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Tales of the Mud City v2 - A Fallout FRP (RP)


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Tales of the Mud City


“It is not violence that I fear, but what one becomes from indulging in the lust for bloodshed. Violence, my child, is the last refuge of the incompetent.”Mother Mary, circa 2268


Chicago, a city nicknamed America’s Heart for it’s bolstering transport system that effectively linked the entire nation together from land, sea, and air. By the mid 21st century, the mob had more control over the city than the mayor’s office. The final straw occurred in 2061 when the mayor of Chicago bankrupted the city by constructing “The Illinois”, a massive mile-high skyscraper, in a misguided attempt to earn his city some recognition. The leader of the Chicago Outfit (Rumored to be descended from the infamous Al Capone) won the mayoral election in a landslide, effectively turning the entire windy city into mob territory. While the energy crisis of the 2060s ravaged the rest of the world, Chicago managed to stay relatively stable and the Mob reigned supreme until that fateful day; October 23, 2077.


What remains of Chicago lives up to the original namesake upon being founded in the early 19th century, The Mud City. For nearly two hundred years a volatile and turbulent storm imbued with radioactive waste had ransacked the city in total reign. The large doses of radiation made it a perfect breeding ground for all amalgamations of unnatural wildlife and mutated creatures, some of which even descended from humans that occupied the streets nearly a century ago. Entire city blocks were ravaged by nuclear bombs, buckling the supports of skyscrapers throughout the entirety of downtown causing a maze-like ‘over-city’ hundreds of feet above the streets. The underground sewers and canals seemingly spew forth new creatures each day, a rapidly increasing number of species from crossbreeds to mutated creatures embedded with radioactive DNA. Nearly two full centuries with no end to this vicious cycle.


But at long last, sunlight showered the city in its golden glow. 


In the mid-2260s, the city was rediscovered by several expeditions of various parties; The NCR, The Legion, both the Western and Eastern Brotherhood of Steel, various Commonwealth factions, and dozens of raider cliques that have roamed the midwest for years on end. 


Now, in 2270, the Tales of The Mud City shall be forged in blood for all across the midwest to hear.



Turn 0 – 2270.


Emergence day.


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Eastern Brotherhood of Steel




Elder Geraint’s expedition found its way into Chicago battered and beaten from their Journey across the waste. Having left the capital wasteland seven years before the Lone Wanderer stepped out of Vault 101, they experienced great hardships with the loss of most of their knights and paladins along with their power armor and knowledge of how to construct it. The entire year was arduous, bloody and with the loss of many supplies, the Eastern expedition has now arrived in Chicago and cleared out much of the non-hostile squatters from the opening of Highway 57 and Morgan Park but slaughtered the majority of raiders in the area. Unfortunately most of their equipment was at its end of life resulting in the Brotherhood using its last materials for a change. Despite this rough start, Geraint’s optimism and acceptance of Lyon’s morality has led to a stabilization of their situation and now under orders to secure much of Chicago’s technological items the Brotherhood prepares itself for the future.


Elder Geraint’s Journal

December 1st, 2270


“Evidently Chicago’s been dubbed the Mud City by the local waste landers on many of the billboards leading into this infested city, much of it closed off to us no doubt thanks to our lack of numbers and equipment. It's been over eleven months since we left the capital wasteland much to the detriment of the chapter and my own men. All the training they received could not have prepared them for the super-mutant gangs and the ghoul hordes we encountered passing through Columbus, Ohio. Luckily enough we managed to replenish much of our pre-war weaponry and acquire some Brahmin’s to make leather armor along the way. The equipment however can not make up for the loss of Paladins and Knights, I’ll have to reorganize this expedition’s units before we continue our searches. Aspirant’s will have to be moved up to combat duties before they’ll be trained into Knights and so on, hopefully Paladin Quinlan can help our numbers swell as we take on local initiates. I can’t help but fear we’re going to be outnumbered no matter what we do… hopefully our scribes can rediscover how to at least produce T-45B power suits before we’re overwhelmed by raiders or worse.”


Stats: 200 Adv. Pop, 5 B, 7 M, 15 S, 22,000 C, 7 RP

[20 Stockpiled spaces]


(5,000 C, 1 B) 1 Market is built.


(15000 C) 2 Construction yard is produced to prepare. 


(7 M) 25 T2 Small arms are produced and 25 sets of T3 Metal is welded to protect Aspirants in the field. 


[7/25 RP] Research begins on making home-brew scrap armor due to the loss of all the power armor taken with the expedition. 

Edited by Devland99
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Engineers | Guild Ball Wikia | Fandom
2270 - Turn 1

Acid rain sizzled outside, as heavily clothed Iron Captains whipped the slave-zealots into working faster to collect the already meagre harvest from the boxes of the vegetable plot. William Donovan, the Chief Engineer, stood upon the ancient and cracked marble steps of Chicago Union Station, watching the savage treatment of the slave-zealots with casual disinterest. He turned slightly, as Fred Suhl walked down the steps behind him. "Well?" He asked quietly "have you sent the workers?"


"Ja" replied Fred, cheerily "if there's metal down there, we'll soon haul it out." The German-American pulls out a battered pack of cigarettes, found miraculously intact in some obscure corner of the train station, years before when it had first been settled. He pulls one of the last three out, and lights it, taking a long drag as he stares out at the now retreating slave-zealots. "We'll need more food soon. Christ, we'll need more everything."


Donovan smiles, glancing at Frederick. "Is that blasphemy I hear, Fred? The High Steam Priest praising a heathen God?" Fred laughs, and claps Donovan on the shoulder as he turns to walk up the steps. "Choo-Choo just doesn't have the same ring, Bill, but who gives a ****, so long as those dumb bastards believe it, eh?"


-2 Construction Yards - 15000 Caps
-50 T1 Guns - 2 M

-Research into T1 heavy guns – 10 of 10 R

-A band of Engineers descend into the tunnels of Chicago Union Station, where they look for abandoned trains and old rails. Providing they find any, said rails/trains are dismantled for metal. [MOD]

Edited by The_Mad_Skylord
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The Oasis


It was dusk, the sun had half dipped below Chicago’s ruined and crumbling skyline, falling further out of sight with every second. For the most part, it was quiet, the small patch of nature within the barren landscape began to slow down, the animals returning to their nests, burrows, and hideouts. This tranquility however, was suddenly interrupted by the creaking and groaning of branches, created by a single figure swinging from limb to limb before finally stopping to examine its surroundings. 


Eagle came to this tree every night. He enjoyed the view of the final rays of daylight washing over the ruined city; it all seemed like a great mystery to him, the humans and the before-times. Like all apes, he had seen the pictures and books of what the city used to look like. It puzzled him how humans were able to destroy something so huge, giant towers made of stone and metal..


The chimp’s trance was broken by the fluttering of wings, and the cawing of a large crow, which landed in front of him on the branch, cocking its head and dropping a small shiny pin. As if it were a regular occurance, Eagle produced several portions of meat, spoils from a hunt, and presented it to the bird which quickly snatched it up. Every evening Eagle would come to the tree with food, and every evening Crow would eventually arrive with something shiny. Eagle had plenty of food, and Eagle liked looking at shiny things, usually if it was shiny, it was from the before-times. Eagle also liked seeing Crow, he hoped Crow liked seeing him too…

-------- Actions --------
-Two Scrap Yards are built [15,000 C, 4B]
-50 Longbows (t3) are hewn [2 M]
-T2 Melee [2/5]

-Following the rout of the bad-men, tens of monkey patrols are sent to scour the sector and find where they have retreated to. (MOD)

Edited by Krefarus
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Western BoS Expedition


 Morality is a luxury that can not always be provided in the wasteland.


      Chicago Midway International airport was abandoned when the expedition arrived. Not a waster to be found. Senior Paladin Blackburn immediately raised the Brotherhood flag high and proud above the airport. Salvage teams of Knights and Scribes were dispatched around the block to find and secure any resources and or technology left lying about. Plenty of rubble piles to clear, buildings to search, and other hidey holes to find. All the meanwhile the first challenge lay ahead of the Senior Paladin; security. Paladin patrols were organized, along with checkpoints and other sentry positions. All was coming together.


        As for how the Senior Paladin planned on conducting the expedition was simple. Eventually whenever the foundation for the new chapter is laid out completely an election will be held by the members to select the first Elder. Most likely this will end up being Senior Paladin Blackburn if there isn’t another member who decides to challenge his authority and leadership capabilities. Tradition and codex will be followed with a couple exceptions them being listed; recruitment of wastelanders would be allowed but a rigorous set of trials and tribulations lay before them and “The Chains That Bind” would have it’s second portion scrapped. The second portion being “Orders are to observe the flow and not skip ranks. A superior may only give orders to his direct subordinates,...” It is known that this portion is inefficient and detrimental to the Brotherhood therefore it has been agreed upon by almost all the members of the expedition to lift it’s burden. Exceptions to the codex will happen if and only if there is a clear and obvious obstruction the expedition's ability to function. Other than that things should function like they do in the West, smooth and without complication.





The airport is scavenged for pre war technology and other resources. The scribes are ordered to find the old airport radio tower while they’re at it and see if they can get it functioning again. Paladin patrols are organized.


Two construction yards are being built. (15,000 C)


T1 Heavy Firearms are being researched (5/10)

Edited by NunuTheGreat
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New California Republic Rangers



‘Handsome’ Hank Williams rolled his rolled cigarette in his mouth, unlit. He had saved it for this day, the eventual arrival to their destination. The road had been hard, too hard. He had lost many friends, but not his wife, thank god. Kayla stood before him, idly mending her socks. She was a short and attractive women, though none would ever call her beautiful. Hank himself was from handsome, but the two searched deeper. Their shocked state right now was probably from the lack of action. The past years hiking all the way from California were brutal. They could almost not even comprehend the safety of the rudimentary shack they lived in. Hank lights his cigarette with an “Oh well” look on his face. Standing up, he pats Kayla’s hand affectionately. Tanking a few drags, he than opens his door into the harsh day.


Standing outside was his guard, Jerimiah Fink,  resolutely guarding the door. He was an ambitious one, but also capable. Waiting outside by Jeremiah was the corps 2nd in command, Brock Davidson. The giant of a man was similarly smoking, in celebration. Arms outstretched, he exclaims. “Well H, we finally made it, paradise.” The two chuckle grimly, puffing away. In an unspoken agreement they begin to walk the camp. “We got a lucky break, Brock. We shouldn’t be relieved with so many dead on the trail” Hank says soberly. This only warrants another grim chuckle from Davidson. “Don’t be such a hard ass Hank, we may as well enjoy being alive. Soon enough we’ll be back on patrol shooting bandits.” The two continue on their walk to the headquarters, with Fink trailing behind with a blank face. Soon enough orders would roll out again.




Elsewhere Tabitha Hersch shares a table with Lester Rosencranz, and Abigail Gullone. The three were all the primary representatives of their factions. While the Rangers got to work, they were busy planning far ahead. The NCR Republican, Vegas Spokesman, and Caravan Master sipped the last of the Sunset Sarsaparilla in comfort. They were already drafting new research projects, NCR law, and treaties with their neighbors. Handsome Hank didn’t even bother with their ilk, he kept to ensuring they didn’t all die. They did the heavy lifting of building an economy and relations.



Pop; 200

Income; 17k Caps, 11 B, 3 M, 7 R, 10 S


Mod Actions


Spreading word around to local blocks via posters. Any slave entering NCR territory will immediately be considered free, and put under Republican protection and rights. Similarly Wastelanders seeking refuge may shelter in NCR territory provided they temporarily hand in their arms, and assent to security oversight. The Rangers hope to show to their neighboring blocks they mean only to help, and ensure everyone’s prosperity and freedom.


The Rangers assemble vigorous 10 man patrols across their entire perimeter. They will look out for runaway slaves or wastelanders in need of help.  But they are also there to deter any raiders from prying too close. If one team sights hostiles, runners will quickly be sent to the next team over, and they will do the same in a chain, to alert all teams.


‘Handsome’ Hank tries his luck at gambling. Playing some games of Caravan and Black Jack to see just how lucky he could make himself paired with his card skill. -300 Caps [Luck; 1. Attempt to put further experience into skill via gambles.]


Player/Research Actions


The Rangers head a new project to acquire better [T2] Armor. The Apostles of Christ assent to assisting in this joint project.  It is expected they will soon render scrap armor almost obsolete. [10 R]. Leftover R continues into T3 armor [3/25]


Financial Actions


1 Scrap & 1 Salvage Yard -15k Caps, 4 B


50 T1 Firearms -2 M

5- Scrap Armor -1 M


Treasury; +1.7k Caps, 7 B, 10 S





Edited by GrimBeard
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People’s Republic of Jiāyuán

Tian walked through the streets, looking over a parchment. Mostly filled with the usual repeated messages he noticed at the bottom an announcement.

‘Calling any willing and able citizens, the Republic and the People need your service! The General Secretary and the People’s Council Committee have approved of the development of a standing armed force to defend the Republic from the horrors and barbarians of the wasteland!`

He came to a stop suddenly hearing a man calling out to the crowd
“Join the People’s Liberation Army! We are looking for volunteers willing and ready to put their lives on the line for the People!” The man called out, a small crowd had gathered. A man called out from the crowd “I volunteer!” he cried, and another called out. Tian rushed forward raising his hand into the air “Sir! I wish to serve in the People’s Army!”


The General Secretary looked at his advisor. “We don’t have the funds to train an entire army.” The advisor nodded “No, but we’ve begun an initiative to find volunteers. What training we can offer will be given to them, hopefully they’ll serve as a great example to others and do what we cannot.”

“Then see to it, put it in next week's pamphlets and call it the Officer’s Initiative.”


The PLA initially only finds a small amount of volunteers for it’s ‘initiative’ however the JPR’s armed forces don’t require volunteers. It’s people are required to serve when called upon, the volunteers will be made into Officers and Leaders. In other news the settlement pours its funding and treasury into acquiring means for construction and expansion. The People’s Council Committee seeks to know whats going on outside the settlement and deeper in Chicago’s urban jungle, unknown threats are unacceptable. As Americans used to say, better the devil you know.

Population: 1,500
Base Income: 15,000c
Population Income: 8,000
Market: 2,000c
Upkeep: 1,000c
Total: 24,000c

Base: 2M, 5S, 2R
Scrap Yards(2): 2M
Pop Production: 4R
Pop Needs: -6S


2 Scrap Yards, Market



With support equipment or a means to better defend a position with limited weaponry lacking. The JPR puts it’s scientists and engineers to work on designing a basic heavy firearm also known as a Machine Gun. (6R/10R T1)

In preparation for expanding the Republic the General Secretary has called for local artisans and blacksmiths to begin filling the JPR’s Armories to ensure security for their settled areas and the ability to project themselves into nearby areas. 25 Tier 2 Firearms and 150 Tier 2 Melee Weapons are put into production (4M)

With the need for expansion and construction 3 Construction Yards are put into development for the next year. (22,500c)

The PLA’s beginnings start this same year as the armories expansion. Officers are selected amongst volunteers and trained to lead the fledgling People’s Liberation Army. 15 Men receive training (1,500c)


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The Passionate Foodie: 2006 Twisted Oak River of Skulls






I ain’t no fool. Osiris saved us from that hell down there, man.. I’m just sayin. He’s spooky as all hell.” – A Twisted Skull grunt to another tribe member.


The tribe of the Twisted Skulls had made short work of the ghouls inhabiting the mud-covered neighborhood. They knew the importance of the collection of shanties and collapsed two-story buildings. Long ago, the ancestors of the Twisted Skulls likely inhabited these homes, thriving in the squalor and poverty afforded to them by the corrupt city. The ghouls they had to put down may have even been familiar faces to their ancestors; those fools who sought refuge in Vault 57.


After a week living here, their God-King found solace in his temporary palace, an old fire station which he had renovated with his own peculiar flavor of decor. The God-King demanded that they bring as many corpses from Vault 54 as they could. The Twisted Skulls originally thought he wanted to bury them, and so were quite surprised when he started ripping the bodies apart, decorating the fire house with the bones of the entombed and the blood of the diseased. The cruel reality of the wasteland was that the corpses had very little true value; they were just blood and bones. Maybe that was the lesson.


Since then, Osiris has yet to be seen with the rest of the tribe, beyond by his loyal bodyguard; the Skeleton Crew. In truth they were hardly even bodyguards, just a collection of the most deranged individuals of the tribe, given war-paints displaying bones and skulls over their bodies. The true leaders of the tribe rose up during this period of time, leading them in the construction of homes and shanties, and repopulating the shattered remains of their origins. One such leader is Uterius Burke.



Burke had quickly gained the respect of his tribe when he beat back the hordes of ghouls with a salvaged shotgun and managed to rally together the tribe’s first raiding party. His natural talent at combat and skills as a leader lent him to be one of the de-facto leaders of the Twisted Skulls while the God-King sat in contemplation.


Imgur: The magic of the Internet


“Burke! Help me with my roof?” A woman holding a large piece of sheet metal called out to Uterius just as another man started begging for assistance, “Please, Uterius! I just need a bit of food. Help a brother out!” He pretended to ignore them and just walked past. Last he counted there were two-hundred and fifty Twisted Skulls in total, if the gangs couldn’t help each other out on their own then he had little reason to even stay much longer. They survived Vault 57, he figured. They would survive this.


Uterius eventually arrived at what remained of a small park. A group of hoodlums and tribals sat around a hastily made fire, a few of them were roasting chunks of squirrel meat. They weren’t much but at the very least they were willing to take a bit of a detour. Around thirty men were to accompany him to the west, each of them issued a cheap plasma pistol before they set off. Even he wasn’t sure what would happen if one of those things were to malfunction. He preferred not to think about it.



Turn One – 2270


Burke and a band of thirty raiders head out to the block to their immediate West. Their primary goal is to scout out the area. Their secondary goal is, of course, to find slaves. [MOD]

15000 C – Two construction yards are created in the newly acquired neighborhood.

7 M – 50 T1 Plasma, 200 T1 Melee, 25 T3 Armor

5000 C – Training fifty raiders.

Researching Molotov Cocktails [3/5 R]



Edited by Vilebranch
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The Apostles of Christ

At the Dawn's early light, they arrived. A large procession of people dressed in a combination of rags and vault-tec suits, a long trail of the young, the old and the desperate. The entirety of what remained of the residents of Vault 48. Which was still the large majority, but some of the secrets of the wasteland had to be discovered the hard way. Through the blood and lives of brave pilgrims. But now they had reached the promised land, perhaps one of danger as well but one that should give them enough shelter and resources to be able to protect themselves and spread the words of Christ the Redeemer.

Walking at the head of the large column were two men. One seemed middle-aged, relatively clean skin and in long brown robes. Brown-hair braided down his back reaching halfway down the man's back. A bright and hopeful look in his eyes, a small cheerful twinkling in them. Even as he felt the blisters on his feet from all the walking, he kept smiling and having this cheerful look. 

The man next to him looked far more weathered and a more natural citizen of the wasteland, clothing made of many ragged parts and stitched together. A dangerous look in his eyes, constantly glancing around him, looking for any danger. Ready to pull the trigger of his gun at the first sign of danger. The eyes of a warrior, one who had seen much and lived through the harsh wasteland one way or another. Though in his eyes, there was also a somber and sad look. As if deep regret was etched into his souls. Then they saw it, past the increasing urban density of the villages and town surrounding it, the mud city. It would be a lie to say it looked glorious, for it did not. It was a hollowed out shell, filled with greenery and broken concrete. One might almost call it a necropolis, yet even in these ruins there was life. Even from the distance they could hear the sounds of birds twittering, seeing a mutated deer with two heads walking through the street. 

It was not a city as they were shown in the videos and pictures. The one before the great judgement, but there was still life in it. It may have changed, mutated and corrupted but there was still a beating heart in the city. And where there was life there could be redemption. And who else would redeem the city than the Apostles of Christ.


Before fully entering the threshold of the city, the brown haired kindly man turned towards the crowd and started speaking. 
"Children of God. Our time has come.
"As the promised land for Moses was Judea, now for us it is Chicago.
He motioned to the city behind him.
"This is no Eden, it is closer to Sodom, but it is our promised land. This might not be the land that we deserve, but it is the land we need. And the land needs us. Now we shall bring light and the word of Christ the Redeemer to this new land.
And then they continued on. A short speech but one to help increase the vigor of the heart, to increase the passion of the people so they would push on. 
It was a hard life in the wasteland, one that would have much grief, hardship and death. But Jacob and the Apostles of Christ knew that  with their fate in God guiding them, as long as they kept purity in their hearts, they would persevere. 


Pop: 1500

Income: 25kC

Upkeep: 2kC

Netto: 23kC

Research per turn: 6



In order to develop the territories of the apostles, and to help in the future expansion of the faithful servants of Christ 3 construction yards are established. Gathering building materials in order for the refurbishing of the different buildings in the various districts. (22,5 kC)

Some caps are kept in storage for next year (0,5kC)


After making friendly contact with the travellers of the NCR the apostles aid in the initiative of developing better armor for both factions. Making sure that fewer righteous and brave warriors have to die in the chaos of cobmat. (6R contributed to Harry's research)

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“This is an Emergency Public Service Announcement.”


The tinny call echoes through the shell of Chicago through ancient speaker systems, connected radios, and telephones. The voice is cheery, although somewhat inhuman.


“The CHICAGO RECOVERY PROTOCOL has been activated. In compliance with the Wartime Disaster Relief Act of 2059, all citizens must report to a Recovery Centre for mandatory civil service. Furthermore, all constitutional rights, privileges, and duties are hereby suspended until further notice. Please bring appropriate identification when approaching local recovery centres.”

“This has been an Emergency Public Service Announcement. Message will repeat in one minute.”



In the centre of the city, rubble and rusted steel within an unassuming, decrepit warehouse begins to shift, and slowly part. Out of a newly made hole climbs a shiny metal figure.



It peers around the landscape, quietly scanning the rubble. The silence of the scene amplifies the quiet whirrs and clicks of the small robot. It twists jerkily in the direction of a far-off gunshot, and slowly turns its rigid body in all directions scanning yet again. Assumedly satisfied, it carefully leans over and grasps a large piece of rusted sheet-metal, throwing it to the side. It revealed a dozen further robots that climbed from the new hole, quickly scanning the surroundings and dragging away blocks of fallen concrete, steel girders, and rusted electronics.

Dozens more robots start climbing from holes formed by their comrades, clearing out debris from the site, until finally, it is revealed.




The sound of blaring clarions echo throughout the slowly clearing complex and great groaning gears began to turn. The great door slowly opens with a puff of stagnant air hissing through its gaps. When the door opens completely even more robots march out of its steel maw carrying bags of concrete, support beams, and construction equipment. The machines begin reconnecting wiring to street-lamps, removing and replacing worthless plumbing, and laying foundations for new structures.


Recovery had finally begun.




The quickly work tirelessly, day and night, to clear refuse from the primary site of the vault. However, they also appear to be sorting metal, concrete and electronics from one-another into convenient piles. For what purpose they do is a mystery. After all, they’re not exactly chatting to people about it.
(15,000C towards two construction yards)


Some of the recovered metals are quickly taken apart and stitched into new shapes. What appear to be strange towers of scrap slowly take the form of wind-power generators. Perhaps the robots require more electricity than expected? (-10,000C + 2B towards two electricity generators (markets, effectively)

The sturdier scrap and fresh materials from the vault are set towards reinforcing the entrance of and outer compound of the robots. Are they expecting violence? (1000C + 2B towards 2 fortifications)

More and more robots march out of the vault and aid in construction. Where are they coming from...?
(-2M + 2E towards 25 T1 servitors)  

5R towards T1 firearms.


Edited by Catostrophy
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The Kingdom





“King.” It was usual for the people who belonged to the “Kingdom” to call Jonathan simply by his title. “I think we have acquitted ourselves well this year, really cleaned out this block. What do you think, we good to live in peace?” asks one of the family heads who is in attendance at the first meeting to be held anually, where the leader of the Kingdom, Jonathan, decides to make the next move, under advice of the people he is in charge of. “For now. Peace is a rare commodity, Marcus. And I just fear it is a calm before coming storms. The streets outside are not quite safe yet, but better than it has ever been, true. Needless to say though, we have a dream we wish to pursue, and that is not a simple wish for peace. We can only sustain peace if we have the means to sustain it, to prove ourselves to the world out there and to fend off raiders, mutants and other monstrosities that will threaten our future.” Jonathan looks sternly at Marcus. “We must expand. We must grow, we must prosper, we must get more people to join the Kingdom.” His gaze wanders to the city map laying on the table in front of them. The roughly ten men and women together are visualizing the surrounding blocks and buildings in their minds.


“We need to scout. Carefully. Leave enough guards behind. Use workforce to organize building materials. I will give you the details in an hour. Dismissed.” Jonathan withdraws from the table, stepping out of the meeting hall into the open yard inside their claimed territory. It is secure for now. The worst are a few rad roaches showing up here and there, though they are quickly dispatched with an old pipe or wooden club. Rubbing his forehead first, he adjusts the golden crown with black pearls on his head, as he heads to his personal home and office, to prepare the plans as mentioned.



Population: 750 Humans

Available funds: 24,000 C




3 construction yards (-22,500 C)

Salvaged melee weaponry under research (4/5 RP)

50 T1 firearms to be made in order to arm the people a bit better in case of molerats (-2 M)


Three parties of 5 people each are sent out to explore the immediate neighbourhood of the home block. They are to look for supplies, salvagable technologies and materials, as well as potential survivors or future settlers. Their mission is primarily peaceful and they are to share the dream of a safe, peaceful and restored Chicago to however might be interested, inviting them to join the Kingdom. (T3 firearms and T3 armor)


15 more receive training to be skilled enough in using their firearm in case of need. (-1,500 C to bring them up to trained)







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Rock Islander Infantry advancing into the southern suburbs of Chicago; c. 2270.


1st Sergeant Michael L. Cohen strode the length of the Rock Islander Provisionary Headquarters. He was thinking of any way to pass the time. Afterall, his comrades had been sent out to battle earlier this morning. To his dismay, he was not counted among their ranks. Cohen was eager to do some real battle today, but the Colonel had sidelined him, deeming his skills too valuable and not worth risking on the frontlines. Cohen scoffed at that thought, thinking, how much of a threat could these police officers even pose?


Little did Cohen know, the fighting to the south of Douglas was exceedingly brutal, men pulverizing each other with whatever weapons they could scrounge. Perhaps this temporary relegation was a blessing in disguise.


Cohen walked through the tight, disheveled and run-down corridors, passing all manners of familiar faces that braved the journey to Chicago with him. He offered a passing smile and an occasional hello, but they weren’t what he came for.


1SG Cohen heard muffled conversation through the door upon ahead, growing more distinct as he drew near. He slowed to a halt, the door wide open. Naturally he peered in, seeing a young, slender woman attending to a host of patients laid out on makeshift cots. She leaned over a patient sitting upright, a syringe of Rad-X in her hands. “This is for you radiation, I’m gonna count to three.” and she did, injecting the contents of the needle into the man’s arm.


The man cursed, grimacing, “****, I hate needles.”


“Well, you better think about that next time you drink from a polluted well.” She chuckled, setting the syringe down on a tray beside her. “You better get going.” she smiled, turning to lead the man out of the med-bay.


“Yeah, thanks Doc.”


The man brushed by Cohen, just as the woman took notice of his presence. Cohen clung to the side of the doorframe, practically inviting himself in. “Got a moment, Doc Hanlon?”


“‘Course, my doors are always open, as you’ve seem to have found out.” Doctor Margaret Hanlon smoothened out her smock. “Say, why aren’t you with the rest of the troopers? Are you wounded?”


“Nah, nothing like that, Doc. Colonel kept me back for this assignment.”


“I’m sorry, can’t imagine how that feels.”


“Nah, it’s alright. It’s given me plenty of time to get the electricity and water purification up and running. Rock Island should be fully self-sufficient in the coming months.”


“Very nice.” she nodded, pursing her lips. It was a clear something had been bothering her, “Not even settled in and Colonel Craig is waging war in Chicago, huh?”


Cohen blinked, “He’s a good man, Margaret. He puts the needs of his people foremost.”


“His people don’t need a war on their doorstep, Mike. They need security, sustainable resources, a place to raise their families.” she shook her head, mulling over the idea.


Cohen clicked his tongue, “Can’t have any of those things with crazed wasters to our south. Freedom ain’t free, Doc.”




19,000 (15,000 Base., 4,000 Pop)

M: 3 (2 Base, 1 Scrap Yard)

S: 5 (5 Base)

R: 4 (2 Base, 2 Pop)



-2,000 C from Facilities

- 4S from Population


HQ Block:

1 Fuel Refinery - 2F

2 Scrap Yards - 2M



[4R/15R] Research and Development begins on T1 Heavy Firearms, headed by 1SG Michael Cohen (2 Intelligence, 1.5 Charisma, 1.5 Perception, 1.5 Luck)

[17,000C] Training 68 men to Regular

[2M] Constructing T1 Firearms

[2M] Constructing T1 Firearms


1 Dev Point is spent on Strength in Numbers


1S to storage

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Callum walks, in the middle of the road, on an unkept median. The road is desolate, the only sound audible being the harsh sound of an aluminum can scraping the cracked concrete. He walks with his head facing down, his worn and battered cowboy hat piercing the wind. He twiddles around with the piece of a straw lodged between his yellowed teeth, removing it momentarily to launch a projectile of a spit into the ground. He approaches the intersection, with a set of traffic lights on the ground, and the rusted top frames of cars acting as a nostalgic testament to when this city was a bastion of industry, and where the ground where the soles of his feet stood upon was constantly been trampled by the rubber treads of cars. 


Once he reaches thecenter point of the intersection, he leaps up on top of a car, emulating and mimicking the triumphant and proud Napoleon, in a famous painting they have no knowledge of. He cups his hands around his mouth, releasing a powerful holler, his shrill voice interrupting the apparent tranquility of the intersection. “YEEEE!” He shouts the piece of grass flying out of the comfort of his mouth, rocking calmly to the ground, as he looks around towards the void window frames of the buildings and urban installations which encapsulate him. He audibly smiles, displaying his cracked and stained teeth in a careless and crazed smile. He sighs, laying down on the hood of the car, crossing his legs, and shielding his eyes from the piercing sunlight with his hat. “I’ll wait here all day for y’all! Them chimps can pick me right up!”Come on now! Jenny will miss us!” A distinct voice responds, significantly deeper than his. “Jenny won’t be able to do to **** about it if she’s with the ******* chimps!” He shouts back, the only visible part of his face is his beaming smile. He lifts up his hat, to peer from underneath the brim, the hat creating a shadow perfectly underneath his nostrils. Before him stands an entire mass of grey cloaked individuals, staring at him. At the behest of the group, a gruff-looking, bearded individual with a hint of intellect surrounding his persona. He looks at Callum, seriously, who returns to character. “Didn’t miss me?” Callum says, bringing his arms up, to rest the back of his head on his palms. “Unfortunately,” he says, smiling,  his tide-water accent oozing out of his every syllable. “Good to see ya too, Graham,” he says, smuggishly. Graham grabs his hand, pulling him off the hood, on the ground. He lightly taps his shoulder, affectionately,  brushing off some dust. “It’s good to see you whole, Cal.” “Them chimps ain’t neva getting me an my sweet Jenny!” He says, whipping Jenny out of his holster, cradling it as if it were a baby. “Come on Cal.” he says, looking down at Jenny, then back up at the crazed Callum. “We gotta get out of the streets, lets get on, you know the deal.” “Jenny don’t forget, Graham.” “I know she doesn’t.” Graham responds, pausing, before continuing; “And neither do I.” He says, spitting on the ground in front of them, looking in the direction of their former home. “Wonder if chimps like the taste of lead as much as bananas.” chimes in another man, older than the few gathered, with a long beard. “Damn right, Arthur,” affirms Graham, his blue eyes looking back at the hobbling individual that is Arthur. “Come on, men!” shouts a stern Graham, leading the group down the block. “Ive mapped out our next home, albeit for the time being. Don’t forget these streets.” Graham shouts, his voice ricocheting off the concrete walls of the skyscrapers that surround them. “Well be back, once we do a lil pest control.” He says, outspreading his arms, facing his troop who walks silently, as they’ve been trained to do. “Get out of the streets now, lets go,” Graham calls out, unenthusiastically, yet they all obey, because they all know better. 


And the Hunters dissipate into the crumbling and deteriorating urban landscape around them, moving in unison with the dark recesses of the shadows. 



-The Hunters spend the turn expanding to their new block and setting up camp. 


-50 T2 Firearms are salvaged. [-6 M]


-The Hunters scavenge their current block for anything of use for them. 



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Chicago Police Department





The Young Rockislander joked with his friends as they laughed, advancing into the strip mall he thought of his girl back home and the stories he would tell her and his children one day, the young blue eyed boy of barely 18 turned to smile at his friend when his young life was cut short. A rusty piece of sharp metal covered in fecal matter plowed through the young boys brains splattering the rest of the patrol as savage men in blue police uniforms fell upon the ambushed group “STOP RESISTING!” a few cried “GET ON THE ******* GROUND!” Cried another but such battle calls were merely that battle calls, there would be no arrests, no detainments no “non lethal force” The invaders who sought to take their territory would be slaughtered with no regard for their lives…


Commissioner Byrne limped down the road as the survivors of the bloody battle withdrew silently into residential buildings and offices as they moved south, they could still hear the faint crying of Rock Islanders with shattered bones, infected wounds and disemboweled organs screaming for their mothers, the dead Chicagoans swiftly ended with gunfire lay silent their own struggle ended. Sergeant Sweet caught up with the elder man limping along a bandage wrapped around his own arm where a t52 had tried and failed to snap his arm. Offering a quick salute the sergeant spoke half out of breath “S- Sir. Final count is 150 dead. Mostly newer officers, mostly unarmed. Enemy lost about 80 men, and that's with half our population sir, two armor sets wholly destroyed. We expected to lose the block sir, but we expected to lose it a lot sooner, this may have been a defeat but our enemy has been dealt a grave blow today.” Commissioner Byrne nodded the wounded men walking side by side as they entered the barricades of the friendly block. “We came here seeking peace from the bandits on the plains Sergeant… But now… We face the hostile streets our forefathers faced against the mob. Except this mob dresses itself in green and calls themselves soldiers… Make no mistake Sergeant, the Islanders have paid a great price today, and they will pay an even greater one soon enough...”


thedystopia101:“[ and when it all falls apart will you still be standing next to me ]...[ via pinterest ]”





4 metal is spent producing 100 t1 firearms.


1B and 500 caps are spent fortifying the new block.


15,000 caps is spent producing two construction yards.

80 cadets go through the police academy to promote them to full time officers. (TRAINED) 8000 caps


Research into T2 Armor is begun by: Asian American Lieutenant Takanora Kaiido +1P +3I


Beneath the new block the sewers are scouted for potential weakpoints and general usage. (MOD)


25 green soldiers are sent to patrol the southern block south of the home block. 

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Midwest Enclave


Ryan Kennedy sits in the conference room listening to a debriefing about today's events. They have finally established a permanent base within the city limits. They had to clear out a few scavengers and raiders, but they proved little trouble. For the time they needed to keep the location of their base secret, they needed to establish themselves first. Contact with the other Enclave chapters had been strained the past few weeks, so until further notice they were now on their own. 

“What information do we have about other factions within Chicago?” The Secretary of State looks around the room, waiting for an answer. The head of intelligence clears his throat before speaking.

“Currently we have no information about those within the city limits, but from what we can tell it's very isolated to the rest of the wasteland.” 

“Then I want to send out agents right away, we must know what we are dealing with here. I don’t want any surprises.”  

General William raises his voice, “In the meantime I shall establish a perimeter, and begin construction of our base.”  

“Very well then gentlemen, that is all. I shall attempt to send a report back to our headquarters.”



Chip Manufacturing built (10,000 4B)

Market built (5,000 1B)

15 T1 Heavy Weapons are built (3M)

T2 heavy firearms are being researched (7/20)

Edited by Imperium
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