cross a towering mountain chain, the peaks jagged as the fangs of an immense maw, and find themselves quite literally at the ends of the Earth, looking down into a hellish, unimaginably vast bowl that extends down through the mantle to the exposed core of the planet. And yet, even this is not necessarily the end point of exploration. Given the fractured, everchanging and flowing nature of the new reality, the truly determined might well decide to descend into that bowl and discover what waits and hungers inside the wounded Earth. Elsewhere, life is hardly less bizarre or dangerous. No one has seen the sun since the cataclysm. For all anyone knows, the Earth may no longer be in the solar system, though illumination comes from somewhere. The sky is perpetually overcast, the clouds a roil of colors. Sometimes they calm enough to permit the light of dirty twilight. At other times, they bring a fearsome night to the land. It is as likely to rain blood or fire as it is water, and sometimes the clouds reach down to the land. What may look at first like a tornado, however, is actually a monstrous, clawed tentacle. It will scour the land for miles, leaving deep trenches, until it has snatched up its terrified prey. The climate is as changeable as the light. There are no temperate or tropical zones any longer. The same region can experience blistering heat and then plunge into ice age conditions within minutes. Farming in such conditions is impossible, and no one would dare make the attempt anyway, because all crops are now carnivorous. Existence for survivors, then, is precarious. Food is limited to what can be hunted or scavenged. Either option is dangerous, for the entire world has become a vicious predatory chain. Everything that lives is a hunter, and everything lives. Even the rivers might 100 Micro-Settings
rise up, become solid beings, and claim their prey before sinking back into their banks. Trees will reach down with branches or vines. The ground shifts unpredictably, solid and safe in some areas, sprouting devouring mouths in others. Monsters stalk the wastelands. Some are recognizable mutations. They might once have been dogs or cattle or crows, but they have been transformed by the slaughtered reality into beings of nightmare. There are other creatures, too, far worse. They might be small, the size of insects, yet plotting with superhuman intelligence. Others bestride mountains. Still others are mountains. This is in every sense the landscape of nightmare. One might think that to find oneself here, one would pray for death. Those who would surrender have done so. Many more will die. And yet, in spite of the everything, there are enclaves of survivors, settlements that retain some traces of civilization as their citizens do everything in their power to keep going in the new surreality. Scavenging is one of primary ways of getting what one needs. Over 99% of humanity was wiped out in the first instants of the cataclysm, and there are, for those who dare risk it, treasure troves of canned goods, weapons, and other supplies to be found. As dangerous as the countrysides are, though, the cities can be even worse, for there is just as much lethal life here. The monuments of human ingenuity and ambition have become the most fearsome of creatures and sights. The top halves of some skyscrapers float high above the ruined streets, their bottom halves long gone. Some are now twisted, distorted shapes, ones that the curious should approach at their own risk, for there is no telling which of these structures might suddenly lash out, concrete and brick as flexible as flesh, and as hungry. The greatest of these 101 Micro-Settings
structures have become the greatest monsters, the new gods of this world. The Empire State Building, for example, opens red eyes to look upon the its misshapen kingdom of Manhattan. An entire third of its height becomes an open maw, and a searchlight on its mooring mast sweeps the ground before it, sucking up whatever it illuminates with the force of a tractor beam, hurling unfortunate prey into the maw. There are as many monsters and threats in this world as there are nightmares that have beset the human imagination. It requires all the imaginative power, then, of the survivors to stay alive in the present, and hope for a future. They may not thrive, but they may go on. And some are more ambitious than others. Some feel they can do more than make peace with this world. They can become part of it, and become lords of their fellows, because reality continues to bleed, there are points where the injury to the real is apparent, and humans can mutate too… Sample Adventure Hooks: 1. The players arrive at a settlement that offers the promise of safety. However, it is ruled by a tyrant. He has found a reality wound in a cave underneath the settlement and has subjected himself to it, acquiring superhuman powers and mutating horribly in the process. How will the players stop him? Will they also choose to mutate, and take the risk of losing their humanity? 2. Two settlements are competing for resources in the same region of the city. Will the players seek to forge an alliance with the other group, or engage in a war of conquest or annihilation? Working together might lead to the discovery of new, larger caches of supplies. And how does the city react to the decision made? The actions of the unpredictable, predatory 102 Micro-Settings
streets and buildings may well help shape events. The supplies themselves may be a form of bait. 3. The shell of a skyscraper would make a much more secure refuge than the ramshackle cover the party currently uses. But in order to make such a fortress a reality, the characters will have to get inside the building, confront the horrors therein, and find some way to kill the huge monster. 103 Micro-Settings
4. The party are at the ends of the earth and descend inside the planet. New dangers await them there, including the possibility of strange new (or ancient) civilizations. 5. The hope of finding a better, safer place to live drives the characters to a journey of exploration. Their quest takes them through the nightmarish variety of the world. Perhaps it is delusion they are following. But perhaps their hope is justified. 6. The characters are mutating. They are stronger, better able to hunt and defend themselves against the world, but they are perceived as monstrous by unaffected humans, who hunt them down on sight. How will the characters deal with the threats? Will they try to convince the non-mutated survivors that they mean no harm? Or declare themselves new overlords? 7. What lives in the sky? There are ways in which the characters might get off the ground. They might capture a winged monster, find technological remnants that still work and that they can trust (to a point), or perhaps they have acquired the power of flight themselves. In the clouds, some of which are solid enough to walk upon, is another phantasmagoric world. Terrifying, yet enticing, discharges of energy link floating platforms, miles-long sky leviathans, and the twisted fortresses of dark beings. 8. Geology itself stalks the characters. Mountain chains are closing in on them. But it might be possible to turn things around and have the world go to war with itself. All the characters have to do is find a way to trigger hostility between the sentient mountains, and then escape the new cataclysm that ensues. 104 Micro-Settings
In the Ravenous Green By Marie Brennan Possible Themes: Humanity vs. Nature, Fragile Little Apes, Humanity’s Last Stand, Back to Primitivism Inspired by: Annihilation by Jeff Vandermeer, Semiosis by Sue Burke, Uprooted by Naomi Novik, Mononoke Hime/Princess Mononoke, the Pelagirs of Mercedes’ Lackey’s Valdemar novels The Concept: The human species started out as a bunch of East African apes in a world full of things with bigger teeth and sharper claws. Over the course of millions of years, we developed technology to make up for those shortcomings, until we convinced ourselves that we were the supreme beings on this planet, that we had absolutely nothing to fear from the natural world. To which Nature said: oh yeah? Nobody remembers anymore what caused the shift. Maybe we never knew. These days, the humans clinging to survival in a world full of things with bigger tentacles, sharper leaves, and explosive pollen have bigger concerns than remembering how the world fell apart. Like the mutant jungle just beyond their city’s walls, barely held at bay with axe and fire. In a good year, they make progress against the Ravenous Green, pushing it back and reclaiming some land for human use. In a bad year… Well, there’s a reason we said it’s just beyond their city’s walls. “In the Ravenous Green” is a micro-setting for those who like to tell stories about lethal mammals, birds, reptiles, insects, fungus, flowers, vines, and trees, and who probably think Australia is awesome. 105 Micro-Settings
Setting fluff: The stripes across Tishala’s arm were getting wider. Her skin was bleaching pale and hardening into ridges like bark—if that was even still her skin, and not some parasite taking its place. She kept it hidden, not wanting to argue with Chinh again. They both knew the stripes would kill her eventually, but if he cut her arm off that might kill her now. And it would definitely make her useless to the expedition. Tishala knew when she left the city that she might not live to see it again. They all did. But she was determined to go as far as she could, because the rest of the team— what survived of it—needed her. Up ahead, movement. Tishala pulled her sleeve back down and nocked an arrow to her bow, grateful that the bark stripes hadn’t yet weakened her arm. Then a checkered bit of cloth danced above the brush up ahead, and she relaxed. They couldn’t use whistled signals, not here; they’d found out the hard way that some of the local insects were learning and imitating the sounds, luring their people into the path of a swarm. The cloth was an improvised solution, letting them know Jasweer had returned from her scouting loop. And she’d found something. Sweat had carved runnels through the camouflaging paint on Jasweer’s dark face, and she looked sick. “We made it,” she said. “But they didn’t.” Tishala sagged. It wasn’t a surprise. Their western outpost had gone silent two months before, and out in the Ravenous Green, there was always one obvious answer as to why. But they’d hoped. Hoped it might be possible to push back. Hoped they could expand beyond the city, reclaim a little of the world for humanity. Instead, this: four hundred souls, 106 Micro-Settings
lost to the jungle. “Any sign of survivors?” Chinh asked. Jasweer swallowed hard. She was usually the steadiest of them all, taking everything in stride, from eagles that vomited spiders to animated mud. Whatever she’d seen in the outpost, though—it had rattled her. “You have to see for yourself.” They followed her, the six of them who had made it this far. The stripes along Tishala’s arm itched, but she bit down and gripped her bow harder. Not now. Not yet. They need me still. Two months. It shouldn’t have been enough time for the outpost to fall to ruin, but this was the Ravenous Green. It had its ways. Mushrooms crawled up and over the broken shells of the buildings, a forest of colorful blue caps in the relentless green of the jungle. It would have been beautiful, if Tishala hadn’t learned in childhood not to trust beauty. Nobody in the group touched the fungus, unsure of what it might do. “Over there,” Jasweer whispered, as if the mushrooms might hear her—which for all anybody knew, they might. “Look.” Black scars cut through the blue, where someone had used acid to carve a message into one of the outpost’s fallen walls: IT WAS THE DUST Tishala’s mouth went dry. The dust. Dry winds had blown through the city as they were leaving, carrying a fine grit they thought must have come from some distant fire. It had happened before, because the Ravenous Green fought itself, too, with all the same weapons it used against them. 107 Micro-Settings
But this was different. “Not dust,” she whispered. “Spores.” Chinh breathed a choked-off prayer. A few people in the city still believed in gods—powers that could be persuaded to help humanity out. Tishala wasn’t one of them. The only thing that could save humanity was other human beings. And if they didn’t get back to the city immediately, there might not be anything left to save. “We have to go,” she said. “Now.” Beneath her sleeve, the stripes itched as they expanded. Sample Adventure Hooks: “In the Ravenous Green” is about a world full of life, most of which might kill you. Whether it tells the story of how humanity fights back and reclaims some land for their own safe use or how humanity gets overrun by mutant plants and animals that laugh at their defenses is up to you… 1. Is anyone out there? The default description for “In the Ravenous Green” treats the city as an isolated enclave of survivors, possibly the last in the world. But if you like the idea of exploring a hostile landscape, this hook sends you deep into the jungle in search of signs that you’re not the only ones left. Inch by inch, yard by yard, you and your fellow Greenguard have won progress against the jungle. The deer that shot the points of their antlers at you like knives are gone. There’s farmland where there used to be a field of acid-petaled flowers. Then, two months ago, you found yourself on the bank of a river. 108 Micro-Settings
Rivers, they say, are life. And also death, because practically everything here is lethal—the fish in the water almost hypnotized your cousin into drowning himself—but ancient civilizations sprang up along rivers, a constant source of fresh water. For you, it’s also a source of hope. If anyone else is alive… they might be somewhere along this river. The stories say there used to be other cities. Maybe they aren’t all gone. Of course, you have to survive long enough to find them. And then long enough to get back and tell the tale. Good luck. 2. You’re the last thing standing between the human species and obliteration. If what you like best in the world is stories about fighting with your back to the wall, this setup put the city on its heels, on the brink of losing entirely. What better time for some heroes to shine? At first it was slow—slow enough that people could pretend it wasn’t happening. Then you started losing whole swaths of land overnight. The outer walls fell to a mass of vines that scream like human children when they’re harmed. The farmlands vanished beneath clouds of butterflies whose wings shed a powder that sends people into homicidal rages. You pulled back and back and back, and now… there’s nowhere left to run. All you have is the city. You lose this, you lose everything. And something is building out there. Something worse. Something you fear is more than just the natural (or unnatural) hazards of the Ravenous Green. This time it feels directed. Organized. Planned. It’s time for humanity’s last stand. 109 Micro-Settings
3. It’s time to take the fight to the enemy. For groups that want to investigate what created the Ravenous Green, this scenario gives you a chance to take the initiative against the mutant jungle—and learn the secrets of its true nature… The answers are out there. Your records are fragmentary, but you’re pretty sure that whatever started this came from the mountaintop you can see from the city walls. And if you know what started it, then maybe you can end it. Stop this war of attrition with the Ravenous Green, and return the world to a state human beings can live in. It won’t be easy, though. First you have to make your way through the jungle to that mountain bastion. Then you have to find something useful, like a weapon. And then you have to annihilate the jungle that has eaten your world. Or so you think. But there is information waiting, high in the mountains, that may change your view of the Ravenous Green forever. 110 Micro-Settings
The Red Fever By Shawn Carmen “Today the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention released a statement addressing growing concerns over the outbreaks of the illness being called the Red Fever. Officials state that while the origin of this new pandemic remains unknown, they are confident that a treatment for those afflicted, as well as a vaccine for those yet unaffected, will be available very shortly through local health departments and specially designated hospitals.” —Lies and damage control, spread while the world was circling the drain… There are lots of people who remember the world the way it was before, but I’m not one of them. I was too young. I have a few vague memories, snippets of color and noise, but that’s it. Nothing really definitive. I’m lucky that way. The ones who do remember, they have it harder, I think. They couldn’t adjust as well to the way the world is now. The world after the Red Fever. Their memories make them weak. It isn’t their fault, but they have to bear that burden. I’m free. I’m strong. I’m a Blade. From what my parents told me about the world before, it was luxury. People spent their whole lives wrapped up in comfort and softness. The world didn’t have any hard edges, and neither did they. I think that’s why the Fever took so many of them. They couldn’t fight, not even for their lives. People like that don’t live very long in this world. Perhaps it makes me sound evil, but I think that’s for the best. Weakness spreads like a plague worse than any sickness. If you let it take root, it will kill you and everyone you love, assuming you allow yourself to love anyone. Some think that’s just another weakness. I’m not so sure of that part. 111 Micro-Settings
Regardless, the Red Fever took luxury and comfort away. So many people died that the things that everyone took for granted stopped being made. Fuel. Ammunition. Food. The idea that people didn’t know how to grow or hunt their own food seems insane, but apparently that was how it was then. People just bought it. Weak. When the people who made everything died, there was still plenty to be found, and most people who survived the Fever kept on surviving until supplies ran low. Then no one knew how to make more fuel, or ammunition, and most importantly, a lot of them didn’t know how to get food. But they knew how to pick up a stone and smash the skull of someone who had some left. Things got very bad. That part I can remember just a little bit. I remember my father struggling to feed me. He was weak, but he learned to be strong. It saved his life and mine. It was during this time that the Shogun first appeared. No one knows his real name. No one knows who or what he was before the Fever. All that matters is who he was after. He was the strongest of all those who survived. It wasn’t just that he was a fighter, although they say that back then he was unstoppable in battle. It was his will. He had a vision, and he would not be deterred. He gathered up anyone that was willing to fight for him, to fight to survive, and bound them together into his army. The strongest of his followers, he called his Sons. There were ten of them at any given time, and you could only become a Son if one of his existing Sons fell in battle, or if you were able to challenge one and defeat them. Lots of people challenged his Sons at first. Most ended up crippled. After a while people stopped challenging them. And no one who ever saw the Shogun fight even considered challenging him. 112 Micro-Settings
In the nation that existed before the Fever, there was a wide stretch of land between an ocean to the west and a mountain range on the east. The Shogun decided that this would be the place to build his new world. After wandering and fighting for a long time, he and the forces he had built up set up their headquarters in a small, empty town near the center of the area he wanted to control. He and his Sons divided up the land into provinces, and each of his Sons was given a province. They were given a portion of the Shogun’s forces and sent to pacify their province. I was still very young at the time, but the Shogun’s directives to his Sons are well remembered today: • All those who swear fealty must be protected. • All those who refuse must be permitted to leave the province. • All those who raise arms against you must be destroyed. It was not an easy time. There were many who needed to be convinced. They had forgotten what order was like and had embraced the anarchy that dominated the land. The strong took what they wanted, yes, but the truly strong enforced order. There hadn’t been anyone strong enough to do that for years, and no one remembered the benefits it brought. Some joined right away. Some refused and had to be moved. Of those who needed to be relocated, some fought. When possible, those who fought were shown the error of their ways and given another chance to join or leave. Those who refused were wiped out utterly. There would be no room for dissent beneath the Shogun’s banner. It was during the pacification that the Shogun had all firearms quietly taken away as well. They were transported back to the Shogun’s headquarters and, if the rumors are true, were melted down to make blades 113 Micro-Settings
and tools. Guns allowed the weak to subvert the natural order of things and slay the strong from afar. This was not acceptable. The strong fought with steel in hand, or bare fists, and slew their foes at arm’s length, looking into their eyes. It was the Shogun’s law. It was the natural way. That was then. Twenty years have passed. The provinces have flourished. The Sons rule in peace. A few of the originals remains. Others have passed their titles on to their children, or been replaced by a challenge, as the Shogun’s law permits. But all is not well. Six months ago, the first rumors of the Red Fever’s return began to circulate among the common people. Ten days ago, news of the unthinkable arrived like a blade in the heart: the Shogun is dead, taken by the Fever. For the first time in two decades, anarchy rears its head. The threat of chaos looms. The Sons now must decide how to proceed. Some of them have long-standing rivalries kept in check only by the Shogun. Without him, will they take up arms against one another? It is said that in the south, Delgado and his Lost Angels have long been known to covet the fertile fields of the neighboring Son, a woman called simply the Lady of Sorrows. Her assassins are without compare, but Delgado’s Lost Angels are among the most numerous of any Son’s forces. In the north, MacGregor holds sway over the province with the most lumber resources, but has long resisted calls from his fellow Sons to increase production, citing a desire not to overharvest his forests. The calls now grow more insistent and demanding, with no less than three Sons taking a decidedly antagonistic stance toward their brother-in-arms over his continued reluctance. 114 Micro-Settings
We are the chosen warriors of the Sons. Most of us are known as Blades, and the sword and the dagger are our calling cards. Our fighting arts are beyond compare, and with steel in our hand there is no foe we cannot overcome. Those who truly master our art are taken and trained further to become the Fists of the Sons. Steel is their weapon, but when steel is not on hand, they maim and kill with nothing more than their bare hands. If a Blade is a storm that brings death, then the Fist is the hurricane that brings devastation. Even worse than the brewing conflict between the Sons are rumors of an uprising from those who were long ago displaced from their homes during the pacification, and those who remained who are sympathetic to their cause. While they have no chance against Blades or Fists, there are whispers of a vast cache of weapons that the Shogun is to have destroyed, but which were saved. If this is true, if a hidden Tomb of the Gun does exist, and it is found, then everything we have built can be destroyed in very short order, and the Fever will finally finish what it began twenty years ago. The world will burn with chaos. Only we stand against the anarchy of yesterday. Only we defend the order of tomorrow. 115 Micro-Settings
The Metal Wastes By Elizabeth Chaipraditkul The war happened centuries ago—that’s what my data bank tells me, but who knows if that is true? Try to recharge for a few hours and hackers come by, upload your creds, and corrupt your data files. My RAM isn’t what it used to be, and I don’t want to spend the time de-fragmenting. Gig told me before the war, we were all more flesh than machine, that babies were born and not created. I wonder what that was like? Anyway, you just re-booted and probably don’t remember much, so let me remind you of a few things. It’s gonna be quick. We can’t spend much time here. The Metal Wastes The Metal Wastes is everything—it’s a grey humming mess of wires, circuit boards, and metal scrap for as far as the eye can see. The sky is a dark grey and the sun never shines. Lightning clouds thunder overhead, snapping downwards here and there, frying whatever they strike. If you’re truly unlucky like us, you’ve got to live in the Wastes themselves, scrounging around for whatever you can to survive. You find other folk who aren’t scrappers to travel with. Don’t get too attached to them though—who knows when your new friend is going to power down in the middle of the Wastes? Not blaming you, but I’m just saying… Charging ports in the Metal Wastes are few and far between, and without a port you’re as good as dead. Even if you do manage to find a charging port for the night, it doesn’t mean you’re safe. Beasts wander the Wastes, great hulking things made of corrupted files and malice who will tear apart anything that moves. If a beast attaches itself to you, it will drain every last 116 Micro-Settings
energy cell you have until you’re finally shut down for good—no reboots and no escaping to the web. Safe Places “Civilization” or what’s left of it lives in tunnels underground. Each meager bit of civilization has its own rules and customs. Everyone is terrified of everyone else, and outsiders are most definitely not welcome. I’d rather live in the Wastes—at least things are clear here, brutal, but honest. If you are allowed into a Safe Place, you’ll notice there is a strict different between the haves and the have-nots. The wealthier you are, the farther down you live. You’ll notice the walls are cleaner, the lights work, there’s a lack of oil spills on the floor, and there are constant patrols of guards. I’ve heard at the very bottom of each safe place there are people who still have most of their flesh. It isn’t even safe for them to come any higher, because of something called Rad-E-Sun, a curse from the time before. So instead they stay below ground and control what we do up here. They watch us, the track us, and they wait. For what? I’d rather not know. Folk People are no longer what they once were. If you’re lucky you have eyes that are flesh, that can see “people” colors, or fingertips that can feel, or a heart that beats. Then, you’re one of the people—you still have something that says you’re human. If you’re unlucky you’re all machine—you’re folk. Years ago people downloaded themselves into machines, or so the story goes. It seemed like the perfect solution— no matter how their form was destroyed, they’d survive; 117 Micro-Settings
they were immortal. But that just wasn’t the case. Cause as every folk knows—get beat down bad enough and your memory fragments. You wake up in alone, afraid, and all you’ve got is oily flashes of past memories. The people didn’t find immortality, they found a prison. Society is divided folk and people, even though there aren’t that many people left. People have to be careful, because everyone wants what they have—flesh. If they don’t guard what they have carefully, they could wake to find their flesh stolen, to be grafted on someone else just so that person can know what it’s like to feel. Feeling is the biggest high you can get. Be careful: learn to feel and get lost in it for hours, do something dangerous, get your friends in trouble. No one wants to travel with a feeling junkie—make sure you keep your files straight. That isn’t to say us folk don’t have feelings, not at all. But everyone’s itching to know what the Real is like. What human is like. Because in the end, weren’t he placed here to search for the Real? Hackers Hackers are folk who live in the Metal Wastes scrounging for scrap and terrorizing any decent folk who cross their path. These gangs carve up the Metal Wastes into territories named after each of their crews—the Bolters, the Wire Strippers, the Hijackers. Each of them looking to make easy cred as thieves or download a folk’s memory banks to get high on the feelings. The largest crew everyone fears are the Rippers. This gang ignores borders and lives by one rule—destroy. Led by She Made Flesh, they take no prisoners, refuse to negotiate, and aren’t interested in bribes. Instead, they look for people, tear them apart, and bring their flesh to She Made Flesh to add to her perfection. 118 Micro-Settings
Code says she is a beauty to behold, her skin a patchwork of every flesh color stored in memory banks. Her mouth is filled with sharpened teeth and a forked tongue of the last-living, long-dead mutated beast. For every bit of flesh covering her body she has a memory, a long-lost bit of knowledge from a person who knew the Real. The memories not only make her the most knowledgeable person in the Wasteland, but the cruelest, with each memory attached to a voice screaming inside her, demanding more power. If She Made Flesh already has the piece her Rippers bring her—the eye, the ear, the heart—she instead gifts it to one of her crew, sealing their loyalty to her and her twisted ways. Spirits in the Web Aside from the Metal Wastes there is the Web— an invisible force everywhere and nowhere. By concentrating, people and folk can link into the web and browse through the torn-up history of the lost world. Surfing the waves of the web takes a skilled rider, and if you browse for too long, you’re likely to get lost. Many folk enter the web looking for hints of a past life, a way to connect the scattered memories they have to a person from before the Metal Wastes. They comb through media profiles, read Tweets, scan pictures trying to comprehend the color green or the meaning of holiday. Most of these quests are folly, and folk’s searches are led astray by spirits. Spirits who live in the web are people, folk, and the like who’ve been disconnected from their metal forms and are forced to live in the web. Without a form and databanks to keep the integrity of their files, they fragment and grow dependent more and more on the web. Each piece of them that breaks off grabs a pieces of the web and pulls it in, 119 Micro-Settings
combing it with their psyche, trying to patch the damage. The only way for spirits to escape the web is for them to hijack the body of someone surfing. If the spirit downloads over 75% of their files into the body of the folk who’s surfing, they can wrestle control of the body from the folk and force them into the Web. Folk who know how to surf the Web put up at least one Firewall before surfing in order to keep pesky spirits out and know to surf through hidden windows to not draw the ire of particularly powerful spirits. If you really want to surf securely, you’ve got to find a port. If you hook-up via a port, it’s near impossible for spirits to steal your body. The only problem is all known ports are in the Wastes and the Wastes are controlled by the Hackers. Sky Place Some folk search the Web and even the Wastes for any signs of the Sky Place. Files from all over the Web reference the Sky Place. It is the place the people went when they died—those who were lucky enough to escape the Web and the curse of Rad-E-Sun. Some folk think it is a place with an endless battle, where the people train to one day come down to the Wastes, defeat the beasts of the Wastes, and reclaim the land for folk and people alike. Others, believe the Sky Place is run by a woman, benevolent and kind. When you reach the Sky Place, if your files aren’t corrupted, she’ll allow you in, give you a suit of flesh, and you’ll finally be at peace. Whatever it is, the Sky Place is glorious and every folk dreams of one day visiting it. Well, that’s it. You’re all caught up. Do me a favor and stop trying to recover your memory files. There’s a storm rolling in, and we need to find shelter. 120 Micro-Settings
Salvage By Steve Diamond Possible Themes: Post Apocalypse, Wild West, Aliens, Mystery, Horror, Adventure Inspired by: Mad Max, Cowboys & Aliens, Fallout, Wasteland, District 9, Independence Day, V, The Dark Tower, The Border by Robert McCammon They came. They saw. They conquered. We didn’t stand a chance. One day we were celebrating SpaceX, the next, our unintended invitation to anything out there was sent back with an RSVP to take our whole planet. Aliens invaded, and they didn’t come in peace. We called this first species “Mantids,” because that’s exactly what they looked like. They took over everything. They used humans as a testing ground for their own biological weapons, and for advances in mind-control. Why? Because we really weren’t alone in the universe, and they had their own enemies. Resistances rose and fell. And then, one day, they were all gone. Mantids were nowhere to be found. All their working ships were gone, and somehow, no one saw them leave. All that was left was a world they stripped and ravaged. Oh, and they left behind all their toys. No one really knows what they all do. But we should probably figure them out, because there is no way they are gone forever. PC’s can tackle this setting in dozens of ways, and in a variety of time-periods. Play during the initial invasion. The occupation. As the resistance. The morning after the Mantids abandon Earth for no knowable reason. No matter when you play, or what you do, you’re going to need to salvage their equipment, and what’s left of the planet, just to survive. 121 Micro-Settings
Setting Fluff: “What do you think it does?” The most common question of the decade. Moriarty pulled himself out of the guts of the machine and wiped his eyes. Some sort of fluid from inside the Mantid… thing… had dripped all over his face. “I don’t know,” Moriarty replied. “What do you think it does, Pete?” “Dunno. But it being hidden at the bottom of a building means it must be good for something. Must be important.” “Must be valuable?” “Exactly,” Pete said. “Maybe valuable enough to buy our freedom.” Moriarty shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe we end up dead like every other salvager. People don’t make deals with the Bosses. They own us, plain and simple.” Pete didn’t say anything for a long moment. He pulled off the knit cap his daughter made for him before she died of strep-throat two years ago. When the Mantids disappeared ten years earlier, everyone thought they could rebuild. Instead, the strong grabbed power in the vacuum. Gangs formed. Communities of gangs. And if you didn’t salvage the right stuff for them, you didn’t get the basic necessities. Like basic antibiotics. “Maybe we don’t ‘make a deal.’” Pete rubbed his bald head. “Maybe we force a deal.” Moriarty went very still. “What do you mean, Pete?” “I mean, I know some people that want a real community. At any cost.” “You want us to take our freedom by force?” 122Micro-Settings
Pete pointed at the Mantid machine. A tall cone, with a square hatch on the side that led to the internal wiring. It was machine, but also organic, and somehow still vaguely functional after ten years of neglect. “The Bosses don’t know what this does. They don’t know what any of it does. Not until—” “We figure it out for them,” Moriarty interrupted. “Yep.” Moriarty looked at the machine, then Pete. “Where do we start?” *** The Mantids must have left for a reason. Is there anything worse than not knowing? They came own in their ships which constantly changed shape— no one knows why—and began by nuking the capitol of every state and country in the world. That was day one. Years of slavery were followed by years of being test subjects. They sent our mothers, brothers, and children back to us… but those loved-ones weren’t the same anymore. In fact, they weren’t our loved-ones at all. Their minds had been twisted, and they came back preaching to us like the snake-charming pastors of old. “The Mantids are good.” “The Mantids are our saviors and protectors.” “Give yourselves over to your new rulers and be rewarded.” It didn’t take a genius to see it all a lie. It was brainwashing, nice and simple. It was obvious to a conquered species living in terror; the Mantids feared something else. More years went by, and all of humanity was giving up. What did we really have going for us? Suicide rates— 123 Micro-Settings
not that they were officially tracked or anything— skyrocketed. Better dead than in this world. And then one day, humanity woke up, and the Mantids were gone. We lived cowering in our hovels for weeks, waiting for them to show back up, laughing and saying, “You idiot humans! We totally got you! Now we are going to eat your brains!” They never came back. Humanity should have banded together. Tried going back to the way it was before. Instead, gangs rose up in power. They now run the what is left of the known world. And that’s just here. No one has managed to communicate with anyone an ocean away. Maybe it’s different elsewhere. The Mantids left everything behind. Weapons. Ships. Terraforming equipment. Their brainwashing tech. Everything. So we salvage it. Maybe we can use the salvage to fix our broken world. *** Sample Adventure Hooks: Each one of these hooks has the same goals: To make the player characters central to the unfolding story, to create a vehicle for interpersonal drama and mystery, and to reinforce the themes of the setting. The secondary goal is to challenge the players to make difficult choices in an unforgiving wasteland. The best part of this setting is its flexibility. The tech can be anything you want it to be. You can set your adventures in any time during the invasion, the occupation, or after the Mantids leave. Or, make a tiny campaign out of it and do all three. 124 Micro-Settings
I. Invasion: You live your life day-by-day. Maybe you’re an accountant. Or an actor. Or a teacher. Maybe even a soldier. One day you wake up, and the world has changed. Giant ships dive through the atmosphere, and before you even have time to think, “Huh, those ships seem like they are constantly shapeshifting,” they nuke everything. How many movies has Hollywood put out showing alien invasions? How many novels written? How many fictitious New Yorks or DCs or LAs or Londons or Parises have been blown up in those works? It’s too bad no one—tin-foil hat wearers excluded— took any of it seriously. It’s too bad the human masses gobbled down popcorn rather than preparing for the potential invasion. And now, here we are. No grand speeches from the President or Prime Minister. No giant robots to help us fight back. The aliens aren’t here to communicate or advance the human race into an era of interstellar travel. They are here to take control. Of our resources. Our planet. Our people. If you lived in a major metropolitan area, it’ll be a miracle to survive the first few hours of the invasion. If you do survive, you better hide or get out of Dodge, ’cause the aliens are coming for you. Otherwise, be glad you weren’t living in a city. Get your food. Get your guns and ammo. Maybe if you’re lucky, you can salvage an existence out there. II. Occupation: The invasion was bad. The occupation is worse. The Mantids rounded up every human like cattle, putting them in concentration camps the size of cities. They watch you. They barely feed you. They begin experimenting on you, because you are getting hints that there is something even worse than Mantids out there in the universe. 125 Micro-Settings
But there is still ray of hope. With how large the camps are, it’s easy to get lost in the cracks. Remember those weeds that used to drive you crazy? You know, the ones in cracks of your driveway and sidewalk? Now you’re the weed. What does it say about the state of things when you look at that as a symbol of hope? Days. Weeks. Months. Years. The Mantid Occupation keeps going on, and somehow it always gets worse. Just when it seemed like we’d reached a new status quo with the new insectile overlords, people start vanishing. It’s hard to tell at first, the way things are. It’s just a rumor here and there. And honestly, with people choosing to end their own lives rather than live like this, a missing person here-or-there doesn’t even make the non-existent news. But when the entire population of a block in a citywide concentration camp vanishes? People take notice. Some came back. Some didn’t. Maybe those that didn’t come back were the lucky ones, because those that did aren’t the same. The Mantids messed with minds, bodies, and DNA. Some of the survivors are just monsters now, and some seem totally normal. Seem. Maybe it’s time to join the resistance people whisper about. III. Salvage: How many years—decades?—did you live under the oppressive thumb of the Mantids? Every night you looked at that sharp piece of glass a little longer. That cliff seemed more and more inviting. Then the Mantids vanished. They didn’t just leave. You probably would have noticed hundreds of shape-shifting Mantid spacecraft leaving 126 Micro-Settings
Earth behind in their dust. No, one morning you woke up, got ready for another day fearing for your life, went outside, and saw they were gone. Naturally you went back inside and hid for a few weeks along with the remnant of humanity. The Mantids were coming back. Right? But they didn’t. And they didn’t take everything with them. In fact, the Mantids left most everything. Gangs formed, and the oppressed became the oppressors just like history always taught you. Now, your life is all about salvage. Salvaging alien tech. Food. Weapons. The past. Maybe even a new, potential future. Just remember, the Mantids are still out there, and so are other alien species that may be even worse. Hey, what’s that? And that? And THAT? Expect to hear a lot of that with the Mantids gone, and all their tech just sitting around. The world—at least this small corner of it—is wrecked. But at least you are free. More or less. You’re part of a gang, and your leader wants alien tech. Doesn’t matter what it is, so you better deliver, and you better deliver stuff that can make rival gangs go boom. Otherwise they’ll do the same to you. But what if you could leave? What if there are places in the world undamaged by the alien invasion and occupation? Or even just a little less damaged? Take what you can use or make sense of, keep a suspicious eye to the sky, and get out there. 127 Micro-Settings
California—Smoke & Gold By Jaym Gates Possible Themes: Survival horror, sci-fi caper, smuggling runs, adventure tales, mysteries. Inspired by: The American Dust Bowl, Fire Chasers, Leverage Introduction The heart of San Jose rose against the smoke-choked sky, a perfect bubble of clear air and gleaming glass. Towers of industry, lush parks, elaborate mansions, and a buoyant sense of optimism marked this haven as the home of those who have made it. She watched from the tree line. No walls marked the boundary. Can’t have anyone feeling like there’s an us vs. them. No feeling of entrapment. She sometimes wondered if it was to keep the likes of her out, or to keep the monsters in. A scrawny jackrabbit hopped toward the perimeter, the line of crumbling brown and brilliant life, drawn by the allure of the vivid green grass on the other side. A spark, a puff, and the rabbit’s body vaporized. Just another bit of fertilizer. Would that be such a bad way to go? The wind shifted, and the choking stench of the Sierra Vista Complex fire washed over her. Her scarred lungs seized, and she doubled over, hacking. She was born in that shining mecca, far down in the hierarchy, but her adult life spent here in the wastelands ruined her body and spirit. She watched, and waited, noting guard rotations, electrical boxes, and everything else one could know. 128 Micro-Settings
The cities might be beautiful, but they were not safe for everyone, and she needed a new passage into the heart of the giant. * He crouched inside the house, checking under the master bed. Twin dots of angry gleam glowed in the hellish orange light, and a soft hiss answered his attention. The heat on his back grew; the fire must have been moving up the hill by now. He shouldn’t have gone back in, he knew that; getting out of here now would be nearly impossible. Everyone else has already gone, but she asked… The eyes hissed and swiped at him, but he caught some fur, and the fire was getting so close… “Okay, Fluffy, let’s get out of here.” * They made it to La Diabla early in the evening. Twentysix of them, men and women and children exhausted and filthy, the only survivors of Atascadero. A nothing fire, a careless cigarette by some rich asshole out in the mountains for a weekend romp in the wilderness, but it caught the mountain winds in the middle of the night and turned, running thirty miles in three hours. Most of them never woke up. Those stumbling into this new town of the displaced and dispossessed were the few awake, or out of town. Their singed cars and cracked lips bore testament to their hellish flight, but no one batted an eyelid. This was, after all, California. 129 Micro-Settings
The Concept California’s always been a land bigger than you can dream, a place where anything can, and will, happen. These days, it’s the place where the haves live in state-ofthe-art sky-castles, and the have-nots eke out a minimal living in smoke-choked deserts, outrunning the wildfires. The ultra-rich live in havens, beautiful cities protected from the outside world by the best tech money can create. Everyone else survives as best they can in increasingly rough circumstances. The fortunate live in satellite communities, their houses as far apart as possible, their most prized possessions locked in fire-proof safes. The unfortunate… well, California is a big state, and the fires spare very little. The transient, the homeless, the lost, the rebels, they all have their own havens, and their own goals, and their own ways to survive this harsh, dry land. When the United States disintegrated, California separated into independent states and built its own union, formed of the State of Jefferson in the east, Nuevo California along the coast, and Sur-California in the south. The Three Sisters The three largest cities are San Diego-Tijuana, Los Angeles, and San Francisco Metro. A number of other cities also survive, but the Three Sisters hold priority as the Capitals of the Coast. San Francisco Metro is the queen of these, a sprawling conglomerate of nearly a dozen towns and cities. Given their size, the Sisters can’t be entirely warded, and some areas are safer than others. Their police forces are large and heavily militarized, and their governments are notoriously corrupt. 130 Micro-Settings
San Francisco Metro, in particular, is heavily radicalized. Still a tech capital, SFM found its immigrant populations driven out early on, replaced by swarms of white supremacists and incels. San Francisco itself is almost unrecognizable to the few old people who saw it before the tech revolution. Los Angeles is far more diverse, still driven by film and fiction, a fractured reality set apart from everything else. Cults, forgotten stars, and broken dreams are a dime a dozen in Los Angeles. San Diego-Tijuana is the largest, a twin city shared between Mexico and Sur-California. Diverse and thriving, San Diego-Tijuana is also the most open of the cities. Small areas are insulated and fenced, but huge slums of refugees and immigrants have collected here, seeking entrance to Mexico. Beyond the Sisters The advancement of agricultural technology and waterrefinement has, however, turned California’s farms into high-tech, high-yield manufactories. The farms are run as enclaves, vast feudal systems worked by prisoners who are leased to the agricultural corporations, supplemented by heavily-exploited migrant labor. They supply most of the continent with luxury and staple foods, from almonds to zucchini, turning huge profits. Outside of the major cities and the farms, the world is very different. While some areas of California are safe enough—too dry to burn—most live in constant fear of a single spark. Vast, fast-moving fires are the new normal. Not even cities are safe. In a way, this has driven incredible innovation, developing fire-resistant technology, a more resilient agricultural system, and alternative energy. Fire is now banned in all forms, including cigarettes and 131 Micro-Settings
most firearms. The police are also certified firefighters, and volunteer fire brigades train regularly in every community. The world outside the havens is coping as best it can, but fire is the least predictable natural disaster. Entire towns have been wiped out by the fires. The population is terrified, and the slightest shift of wind or whiff of smoke sends them into a panic. The economy is still flourishing, buoyed by the incredible wealth of the cities, but the open lands are in a state of flux. The region is scarred by immense wastelands of burned earth and dotted with temporary camps and refugee settlements. Some travel in caravans, roaming endlessly ahead of the fires in cars, vans, and animal-drawn wagons. The experts say the fires will burn the land clean soon, and that life will return to normal. The conspiracy theorists say that the corporations don’t want the fires to stop and are doing everything in their power to keep them burning. The firefighters say the fires are getting bigger, and the winds are getting rougher. The caravans keep driving, and the refugees keep fleeing, and the land keeps burning. The Grit and Grime There are a few major classes in Nuevo California, arranged in clear strata. At the top are the Tech Moguls. A few titanic figures with unbelievable wealth and power, the Tech Moguls are untouchable. Many have cults devoted to them and are heavily involved in politics. Following California tradition, most are also involved in humanitarian efforts, working to help raise the world up. Some, however, are less interested in good works, and rumors of slavery, human experimentation, and brutal exploitation abound. 132 Micro-Settings
The Agricultural Moguls are only a step behind the Tech Moguls, but tend to be more traditional, less interested in humanitarian efforts, and the slavery and exploitation are no mere rumors. Below them are the Elite, mostly male, wealthy, entitled, and sheltered. They work in tech jobs, safe in the cities, spoiled with everything they might wish, but always afraid of losing what they have. A huge middle class supports the cities, enclaves, and agricultural administration. While no particular feature unites them, they are the most “normal” of the California residents and live in a precarious balance between the brilliance of the enclaves and the smokechoked horror of the wilds. They have enough, but live on the edge of losing it all, to fire, or a bad business decision, or a greedy corporation. In the wilds, robber barons and smugglers carve out refuges for themselves, or live within enclaves, running their complex operations through intermediaries. Some of them rival the moguls for power and wealth, but the majority have tenuous power and wealth. Others, primarily the biker gangs, work together to maintain comfort and safety for their members, but usually work for or with interests within the city. And, lastly, three groups cohabit the bottom rung. The refugees, the indentured, and the prisoner classes struggle to survive. While the refugees theoretically have the option to better their circumstances, too often those who’ve lost everything have nowhere to turn but to the corporations, ending their freedom and often any ties or connections to the outside world. 133 Micro-Settings
The Second Dark Age By Dianna Gunn They wanted to end the bloodshed. To stop soldiers, our brothers and sisters, from dying. To end the war, once and for all. The M-735s, or Multicators as they came to be called, were supposed to do all of that for us. And they did. They destroyed the enemy and devoured their weapons. At first we cheered, grateful to see the end of the war. Our enemies’ surrender tasted sweet in our mouths. We accepted their surrender, but the war didn’t end. The Multicators no longer accepted authority. They simply continued devouring the enemy’s resources, their infrastructure, every scrap of metal and wire they could find. They multiplied from millions to tens of millions, conquering every inch of enemy land. We tried to stop them. Our best scientists worked round the clock, searching for a way to turn them off. Our government sent aid, evacuating cities before the Multicators arrived. They created the self-replicating robots to end the war. What they didn’t expect was that they would keep fighting, long after the war was over. After they devoured the enemy, they turned to us. Our ships, our weapons, our infrastructure. Tens of millions grew to hundreds of millions. With no hope of destroying the Multicators, the world’s remaining governments came up with another plan: to leave. They built a colony ship near the Arctic Circle, far away from the Multicators’ wrath, and named it Hope. Three thousand humans, the wealthiest and most brilliant, flew away to start again, somewhere far away from their creation. 134 Micro-Settings
Abandoned, the rest of humanity went into hiding, abandoning our metal tools and learning to live off the land again. Having devoured all the metal Earth had to offer, the Multicators started a new project: a spaceship. They launched themselves into space, leaving the remnants of humanity with nothing. And so we entered a new Dark Age. Disease and storms ravaged what remained of the human population. Billions died. Fifty years later, humanity is still nothing like what it was. We are struggling, dying. But there is hope now. We have, after all, survived. Perhaps someday we will be able to thrive again. Technology in the Second Dark Age Many people have access to small metal tools that were overlooked by the Multicators in their final stages of invasion. There is no consistent access to electricity, though some experiments have produced small amounts for short periods of time. Government in the Second Dark Age Without electricity, centralized government systems collapsed. Only the smallest, most remote governments retained any form of control. In these places, the communities at the edges of the world, life has remained much the same. In the rest of the world, new governments are emerging. Networks of towns are banding together, working to build new civilizations. These societies are crude and often cruel, but they show humanity’s true resilience. The most successful of these communities are the ones belonging to cultures that maintained traditional lifestyles with minimal dependence on technology. 135 Micro-Settings
Religion in the Second Dark Age Catastrophe tends to bring out the superstitious side of people, and the Second Dark Age is no exception. Many of the groups who were least affected by the Multicator invasion were already deeply religious, such as the Amish. Their survival, they said, was not merely a coincidence. It was a sign from God that they had been chosen to lead humanity into a new era, one of religious enlightenment. Refugees from the cities and towns destroyed by the Multicators flocked to these communities, converting by the hundreds. These societies struggled to accommodate their rapidly growing populations at first, but eventually they came to thrive in a way they hadn’t for centuries. Now these religious organizations are the largest communities in many parts of the world, exerting varying levels of control over neighboring towns. Other religious communities have completely cut off their already limited communication with the outside world. These groups believe that even thinking about how to recreate a technological civilization is blasphemous. Converts are required to destroy any possessions that could not be created with the current level of technology before they enter. Anyone found smuggling these possessions in is severely punished. Some of these communities will go so far as to execute technology smugglers. The Diggers The Multicators devoured all of the metal aboveground and the largest underground sources as well, but there are still small underground deposits of metal in remote locations around the world. The people dedicated to finding, and trading, these bits of metal are known as Diggers. 136 Micro-Settings
Diggers are both revered and feared in many communities. They provide wealth, and a connection to humanity’s great past, but they are often dangerous, rugged types. Many towns discourage Diggers from congregating in large groups. Religious communities believe the Diggers are blasphemers. Diggers caught trespassing on their lands are severely punished. Less adventurous Diggers make their money combing beaches and riverbeds near towns, or digging up ancient wiring. The bravest Diggers travel far and wide, seeking underground bunkers and vaults to raid. Most of these Diggers live a purely nomadic lifestyle, and often spend weeks on the road between dig sites. Most Diggers travel in groups of two or three, to simplify splitting the already sparse loot. The Vaults The wealthiest Diggers earned their fortunes exploring and looting “Vaults.” Some of these are actual vaults, but most are storm shelters or bunkers. These were ignored by the Multicators because of their remote location and difficulty of access, but in a world stripped bare their treasures are invaluable. After fifty years, many of these storm shelters and bunkers have been looted. Those with simple designs have been outright dismantled, their materials repurposed. Only a handful of Vaults remain, hidden away in the furthest corners of the world. 137 Micro-Settings
The Great Vault Some believe that the world’s governments came up with two plans: one for their own escape, and one to restart civilization on Earth. This second plan is known as the Great Vault. It is said to exist deep underground, near the Arctic base where Hope was built. Spanning several miles and containing blueprints and prototypes for thousands of humanity’s greatest inventions, the Great Vault is every Digger’s ultimate dream. There is no physical proof of its existence, but hundreds have gone north searching for it. Those who have returned came back with more scars than treasure, and many never made it back at all. Still, many Diggers choose the Great Vault as their final destination, heading north when they grow tired of seeking ever-smaller tech deposits and struggling to survive. Many consider it an honorable end, even if they never find the treasure. 138 Micro-Settings
Of Crowns and Scales By John D. Kennedy Micro-Setting Pitch: “Escape from Big Mountain” Possible Themes: Survival, Mining, Forced Evolution, Super Science Inspired by: Journey to the Center of the Earth, Fallout Shelters The Arrival: The chamber echoes with the sound of thunder as explosive shrapnel detonates off the wall. Clouds of dust billow out as the tapping sound of collapsing debris slows to a stop. Several spotlights shine into the room as a figure dressed in a thick leather and chainmail suit steps into the room. The figure checks a scanning device in their hands while several others lurk at the edge of the room. A heavily modulated voice comes from the leader. “Air’s clean. Some radiation in here, but nothing Doc’s meds can’t filter out. I say we found a jackpot.” “Really? What are we going to find, another couple of wrecked cars, maybe some elderly couple’s old camper? What are we gonna find here, Chief?” The sound of disgust from Chief’s voicebox was audible even without the speakers. Popping the clasp on her helmet, she pulled off her breather and glared at her crew behind her. “That camper kept us in batteries for a month, Skolarski. And you should open your eyes.” The dust slowly settled, and a soft glow emanated from the cavern. A vast forest of mushrooms the size of oak trees spanned the horizon. A waterfall of glowing blue water trickled at the water’s edge, and red grass 139 Micro-Settings
crunched underfoot as the Burrowers entered the chamber. The sounds of wildlife slowly began to blot out the sound of the group’s respirators. Breathing deeply, Chief smiled as she slid the scanner into her pocket. “Well, guys, looks like we hit the jackpot.” A low growl emerged from the nearby undergrowth. Several pairs of eyes glow in the dark, and before anyone could react, the team of veteran scavengers drew their weapons and fired. Escape from Big Mountain It was supposed to be a golden age. Mankind had tamed electricity, nature, and even the atom itself. But their greatest creation was on the verge of being a reality when scientists across the globe finally cracked the secret of manipulating matter. With the flick of a switch, they could rearrange atoms and convert elements into different compounds. Radioactive wastelands could be converted to idyllic gardens free of pollution. Crumbling buildings could be turned into modern superstructures, and every day garbage could be converted into food to feed the hungry. But where come breakthroughs for peace, comes the threat of war. The Instant Matter project was too tempting a technology for other nations to ignore. The nations of the world argued over whether the technology should be used and if so, then by who. The Haves and the Have Nots debated, argued, and ultimately went to war. At some point during this conflict the nations of the world created a devastating nightmare of fallout from nuclear devices and biological warfare. A scientist decided to use Instant Matter to fix the impending cataclysm and save mankind. What happened next will never be forgotten, because its effects were felt worldwide. 140 Micro-Settings
The Instant Matter project began to convert oxygen into different forms of rock. Soon towering mountain ranges of granite and marble began to fill the air. Flat plains gave way to enormous mountain ranges that reached into the sky. Entire settlements were wiped out as every speck of space was filled suddenly with rock. Others quaked with fear as they found themselves surrounded by an endless wall of rock that cut them off from the outside world. Settlements were forced to adapt to survive. Those towns and cities who had access to Instant Matter technology used it to create air and gigantic solar lamps that lit the caverns they found themselves in. Scavenge teams were sent out to find spare parts and food to keep the settlements going. As these teams began to explore the caverns around them, they discovered that the terrain known as Big Mountain was more than just caverns of rock and entombed cities. Attempts to reverse the Instant Matter apocalypse ended in frustration as no settlement possessed the power supply needed to transform the mountain back into air on such a large scale, and what power they did have was needed to keep the settlements alive. In addition to the nightmare they found themselves in, the survivors discovered the Instant Matter project had other unforeseen consequences. The Burrowers They are called Burrowers. The name is not just because they explore beneath the earth and explore the tunnels of Big Mountain but because of Edgar Rice Burrough’s stories about Pellucidar, the land that existed in the center of a hollow Earth. It was a world of strange geography and animals, and the tunnels of the Big Mountain are every bit as strange and exotic as his stories. 141 Micro-Settings
Equal part explorers and scavengers, the Burrowers are responsible for keeping the settlements running. They take on the grim task of exploring the dark places of Big Mountain. This is no easy task, as the dangers of the world have only intensified. The mountain possesses razor sharp tunnels, pockets of toxic gas, and the everpresent threat of cave ins. To make matters worse, the world itself was changed by Instant Matter. A new ecosystem emerged within Big Mountain as wildlife mutated to adapt within its walls. New species capable of surviving in the dark roamed the tunnels and forests of phosphorescent fungi blossomed. Animals such as the Marble Cave Bear and the Iguanodon preyed upon explorers, and Fungal Wood became a prized resource to maintain settlements. Though the settlements tried to stay united at first, competition over resources soon split them apart. As a settlement’s power needs grew, they attempted to extend their influence across the region. Natural resources such as fresh water springs and sources of uranium became battlegrounds as competing settlements fought to control them. In order to preserve themselves from the dangers of the world around them and the threat of their neighbors, each settlement began arming and equipping their own militias to keep them safe. That is not to say that the settlements prefer to stay isolated. Each settlement will trade precious batteries with each other, and supplies such as pre-Mountain antibiotics and technology are precious. Successful Burrowers are able to determine the needs of nearby settlements and memorize the best places to scavenge for what they need. A clever Burrower can retire after only a few years of successful scavenging. Unlucky Burrowers often do not last long, as they either end up in the gullet of a Tunnelworm or dead at the bottom of a toxic mineshaft. 142 Micro-Settings
Dangers in the Dark Although mankind is still the most dangerous threat in the Big Mountain, there are other dangers lurking in the dark. The most dangerous threats are seemingly out of this world, as they are threats that seem to have emerged out of old stories from the 18th century. These threats are the Morlocks and the Graves. The Morlocks come straight out of a Jules Vernes novel. Primitive creatures that have adapted to the dark crevasses of the Big Mountain, the Morlocks seem to live at one with the earth around them. Each Morlock possesses the ability to navigate through tunnels without the need for light, although whether this is a form of sonar or ESP, no settlement researcher has been able to uncover. Some Morlock communities keep to themselves, and only raid other settlements when forced. Other Morlock communities are feral bands that roam the dark, leaving few survivors in their wake as they seek an ever-increasing amount of plunder and treasure. Another threat are the Graves. Strange beings infused with Instant Matter energies, the Graves are little more than zombies constantly seeking to devour organic matter into themselves to keep themselves alive. Their parasitic bite can convert humans into Graves. Their bodies slowly begin to swirl with entropic decay, and unwary Burrowers have broken into new tunnels to discover settlements overrun with figures who are little more than glowing blue bodies with their skeletons visible from a distance. The most prominent hope that keeps each settlement running is the idea that someday the living Hell of being trapped in Big Mountain will end. Referred to as Escapism, some believe that one day a scientist will discover how to reverse the Instant Matter process and 143 Micro-Settings
return the world to normal. Others believe that the Big Mountain ends at some point, and they can escape from it to a world of blue skies and sunlight. No one knows how large or how far the Big Mountain goes, but cults dedicated to the belief that one day they will be able to escape offer succor to those trapped in the dark. Sample Adventure Hooks: Each one of these hooks have the same goals: To make the player characters central to the unfolding story, to create a vehicle for interpersonal drama and mystery, and to reinforce the themes of the setting, be they adventure, horror, politics or some mix of the three. The secondary goal is to challenge the players to make difficult choices. I. Redrock is one of the more successful settlements in Big Mountain, but lately its Sun generator is losing power. The city has attempted to repair their generator, but something is diverting power from the geothermal vent it uses for its power source. The city’s militia thinks it’s the nearby Morlocks settlement, but the Morlocks are also losing power from their Sun. As both settlements get ready for war, the Burrowers have to find a way to avert both war and the two Suns dying out. “Here’s the deal, Burrowers. I represent the Mayor of Redrock, and she’s hired me to find teams who can solve the mystery of our dying sun. If we don’t find where the power drain is coming from, Redrock and all thirty thousand of its people will go cold. All we know is the drain is occurring in the Chunnels, but that turf belongs to the Morlocks. If they’re responsible for our leech, then deal with it, but do not bring that trouble back on us, alright?” 144 Micro-Settings
II. The sound of monstrous howling echoes through the nearby settlement, though no one is sure where the sound is coming from. As the Burrowers investigate a nearby tunnel they discover a young Iguanodon trapped at the bottom of a well of smooth basalt. The creature is starving, and weak, but if fed will bond with its rescuers. Settlements will pay a high price for a young Iguanodon, but poachers will try to steal the beast away to either sell it or kill it for meat. “I heard it all through the night. The sound of an Iguanodon. Young one, too. Now, I’m giving you directions to where I think its hiding, but for one reason only: so I can get a good night’s sleep! What you do with it is your problem. Kill it, cook it, set it free; I don’t care. Just watch out for its teeth and remember this: it’s gonna get bigger.” III. The settlements of Blackfalls, Ruby Canyon, and New Lexington have been at war for over a year. The tunnels around the settlements are mined and guarded by sentries. Hundreds have died, and now a local Graves chief known as Loa Shati has rallied an army of the dead to her side. As the hordes of Graves grows steadily, travelers between the settlements start to go missing, and if the three settlements do not stop fighting among themselves then the region will be overwhelmed. “This is Beacon Forty Three. We’re trying to reach anyone to get us help. I don’t care what the commanders of the militias are up to, but we are dying down here! There’s Graves roaming in record numbers, and they’re destroying everything in their wake! And we can’t escape because all the shafts are locked off by the war! We need someone to come help us! Is anyone there?” 145 Micro-Settings
The Plunge By Mari Murdock Observation Log Kitt Peak National Observatory: Tucson, Arizona, USA Employee Name: Daniel Ortega Fuentes ID Number: 702-354c Usual Shift: 1000-2200 1/14—Bright flash of light from the western horizon. Lasted more than an hour and appeared like dawn breaking from the wrong direction. 1/15—Reports from Central related issues involving a large impact on moon’s surface. Still not clear of the situation. No visual since 0837 yesterday. All normal satellite orbits have been disrupted. 1/18—First visual of moon since reports of impact. Several degrees out of its usual orbit, the moon has split but is still intact. Meteors constant, day and night. Nearby reports of impact. 1/23—International emergency has been declared by the UN due to continued meteor impacts, destruction in major cities. The moon, no longer spherical, is disintegrating and being pulled toward the Earth’s gravity, piecemeal. Three main pieces remain, each dark and non-reflective, as if scorched. Likely cooling core fragments. People from the coast—Los Angeles, San Diego, Tijuana, Ensenada— are fleeing inland, gathering here in the desert. 2/11—We are under attack. People are convinced our facility has a bomb shelter, and we’ve been under siege for two days, unable to go home. We don’t have supplies or weapons here. Boss says to abandon the observatory early tomorrow morning. 146 Micro-Settings
2/13—Jessica got pulled out the truck. Boss said to leave her. We are headed to Picacho Peak. People have long since ignored the roads, driving in the desert to flee inland. The core is close enough to observe without telescope and is certain to impact earth within weeks. Our calculations land it in the Pacific in two days. All my colleagues are predicting the end of life on earth. 8/22—It’s been months, and I don’t know how, but we’re still here. The core did land in the Pacific, causing enormous tidal waves, and from what we gathered from other fleeing refugees, the ocean swallowed up the entire west coast. We can only guess what the rest of the world looks like. Tens of thousands of fleeing citizens were drowned as the desert flooded. Picacho Peak is now an island, and we are completely surrounded by the new inland sea. 10/5—Abnormal weather cycles have killed nearly all animals and plants, and people are starting to die or exposure and starvation. There are about fifteen of us left on Picacho Island, myself, a few of my Observatory colleagues, and some strangers. We built a crude raft out of floating debris. Tomorrow we will set out to find... well, whatever the hell is left of the world. 10/11—We’ve bounced from island to island in the Arizona Sea, salvaging whatever floats by. Compasses now point west. We want to go north to Utah since there could still be dry land at the higher altitude. We’ve already been targeted by scavengers twice, and I don’t think we can survive another hit. It would be a hell of a thing to have survived the apocalypse, only to be eaten by pirates. 12/21—Utah is a warzone. All the survivors here are killing each other over the food storage stockpiles and guns, and large gangs have violently staked out territories. Boss and Trisha died in an ambush last 147 Micro-Settings
night, and Abhijit lost an eye. We are down to twelve. Some of us want to try to hash it out here, but I’m still wondering about what happened to the moon. Since our compass still points west, I think that somehow the core became polarized when it entered the Earth’s electromagnetic field. If we follow the needle, we should be able to find the core and maybe some answers. 1/9—We’ve been adrift for weeks somewhere over California. Pirate activity is the worst here, but we were lucky enough to find some rifles and loads of ammo on our way through Nevada. This morning, we saw a tall black peak standing out of the ocean on the horizon. Our compass points straight at it, no matter where we drift. If it really is part of the core, then we are one step close to finding out what happened. Hopefully, we can get there without having our throats cut. 1/10—The core is made entirely of iron. The tallest central piece spires up above the clouds with enough of a coastal region to build a city on it. There’s wreckage and sharks all around it, so we need to be careful of approaching. 1/11—Last night, we saw light coming from Core Island. We sailed closer until a tiny town came into view on the northern shore. From what we could tell using binoculars, it seemed like a mining facility with dozens of workers extracting the iron. Stephen said he saw armed guards, making this some kind of weird labor camp. But who is organized enough to have set this type of operation so fast? Scared that they might see us if we got any closer, we started turning back, but there’s a fleet of pirates up ahead. God, what should we do? 148 Micro-Settings
What Are Our Options? Most of the world is sea, the earth’s magnetic field has shifted, and the night sky is now only lit with stars and our new asteroid belt. With the world so changed, the only thing you can depend upon is your ingenuity, because your luck is about to run out. What can you do to survive and discover the truth behind the end of the world? Crafting: Wreckage and scavenging are your supermarkets, and with the proper knowhow, you can turn trash into treasure. Use your wits to craft tools and/or weapons that can solve the problems that arise in the new world landscape. With the right ones, you might even be able to use the moon’s core and start a new Iron Age for the Earth. Diplomacy: Each survivor of the moon core’s impact has found a way to eat and survive. Robbers, soldiers, and families each have their own ways, so use your wits to build relationships with them. Sometimes, all it takes is sharing some of the fish you caught that day, and other times, negotiation needs a harpoon through the pirate captain’s eye. Combat: If you’ve learned anything from the last year, you know that fish gets old real fast, and anything shiny and sharp is everyone’s new favorite toy. To avoid being someone’s lunch or losing all your supplies, arm your team with anything and everything to stake out a bit of land or ocean for yourselves. Exploration: With only the tallest mountains of the world left, every bit of land is disputed territory, forcing you to rough it out on open sea. Build or salvage a ship to upgrade your home, discover and colonize a lonely mountain top, find what remnants of governmental contingency plans float by, or find what creepy phenomena the moonfall washed up from the depths of the ocean. 149 Micro-Settings