The year is 2112. Mankind has all but abandoned a desolate Earth in lieu of exploring space. Their homeworld laid waste and ravaged by a deadly virus, humanity makes their new home amongst the stars and planets that adorn the universe. Haunted reminders of a brutal past soon become prevalent and our heroes are forced to combat an ancient enemy. The dead rise from their graves and live once more! This time in space. AFMBE: Deadly Resurgence is a Hybridized Space Opera campaign in which players battle the undead in a futuristic science fiction/survival horror setting. Utilizing the All Flesh Must Be Eaten rules by UniSystem Games, Deadly Resurgence hopes to tell the tale of what it would be like if one were to encounter technologically advanced forms of undead in space.The game is run by our own Cyborg Psychotic, Eanwulf the Grey.
Early Morning, Just Before Second Sunrise
Somewhere in the Badlands of Rigil 7
Hauling Ass Across the Countryside in a Pickup Truck Built for Two
The morning sun shines down upon the silhouette of a battered old pickup truck as it whizzes across the horizon. The vehicle blasts loud music as it hauls ass across the desert sands of Rigil 7. The driver of the truck is a crusty old fuck named Ezekiel Talbot the Third. Or just plain old "Zeke" to his friends. What few that he has. On the hood of the vehicle rests the dead body of a giant sand sprite. Tethered tightly to the hood by polymer straps, the hairless creature is among the largest in size of its kind to be seen out here in the Badlands for quite some time. Zeke appears to be quite happy with the hunting trophy strapped to the hood of his truck and slams the steering wheel to the beat of the music with drunken enthusiasm. Seated next to Ezekiel in the truck is a tan-scaled Gekkan. "Slim" they call him. The dry-skinned alien appears to be fiddling about with some manner of scanning device as his colleagues celebrate their hunting trophy. In the back of the truck, squats a short wiry man with a disfigured face. "Short Bus" Gus they call him. The pock-marked and scarred individual appears to be having the best of times by simply lighting off random sticks of dynamite whenever he feels like it and then chucking them off the back of the truck wherever he wants to. Hooting and hollering like an idiot as he does so. The vehicle continues to zoom across the desert landscape. Serving as grim reminder to any onlookers as to just how bad things can get when living out alone in the Badlands.
"Short Bus" Gus
Short Bus Gus gets his nickname from the brain damage he has suffered from both demolition-related accidents as well as spending way too much time out in the Badlands with faulty breathers. Prone to fits of stupidity and violence, he is one of those types of people you can't help but love to hate.
Slim the Gekkan
Gekkans are a race of desert-dwelling saurian bipeds. Aliens from another planet, quite a few of them find Rigil 7 to be very much to their liking. Think Gecko-based lizardmen. For the most part Slim is quite tolerable. Quite obsessed with using electronic devices and trying to find anything of value in the Badlands. Either very young for his race or just downright naive, Slim seems to be the one that gets one in trouble by sheer curiosity alone. Oh yeah, one more thing. Slim rarely speaks and when he does it's usually to either confirm or deny any questions directed towards him. It's not that he doesn't know how to speak, it's just that he seems to prefer getting lost in his own internal thoughts and ponderings.
Pick Up Truck
Just replace the gun mount with Gus chucking out explosives.
Welcome to the game MadVlat. Be on the lookout for a PM. Hope you enjoy the game!
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
Zeke grins even wider as another explosion rocks the speeding pick up truck. He yells back to Gus but the words are lost in the dust laden wind that tears by his open window. Laughing he then turns towards the skinny little fellow next to him in the seat. "Tell that dern fool to leave us some of dem for prospectin', or I'm gonna mule stomp his damndable hide". Then with a quick and practiced flick of his wrist the music in the cab begins to thump the roof...
Nice choice of music...
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
Slim grins as much as one of his race can and hisses wildly with glee. Turning to one side, the quiet Gekkan then opens the cab's back window. Three feet of alien tongue immediately slaps Gus in the back of his ass as hard as it can. "Huh!?" the dim-witted human responds, turning to answer and unknowingly dropping a lit stick of dynamite in the back of Zeke's truckbed. "Zzzeke sssaysss lay off the dynamitesss!" growls Slim sternly. "Uhm, alright..." retorts Gus, now realizing his folly. *BOOM!!!* another dynamite blast suddenly wracks the side of Zeke's truck, causing it swerve violently. Fortunately the old hillbilly is well versed in driving his vehicle and manages to regain control of the vehicle. "Sorry..." is the only word heard as Short Bus Gus begins to start packing up the remaining dynamite.
I'm an Excellent Driver. Using the rule of Ability+Skill > TN Needed = Automatic Success here.
Dexterity+Driving=7. No problem for a Standard Difficult (6) Task. You keep the truck on the road no problem!
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
Zeke brings the truck back under control and slams on the brakes. The half tard in the back the focus of the miners anger. He sits silently for several long seconds before releasing his white knuckled grip on the steering wheel and opening the drivers side door. "You dern dimwitted jackass! If you damaged ole' Bess I'm gonna beat you to death with yer own tongue!"...
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
"I'mmm thorry Zeke!!!" shrieks Gus as he cringes in the back of the truck as far as he can away from his angry partner. "It was a mithake! Honesth!" The harelip weasel then begins to try and make things right. "It's all Thlim's fault anyway! If he ain't gone and thmacked me in the ath with hith tongue, I wouldn't have gone and dropped the dynamite." Now avoiding Slim's ire, Gus quickly goes on the add. "Thee Zeke, I didn't hurt Beth none. I done did good and chucked the dynamite out the back of the truck before it did uth harm! I'm thorry..."
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
Throwing his flipped lid hat to the ground, Zeke spits to the side. "Can' even talks right. It is I done did gooder. I don't know why I put up wis you two. Neither o' ya can speak a lick of correct english any way". He bends down retrieving his lucky hat and dusts it off angrily against his leg. "Tarnation you two 'll be the death of me yet". Walking forward and climbing back in his truck he exhales sharply before noticing the blinking fuel gauge. "Almost out a gas. Did'n I says put gas in the truck at the last filler up. Damn it all ta hell! I have to does everything". Zeke puts the truck into to gear and moshes the pedal to the floor. "Hope we can make it to that ole' satelite station up a yonder or you two be doin' the pushin'"...
Heading for the satelite...
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
Gus takes his scolding like a man. Slim hisses and cackles as he does so. The three hicks eventually jump back into or onto Zeke's truck and zoom off into the desert. Unbeknownst to the trio, a beat up rally rambler follows them from afar. The next thirty minutes are then spent simply hauling ass across the Badlands to a long forgotten communications satellite relay station set up in a region where the Badlands meets No Man's Land. First erected some twenty or so years ago, the decrepit relay station was originally used by Kraken Industries in their attempt at constructing an Atmospheric Converter Facility that would one day help to expand the Badlands. Sadly however, the Corporation's funding (and stay) was tragically "cut short" soon after finding random pockets of Triranium on their property. The initial teams sent in to begin construction of the facility were immediately ordered to "pull out" and construction of the project abruptly halted. Nowadays, the ruined structure is simply used as some crude form of "private gas station" by those nomadic folk that actually know of its existence. These select individuals siphoning off power from its still surprisingly active reactor core to charge up their vehicles' fuel cells. Being quite the valuable commodity out here in the Badlands, the location is also known to be the periodic home to whatever roving band of scum deems the site best suitable to either hole up for a while until the heat dies down or perhaps to try and use as their launching base for further nefarious activities. Luckily, the Badlands natives are a sturdy folk and don't tend to allow such miscreants the opportunity to stick around for very long.
Kraken Industries: Known for their technological advancements in helping to terraform underwater communities. Quite competent developers in the Atmospheric Conversion Industry. Truly a gamble, their endeavor here in the Badlans quickly proved to be nothing more than a proverbial "Fish Out of Water." The company still thrives today, just not here on Rigil 7.
No Man's Land: As if the Badlands weren't already bad enough, having the use breathers on a near-daily basis, No Man's Land is essentially the portions of Rigil 7 where there are no Atmospheric Converters present. The land there is "All Naturale" so to speak and quite hazardous (if not immediately lethal) to those forced to breathe the air there.
Triranium: Essentially a variant of Uranium, Triranium's atomic structure (and output) is much more unstable. Not only hazardously radioactive, but unpredictably explosive and mutagenic as well, one best stand clear when dealing with this stuff!
With his fuel gauge nearly depleted, Zeke breathes a heavy sigh of relief as he crests a steep hill and sees the dull sheen of rusted metal gleaming from down below. He has arrived at last!
The abandoned relay station sits some 30 meters due east of a huge ass perimeter fence or chain and steel, clearly marking Kraken Industries' property line. Still "technically" theirs, the surrounding region is very periodically patrolled by local law enforcement. A giant rusted and weathered sign dangles from one portion of the fence, reading "PRIVATE PROPERTY - TRESSPASSERS WILL BE SHOT!" in barely legible letters. Below the sign, adjacent to (if not above) a huge hole in the fence hangs another sign. Apparently man-made and added sometime after, the equally as worn creation reads "SHOOT THIS!!!"
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
Zeke exits the truck and pulls out a half burned rollie, placing it to his lips with no particular grace. "Gus, its your turn. Go scout it out", he utters beneath his breath as he lights an old wooden lucifer match and brings it to the roach. He inhales deeply and then kicks the side of the truck, "What are you waiting for, you turd burglar"...
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
"Aw thux!" moans Gus as he cocks the bolt of his rifle and proceeds to make his way down the hill to scout ahead. "I thought it'were Thlim's turn to Thcout!" The next several minutes are spent in great anticipation of something bad happening to Gus as he begins to near the derelict relay station. Surprisingly enough, nothing does and within moments of scouting about, the runty little man is already waving his hands and hooting-n-a-hollering. "All clearth!"
You can move down if you want and begin recharging your cells if you want.
When Life Hands You Razorblades. You Make A Baseball Bat Covered In Razorblades!
Zeke climbs back into the pick up and pulls into the recharging station. "Filler ups and do it rights dis time ya' dern fool". He turns his attention to slim and grins, "Why don't we put that nose a yers to work. Theres ought to be some scroungeable goods at this place. Grab a gun an lets mosey yonder for a gander around"...
...And the stone of the earth and the wind in the sky bowed before the wisdom of the Ancient One...
