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Year 2285
"The Fall. I wish I could say it happened quickly, but that wasn't so. We saw it coming, we knew what was going to happen as squabbles for oil escalated into a war to ensnare the world. We couldn't stop it. Civilization stopped that day and we were reduced to nothing more than feral animals, killing and consuming everything in our path.
Out here there is no God, no civilization, no 'Man'. There are the few of us who have survived through little more than luck.
It has been over two centuries since the Oil Wars ended with the nuclear event known as The Fall; with the press censored as it was, no one is entirely sure what happened. Only that the world as we knew it came crashing down around us. Nuclear winter gave way to relentless, dry heat; here in this irradiated wasteland, much of the flora has withered away, the fauna either dying off or adapting in oftentimes extreme ways to their nearly unrecognizable habitats. Those that managed to eke out a living here have mutated visibly and dramatically over their short generations.
Humans have not escaped the radiation unscathed either.
Many evacuated the cities with the threat of nuclear war looming over their heads, but that's not enough to live on; famine, disease, a lack of water, and fighting among other survivors have dwindled the remaining population to nearly nothing. Only small pockets of humanity remain, people banded together with the idea that there is protection in numbers. Some of them have been more fortunate than others.
Many tribes reign supreme in this wasteland; some being the most numerous, some being the best equipped, others the most organized. But there are still others determined to survive, some of whose existences are only known by their appearance at the bartertown. A tiny drop of civilization in a vast ocean of fire and savagery.
No one has been able to contact the rest of the world; for all we know, we are all that remains of humanity."
"The Fall. I wish I could say it happened quickly, but that wasn't so. We saw it coming, we knew what was going to happen as squabbles for oil escalated into a war to ensnare the world. We couldn't stop it. Civilization stopped that day and we were reduced to nothing more than feral animals, killing and consuming everything in our path.
Out here there is no God, no civilization, no 'Man'. There are the few of us who have survived through little more than luck.
It has been over two centuries since the Oil Wars ended with the nuclear event known as The Fall; with the press censored as it was, no one is entirely sure what happened. Only that the world as we knew it came crashing down around us. Nuclear winter gave way to relentless, dry heat; here in this irradiated wasteland, much of the flora has withered away, the fauna either dying off or adapting in oftentimes extreme ways to their nearly unrecognizable habitats. Those that managed to eke out a living here have mutated visibly and dramatically over their short generations.
Humans have not escaped the radiation unscathed either.
Many evacuated the cities with the threat of nuclear war looming over their heads, but that's not enough to live on; famine, disease, a lack of water, and fighting among other survivors have dwindled the remaining population to nearly nothing. Only small pockets of humanity remain, people banded together with the idea that there is protection in numbers. Some of them have been more fortunate than others.
Many tribes reign supreme in this wasteland; some being the most numerous, some being the best equipped, others the most organized. But there are still others determined to survive, some of whose existences are only known by their appearance at the bartertown. A tiny drop of civilization in a vast ocean of fire and savagery.
No one has been able to contact the rest of the world; for all we know, we are all that remains of humanity."
