Things began to fall apart between the years 2016-2017. It wasn't just one community, one country. It was everywhere. The people call it an apocalypse, but know very little about what actually happened... or why it happened. There was discourse in many different groups of people, money was beginning to fail, previously allied countries were cutting ties. At the time, the media was under heavy control standards and governments were not being forthright. The world was rocked by multiple events in different countries, bringing outrage to the streets everywhere. The destruction that occurred was not solely due to foreign troops, it included citizens who took matters into their own hands to express their distaste for how things were being handled. As far as anyone knows, the United States was not hit with a nuclear weapon... but at the same time it took months if not years for some groups to come into contact on the East Coast alone. A generalized "fear of others" spread like wild fire and a mistrust for strangers grew. By the year 2021, most had come out of hiding and begun to thrive in a new way.
Once footing was regained and factions were established, lines were drawn denoting enemy and ally. At this time, the War Boys are an enemy to all. The Zealots are "neutral", but only approached by those desperate or brave enough to take a risk in being held captive or eaten. The Scrappers are allied with the Loners, a group that massively inhabits NYC (but can be found anywhere). Below you will find rough "accounts" of the world stemming from each current group.
***Note that if you create a faction, you may be asked to write one of these up!
Winter, Day 1
The sun began setting earlier… the cold is coming. Today, I sat a while thinking about the stories I’ve heard… why we are the way we are. It bothers me that I don’t know the truth of it, and probably never will. Communications are scarce and there’s no way to know who knows the truth any more than I do. The few Old Heads we have left won’t talk about it and mention of the War brings them into a sour silence.
I’d heard many variations of the story over time, but what I gather is that the world mostly fell in on itself. Things weren’t right to begin with, but it only got worse in a short period of time. Countries turned on each other over dwindling fuel sources and then BAM! that was it. Soldiers on the ground, bombs, mayhem, death, sickness, destruction.
I find the aftermath all around me, despite being told this is better than the start. I don't know the old world, at least I can't trust what little memory I have of it. Little pieces of history are dug up, brought to camp... but they don't help much. Maybe I'm just a pessimist, but wallowing in the past doesn't feel useful. It wasn't good then, so what would make it good now? Sometimes we find stuff that can be tweaked, made to work.... but we spend our days finding scrap, hunting for cans of food, and attempting to do "farm" stuff.
There is no government, besides the fabled masked man who has somehow survived all this time with his epic army of painted boys. I've never seen the head man, but every so often I find myself hiding or running from those white banshees while they tear through our territory. My group has a leader, but he's only meant to handle the big stuff... otherwise we mostly do what we want. We don't go around stealing or trying to kidnap anybody. They remind me of the Zealots who live a bit further West... obsessed with something that doesn't exist. Well, the Zealots won't kill themselves while trying to kill you, at least. A War Boy will probably kill themselves before having a chance at maiming their target.
I guess everyone must have ended up in groups that they were suited for. Outsiders call me and my people Scrappers, 'cause that's what we do... hunt for scrap and try to make something of it.
Well, enough writing for one night... more work ahead tomorrow.
Page found after a rogue-party raid
I feel so old anymore, though I don't remember how long I've been around. These damn chalk-dust-covered boys are always hyper active. Times are changing though, and I'm planning to move to the top. Joe's been dead a while now and all us Imperator's have done is struggle, duke it out for that top spot. No one's winning. We're too tired, handling all the changes that have gone on... rogue war parties. Furiosa disappeared, and the wives.... who cares. Half these boys don't even notice anything.
All I have to say is: Toecutter for Immortan! No harm in self-promotion, right? I brought my own men here, I handled them successfully for years. They refuse to dust themselves up, and that's really set them apart from Joe's kids. Of course, we've had as many losses that weren't related to battle. Damage from the world around us, storms out in the middle of North America, sicknesses no one knows about... not even the Organic.
I could never promise to stop all that, but we really need to get it together... these baby boys gotta start listening to somebody. Might as well be me they look up to.
August 10th, 2014
The end has come, and the chosen are here to lead the dirty lambs to slaughter. My people have survived, blessed with the last minute revelation of a vault! The sounds have stopped, all seems to have gone truly silent out there so we are sending people up today. We need to start our Savior's work immediately. It had been said their would be unsavory roaches who would survive, who could hide from the smite.
Those heathens, those so-called "elected officials"... THEY were the last straw for the Almighty One. THEY displeased him so with their bickering and fighting, and so the angels descended upon us, sweeping the faithful to safety and obliterating the lands to clean the slate.
August 16th, 2014
Six days ago, We sent seven men to the surface to inspect the land. The devils must be out there as a grim discovery was made... Charles was found dead just paces from the hatch. Blood poured from his wounds. Perhaps someone got to him, or maybe he was a sinner... a wolf in sheep's clothing. We shall never truly know. The rest of the party has not returned yet. The women, children, and remaining men will stay here until the outside is deemed safe.
It's almost frustrating how no one talks about it. You would think the old would want the young to know, for the sake of the future... I guess no one really believes in the future, or these old decrepit folk don't really care since it doesn't involve them. Perhaps I don't even care? Maybe I just need entertainment... sitting in a damn hostel all day taking names isn't very fun.
So far what I've gathered are bits and pieces. It wasn't just one big bomb dropped. It wasn't just here. There were foreign boots on the ground, shipped over the seas to fight whoever opposed. Apparently it happened every where. Or that's what people figured, since no one's come here to help. The East Coast, where I am now, seems to be in decent shape. I guess. There are some health problems that we can only take wild guesses at the cause... but out West, it's a disaster. It's supposed to be really bad out there and the people around here have tried to stay away as best they can. It's not just about the possibility of radiation poisoning... it's the journey there and those damn Zealots... they come out of the ground sometimes, attack scrap parties and travelers. It's nasty business. That's why I stay here, bored out of my mind while watching over the guests.