by muffinstud » Thu Jul 18, 2013 9:53 pm
The distant future... the year 3000.
It had been a golden age of reason and technology. Through man's scientific efforts, he had conquered hunger, disease, and even the very weather. There was a genetically engineered chicken in every pot, and a flying car in every garage. Surely, man had reached the pinnacle of society.
Pride, as they say, cometh before the fall.
Our mother Earth backlashed hard after all the supposed good man had tried to do for her. Weather controlling devices kept man on the brink of the event horizon for a few years so he could prepare, but it was still not enough. The wind turned violent, the seas frothed with rage. The very ground cracked under the weight of the storms. They lasted for a decade, purging the surface of man's meddling presence. When it was finally over, the few survivors were presented with a wasteland. Saltwater had rendered so much land infertile. The entire planet had been rendered into a wasteland. So much for nuclear winter.
For decades, the survivors scrounged and scavenged and participated in brutal savagery. Only just recently has man been able to regain some of his former composure, building small city-states over the ruins of the past. Vestiges of society began to emerge... as did a new problem.
Most apparent in the largest city-state, New Philadelphia, it seemed that female survivors were few and far between. None of the known city-states had sustainable populations. It would only be a matter of time before they would have to abandon the cities altogether. Day and night their new researchers toiled, both digging up remains and researching new ideas. Finally, they had a solution. Volunteers would be very difficult to come by... until they turned to the small waves of crime. Perhaps they could kill two birds with one stone...
===============
All of New Philadelphia is polished and somewhat glisteny... except this place. Deep underground, it had to have been some sort of reactor or containment facility. Now, it is a prison. A bus drops off a new load of convicts to be processed, hissing as it hovers away. Each convict is still in his streetclothes, manacled to each other in a chain. The guards push them forward into a grungy cube of a room with cubicles set up off to one side, and a tiled area curtained off to another. Directly ahead is a counter with an orange line in front of it. A sign reads "Do not cross the line." Behind the counter, an old grizzled man eyes the incomers with a dour stare and a smirk. He knows that they'll get exactly what they deserve.
[Okay, everyone that posted in the signups is free to introduce their character before they get processed!]
"Well, you'll have plenty of time to live in a van down by the river, when you're living...in a van down by the river!" --Matt Foley, motivational speaker