The following fragmentary notes were found in a briefcase in the ruins of Davis Monthan AFB in Tucson, Arizona, on what is presumed to be the corpse of a government official of some sort. They have been dated to within 3 years of the disaster which ultimately destroyed the third cycle of world civilization. The papers are remarkably well preserved, considering their age, but still are missing large sections. They are a combination of official reports, personal testimony, and printed photographs.Fragment 1Though details are vague on the exact events and circumstances surrounding The Big Whoops, some things have been partially nailed down. We will examine these, stating only the
known facts, and marking speculation clearly as such. History demands this, as does what posterity we may have remaining. Due to lack of clear communication with Europe & Asia, we will focus primarily on the North American continent.
The primary event seems to have occurred on the East Coast of the United States, in the general vicinity of the greater Boston/Providence metro area. Details are unknown, as both cities "flipped inside out", and cannot be reached, due to the "bubble" that formed around the region. What is known is that the rest of their respective states were cooked to the bedrock by X-ray radiation. The only eye witness testimony is a cockpit recording from an airliner which was presumably destroyed mid-broadcast.
Quote from: SWA2122
Pilot: Hey! What was that?
Copilot: *unintelligible*
Pilot: It's fucking HUGE! Are we being attacked again? Because I don't think the Ay-rabs could *Unintelligible*
Copilot: Control surfaces not responding. Hydraulics not res *static*
Pilot: Never mind that, we're fucked. JUST LOOK!
Copilot: Our Father, who art in heaven...
Pilot: AW CRAP, MY EYES, MY *static*
<transmission ends>
The leading edge of the shockwave hit Philadelphia, Washington DC, Baltimore, and associated cities within less than an hour. While the radiation was not intense by that point, the cities involved were largely destroyed by the overpressure and the associated fires, etc, that followed.
By the time the shockwave reached Chicago, damage was minimal, with the exception of the complete failure of the power grid. At approximately the same time, the entire coast of Europe was hit by a record Tsunami. All contact was lost with Europe for months, and remains that way, barring low-power broadcasts by what appear to be amateur radio operators, who seem to be relating news of a continent-wide conflict of some kind, in which firearms are gradually being dismissed due to lack of ordinance, and being replaced with medieval weaponry. All broadcasts from Scotland contain nothing but laughter. Likewise, the sole broadcaster South of London keeps saying things like "I'll pit yer haid in", followed by more laughter. This leads us to believe – but isn't proven – that Scotland has somehow conquered the rest of England.
In the relative undamaged portions of North America, chaos reigned supreme. Confirmed reports of nuclear detonations detail the destruction of Utah and a large portion of Northern California. The Northwest descended into petty monarchies almost instantly, and with only one exception, these monarchies were based on the local military bases. The single exception is Portland, which is ruled by someone referred to as "The Dark Empress", sometimes referred to as "Queen Skinsaw".
The American Southwest doesn't seem to have noticed that anything is amiss. Indeed, their lives seem to be utterly unchanged. One man in Tucson, AZ, remarked "Just another day."
The Midwest
<end of first fragment>
Holy hell.
I feel both a need to coattail this, as well as a conviction that I can't do nearly as well.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on February 16, 2012, 05:32:44 PM
Holy hell.
I feel both a need to coattail this, as well as a conviction that I can't do nearly as well.
Remember that you'll have to write from somewhere outside of Mass/RI. Also, number your fragments (I have plans for this).
I guess somebody needs to keep a log of what is going on down here.
Entry 1
It's been a few months since everything went straight to hell. At first it wasn't all that bad. Well, other than no food was being brought in, along with other supplies.
Luckily, we were in a small town here in southwestern New Mexico. I found an abandoned shop, (hell, everything is abandoned now) and was able to hide while we made some changes to the motorhome. We replaced most of the glass with steel plate and took off any chrome or anything else that could shine. I painted it in a desert camo scheme too.
We did all of this because we expected people to change, we saw it in their eyes. We were right too. In the small town it still isn't too bad, but in any larger town there are warring gangs, and any outsiders are gunned down like rabid dogs.
We have learned to avoid large bodies of water as well, they are controlled by armed bands who demand stiff payment for water. If you know where, you can find fresh water in the desert.
We usually only stay in one place for 30 days or so, after that the risk of someone finding you goes up. We are up to 4 dogs now, a couple of them are pretty damn mean too. I don't want you to think everybody went bad, but the thing is, until you know better, you have to assume they are bad. I've seen people killed over a can of tuna.
Some days I think of my friends while I am cooking, and chuckle about comparing recipes for rattlesnake and roadrunners instead of pozole or lasagna.
Those fools up at White Sands Missle base have made travel that direction impossible. They still have some working drones and they tend to shoot first and ask questions later. I-25 is barricaded at Alamogordo so travel that direction is impossible as well. We considered trying what used to be Arizona, but we would have to pass close to Tucson, and that would be suicide these days. Forget getting anywhere close to Mexico, the Mexicans have mined the entire border with land mines and there are blown up vehicles blocking all the roads.
It is nearly impossible to even get to southeastern New Mexico as well. We would have to either go up by Alamogordo or through El Paso. Either way is certain death.
Overall though, we are lucky to be where we are. Did you know that there is more wildlife per square acre in the desert than there is in the forests? Prickly Pear cactus is also a pretty good vegetable, along with a lot of other edible plants.
Well, more later, I have to mount those chain guns on the motorhome now.
I'm hooked. Looking forward to reading more :)
Hrm... you blew up my city. I will write, but gotta find a handle.
Quote from: Luna on February 16, 2012, 06:10:39 PM
Hrm... you blew up my city. I will write, but gotta find a handle.
Nope. Flipped it inside out.
Fragment 3
Raw transcript of a cloth-bound journal found fifty miles outside what once was Baltimore, MD
[illegible] that J was having trouble with his brain again. Wasn't the first time I had to go see him, but it was probably the most fortunate. Odd that I have a mess of misfiring neurons to thank for survival. When the plane touched down, I got a call saying he had gone out to the farm, and shut himself up in the root/wine cellar. Huh. At the time, I thought that was a bad thing. On the drive over, the radio kept cutting in and out, bursts of static [illegible]
[page missing]
[illegible] ground shaking. In the dark sub-basement, dirt sifted down on our heads. I knew that while rare, earthquakes weren't unfamiliar out there, but this seemed like a big one. J was [manuscript torn] but stopped, all of a sudden. But even though he was silent, the air was still full of a shrieking, roaring, rending sound. I grabbed J and pulled him into the corner near the central beam of the old house, my eyes darting across the ceiling at the rattling floorboards overhead. Intense arrows of light shown through the buckling planks, and I could smell smoke. It suddenly hit me that everyone else was still upstairs. The cellar door was still firmly shut, and there were no attempts from outside to open it. I made an effort to stand, but the earth heaved again, and I was knocked off balance. I stayed put, and wrapped one arm around J, wondering when it would all [illegible]
Entry 2
Gas is getting harder to find. The last place we found it was at Akela Flats, and the Apaches almost got us there. Seems they consider that gas theirs. Terri disabled a few of their chase vehicles by killing the drivers, she's getting pretty damn good with that BAR. Good thing we found that National Guard Armory before it was taken over by a gang.
We have taken to staying in one place until we have been found now, because of the gas. Us RV Dwellers have eliminated most of the common robbers by now, but sometimes mobile gangs roar around looking for women and supplies.
We still don't know exactly what happened or who started it. The gist seems to be that there was some kind of war involving nukes. There are no operating radio or TV stations and word of mouth is usually speculation.
There are new sinkholes forming here and there. They immediately fill with water, but it's so salty that it's undrinkable. I am working on a process to remove the salt from the water though. The last place tested at 1% salt. There is a hot spring where we are now, I think it's pretty new. It's about 115 degrees and sure feels good, though I worry about magma rising. No telling what all the damage will cause underground, and this entire area is old volcanoes. No sense in worrying too much though, nothing we can do about it.
Food is still plentiful for hunting and water seems to be getting easier to find. I wonder if this is because we are getting better at finding it or if the climate is changing. I suspect it is both, as there feels like there is more vegetation.
Life is settling into a routine now, things are settling down in the towns as well. We approached Deming, and while we weren't attacked, we sure were turned away. They did warn us against trying to go to Las Cruces though, seems there is a power war going on there, and on a clear day from the right spot we can see smoke rising from that direction.
If the talk is true, I'm glad we didn't make it to southeastern New Mexico. Rumors say that from Roswell to Carlsbad much of the land just caved in. The cavern at Carlsbad collapsed and what was left filled with water, killing those who were living down there. The Pecos river is now at the bottom of a deep gorge, according to reports.
I don't know if anybody will ever read this, or even care if they do, but I still feel the need to keep writing it. More later.
LMNO...Great Minds... :lulz:
Yeah, I don't have TGRR's mind for the overreaching "future history" style.
Quote from: LMNO, PhD (life continues) on February 16, 2012, 06:48:42 PM
Yeah, I don't have TGRR's mind for the overreaching "future history" style.
Me either, I have to put myself in the here and now of a situation. Also, I was referring to our mutual thought of the earth shifting and changing.
Well, I'm just on the edge of the blast zone. There were gonna be some effects.
Intercepted radio transmissions in the vicinity of Philadelphia.
Voice 1: Sir! We're receiving a transmission from Boston! Over!
Voice 2: Patch it in! Over!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C_zEaYghRoY
Voice 2: Keep trying. There are people still alive in there. And we have to find out what happened. Over.
Fantastic work! Maybenopromises after my next class, I'll take a jab at this.
Argh, I've got some ideas but approaching them in a way that makes sense and fits with what's been established is turning out to be quite a challenge. I'm saving what I've got so far and I'll work on it more tonight.
Fragment 12
The following was recovered from the cellar of a pub located between London and Cornwall. Many such locations survived the worst of the pillaging as the Scots were famously loathe to put the torch to somewhere that might conceivably have another drop of alcohol within its walls. The entries had been torn from a notebook and stapled together in the order presented, hidden behind a loose brick.
Day 32
It has been over a month now, no matter which way you count it. Already longer than I thought we would make it. We only move during the day, and quickly. At night we can't escape the whooping laughter that rolls through the hills and valleys. The Doctor suggested that we head to Wales, but such a plan seems ridiculous. If this is what has become of the Scots, I told him, imagine what those savages will have become. They have a use for every part of the sheep down there.
No, it does us no good to complain. What we must do is ensure a clean record is kept that the world may know of these final twilight days of the Great Empire. We were a noble and dignified people, too soft on our barbarian cousins to the north, and it has cost us greatly.
Last night we were discovered. Thankfully, Craven had his elephant gun and was quick on the mark. Though he only winged the devil, it did seem to frighten him off. He shan't be 'pite'ing(?!) any heads around here, by George!
Day 34
It has been decided that we will strike south towards Somerset. Rumors persist from travellers on the road that there is some form of bastion down that way. Perhaps all the cider works as some manner of repellent to the Scotch mind. More lunatic ideas exist, certainly!
We number nearly a dozen. The roads are completely impassable thanks to the propensity of outraged Little Englanders to construct barricades of broken down cars, bricks, rubble, dogs and so forth. A surprising number of these makeshift constructions have some sort of variant on 'New Hadrian's Wall' painted across them. Many of them are decorated with the 'pitted in heids' of the unfortunate builders.
Day 35
(some of the text here is illegible; it has clearly been deliberately scrubbed out)
--fire. Only encouraged them further.
not sure how long they'd been following but caught sight of the wounded one, the one Craven got before. The bastards came howling at us almost the moment the sun was down. No weapons just grab one and pull back into the darkness, grab one pull back.
After they got the Doctor I shouted for us to get away. We couldn't stop them, like an angry orange hedge all swearing and the scent of old whiskey. Dear lord that smell.
Day 18
Disregard the last three entries. I fear I am losing my grip on reality. I came to this morning in the basement of the Red Lion, where my prior notes indicate I have been holed up for some time. The markings on the walls show this to be the eighteenth morning I have risen here. I have food and drink to survive another three months, and a brief tally of discarded cans seems to verify the notion I have eaten seventeen days worth of food here.
I have no memory of the events of which I have written, indeed I have no memory of the characters described within. Nor do I have any memory of what I have been doing for the past seventeen days. My notes seem to indicate that this is not the first time I have awoken without memory of what has transpired. I made the mistake of turning on the radio I have down here, hoping for news. The laughter. I don't think I will ever forget that laughter.
Day 19
Someone came across the basement this morning; two people in fact. One of them, a man with spectacles who has a gentle and easy manner, called himself Doctor Hibbert. The latter, a taller man with a very large gun, called himself Harry Craven. I did not know what to do, and I think they sensed my discomfort. In these strange times, perhaps discomfort is only natural?
For reasons I am not certain of myself I felt compelled to keep my notes private. They have said that the Scots are coming from the north, and they intend to travel South, gathering people as they go for safety. A final destination has not been determined. I suggested Somerset, the Doctor wants to go to Wales.
I have resolved to journey with them. If I have not taken complete leave of my senses it will be valuable. I am leaving this notes behind, and am gathering up my remaining supplies. I cannot stay here. The risk of discovery is too great. I am leaving them as a paper trail; I doubt any raving horde will care overmuch and perhaps another band of survivors will come across it. Our next target is the Queen's Head, down the way. If we can make it there I'll leave more in the same fashion.
I will edit in where the records I am writing are found once I figure out where the story takes me. :)
The following pages were clipped together with a note reading "files from Atascadero State Hospital"
http://img534.imageshack.us/slideshow/webplayer.php?id=056rms.jpg
(I'll post individual image links or attempt a transcription if people prefer)
Quote from: Queen_Gogira on February 18, 2012, 06:37:24 AM
The following pages were clipped together with a note reading "files from Atascadero State Hospital"
http://img534.imageshack.us/slideshow/webplayer.php?id=056rms.jpg
(I'll post individual image links or attempt a transcription if people prefer)
This was really fucking good. I can't make out all of it, but I think it'd lose something if I could.
Quote from: Demolition_Squid on February 18, 2012, 09:30:36 AM
Quote from: Queen_Gogira on February 18, 2012, 06:37:24 AM
The following pages were clipped together with a note reading "files from Atascadero State Hospital"
http://img534.imageshack.us/slideshow/webplayer.php?id=056rms.jpg
(I'll post individual image links or attempt a transcription if people prefer)
This was really fucking good. I can't make out all of it, but I think it'd lose something if I could.
Those are great, QG.