Post by ERIN on Jun 27, 2009 10:17:33 GMT -5
In 2013, the world came to an end – not in fire or ice, as Robert Frost had once
written, but in agony, loss and death. During its search for the ultimate weapon,
the United States of America began to dabble in bionuclear warfare in the same
way Iraq and Russia had done before them, experimenting with viruses, colds
and flus in order to find the perfect combination that could wipe out any threat
within a matter of days or weeks. The government kept it under wraps, all hush
hush and top secret, and it was conducted in Alaska - far away from the eyes
of the world's media - where they worked on it for a number of years. Finally,
a serum was devised that scientists deemed near completion - that was when
things got out of hand and an epidemic emerged to plague the United States.
There was no cure for those who became infected by the superflu. They died
within two days whilst the government scrambled to come up with a vaccine
and a story to appease the public - in the end, they only managed to conjur
up a story that made front pages all across the world. Countries turned their
backs on America and ports, borders and airports were closed in order to try
and contain the infection. People who wanted answers were given none, and
all the while the death count steadily rose. Mortality rates were high, rates of
survival were second to none and, all in all, the situation was deemed dire by
the World Health Organisation. It was a catastrophic crisis and there was no
way to stop it: people were left to die and those who didn't catch it were left
to handle the guilt of surviving and wondering why they hadn't died as well.
Eventually, the United States of America fell still and silent, becoming like
so many other great nations before it: a piece of history. The superflu was
rumoured to have wiped out the entire population, but the WHO and the UN
decided it was too much of a risk to send anyone in to investigate. So, they
left America as it was - untouched and desolate - and hoped that the virus
would die out as quickly as the people of America had after being infected.
It would seem, however, that the United Nations and the WHO were wrong.
People survived - not many, true, but they made it through the superflu or
simply didn't succumb to it in the first place. Their numbers were small and
scattered all throughout America, but they grouped together in their cities
and their towns and wondered what to do next. What was God's plan? Why
had they been spared? No answers came - instead, a voice came through
on radios all across the nation and announced that Las Vegas would be the
birthplace of what was soon to be known as New America. The voice gave
no name, only instructions, and that this risk - this chance - would be the
greatest and most rewarding risk of their lives. People listened, they paid
attention, they gathered supplies and they made their way to Las Vegas.
The voice had a name and its name was Captain. It waited in Nevada for
its people to come - and come they did. They were obedient, much like
sheep, and so Captain found it easy to organise them and herd them with
him and his fellow Nevadan survivors overseeing them like shepherds. It
was surprisingly easy to plant the seed of a totalitarianistic government
in the wake of a disaster, so the Hellions found, and the seed sprouted,
the city grew, and there was life in the aftermath of so many deaths. Not
all things are going to be easy, one must add, and thinkers who journeyed
to Las Vegas and discovered the totalitarianistic government longed for
something akin to the old America: a democracy, freedom, a public voice.
So they split up, stealing out of the city by night and venturing into the vast
expanse of desert that awaited them. And there, like their ancestors and the
people who had lived thousands of years before them, they set up homes -
a way of life - that was free from the tyrannical, iron grasp of the Hellions in
the heart of the city. In between the grasp of the Hellions and the freedom
of the group known as the Seraphs were the wanderers, people who slipped in
and out of the city walls like rats, taking food and supplies to the nomads in
the desert and waltzing the fine line between live and death. The line is finer
now as more people come to Las Vegas in search of this New America: times
are dangerous, but the scent of rebirth and change hangs heavy in the air.
FEVER DREAM
A POST-APOCALYPTIC ROLE PLAY BROUGHT TO YOU BY ERIN AND ELLIS[/size][/center]