2000-2100: The Epoch of Curiosity

The 21st-22nd century was a time of massive scientific and social advancement for earth. During this era world peace was established and maintained, and for once humanity breathed a sigh of relief. Through the formation of a global spanning organization of scientists that held no allegiance to any government or ruling body, dubbed UNISCI, came the introduction of Plasmoid energy. Generators the size of cars could power entire hundred floor buildings, utilizing the everlasting power of miniature Plasma Constructs within, fragile though they were. Plasmoid technology also ended human reliance on fossil fuels, and the environment flourished. Through the endless potential of plasma energy, humanity invented and discovered like never before.

2101-2243: The Age of Degradation

At the dawn of the 22nd century, things were beginning to take a noticeable turn for the worse. Without problems of war and energy, nations and societies began to turn inwards, cannibalizing themselves over issues and politics. Revolts and protests were sparked en masse over those issues that did continue to persevere such as starvation and disease. Scientific and global advancement gradually stalled to a halt as the world was once again wracked with strife and unrest, as humanity for one reason or another decided to rip apart the future they had built for themselves and start anew.

Corporations and capitalism at large benefited from this destabilization, and picked up right where the former governments had been shattered. People flooded from rural communities and suburbs to billion strong Mega-Cities, towering thousand floor apartments and other buildings the sum of which could cover entire US states, such as Florida 2 and New New York City. National governments eventually faded into obscurity, with what nations remained in this period coming to be represented by their largest corporations interests, such as Obsidian Conglomerate Holdings for the United States, Kanjo-Tech for China, and Better N’ Best Superstores for Eastern Europe. While the relations between these companies were at first pleasant, they eventually soured over competing businesses, market shares, and the ever more lucrative Plasmoid Technology.

2244: The End of the World

November 12th, 2244, every citizen on earth received an alert on their cellular devices, televisions, and radios;

“ATTENTION EARTH. THIS IS UNISCI. WE HAVE BEEN WATCHING. YOUR CORPORATIONS HAVE BETRAYED YOU. THE WORLD WILL END IN 7 DAYS. PROCEED UNDERGROUND. UNISCI WILL KEEP YOU SAFE.”

UNISCI, the global organization of scientists and founders of Plasmoid Technology, had taken a backseat to the goings on of the past century, but had not remained idle. Seeing the inevitability of nuclear war as the corporations greedily bought up nuclear arms stock, they invested their vast wealth into massive humanitarian shelters beneath the earth, allowing for stable, if incredibly cramped living for approximately a quarter of the earth's population, around 5 billion at the time.

While the corporations all claimed slander and vehemently denied the accusations of UNISCI, they quietly continued to ready themselves for devastating war, each seeking to wipe out the other and finally “win” capitalism, controlling 100% of the market share and owning the earth, in the truest sense.

With the forewarning provided by UNISCI, there was enough time to pack the shelters full of people, although it did not come easily. Rioting and fighting consumed the exteriors of some shelters with people desperately trying to squeeze in, while others simply didn’t believe the warnings and chose to wait it out, putting faith in their corporate jobs or believing that surely, no one would end the world over money. What remained of the old governments provided a few antiquated shelters and bunkers for officials and citizenry, but as was the case for the past century, their efforts were too little, too late.

November 19th, 2244, at 6:15pm CST, the world ended. The quarter of earth that had disappeared waited with baited breath underground, hoping against hope that the warnings had been wrong, but they were dreadfully correct. With the flash of millions of red buttons being pushed simultaneously, the mega corporations decided that the world would end. Nuclear strikes hit every conceivable city center, plasma generator, military base, antiquated government center, and populated area imaginable. With blinding flashes, capitalism and humanity were wiped from existence above the crust.

2245-2344: Humanity Underground

Far below the earth, humanity waited for their home to heal from the nuclear fallout. Information from the surface was limited to the scans and research of UNISCI, in their own specialized bunkers separated from the masses that they protected. Trusting in the scientists reports that the surface was uninhabitable due to radiation, the citizens of earth settled into peaceful, but menial routine as they waited.

For the next hundred years the human species existed near exclusively in these nation sized shelters, dedicated to maintenance, food production, and water treatment. While there was fun to be had, it was a characteristically grim time for the planet, as the citizens of the bunkers worked in the half light of humanity's former glory. Surprisingly, there was negligible amounts of unrest, as the cruelest and most ambitious of society had stayed on the surface to fight in the corporate wars, and those intelligent enough to bide their time had no power structures to abuse. A few shelters were lost to unrest and power failure, but overwhelmingly humanity bided their time.

The Lost Generations of the century that followed, as they would come to be known, worked diligent lives in ensuring the future of their species.

2345: Emergence

On November 20th, 2345, exactly a century and a day since the world had ended, UNISCI announced that the planet was ready to be retaken. Global fallout had dropped to insignificant levels except for the most concentrated places, and things were as safe as they could get, unless humanity wanted to wait for another thousand years.

Emerging into the weak daylight of a ruined world, it’s hard to imagine what the first alive humans in a century to step onto the surface must have felt. For some, it was surely fear. They emerged into a wasteland of epic proportions, rural communities and suburbs bombed out, or otherwise torn apart by fires and seeming unrest. The megacities fared even worse than their rural counterparts, obliterated by nuclear bombs such that even entering the outskirts of these state-spanning cities would require the usage of a hazmat suit. There were no support structures to assist them upon leaving the shelter, no one to welcome them back to their home, no one to teach them how to reclaim their birthright. Some retreated back into the bunkers, and became the Deniers, ever more mysterious groups that made their home in the vast complexes of the now powerless and lightless shelters, seeing only doom and repeated mistakes in the above ground.

Some people were opportunistic. This new world held no armies or corporations, only endless potential to create and enforce their will on others. Without the dominating purview of the previous megacorporations, some distant relatives of previous government officials, opportunistic individuals or otherwise began refounding nations, rallying wayward, confused souls out of their shelters and promising order, and stability. First of these “New Govs” was USCOM, founded by the remnants of the former United States Government that had secreted themselves away to private bunkers and waited out the end of their corporate oppressors. USCOM was founded on the newly revitalized spirit of patriotism, and stoked that ideal by once again recreating the “American Dream,” citizenship and freedom in new, better mega cities! While tens of millions of Refugees flocked to the banner of USCOM, they slowly realized that they had a huge problem in terms of constructing their new utopias…

Some people were greedy, and violent. They saw only power to be gained from the confusion of reemergence, and seized it with both hands. While USCOM was quick to shut down any newly founded corporations with global aspirations, wary of their power from the previous age, some sneakily argued that capitalism should always exist in a sense, after all, the wealth had to come from somewhere didn't it? Newly created, government backed corporations gradually came about, powerful and ambitious, but checked by the vigilant governments who allowed them to exist under their purview. The Forrest Conglomerate, Innovative Solutions Incorporated, and Blackhawk Capital were just a few of these new corporations that prospered under the burgeoning USCOM empire. Those that flocked to become employees and workers for these new businesses came to be known as Drones.

Finally, most that exited from the bunkers were cautious, and desperate. As power structures once again rose up around humanity, many fled to begin rural communities based around subsistence and communal farming, but these small communities could only eke out a miserable existence for their few members, and had no extra crops or supplies for further refugees. USCOM, already struggling to provide for the millions of refugees streaming to their few places of power, had no place yet for the hundreds of millions more. Starving, with no money or jobs, camps of millions on the outskirts of mega cities existed in a twilight existence, where fear and hunger ruled supreme, and the strongest took what they wanted. Although they didn't know it yet, these people would come to be known as Rippers.

2346-2386: Present Day

Starving and fighting over scraps, most of humanity faced a bleak future. The New Govs had no more space in their powerful, but small empires, and the corporations cared little for any outside of their purview. Job queues stretched miles long even within the new cities, and there was no place for the refugees settled on the outskirts of the old, bombed out megacities. But where all others saw only death and misery, Blackhawk Capital saw opportunity.

USCOM was struggling to provide for its newly minted citizens. While their promises of new, better megacities sparked hope with the people, as the first decade dragged on, the only things being made were scraped together buildings and tent cities. In the previous corporate era, while ignoring fossil fuels like oil and coal, they had nearly exhausted the earth's other natural resources like iron and copper. For other materials, such as Mag-Steel, a synthesized metal that allowed for vastly more amounts of pressure to be placed upon it than ordinary building materials, the process and facilities for refining it had been entirely lost in the intervening years. Without materials, humanity would be stuck in the dark ages, surviving off of the scraps of their ancestors and never developing more than slums.

Blackhawk Capital was one of the smallest USCOM sponsored corporations of the modern day, simply responsible for overseeing economic trends and banking for the new country, but with little spare cash available, their services struggled. The founder of the company, William Grant, knew that a change was needed in order to provide the economic fluidity that his company could thrive off of. Where others traveled into long since defunct mines, hoping to scrape what little minerals were left to turn a profit, William instead turned his eyes to the ruined mega cities of old, where innumerable quantities of precious metals and technology still lay buried under rubble, irradiated and desiccated over a century, but with foundational matter intact.

The people of the refugee camps were shocked when Drones and USCOM officials began to show up at the outskirts of the mega-cities, speaking in hushed tones, sending out crude scans, with greed in their eyes. When the refugees spoke to them about the mutants, pale skinned freakish mutations of former humans and animals, they merely chuckled and mentioned something about it being an “occupational hazard.” Soon, supplies and infrastructure were being hurriedly set up by USCOM and the corporations, as the opportunities within the blasted ruins became readily apparent.

Refugee Camps no more, Ripper Camps sprang up across the continent in the span of a single year, and the rusted gears of the economy began to turn once more. Millions of people desperate for work and opportunity would set up camp outside of these vast megacities, bartering the last of their money and food for 3rd and 4th hand hazmat suits, rusty equipment, and crumpled paperwork validating their Ripper Crew for the lottery. While some of the earliest and most veteran crews were able to purchase permanent slots from USCOM, most people were forced to show up at the crack of dawn every day at the gates into the city, where an USCOM official would have the lotto numbers for the day, (officially) random numbers each designated to a different crew, that when chosen would allow them access to the mega city for salvaging and scavenging from 5am to 7pm, a 14 hour day of work. Rippers were not paid hourly, but instead were paid off of how much they could bring back to the smelters, from the most common sheets of corrugated iron, to the most valuable pieces of Plasma Generators.

A new culture and society rose up around this new form of work, where the desperate would flock to earn what little they could. Criminal empires rose where the corporations and government did not, charging exorbitant rent and selling chemical manufacturer runoff as high priced drugs, becoming Syndicates. Especially lucky or skilled individuals could purchase multiple permanent slots from USCOM outright, becoming Underbosses that sold work to the highest bidder and created their own little kingdoms off the backbreaking work of their lessers. Predators would wait near exits, preying on returning crews and creating an air of tension and fear that made Ripper Crews paranoid even after stepping through the gates.

Despite all of the hardships and greedy individuals looking to abuse this new flow of commerce, the Ripper Industry has exponentially grown in the intervening decades. USCOM is now slowly beginning to raise its new megacities into the sky, jealously guarding their new wealth and citizenship behind expensive fees and harsh taxes. Corporations have once again grown fat with their partnerships, jamming their greedy fingers into every slice of the Rippers that they can get into. And way down the pole, back into the slums and the tents of the workers themselves, as they line up to hope against hope that they get to risk their lives for a paycheck, the rallying cry is heard throughout the day;

“Someone has to rebuild the world. Why not you?”

USCOM: Bigger, Better, Freedom-er

The United States is gone, and in its place is USCOM, the United Security Community. Founded in 2350 and staffed by the descendants of former government officials, they have carried their hereditary skills of propaganda and patriotism to the new world. Led by their charismatic National Administrator, Matthew Washington (proclaimed relative of George,) USCOM seeks to once again control the entire continent of North America, and they’ll promise just about anything to the populace in order to make that happen.

For the citizens of USCOM, utopia is always just another day of work away. New and improved mega cities? Right around the corner! Law and Order? Just a bit more time! Healthcare and citizenship for Ripper Camp dwellers? Getting closer by the day!

In reality, USCOM is focused on one thing and one thing only, the increase of their power, and protecting what they already have. Utilizing the tens of millions of jobless after the reemerging, the first thing USCOM did was declare itself legally distinct from the United States, and so therefore citizenship in the new government needed to be earned, or more specifically purchased. To be fair to USCOM, life in their few semi-constructed mega cities like Patriot City and The Delaware Complex is marginally better than in the wastes. Citizens have access to doctors, voting, and an actual police force, and also have access to corporate jobs and public works jobs..

Just as well, refugees and Immigrants flood into the former Americas from abroad, seeking to escape the drab “utopian” Great Europe, or fleeing from the rigid castes of The Khaganate.

To those that can't afford citizenship, USCOM has designated these hundreds of millions as “National Refugees” or in common slang, NonCits. USCOM does still control the areas outside of the mega cities, but in a far looser sense. Healthcare and other services can be rented for exorbitant fees. USCOM pays special attention to Ripper Camps, where they administer the Lottery, and tax every piece of metal and scrap that exits the ruins, fed down the line to their mega city construction teams. Once every couple of months USCOM may also send in the S.T.A.R.S & S.T.R.I.P.E.S, “unrest suppressors” that will come in suited up with red white and blue body armor and assault rifles, razing down any tenement housing with suspected criminals, and maybe killing a few people off the street to inspire fear and keep the dissidents in their sewer holes.

USCOM has reinstated the American Dollar Bills as its currency, although only its new bills are valid. While old bills and coins are sought after collectors items, new bills can be identified by the grinning Matthew Washington on the front, and the advertisement on the back depicting one of many corporations.

Great Europe: Order above all.

The people of Europe that emerged from the bunkers were sure of one thing; Capitalism was the downfall of the world, and they would not repeat the same mistake. Great Europe as a country was founded with socialist and communist ideals in mind, and so far has stayed true to its original plans.

Life in Great Europe is boring, but orderly. Society functions in groupings of people known as Units, which can number from hundreds to thousands. Units have their own requisite jobs, such as manufacturing or farming, and there is no lateral or vertical progression. Once placed into a Unit it is presumed that a person will perform their work diligently until death, being rewarded with the love of their community and a stable life.

This imagined world of complete stability is not so, however. While ensuring a base standard of living, the peoples of Great Europe have no comforts or decision making power. The Greater Government hands down tasks and assigns units, and supplies leave and come in at fixed rates. There is precious little attention afforded to entertainment or mental health, and so depression and suicide rates within Units are higher than any other new government.

So called “Vagrants” leave their units and shirk their duties, creating their own societies within Europe and existing in half light; not being persecuted but actively detracted from and ignored by the Greater Government. These Vagrant societies perpetuate the usage of currency and bartering with Unit groups, ensuring that the flow of commerce still trickles into Europe. The Greater Government has been in talks to validate the “Heads” that Vagrants use as official currency, but what issues enter the massive concrete bunkers of the tens of thousand strong presiding councils are unlikely to leave within the century.

Heads are coins made from material runoff, of which have stamped on them pictures of old English kings and queens. While it is not an official currency, it is still widely traded in foreign markets.

The Khaganate: Where none would stand, the Khagan guides.

For two long decades after the reemergence, most of Asia was a lawless place. Efforts to rebuild and organize met with failure after failure, as opportunistic raiders and warlords ravaged the confused populations, stealing what little wealth could be gleaned from those who had emerged and hoarding it in nomadic camps. When that wealth was exhausted, the tribes turned on each other and began the first wars fought in the new world, waging savage conflicts over scraps of lost technology and broken artifacts.

Riding from the fires of this continent spanning conflict, the Khaganate was a fledgling new government from the east with a powerful military and interesting ideas. Founded on the religious reverence and respect for its leader, the enigmatic and mysterious Khagan Batu, it approached the warring tribes in a different manner than those who came before. With their powerful military, armed with weapons looted from a carefully hidden pre-war bunker, they would devastate small groups of the tribes before sending in advisors and negotiators. They would barter for their wealth, selling themselves as mercenaries and exhausting the little wealth that they fought over achieving meaningless victories, before sweeping in and claiming territory once their funds were gone and their people were starving.

In this manner, by the year of 2368 the Khaganate had officially established themselves as a “New-Gov,” and had settled most of Eastern Asia and parts of Africa as well. Conquering and subjugating the tribes and reforming them into noble houses, the Khagan established a feudal style of rule where large swathes of land were ruled by Khans, and paid tribute to the larger empire. While the lowest peoples suffer under backbreaking labor, many within the Khaganate thrive under this new established state, opening trade with the other New-Gov’s and leading indulgent lives.

While being the most devolved state in terms of modern politics, the Khaganate is ironically technologically the richest, with a bevy of pre war artifacts and technology that survived from their former mega corporation Kanjo-Tech.

Their newly minted currency, translucent red wax-paper slips known as Red-Khans hold weight in major and minor markets alike.

BlackHawk Capital: Build anew with BlackHawk.

BlackHawk Capital, the largest corporation of the new world. From humble beginnings in the reemergence, to today profiting from every single active Ripper operation, the jumbled currencies of the new world flow to the coffers of BlackHawk like a never ending river.

Blackhawk capital was founded in 2355, the first year that USCOM allowed for corporations to exist under their new purview. William Grant, a man who emerged from the bunkers with ambition in his eyes, founded the company to serve as a sort of trading house, where merchants could set up and hawk their wares in safety without fear of being accosted on the street. For a time BlackHawk profited on the lack of proper currency in the wasteland, and took generous shares of supplies from those traders that could afford their protection, but as the years ground on such a system was destined for failure.

In 2366 William Grant sat at the head of his company, looking at a decaying empire. The rise of official currency and foreign trade had seen the end of his barter-protection racket, and with standardized trade now ruling every interaction, BlackHawk was bleeding money as its trading posts ran empty day after day. Out of desperation, Grant turned to the megacities of old for inspiration.

Exhausting the last of his funds and seemingly squandering what remained of the corporation's wealth. Drones fled from the company in droves, assuming that the CEO was blowing all of the money on expensive luxuries and drugs. In reality, with a few well placed bribes and little oversight, it was a straightforward matter to buy the rights to the biggest mega city ruins from USCOM, who had little thought of use for the blasted out eyesores.

Directly collaborating with USCOM, and selling them on the idea of repurposing old metal for their new megacities, they soon further realized that the desperate work forces needed were already located on sight and eager to feed their families. USCOM was none too happy that the benefits of these complexes of usable materials was only told to them AFTER BlackHawk had purchased most of the rights from them, but of course the company was more than happy to allow the government to operate on their ground, for a small per-salvage transactional fee in perpetuity of course.

In modern day BlackHawk receives a small piece of every salvage that is recovered from the cities, and wields massive financial and political power as the largest corporation under USCOM. While most would think them content in their passive income, it seems that BlackHawk has only gotten more active in sending representatives and officials in recent years…

Forrest Shipping Conglomerate: FSC, where it needs to go.

David Forest answered very important questions in the new age of industry. In order to have foreign trade, commerce must travel between places. In order for Ripper’s to bring back salvage to the camp, they needed transport for the scrap. In order for the refined metal to make it to the megacities, someone would have to transport it there. For all of these what ifs, FSC answered.

Conveniently setting themselves up as the primary mode of transit for any bulk cargo, as well as the sole inheritors of the EZ-TRAK, a conveyor piece of heavy lifting pre war technology, FSC is pragmatic to the end. Where there is trade, there are people that ensure it gets from one place to another, and no business has better security or insurance than F&L.

Innovative Solutions Incorporated: An independent council has found us innocent of any involvement in the Florida 2 Ripper Disaster, so called FLORFLOOD.

Innovate Solutions Incorporated is a company with no specific purpose. According to what little is known about them, they are a contract organization that specializes in “innovative problem solving,” with price tags that only the incredibly wealthy can afford.

Trademark ISI branded flashy yellow armor marks their visored Drones as they go about their business, doing whatever it is that their company does. They seem to have their hands everywhere and nowhere at once.

Crucible Corporation: No slogan found.

Black industrial hazmat suits. No PR department. Their founder, Gordon, has been dead for 13 years, and is still listed on what little documentation there is as the sole controller of the corporation. All inquiries into the operational capacity of the company have resulted in resounding failure, and USCOM is too scared to keep trying. The fact is, they need Crucible Corp. Everyone does.

Crucible Corporation is the sole controller of the on site refineries in Ripper Camps that turn the scrap and salvage they bring in, into pure steel and other foundational materials vital to the construction of new Megacities. Their towering smoke stacks loom over the tent cities and scrap built shelters, belching acrid black smoke into the sky 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Every single pure bar of metal that emerges from the forges is branded with the Crucible Corp insignia, two C’s surrounded by an etching of fire.

Crucible Corporation rarely strays outside of its purview, but will relentlessly hunt down people that attempt to operate their own smelting facilities, avoiding Crucibles red tape, fees and taxes. Those who would steal from their smelters and Crucibles are posted up on poles outside of the factories and set ablaze, their blackened skeletons serving as an intimidating reminder to not mess with the lifeblood of industry itself.

The Deniers: Leave us alone.

Where others saw opportunity, the deniers saw only the mistakes of the past repeating themselves.

Deniers dwell in the vast bunkers of the nuclear war, refusing to head to the surface as all others have. To the Deniers UNISCI built the bunkers to wait out the storm, and the thunder and lightning have not yet faded. Corporations once again slink above, and inequality and starvation rule just as they did before.

The Deniers' lives within the bunkers are full of hardship and desperation. Without the nascent hundreds of millions, they are cold and empty complexes of endless darkness, since the generators have long since rusted into antiquity. Those that remain within the pitch black depths have grown accustomed to the eternal night, skin growing paler and gaunt faces peering out at intruders.

They wage furious wars against the rippers that come to tear apart their homes for the new world, and see them as the ultimate evil to force them into the light of the false new society. They will do anything to prevent the world above from taking away the concrete walls they hold dear.


UNISCI: Embrace Actualism, Embrace Unity, Embrace UNISCI.

UNISCI, the future and the past. In the late 21st century, scientists from all over the world gathered together in a time of great peace and progress, renouncing their citizenship or ties to any civilization to form the United Scientific Commune. UNISCI was and is an organization of the best and brightest minds in academic fields, devoted to advancing and shepherding the human race into a utopian future.

It was during the Epoch of Curiosity that UNISCI made the groundbreaking discovery of Plasmoid technology, a cross between magnetic fields and electrified plasma that when properly housed could provide near limitless energy. Plasmoid generators and power plants sprung up across the world, and though incredibly fragile, entirely removed the need for fossil fuels after just a few decades.

In the Age of Degradation it was UNISCI that saw the corporations begin to buy up nuclear stock, and invested all they had into preserving the future of the earth. With massive grants and near limitless funds from the global usage of Plasmoid tech, they constructed massive, nation sized underground bunkers, capable of protecting a full quarter of earth's total population from the fallout of the corporate war.

While UNISCI hunkered away in their own private research bunkers, they communicated with the rest of humanity and guided them through the lost generations, their disembodied voices instructing the survivors on how to operate and survive within the mega structures.

Upon giving the all clear to emerge again, UNISCI has ascended to near godlike status in the eyes of the people. Shirking the opportunity to rule undisputedly, the surviving members of UNISCI and their descendants instead chose to yet again take a backseat to the affairs of the world, and simply act as guides and advisors for the confused masses that emerged from the bunkers.

One major change within the organization is that after reemergence, UNISCI began to preach a new religion, created to promote order and stability. Actualism as it’s known, is the belief that there is no supernatural or strange occurrence that cannot be explained by science. Activists believe that the world is exactly how it appears, and abhor the assumption of unseen or unremarked reality. Members of UNISCI have become quasi-religious figures, leading entire flocks of enlightened “Actualists” to spread unity and order. Some comment on how it seems UNISCI has slowly begun to move away from its originally scientific pursuits in favor of religious zealotry, but these voices are quickly silenced.

Predators: Your scrap. NOW.

Predators are a catch all term for the barbaric tribes and gangs unaffiliated with the more organized, urban Syndicates. They are a blight and a plague on the weak or pacifistic in the wastelands and ripper camps alike, known for their underhanded tactics. A Predator knows nothing of a fair fight, or really any fight at all where their opponents are not outnumbered or outgunned.

Predators gradually sprung up in North America as groups of desperate people, as they always have in times of strife, decided to prey on other people to make their own situations a little less desperate. Predators are found everywhere where there is any scrap of civilization, lurking in the outskirts. In USCOM’s new Megacities, the slums that surround them full of Noncits are plagued daily by predators, stalking the territories that the wealthier Syndicates wont touch.

While Syndicates operate more as businesses, Predator gangs are almost feral in nature. Where a Syndicate might own an area and charge weekly cash in order to continue living there, a Predator gang with a similar area will instead maintain control through terror, killing civilians, burning down houses, and taking whatever they please.

Predators are infamous among Rippers for infiltrating and occupying the Ruins, lying in wait and stalking Ripper Crews until they are exhausted, with large hauls. Once they near the exits at the end of the shift, Predators will descend in the dozens, seeking to kill them as fast as possible, stripping the corpses of their equipment, and handing in the now dead crews haul for a tidy sum.

Rippers: Huddled masses, find your tools. Your work has just begun.

That's right, this one is about you! Rippers are the colloquial name for the groups of salvagers and scrappers that are under the provisional control of BlackHawk Capital, sent into the irradiated ruins of bombed out megacities to “rip” them apart, and bring them back for habitually low pay.

To be a Ripper, one must first officially gain a “Writ of Salvage,” a license allowing that specific person, or group of people, to operate as salvagers within the ruined Megacities wholly owned by Blackhawk Capital. Writ's of Salvage are not incredibly expensive to obtain, but for incoming refugees it’s basically all of their savings to apply for one, and even then you must meet with a Blackhawk Capital representative and make your case for why you deserve the license.

Rippers dwell primarily in “Ripper Camps,” millions strong slums built of metal too rusted to sell and filled with people desperate for work. Rippers are the faceless many that are preyed upon by most other functioning groups, fighting amongst themselves for what little work there is.

Rippers commonly work together in groups, known as “Ripper Crews” bound out of friendship or convenience in order to take on larger scrap loads. While solo rippers do exist, typically they are well funded mercenaries that venture into ruins specifically to uncover artifacts and other valuables beyond base metal.

Ripper Crews most often eat, work, and sleep together, even within the camps for safety and community. Food, supplies and equipment are also frequently shared.

Refugees: We faceless few.

Refugees are the tens to hundreds of millions that do not work as Rippers, but instead work in the numberless smaller organizations and businesses within the camps to continue life as we know it. Refugees own Food Cafeterias, or just Cafs, that serve up endless amounts of cheap and filling grub. Refugees act as cashiers, porters, lifters, builders, bartenders, and whatever else you can think of that a Corporation has not monopolized or a Syndicate capitalized on.

While they do not directly interact with the ruins, Refugee merchants keep the lifeblood of the economy going, and create an intricate ecosystem of trade and barter within the slums. Rippers far prefer selling their scrap to merchants with good connections to Crucible Corp, so they can avoid the litany of fees, in exchange for exorbitant price hikes. But hey, at least you can haggle with the merchants, the faceless Crucible agents in their black hazmat suits will kill you for suggesting a side deal.

Underbosses: You don’t deserve the work, you earn it.

Underbosses are the petty tyrants of the Ripper Camps, endlessly profiting off of the desperation of the lower class. An Underboss is an individual who has, through means entirely legally or perhaps less so, purchased a number of Official Crew Slots (OCS’s) from BlackHawk capital. Unlike the Writ of Salvage, an OCS’s actually contracts you as an official employee of Blackhawk, and exempts you from the lottery. Separated into Light, Medium, and Heavy Crews, these incredibly valuable slots guarantee daily work, and a higher price for your salvage.

Underbosses, smelling blood in the water, collectively have purchased nearly every available OCS from Blackhawk, and have founded their own illicit empires. Now, instead of guaranteeing employment and being something for the average Ripper to aspire too, OCS’s are rented out or auctioned off on a case by case basis.

Some Underbosses form their own crews of carefully selected Rippers that they pair together, taking a huge cut of their profits in exchange for letting them use the slots. Rippers on these crews need to be extra careful, as their precarious position could be stripped away in an instant if they fail to make quota, or impress their cash hungry overlord.

Other Underbosses instead offer a valuable “service” to those Ripper crews who were not chosen in the lottery. Underbosses will auction off their slots for the day, beginning at a fairly low quota amount that the crew needs to reach, but as more and more desperate folk flood back after not being selected in the lottery, a separate ecosystem forms where the crews compete with each other for what little work remains, shouting out ever higher quota numbers. It doesn’t matter to the Underboss if they can actually meet quota or not, as if they fail, they’ll be blacklisted and have their possessions taken as recompense.

It’s common for Underbosses to have hired protection similar to Corporate drones, usually paying Predators or allying with a Syndicate for safety against vengeful Rippers that have been ripped off one too many times.

Syndicates: And lo, your hero’s have arrived. Empty your pockets.

Syndicates are the organized crime rings that exist and operate within Ripper camps, acting in the stead of the ever ignorant USCOM.

USCOM, while technically owning all of North America in reality polices very little in the slums and the wasteland. Threats against the operation and function of corporations and the Ripper industry are taken very seriously, but petty crime, murder, and other evils are ignored at best.

Syndicates operate almost like small governments within Ripper camps, usually laying claim to significant amounts of territory like housing districts, gambling dens, or drug hives. Ironically, it is actually seen as being a good thing to live within Syndicate territory, as their protection rackets and vigilance against other gangs means that the residents only have to deal with that one particular syndicate, and are protected from Predators and other lone criminals.

Syndicates charge exorbitant “rent” to live within their claimed territory, and each one has a unique culture, specialty, and business interests. They mostly fight other syndicates and criminals seeking ever larger territories and claims. Syndicates are also the primary sellers of highly illegal “Runs,” chemical runoff of the metal manufacturing process that can be snorted or huffed for intense highs, but also horrific damage to the mind and body.

Despite the immense powers of Syndicates, they are still under the heel of USCOM and must take care to disguise their operations. While they do operate somewhat openly, any whiff of a Syndicate will cause USCOM to send in a unit of S.T.A.R.S&S.T.R.I.P.E.S Riot Suppressors to massacre entire districts, until criminal activities have been actively “suppressed.”

Mutants: URRRRRRRAGGHHHHH!!!

While a quarter of humanity dwelled within the UNISCI bunkers, the rest perished in the flames of nuclear annihilation, or so we thought…

Turns out while some simply disintegrated, others survived with horrific irradiated forms, brains altered and melted to a near feral state. In this new, blasted out world, these newfound mutants are theorized to have killed off whatever remnant of actual human existence remained after the war, and now dwell within the ruins of civilization, waiting for the next living thing to consume and rip apart in their mindless rage.

Some mutant forms are recognizable, still wearing scraps of their corporate suits or greasy hair clinging to their tumor pocked faces. They stumble about like zombies, running at any noise or living thing and tearing it to pieces to stuff into their desiccated bodies.

Other mutants are terrors of fiction, their intense radiation mutating them into things straight out of horror films from old, growing extra limbs, gaining strength or agility, becoming near translucent, spitting acid or shrugging off bullets, all of these have been witnessed by the strange manifestations of a hundred years of fallout and survival.

The main doctrine of most Rippers is to avoid mutants at all costs, due to how incredibly lethal they are. If they are fought, it's best to run or try to kill them as quickly as possible, because every Ripper knows that where there is one, more are sure to follow.

Character Sheet:

Name:
(Your characters name)

Appearance:
(Your character's appearance, including whatever clothing they’ve managed to find/obtain. Using a face claim is fine!)

Gender:
(Self explanatory)

Nationality:
(Ripper camps are a hive of refugees from all over. You can use one of the New-Gov’s provided, or message me to create your own minor one! You can also come from different factions, like an ex-Predator or a former Denier.)

Personality:
(Describe a bit about how your character operates, their likes and dislikes, how they survive in a hostile and dangerous environment like a Ripper Camp.)

Role:
(Your role within the crew. Usually crew slots are divvied up into 3 types, Light, Medium, and Heavy. You can have a specialization within your type, such as;

Light Crew: Stealth Operations
Medium Crew: Data Analyst
Heavy Crew: Demolitions Expert

Light Crew is for those with small frames, typically people that fit into ventilation systems and spots blocked off by rubble too heavy to move. They are responsible for the collection of wiring, small scrap, and other miscellaneous salvage not pertaining to the larger operation. It’s common for rippers to starve themselves to keep their light crew slot, or risk being replaced.

Medium Crew is the slot with the largest variety of different roles in their purview. Most often they are generalists or specialists, either helping out wherever needed, doing grunt work as necessary, or having skills pertaining to things like coding, disarming security, mutant hunting, operating machinery, etc. it’s also the most common role.

Heavy Crew are the largest. Usually equipped with Enhancer Gloves and other construction equipment, they handle the heaviest salvage such as Mag-Steel beams and Obcrete. In many Ripper crews it’s common for Heavy Crew to receive the lions share of rations or food; keeping their endurance up is vital for the physically demanding 14 hour ripper shifts.)

Resume:
(Your backstory. Please include a minimum of 2-3 paragraphs describing how your character ended up in the Ripper Camp of New New York City. Keep in mind if your character is older they may have been born or grew up in one of the UNISCI humanitarian bunkers! The Major Players section and timeline will be helpful in crafting your background, but if you have any questions let me know.)

Contacts:
(Your family, friends and associates in camp. This can’t be anyone explicitly powerful, you don’t know any corporate execs or USCOM officials, but having some dirt on a weapon merchant or being buddies with a cook at a Caf is more than fine. You can have up to 3 contacts, and can find/gain more as the story progresses naturally.)

Quirks:
(Advantages, skills, or natural bonuses your character has. Maybe you’re great with old world tech systems, or naturally brawny despite your thin and unhealthy diet. Maybe you’re just that good at getting a bit more out of a trade, or maybe you’re naturally likeable! These will impact the roleplay in their own small ways, use common sense, obviously no magic or crazy powers. Please have 2 of these.)

Heels:
(Disadvantages, flaws, or things your character lacks. Maybe you’re as a dumb as a rock when it comes to tech, maybe you never quite recovered from an old injury, or maybe you just don't get along with people outside of your group very well. These can also be things like being in debt to a sinister organization, or having a family member you need to care for. Please do not choose anything that would actively prohibit you from acting as a Ripper, like having no legs. Create two of these!)

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Name:
Ashton Jefferson Gray

Appearance:
Born several years before Emergence, Ashton is a living reminder of the old phrase ‘Be wary of an old man in a job where they die young’. He’s been a Ripper his whole life and it shows. Not a tall man, he’s best described as ‘solid’. A thick, heavy set frame, well muscled by years of hauling scrap and covered in a multitude of scars from accidents, fights and radiation. In Camp he sticks to a worn and many times repaired set of coveralls that are almost as old as he is. His current Ripper gear is actually an ex-CC industrial suit that he’s added a vest/harness and leg pouches to for greater utility; in addition to all that and several repair patches, he’s done a few ‘cosmetic’ alterations to hide the suits origin.

Aside from the many scars, he has a variety of tattoos; the most notable ones being ‘Good’ and ‘Haul’ across his knuckles and a set of scales over his heart.

Gender:
Male

Nationality:
If you had to ‘label’ him for his place of birth, he’d be UNISCI, but if you ask Ashton…and press him for an answer…he’d just call himself a Ripper. He may have been born in a UNISCI vault, but he’s lived and worked in the Ripper Camp of NNYC his entire life.

Role:
Heavy Crew

Personality:
‘Reserved’ would probably be the best way to describe Ashton as he’s not given to going out of his way to make friends. Mind you he’s no bitter anti-social asshole, he’s just never felt overly inclined to get to know people; what’s the point in getting too close to folk that may very well be dead in a week…or sooner.

On the other hand he does have his principles; his biggest one being ‘Always Back Your Crew’. Whether out Ripping, or back in the Camp, you watch each other's back regardless of anything else…and if someone betrays that trust you deal with that right off.

Resume:
Born quite literally the day before ‘Emergence Day’, Ashton grew up into rough and (even more) chaotic early days of the Ripper Camps. While his father, William, became one of the first generation Rippers, his mother, Clara, cared for him and set up with a few others tending to the care and mending of the gear of those trying to rip a living out of the decaying ruins of the old world; from the moment he was old enough to actually take and follow instructions he helped with the work.

As he got older, he went from mending clothes to helping sort the scrap his father’s crew hauled back from the ruins and by the time he was a young teen he ‘graduated’ to being a Ripper himself…though sadly by then his father was gone due to radiation poisoning. Still he carried on, day after day to provide for himself and his mother.

When he was about twenty or so, his mother took up with a man named Victor. At first Ashton wasn’t a big fan of him, but in time he grew to appreciate Victor and the fact that he made his mother happy again. Not long after, his mother gave birth to his half-sister Sandra and the four of them were as happy as one could be in that hard life. Ashton worked on as a Ripper, tearing scrap from the ruins, while Clara, Victor, (and once she was old enough) Sandra tending to his and others Ripper gear.

Now his mother has passed and Victor is sadly a shell of who he once was. A few hard lessons and narrow escapes means Sandra is about the only person he truly trusts. Though he doesn’t see a future for himself, beyond ending up like his own father, he keeps pressing on to help Sandra keep her business afloat and to care for Victor.

Contacts:

• ’Missy’ Bellwether - Owner/operator of the ‘Last Gasp’ a popular Ripper bar not far from the main gate and money lender for the local Syndicate. The Last Gasp is Ash’s preferred drinking establishment and sometimes employer as Missy occasionally hires him as a bouncer and/or debt collector.
• Randolph Checkers - Weapons dealer. Works out of a back room in the ‘Last Gasp’. Charges a fair price and only deals in decent gear; rumored to have USCOM connections, but Ashton knows better than to poke about in business that isn’t his.
• Sandy Wilson - His half-sister. She runs a flophouse not far from the ‘Last Gasp’, keeps a bunk open for Ashton as often as she can.
• Victor Wilson - Sandra’s father. A fairly decent man once, but sadly his mind has gone and these days just sits and stares out a window at Sandra’s flop house.

Quirks:

• {In It For The Long Haul} - As a lifelong Ripper, Ashton has a good eye for not only what the most valuable things are (obvious and otherwise), but also the subtle signs of what may be a trap (intentional or otherwise).
• {Built Like A Brick} - Almost as broad as he is tall, he is remarkably strong; useful for not only hauling scrap, but dealing with the more active threats both outside and inside the Camp.

Heels:

• {Back In My Day} - Being a Ripper ages even the young rather quickly…and he’s not a young man any more. He hurts more constantly, he’s not as fast and so on and so forth …
• {How Do You Turn This Thing On?} - He knows enough about the old tech to (mostly) salvage it safely, but dealing with the occasional systems that one finds that are still running? Yeah, he never got the hang of that.