu
Farseer to the Warsong Clan
THE CARRION ECONOMY
The Carrion Economy got its name because all our trade lives inside the corpse of old world globalism. To understand it, you have to understand how the host died.
There are three major types of economic collapse. The first and most common is a speculative bubble. In the default on education loans, the market considered student loan debt a capital good. Payment on those loans created financial capital. The profits from buying the debt were initially so good that everybody got into the game. Demand increased the price of the debt bundles to the point where expected financial capital outpaced the realistic output of the capital good. In short, they dumbly expected every college kid to help pay back trillions in debt despite stagnant wages since before they were born. When the market realized there was no way it was getting the capital it stupidly expected, the value of capital goods plummeted. Costs exceeded profits instantly as everyone realized the capital they'd banked on never existed. Speculation bubbles are bad, but at least they're our fault.
The second type of economic collapse comes from war. Capital goods, like laborers and equipment, get destroyed in war, but the losses to the global economy are offset by the flurry of production caused by conflict. The capital doesn't turn out to be imaginary, but it gets lost through redistribution. The victors use the capital goods to create more wealth, and they trade the scraps back to the losers for financial capital. One man's bust, another man's boom. The master/slave dynamic at the end of a war happens daily among enclaves west of the River. Our troubles go so much deeper than that.
The rarest collapse stems from a natural disaster. A volcano erupts, a tsunami hits, the economy tanks because real capital goods are wiped out on a massive scale. There's no one profiting off the suffering, so trade offers no respite. There was nothing imaginary about the lost assets; everything was vital to maintaining society. This is the hardest disaster to recover from. The Crash was most similar to a natural disaster, but the scope was immeasurably different than anything else in history. Even this is insufficient to really describe it.
Normally, when large swaths of capital are wiped out in an instant, the only option is to start over. Rebuild from scratch. Find a new way. But after the Crash, the majority of our lost capital goods weren't truly destroyed; they were just inaccessible. Raw materials, machinery, real estate, land - all of it just lying there, waiting to be snatched by the first over the fence. So globally, and particularly east of the River, you have an unprecedented destruction of capital. It causes an economic depression so severe that replacing the means of production requires dauntingly expensive investment and decades of development. Yet.. a "quick and easy" solution lies just over the River. West is a bank where the vault is endless and the bills never come due. The good times aren't gone forever - you just have to walk over and pick them up off the ground.
The Dwindling:
Infrastructure Failure: America's bridges and highways were receiving failing grades well before they became choked with undead. Our city planning had been so deregulated that water was a precious commodity all over the country. Climate change and water barons had caused drought all over the West. A number of Midwestern cities had completely toxic pipe systems or sewage contaminated reservoirs. And irradiating a bunch of river basins certainly didn't help matters. Water and transportation were just the biggest symptoms of an endemic American disease. We spent generations devaluing maintenance and vocational work. Everybody wanted to give a TED talk, nobody wanted to be a plumber. Our demographic mismatch was one of the major causes of the education default, and it didn't stop there. If "cheap and shitty" beat "less cheap and more durable," by one red cent, we picked the former.
This might not seem like a big deal to people out East, what with their recovering manufacturing and construction sectors. But that hole in the fence that the facilities crew was "going to get around to" becomes a life and death issue when Vectors are crawling in. A lot of people died because the culture didn't teach them the value of quality. For example, consider the McMansion, the holy grail of American housing. I won't loot one for love or money. The fucking things are Casualty nests. Every asshole imaginable got the bright idea they'd be safe in the crosstown, faux-Cape Cod architectural abortion they'd been envying for years. The geniuses get there and realize too late the walls are plaster, foam, and dreams. The Cs can literally chew their way through the imitation-brick siding. That's when they didn't just crash through big honking bay windows: the ones made of sugar glass never meant to withstand a tee ball, not to mention a Vector stampedge. The idiots would have fared better in a 1960s mobile home. Neglect before the Crash meant death after it.
Flooding: On a good day, the network of valves, sluices, drains, and maintenance workers required to keep certain cities from drowning approached staggering levels of complexity. Contrary to popular belief, that stuff isn't automated. The Crash knocked out the personnel and power required to keep cities afloat through more than light drizzle. If plastic bags collecting in gutters were the only result of the crisis, it still would have been enough to leave thousands of blocks in knee-high water. To make matters worse, more idiots than I care to name thought blowing up dams and reservoirs was a great strategy for eliminating Casualties. Depending on the area, some of them were even right.. and destroyed everything useful in the area. In more egregious cases, people established enclaves free of the dead only to be wiped out by a tidal wave from upstream. People huddling for safety behind some fence east of the river often assume that the apocalyptic vistas of the West only exist after years of neglect. But anyone out here knows it takes days to turn a city into a swamp.
Fires and Meltdowns: Lightning strikes, Molotovs, electrical shorts, campfires, discarded cigarettes - anything can start a fire out here, and almost nothing can put it out. One week, your crew is raiding supplies from the next town over. The next? A pile of ashes were a mall used to be. Many a survivor community has been wiped out by no more than a stove. But that's little stuff compared to the biblical proportions of climate change. The wildfires that plagued California for decades no longer had armies of smokejumpers to fight them. Once the dry season came after the Crash, all of Cali went up in flames. Operation Utility, which sent the US military's hardest, stone-coldest motherfuckers out to shutdown nuclear reactors and other massive environmental hazards, was designed to minimize the cost of these disasters. Mostly, they succeeded. Where they didn't, well, we'll never know why. Palo Verde went into meltdown. Vectors either overran the soldiers or the infamously shitty maintenance record finally caught up with it. Regardless, there's a 75 mile radius in Arizona doing its best impression of Chernobyl. Anybody still alive in Arizona steers clear unless they want to get cooked.
Additional Casualties: That thing NUSA was afraid would happen? Where casualties start new Vector outbreaks, which turn into more casualties, which cause new Vector outbreaks? Yeah. That's every day out here. Or at least it was, after NUSA amputated us like a chunk of rotten flesh and declared us no longer Americans. Five years down the road, things are a little more stable. Hot Blight is still a real danger, but the only enclaves left have their shit together. But in the early days - when no one knew what they were doing - enclaves rose and fell in a matter of days. The people inside that went Vector would test the defenses of nearby communities. It was an iterative process where the tests kept coming and failure only happened once. The ratio of humans to casualties may have stabilized now, but that road was paved with a few hundred thousand new infections after the River was blocked off.
Mass Expirations: Imagine a grocery store. Think of all the different sections. Now imagine them dying, one by one, like cascading organ failure. Dairy was almost extinct before the Crash even started. Without refrigeration, everything but cheese went bad instantly. Its not like we can make more; Casualties like beef as much as they like us. Protein didn't fare much better. If it wasn't jerky or a nut, everything in the butcher shop was poisonous by the time looting even started. The hardiest fruits and vegetables can last about two weeks without refrigeration, but only for those willing to dig through the compost piles of leafy greens around them. Quite a few idiots looking to keep up paleo diets starved within a month. Lets move onto grains: crackers, cereals, bread, snack foods. Empty carbs? Now we're talking! Bread's got about as long as fruits and veggies, but eating around the mold will stretch a loaf for a month. Cereal has 4-6 months in an open box before it turns into poison, though stale is a flavor most survivors have gotten used to.
Canned goods? Good luck finding any. The food pantry fare got stripped bare before the Blight was even officially acknowledged. But those lucky enough to get away with a few carts were set, at least for a bit. If it had a high acid content like tomatoes or citrus, the cans were good for a year and could stretch to two. Everything else could last for five years! Granted, you can eat most things after that provided the can hasn't blown up with botulism, but keeping the shit down requires a trained stomach. In addition to lasting longer, those canned goods mean you don't have to worry about scurvy or the rickets as much as folks eating out of the cereal aisle.
Crafty folks scavenged the pharmacy. Most drugs don't have immediate uses, but somebody always needs them somewhere. A big score of drugs can keep trading for four years before they lose effectiveness or become poison. The pharmacy aisles also had the protein powder for body-builders: dusty gold. It never goes bad, and prep only requires water.
Which is its own problem. Bottled water is another one on everyone's "loot first" list. If you do find some, its probably safe, but conditions determine the speed at which its going to evaporate. Soda and soft drinks don't turn harmful as fast as they evaporate, but good luck keeping down carbonated green shit when your stomach hasn't had that much sugar in eight years. The freeze-dried coffee lasts twenty years though; I've seen entire scav crews kill each other over coffee tins you wouldn't have even looked at before the Crash. If you're real lucky, maybe you get some MREs. That's five years of adequate eating as long as the stock lasts, but if you have MREs, don't let anyone else know or they'll probably come knocking.
We're five years in now, and starvation and dehydration killed more people than every other element listed above. The people left alive knew how to farm already, learned real fast, or became indispensable to the first two groups.
Population Culling: Survival after being cut off depended on time, specifically what we call the Rule of Three.
1. You realize looting to fulfill a need isn't sustainable.
2. You find looting to fulfill a need is impossible.
3. You find a way to fulfill that need yourself.
Ideally, you want the most amount of time possible between 1 and 3. If 1 and 2 happen at the same time, you're at the mercy of the second Rule of Three. Need shelter? 3 hours. Need water? 3 days. Need food? 3 weeks. Its an approximation, but the 3s are a safe bet for most. Nowadays, we have stories about hard-asses living on nothing but rainwater for months, but that heroic, based on a true story inspirational shit only happens after the apocalypse has carved the weakness from your body with its dull blades. Most folks couldn't hope for more than the 3s in the best of times.
So that's thousands dead just from the Rules of Three. Those numbers are nothing compared to people killed by "pre-existing conditions." The post-Crash world does not accept that - there were nearly a million people with HIV/AIDS before the Crash went down; if those folks were on the wrong side of the river, nobody kept delivering their retrovirals. Diabetic? Finding insulin that hasn't gone bad in some dead refrigerator was nearly impossible. Saved by an organ donation? Not once the rejection drugs stop showing up.
The tragedies reached beyond those in need of daily life-saving meds. Addiction to recreational drugs claimed thousands. Hearing the Casualties clicking their teeth outside your walls all night isn't the best time to go through withdrawal. Even people that "just" suffered from depression got claimed by their disease. I mean, the most dangerous side effects of antidepressants are triggered by missed does. You do the math, when the thing causing missed doses is the most tragic event in human history. Our nutritional problems weren't great either, and neither were assistive technologies like wheelchairs that were fine in the old world. This isn't to say that the apocalypse is now solely occupied by hardened survivors of a eugenic super-race. Outside the Moreland administration that launched the nukes and organized the retreat and cut us off to die, the majority of humans aren't monsters. They helped each other, and one of the major motivations for things like the first scavenger crews was making runs for things like medication. Many with pre-existing conditions survive today, and they remain vital contributors, but thousands didn't make it, and every one of them was someone's family.
ENCLAVES
An enclave doesn't start out as a complex community. It starts out as a pact. Everybody who enclaved up in those first few months agreed to a simple deal: trade your skills and supplies for some walls to hide behind. Urban planning reverted to its simplest form: shelter against an entire world trying to destroy you. Cities designed for siege was the new model, and people built their castle's on the bones of capitalism. Defenses are a must have for any enclave, but they're entirely dependent on what could be secured in a matter of weeks after the Crash. Some places started around stashes of loot, like malls and online retail distribution warehouses. Other places prioritized sustainability and looked for places with arable land inside a fence, which is where all those college quads and greenhouse ops come from. Some even anticipated that trade would define survival and founded communities atop commodities, leading to survivors taking over fracking operations or weapons factories. Beyond the logic of defense, every enclave is unique. Capitalism usually finds a place - if only because we're out of ideas - but pretty much any social structure or demographic you could think of is out there. People weren't exactly enamored with the status quo after it left them to die, so the first new ideology to come along usually sufficed. Socialist enclaves are next door to fascist dictatorships. Secular councils trade with theocracies. Anything goes.
Inside the enclaves, people do what they've always done: eat, sleep, gossip, work, betray, support. Between enclaves, the little city-states make war and peace, screwing each other as conscience allows and circumstances demand. Its just like the pre-Crash world, just more desperate. Instead of police, we have Fencemen manning the walls, working 16 hour shifts stabbing Casualties in the head with spears or shooting them before collecting the bodies in quiet moments to burn them. Instead of UberEats, we have Takers, crazy scavengers who will get you what you need in return for a hefty payday. Instead of bedrooms, we construct shanty housing or live in tents looted from old outdoor hobby stores. Its all the same, just worse.
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queendilettante
🤍 Heart Problems 🤍
The following is a leaked copy of the first page of the Security Department Orientation Form.
**CLASSIFIED: LEVEL 2 CLEARANCE ONLY.**
Security Department Orientation.
Hello, (insert upstanding citizen’s name here)! We’re so happy to have you here at The Mall. We recognize the greatness you have brought to our Oasis. The notable action that finally pushed us over the edge in deciding to invite you into our ranks was when you (insert action citizen did to warrant this job). Your assistance has been noticed and appreciated!
Becoming a member of the Security Department is one of the highest honors we are able to bestow upon immigrants or honorary citizens. As such, you will be subject to strict expectations of conduct. Said expectations will be outlined on p.6 of this form.
Your primary responsibility for work is to serve and protect The Mall. As the backbone of our civilization, your efforts are able to sustain our life. Whether it be patrolling the fences, manning the sentry posts, patrols in and outside our territory, or one of the many defense missions for travelers, your commitment to our cause is what keeps everyone safe.
**Please note: While firearms are the most effective way to neutralize an infected person safely, please make every effort to conserve ammo and use one of the many boar spears available to you on the outskirts of the Triple-Buffer Zones. There is minimal risk to your person, so long as there is not a breach. In the event of a breach, see p.14 for our protocols. As a final note, Security Officers caught using their spears on missions outside Mall territory will be heavily reprimanded.**
There are many Security Department task forces available for your consideration! The Security Department Special Operations (SDSO) branch led by Larry Della is the pinnacle of what we as the Security Department can achieve. Rivaling pre-Crash military special ops units, the SDSO task force is an elusive branch you do not want to find yourself on the bad side of.
The Security Department Public Relations (SDPR) task force is currently led by the mechanic extraordinaire, Sybille Rayne, of Rayney Day Mechanics! The SDPR task force is in charge of most envoys, protecting any high profile individuals in travel, and connecting with the regular people on their concerns and whatever issues they may be facing. Naturally, Security Department concerns supersede the frivolous complaints of the immigrants, but the SDPR is responsible for keeping our image with the masses pristine.
**Please note: Harassment of female colleagues or civilian immigrants is wholly unacceptable. Any officers engaged in harassment will be stripped of their titles and have their crimes
Security Department Orientation.
Hello, (insert upstanding citizen’s name here)! We’re so happy to have you here at The Mall. We recognize the greatness you have brought to our Oasis. The notable action that finally pushed us over the edge in deciding to invite you into our ranks was when you (insert action citizen did to warrant this job). Your assistance has been noticed and appreciated!
Becoming a member of the Security Department is one of the highest honors we are able to bestow upon immigrants or honorary citizens. As such, you will be subject to strict expectations of conduct. Said expectations will be outlined on p.6 of this form.
Your primary responsibility for work is to serve and protect The Mall. As the backbone of our civilization, your efforts are able to sustain our life. Whether it be patrolling the fences, manning the sentry posts, patrols in and outside our territory, or one of the many defense missions for travelers, your commitment to our cause is what keeps everyone safe.
**Please note: While firearms are the most effective way to neutralize an infected person safely, please make every effort to conserve ammo and use one of the many boar spears available to you on the outskirts of the Triple-Buffer Zones. There is minimal risk to your person, so long as there is not a breach. In the event of a breach, see p.14 for our protocols. As a final note, Security Officers caught using their spears on missions outside Mall territory will be heavily reprimanded.**
There are many Security Department task forces available for your consideration! The Security Department Special Operations (SDSO) branch led by Larry Della is the pinnacle of what we as the Security Department can achieve. Rivaling pre-Crash military special ops units, the SDSO task force is an elusive branch you do not want to find yourself on the bad side of.
The Security Department Public Relations (SDPR) task force is currently led by the mechanic extraordinaire, Sybille Rayne, of Rayney Day Mechanics! The SDPR task force is in charge of most envoys, protecting any high profile individuals in travel, and connecting with the regular people on their concerns and whatever issues they may be facing. Naturally, Security Department concerns supersede the frivolous complaints of the immigrants, but the SDPR is responsible for keeping our image with the masses pristine.
**Please note: Harassment of female colleagues or civilian immigrants is wholly unacceptable. Any officers engaged in harassment will be stripped of their titles and have their crimes
queendilettante
🤍 Heart Problems 🤍
Lore Updated:
Below is a list of major events and facts about the world that are staying functionally the same as you know it now. All minor details and the explanations for these things are going to be changed, but these facts that you all already know about the world will be maintained to some degree!!
What we’re keeping:
1. Everything wholly original. The Mall, the Cleveland Campaign, etc. Everything that was genuinely just from the two of us is going to be maintained in an unchanged fashion. At worst, the only differences will be with regards to slight tweaks to other areas. Also, the names of many organizations, the infected, etc., since they are original.
2. Canada has still been destroyed by the US. The buildup, context, aftermath, etc., are going to shift to a degree, but this fact is still the same.
3. The United States is still divided along the Mississippi River with the East being where the government retreated to.
4. The East is a loosely organized confederation of reclaimed states with a military force. The specifics of the inner workings of the NUSA are going to change, but the end result of a generally reclaimed east by a police state will stay the same.
5. The DHQS is still an overstretched military force. The context of their goals for reclaiming the West is now even less pure, but the organization still exists.
6. The Crash happened 8 years prior to the start of the RP.
7. The Internet exists in a limited but still present form.
8. There are still (very few) people that are naturally immune.
9. There is a sort of worst-case-scenario shot to save the life of a bite victim, but with severe societal repercussions.
10. There are still two “main” forms of infection with the first being before the infection actually kills the host and the second being following bodily death.
I’m sure you’re wondering now about how we get to all of those points. Well, that’s on the way! We wanted to establish what is going to stay functionally the same before any other lore was updated so that everyone would be on the same page! Vudu and I together are going to go through and write out original explanations for all of the points we’re maintaining, but for the sake of the RP, everyone should be able to write their characters the same way they have been so far!! If anything does change, you are more than welcome to make any tweaks to your characters that you see fit in the event that lore changes in a way you didn’t expect, but we tried to minimize any changes that would have those drastic effects.
Thanks for the honest feedback, everyone, we greatly appreciate it! I can’t wait to see how everything progresses with all of our characters and to see them all blossom into the hellworld they’ve unwittingly found themselves a part of!!
Below is a list of major events and facts about the world that are staying functionally the same as you know it now. All minor details and the explanations for these things are going to be changed, but these facts that you all already know about the world will be maintained to some degree!!
What we’re keeping:
1. Everything wholly original. The Mall, the Cleveland Campaign, etc. Everything that was genuinely just from the two of us is going to be maintained in an unchanged fashion. At worst, the only differences will be with regards to slight tweaks to other areas. Also, the names of many organizations, the infected, etc., since they are original.
2. Canada has still been destroyed by the US. The buildup, context, aftermath, etc., are going to shift to a degree, but this fact is still the same.
3. The United States is still divided along the Mississippi River with the East being where the government retreated to.
4. The East is a loosely organized confederation of reclaimed states with a military force. The specifics of the inner workings of the NUSA are going to change, but the end result of a generally reclaimed east by a police state will stay the same.
5. The DHQS is still an overstretched military force. The context of their goals for reclaiming the West is now even less pure, but the organization still exists.
6. The Crash happened 8 years prior to the start of the RP.
7. The Internet exists in a limited but still present form.
8. There are still (very few) people that are naturally immune.
9. There is a sort of worst-case-scenario shot to save the life of a bite victim, but with severe societal repercussions.
10. There are still two “main” forms of infection with the first being before the infection actually kills the host and the second being following bodily death.
I’m sure you’re wondering now about how we get to all of those points. Well, that’s on the way! We wanted to establish what is going to stay functionally the same before any other lore was updated so that everyone would be on the same page! Vudu and I together are going to go through and write out original explanations for all of the points we’re maintaining, but for the sake of the RP, everyone should be able to write their characters the same way they have been so far!! If anything does change, you are more than welcome to make any tweaks to your characters that you see fit in the event that lore changes in a way you didn’t expect, but we tried to minimize any changes that would have those drastic effects.
Thanks for the honest feedback, everyone, we greatly appreciate it! I can’t wait to see how everything progresses with all of our characters and to see them all blossom into the hellworld they’ve unwittingly found themselves a part of!!
queendilettante
🤍 Heart Problems 🤍
LORE DROPS:
Every year before the Crash, the 2000 KM stretch from Los Angeles to Vancouver burned fiercely enough to turn the sky a permanent blood red. It was all the California, Seattle, and British Columbia fire departments staffed on slave prison labor could do to meagerly slow its spread. Even with their round the clock efforts though, new neighborhoods were destroyed every day and the tar-colored smoke nearly made its way over to Europe.
It’s no surprise, of course, that, following the Crash and collapse of all government west of the Mississippi, the prisoners stopped fighting those fires. If those unfortunate to be living on the North American west coast weren’t destroyed by the infected, the bombings of every major city center, or the nukes launched against Canada and Los Angeles, the fires should have done the job. The dust from all of the Crash’s immediate effects on the area had just started to settle when summer rolled around with the forest fires in toe. Everything left standing north of LA was burned to the ground.
Naturally, in spite of all efforts to the contrary, humanity persisted on the west coast. The freshly burned towns and forests started being colloquially referred to as The Ashfields. Creative? Not especially, but you have to admire the tenacity of anyone stupid enough to stick around long enough to name fucking anything.
The Ashfields paved a nomadic path for different groups across the West. “While the ash is fresh, the people rest” was the mantra repeated by traders and other civilians coming and going from the Ashfields. If the fire could leave a field of nothing but ash in its wake, the nomads that followed suit (The Ashen) were confident that they could avoid the infected.
Supplies were a different concern. While the fires protected The Ashen from the infected, they also destroyed every crop and animal. The Ashen created a league of scouts; one beholden to no individual Ashen tribe, but to the cause of all Ashen people. At first, these scouts would raid homes, farms, and any storage they could find to feed their people. Of course, that stopped being useful after a few cycles of the fires. Luckily, The Ashen are an observant bunch, and they broke the fires’ patterns down to a science fairly quickly.
Nowadays, small underground bunkers have been constructed for the Scouts to shelter in while the fires blaze overhead. These bunkers give The Ashen supplies as they move through their area for the season.
There’s a lot of speculation across the MST zone about how these bunkers are stocked when The Ashen don’t seem to grow crops or keep livestock. Merchants are the expected explanation, though how The Ashen pay for their supplies is a mystery.
Regardless of how they exist, they do. The Ashen are not a unified entity, but a disjointed set of two dozen tribes that make their respective ways across a set migratory path. Some are, naturally, friendlier than others. If you’re reading this and you’re foolish enough to try and seek the Ashfields out for yourself, then good luck deducing which tribes are friendly; I wouldn’t roll those dice.
OOC: I want to give a quick thank you to
Solar Daddy
, who came up with the name "The Ashfields!"
It’s no surprise, of course, that, following the Crash and collapse of all government west of the Mississippi, the prisoners stopped fighting those fires. If those unfortunate to be living on the North American west coast weren’t destroyed by the infected, the bombings of every major city center, or the nukes launched against Canada and Los Angeles, the fires should have done the job. The dust from all of the Crash’s immediate effects on the area had just started to settle when summer rolled around with the forest fires in toe. Everything left standing north of LA was burned to the ground.
Naturally, in spite of all efforts to the contrary, humanity persisted on the west coast. The freshly burned towns and forests started being colloquially referred to as The Ashfields. Creative? Not especially, but you have to admire the tenacity of anyone stupid enough to stick around long enough to name fucking anything.
The Ashfields paved a nomadic path for different groups across the West. “While the ash is fresh, the people rest” was the mantra repeated by traders and other civilians coming and going from the Ashfields. If the fire could leave a field of nothing but ash in its wake, the nomads that followed suit (The Ashen) were confident that they could avoid the infected.
Supplies were a different concern. While the fires protected The Ashen from the infected, they also destroyed every crop and animal. The Ashen created a league of scouts; one beholden to no individual Ashen tribe, but to the cause of all Ashen people. At first, these scouts would raid homes, farms, and any storage they could find to feed their people. Of course, that stopped being useful after a few cycles of the fires. Luckily, The Ashen are an observant bunch, and they broke the fires’ patterns down to a science fairly quickly.
Nowadays, small underground bunkers have been constructed for the Scouts to shelter in while the fires blaze overhead. These bunkers give The Ashen supplies as they move through their area for the season.
There’s a lot of speculation across the MST zone about how these bunkers are stocked when The Ashen don’t seem to grow crops or keep livestock. Merchants are the expected explanation, though how The Ashen pay for their supplies is a mystery.
Regardless of how they exist, they do. The Ashen are not a unified entity, but a disjointed set of two dozen tribes that make their respective ways across a set migratory path. Some are, naturally, friendlier than others. If you’re reading this and you’re foolish enough to try and seek the Ashfields out for yourself, then good luck deducing which tribes are friendly; I wouldn’t roll those dice.
OOC: I want to give a quick thank you to
Solar Daddy
, who came up with the name "The Ashfields!"The following is a leaked transcript from a recording. A researcher referred to only by her last name, McMurphy, recorded a lecture given to new recruits at her post-Crash institution situated somewhere in Montana.
If American corporatocracy deserves credit for anything, and that is the most weighted “if” I have ever spoken, it would be the black mold-like persistence with which they fought against any reasonably priced public alternative to their monopolized services. Following backlash to the inability for many people to work from home in the midst of the most recent pre-Blight pandemic, elected officials began calls for public broadband internet. Not all of them, of course. I mean, those bought and sold by internet service providers would declare a filibuster and then eat at the podium for hours in an attempt to ward off any debate on the topic. The public caught wind, though, and by late 2021, the tide seemed to be turning toward public broadband.
When their hired politicians couldn’t do the job, the corporations currently controlling the internet were desperate to avoid what the capitalists used as a call to arms: competition. How did they go about doing that? They got out ahead of the slow moving political machine.
A coalition of 6 companies, one stationed on each continent, joined as a team to launch a completely new generation of satellites responsible only for paid internet service. These satellites, while exceptional at launch, quickly proved invaluable. The Big 6 had accidentally launched satellites that were *too* effective at providing internet access; they were so effective, in fact, that people quickly realized ways to access their services with all of their existing devices that had WiFi capabilities without going through the ISP arbiters. Plans were drawn up within 6 months to destroy the satellites, but 2022 was an especially rough year for environmental disasters, so the UN intervened and prevented any satellites from being landed barring an emergency for that entire year. The new plans were to land the satellites in summer of 2023, but, of course, the Blight had other plans.
No one knows when the servers are going to collapse and maximum bandwidth has already nearly collapsed without software upkeep, but for now, the internet remains. It’s a bit closer to its form from the 1990s, but it’s better than we would have had to deal with otherwise.
Anyway, next, we’ll be going to the second floor to witness Dr. Lynch’s lecture on the vaccine efforts. Any questions?
If American corporatocracy deserves credit for anything, and that is the most weighted “if” I have ever spoken, it would be the black mold-like persistence with which they fought against any reasonably priced public alternative to their monopolized services. Following backlash to the inability for many people to work from home in the midst of the most recent pre-Blight pandemic, elected officials began calls for public broadband internet. Not all of them, of course. I mean, those bought and sold by internet service providers would declare a filibuster and then eat at the podium for hours in an attempt to ward off any debate on the topic. The public caught wind, though, and by late 2021, the tide seemed to be turning toward public broadband.
When their hired politicians couldn’t do the job, the corporations currently controlling the internet were desperate to avoid what the capitalists used as a call to arms: competition. How did they go about doing that? They got out ahead of the slow moving political machine.
A coalition of 6 companies, one stationed on each continent, joined as a team to launch a completely new generation of satellites responsible only for paid internet service. These satellites, while exceptional at launch, quickly proved invaluable. The Big 6 had accidentally launched satellites that were *too* effective at providing internet access; they were so effective, in fact, that people quickly realized ways to access their services with all of their existing devices that had WiFi capabilities without going through the ISP arbiters. Plans were drawn up within 6 months to destroy the satellites, but 2022 was an especially rough year for environmental disasters, so the UN intervened and prevented any satellites from being landed barring an emergency for that entire year. The new plans were to land the satellites in summer of 2023, but, of course, the Blight had other plans.
No one knows when the servers are going to collapse and maximum bandwidth has already nearly collapsed without software upkeep, but for now, the internet remains. It’s a bit closer to its form from the 1990s, but it’s better than we would have had to deal with otherwise.
Anyway, next, we’ll be going to the second floor to witness Dr. Lynch’s lecture on the vaccine efforts. Any questions?
The following is a leaked audio recording between two women. They are assumed to be members of a terrorist organization, enemies to the NUSA, and they are discussing the propaganda they have created surrounding immunity. As a reminder, NUSA medical experts, the international leaders on medicine and the vaccine push, have assured all of us repeatedly that natural immunity is not possible. Do not be fooled.
WOMAN 1: Did you hear?
WOMAN 2: What?
WOMAN 1: They found another one.
WOMAN 2: Seriously? A third?
WOMAN 1: Yeah; a teenager this time. She came in with bites all up and down her legs, but she never turned.
WOMAN 2: Are you sure? What if she’s just been incredibly lucky?
WOMAN 1: Not likely. They let a vector rip her leg to shreds once she got here.
WOMAN 2: Fuck…
WOMAN 1: I know, but a leg is a small price to pay for confirmed immunity.
WOMAN 2: If people find out what Vanessa does when you’re immune, no one’s going to show up.
WOMAN 1: Shh! Shut the fuck up! Do you want her to hear you?
WOMAN 2: I’m sorry, I just-
WOMAN 1: Watch your fucking mouth next time, or I can’t give you these updates anymore.
WOMAN 2: I’m-... I’m sorry, I-
WOMAN 1: Shh! What was that?
WOMAN 1: Did you hear?
WOMAN 2: What?
WOMAN 1: They found another one.
WOMAN 2: Seriously? A third?
WOMAN 1: Yeah; a teenager this time. She came in with bites all up and down her legs, but she never turned.
WOMAN 2: Are you sure? What if she’s just been incredibly lucky?
WOMAN 1: Not likely. They let a vector rip her leg to shreds once she got here.
WOMAN 2: Fuck…
WOMAN 1: I know, but a leg is a small price to pay for confirmed immunity.
WOMAN 2: If people find out what Vanessa does when you’re immune, no one’s going to show up.
WOMAN 1: Shh! Shut the fuck up! Do you want her to hear you?
WOMAN 2: I’m sorry, I just-
WOMAN 1: Watch your fucking mouth next time, or I can’t give you these updates anymore.
WOMAN 2: I’m-... I’m sorry, I-
WOMAN 1: Shh! What was that?
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