Americanarchy [Updated 8 March, 2004]

C. Baize

First Post
"The other night I tripped a nice continental drift divide. Mountains sit in a line.
Leonard Bernstein. Leonid Breshnev, Lenny Bruce and Lester Bangs.
Birthday party, cheesecake, jelly bean, boom! You symbiotic, patriotic,
slam, but neck, right? Right.

It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it.
It’s the end of the world as we know it and I feel fine...fine...
"
-- R.E.M. "It’s The End Of The World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine)"


It finally happened. The world went to hell in the proverbial handbasket. Long envied for her wealth, and prosperity, the U.S.A. is attacked by enemies, old and new, looking to carve out their own piece of the 'Land of Plenty'.
Bio-Chemical agents dispersed in America's lakes and rivers lead to an outbreak of plague causing people, by the millions, to grow sick, die, and most frighteningly, to walk again with one goal ingrained into them... spread the disease.
Many many people succumbed to the fatal disease. Many more were killed when Washington DC, Seattle, Tacoma, Los Angeles, Cheyenne Mountain, The Pentagon, and several other sites were nuked. Government has collapsed, orders are no longer being handed down to the military. Factions are formed; with many military platoons, and even entire Batallions deserting, taking what supplies and weapons they can, and quickly carving out a niche for themselves.
Now people must work together to survive rapidly emerging rogue military and militia units, roving bands of good ol' boys, the walking dead, foreign military invaders (who are inadvertently carrying the plague with them, back to their home countries), and something new, something only now emerging, like any good pathogen, this one has mutated, and is creating a new breed of human...
Who will survive? Who will prosper?

What beings came into our world following the Tunguska Blast, the Manhattan Project, and the Philadelphia Experiment? Do they hold the secret of the cure? IS there a cure?

We shall see.

Americanarchy
 
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Mista Collins

First Post
This looks very very very interesting. I will have to keep myself updated. It makes me want to start my own d20 Modern campaign.. which I might.
 

C. Baize

First Post
I'm going to be posting some background material, first, so that everyone is up to speed on what's going on in the world, from the perspective of the characters, and other world citizens. :)
 

C. Baize

First Post
Associated Press said:
August 5th, 2002. Associated Press - Staff Writer James Calhoun.

Premier of Nova Scotia Becomes Prime Minister of Canada
The story of the new Prime Minister of Canada, Jacques d’Gorthar, is a story of sadness, determination, and iron will.
Orphaned at a very young age, d’Gorthar was found as a toddler, in the arms of a woman who had died in an accident. The identity of the woman was never confirmed, and thus the toddler was sent to an orphanage where he was given the name, “Jacque”. He was later adopted by middle class Rene d’Gorthar and his wife, Jacquelyn, who raised the boy as their own son, until they were killed in an auto wreck while heading home from a department store, where they had bought gifts for the boy’s 18th birthday. Twice orphaned at 18, he took over his modest inheritance, went into business, and became quite wealthy.
Being something of a political ideologue, d’Gorthar went into local politics at 32 years old, and ended up as the Premier of Nova Scotia by the time he was 38. This young go-getter was not satisfied, however, with provincial government, and tirelessly lobbied and campaigned his party, and is now the Prime Minister of Canada. From humble beginnings are great men made.

"Well," intoned President Bush in his Texas drawl, "now that Chreti.... Cretin... err... hell, whatever his name was, is outta office, maybe we can get the Canadians to fall in line with are foreign policy. I dunno why Blair duddin' jes' tell these guys ta tow the line." Bush put down the paper, and went for his morning jog, pleased with himself for his diplomatic pressure to remove Chretien.

Elsewhere....

General Sharkey was answering the summons to Prime Minister d'Gorthar's office.
"Mr. Prime Minister."

"Ah... General Sharkey, yes. I want you to start working up offensive and defensive tactics in case of unprovoked aggression on our southern border. Our neighbor to the south has shown that he's not averse to throwing the first punch. I don't want to be caught unaware, should that happen, here."

"Yes, Mr. Prime Minister."

"Oh... And General Sharkey, I believe it is time to recall, and prepare for Project Coldwalk, including..." d'Gorthar slid a CD jewel case across his desk, "the contents of this disc. I will assume that you will put the right people on the job."

"Of course, Mr. Prime Minister, I'll have a team of specialists on it, within the week."

"Very good, General, you're dismissed."

------------------------------------------------------

Yet elsewhere...

Marine Gunnery Sergeant Charles Jackson waited for the signal to take his shot. Squatted with his rump nearly on the ground, his modified .308 rifle held steady in his hands, elbows firmly planted on his knees. GSGT Jackson held his position as he had for the past 7 hours.
Hearing the difference in sound in his Tac Comm device, he waited for the coordinates, and the okay.
The whispered voice of Staff Sergeant McEvoy sounded loud in his ears, "White Down one, White Down one, I have contact at ... delta zulu one one four niner seven niner five one, target has ceased forward movement."

"Confirm, delta zulu one one four niner seven niner five one." Jackson ordered.

"Aye," came the whispered response, "...confirm.... delta zulu one one four niner seven niner five one. Fire at will."

GSGT Jackson put his eye to the long range scope, feeling the breeze on his neck, adjusting his sites for the 900 yard shot. 'There you are, Osama...' Jackson exhaled, and squeezed the trigger, noting with quiet satisfaction when his bullet hit the mark, just at the base of the cranium, exiting the top of the skull.
"Red Dog one, move into contact position and confirm hit."

McEvoy quietly moved to the target's location, and called back, "White Down one, confirmed, target down. Good shot."
GSGT Jackson walked over to the target's position.
McEvoy grinned at him, "I don't think this dummy is going anywhere, but into a box."
Jackson snickered, "Shut up, man. Load it up, let's get back to base."
Staff Sergeant McEvoy carried the target dummy back to the HMMWV.
They drove back to the Marine base in silence.

To be continued...
 
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ledded

Herder of monkies
<eagerly enters theater, popcorn, candy, and coke spilling a little in his rush to throw himself heavily into a seat>

"Did I miss anything yet? Dang, I hate coming in late"

<stares imploringly at the screen>
 

Pierce

First Post
Woohoo! Another modern story hour! Yay! Post-apocalyptic-zombie-plague-invasion-anarchic-with-aliens-thrown-in-for-good-measure-goodness! Can't wait!
 

Tellerve

Registered User
*eyes already transfixed on the screen from his favorite middle seat just a bit up from the front row*

*Turning he nods at ledded and pierceatwork as they come in, a large grin on his face, before settling back into the plush stadium seat.*

A'ight, this looks good, and like Mista Collins, makes me yearn to start my own modern d20 campaign.

Tellerve
 



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