The fires of war has consumed and ravaged our world, leaving few of humanity to rebuild.
Great plagues slithered and poisoned our nations.
Radiation has rendered what used to be excellent farming land into useless waste.
Nations reduced to communes. Communes reduced to families.
Humanity was doomed.
Or... So it seemed. We know humans, they are an adaptive race, a strong species. Rather difficult to kill if you will.
Generations have passed, and in Central America a new city has become a hub for people all around the world. The city has been Christened many things, "Hellhole Number 3", "New New York", "Strife City" but it has no real name. Within the City, as we will call it, are a number of situations, the buildings are generally intact, which cause skyscrapers to become towns in their own rights. One man has risen to the top of the top of the Sky Clans, who have taken up residence in the five biggest skyscrapers. These clans vary in their cultures and societies, but none are isolated from the other clans. A network of bridges and walkways connect the skyscrapers. This man who's risen to the top was many things, he's been a slaver a gladiator a trader but now he's at the top. They say he's a man not to trifle with, that he can hold his own in a fight and he'll toss you from the tallest skyscraper in all of the City. The bones that rest around that monolith seem to attest to it. He runs the gang called the Crowns, and they look for suits and ties and are the cleanest and most refined of the Five Clans. Secondly is the Dustmen, Westerners who have gathered in a large Asian designed hotel and are the primary weapon suppliers. They wear similar clothing to the mysterious clans of the Western Desert. Thirdly is the Scrappers, a large scavenging company that deals out metal for armor plating and defense. They can break down and repair a car in seconds flat. The Bordello, which is exactly what you think it is you perverts. Finally the Embassy, which isn't really a clan building but a communal building used by all the South to try and make peace or trade businesses with any of the clan members, it's not going well.
Surrounding this sprawling behemoth of a city lie four general areas which are blocked off by the West and East coasts, which are just called Hell, because the Coasts were the first thing to get bombed to hell and back.
There is the North, which consists of a thick swamp that hides the foot of a large mountain chain. Few people ever enter these swamps, and fewer still have climbed these mountains. They speak of strange creatures that have human like characteristics, that even speak English! The Bog had erupted due to immense levels of radiation and biological agents. Due to the sinking and climate change, a mountain chain had sprung up behind it, taking with it chunks of city and whatever once sat there.
To the West is an alien land, a wide, dune infested desert. One can see remnants of the Old World jutting from beneath their sandy tombs, old armored behemoths that have treads and long barrels, silver birds rusting in the harsh sun, trenches and abandoned forts. But all know of the silent tribes of dark skinned people who wield powerful weapons of the Old World. Some speak of battles between these sandy people and the automatons of a bygone time.
To the East is a forbidden forest, mutated into a combination of tall powerful pines and low hanging and strangling rain forest trees. People gossip of mystical powers hidden in the forest, of beautiful, marble buildings with see through walls, a place where fucking magnets seems possible and the healing of injuries a reality. The problem is that feral humans own these lands, painted and wielding spears and axes, ready to defend their lands and combat the ferocious fauna that has arisen to defend these Old World Temples.
To the South lies structure, a breeding ground for the old governments. A president rules it, and this is where many people stake their claim in life, to work hard and be safe from the harshness of a ruined world. However, many people have been discussing the removal of the President, rebellious factions vying for their own ideas fought off by the loyal soldiers of the Structured Remnants
Whoever you are, where ever you roam, this is your land, your beginning.
(( I am going to step out of my Narrative role to talk to you, the role players. This is a story of growth, a story of becoming something great through hard work. Secondly, you are no invincible god with plot armor. Neither are my characters, the "NPC's" of this world. If you show me, prove to me that you are trying to stick your neck out there and by god make something of yourself, you'll see challenges come your way. Overcome them, and you're that much further in the hidden plot. Fail those hurdles, try again another time. We'll see. If you want to join, please submit a PM with a design, and please remember that the zones have difficulty meters. Before I begin some posting on the leaders or such, I'd like to see you all entering the world. Remember also in your designs that this is the beginning of the Journey, not their lives. Your character can be 50 for all I care. Get out there and change my world))
