Jagged Lands and Atomic Cults
The World is Fucked.
Nobody remembers how or why. Maybe nobody ever knew. Our oldest living survivors have childhood memories of it: cities burning, society in chaos then collapse, families set to panicked flight. The Vaults are a lie cooked up by those bastards from Azteca and the Mega Cities are nothing but crumbling legends nobody but rad-blasted madmen have ever seen. The Fort offers some protection along the slag highway – when their patrols aren’t picking fights over the color of your skin. And it’s never safe out there, during the weird nights when the smoldering sky makes midnight into a blood-colored half-day.
The world is not what it was. Look around you: evidently, certainly, not what it was. But also close your eyes, open your brain: something is wrong. At the limits of perception, something howling, everpresent, full of hate and terror. From this, the world’s psychic maelstrom, we none of us have shelter.
We do what we can Here. The chimes haven’t been heard in years – some say our luck is gone on that account. But we’ve got what we need here: grub, juice, a roof over our head and a wall at our back.