Aug 29, 2018
Years from now, in post apocalypticia, your social status will be determined not by strength or smarts, but how well you can do the Fortnite default dance.
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Years from now, in post apocalypticia, your social status will be determined not by strength or smarts, but how well you can do the Fortnite default dance.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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quick (haha) painting of my fave wastelander.
OC for this comic thing i’m working on, still busy world building tho
reupload cause i shit up
So... I was assigned to listen to the radio. Everyone hoped to catch a transmission from government bunkers beyond the Urals. But it was no use, because the first thing they hit was the strategic targets. That’s how Ramenki got smeared, and all of the out-of-town summer residences, with their basements thirty metres deep, how they got smeared, too... They might have even spared Ramenki... They didn’t try too hard to hit the peaceful population... Nobody knew then that this war was to the very end. So, maybe they might have spared Ramenki, but there was a command point right next to it, so they slammed it... And as far as civilian casualties were concerned, it was all, as they say, collateral damage, you should pardon the expression. But at that time nobody believed that yet, so the brass had me sit and listen to the airwaves over next to Arbatskaya, in a bunker. And initially, I heard a lot of strange stuff... Siberia was quiet, though other parts of the country were broadcasting. Submarines - strategic, nuclear - went on the air. They’d ask whether to strike or not... People didn’t believe that Moscow no longer existed. Full captains were sobbing like kids over the radio. It’s strange, you know, when salty naval officers, who hadn’t uttered a swear word in their entire lives, are crying and asking for someone to check and see if their wives or daughters are among the survivors... “Go, look for them here,” they’d say... And later, they’d all react differently. There were those who said, “That’s it! The hell with it, it’s an eye for an eye!” and they’d get in close to their shores and launch everything against the cities. Others, on the contrary, decided that since everything was already going to hell in a hand basket, there wasn’t any sense in continuing to fight. Why kill more people? But that didn’t have any effect. There were enough out there who wanted to avenge their families. And the boats answered for a long time. They could run under water for half a year while on station. They found some of them, of course, but they couldn’t find all of them. Well, that’s an earful of history. To this day, when I think about it, I get the shakes.
Melnik - Metro 2033
The Outside - Chapter 1
Rating: T may be M later
Summary: A group of teenagers try to survive in a post-apocalyptic world. A disease found on the ocean floor and brought to the surface mutated, and caused many people to die, go crazy, or have deformities. Their only hope of survival is finding a way inside the “safe zone” of New York City, if they manage to stay alive long enough to do so.
Chapter Summary: Not much in this chapter, just introductions and some exposition.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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So, I finally bought Rage yesterday after nearly a year of wanting and pondering.
It's like... Borderlands and Fallout had a baby, but somewhere down the line, Borderlands cheated with Bioshock.
I love how versatile the game is. One mission you could be delivering something to another town, and the next, you could be sniping mutants or doing a race. It's definitely a game-changer from the usual post-apocalyptic games. It definitely does not take Borderlands off the top of my list (I am so stoked to get Borderlands 2 at midnight tomorrow that you can't even comprehend it), but it definitely goes right up there with Fallout.
I'll go deeper into the details once I beat the game.
#5
Ah," Mark smiled, "I'm honored you know my name." She seated herself on one of the stools, sweeping her cloak out behind her. "Don't give yourself so little credit." She looked around and scowled at the people staring at her. "I need to talk to you privately." "Of course, of course!" He waved at them with his rag. "Give us a moment." They reluctantly scattered to the tables, away from the counter. "What brings you here?" Would you like a drink? Some moonshine?" "I'm not too keen on losing my wits anytime soon." She glanced warily at a glass, the slightly murky liquid sitting innocently beside her arm. "The way people drink this swill, you probably slipped some highly addictive drugs in it." He laughed as a few customers rushed to the restroom, knocking their glasses over in their haste. "Gotta find a way to keep them coming." He straightened, crossing his arms over his chest. "Now what can I do for you?" She looked over her shoulder before continuing. "There's someone I'm looking for." She pulled out a photo and slid it over to him. "I'd like to ask you if you've seen this person." Picking it up, he stared at it hard and nodded slowly. "Mmmhm. I've seen this person." He said, tapping it as the recognition slowly dawned upon him. "Yeah, he left an impression on me." "Did he by any chance tell you where he was planning to go?" He shook his head. "No." He answered, his voice tinged with regret, as he cleaned some glasses. "He was a friendly guy, y'know? It's strange to meet people like that, real talkative and optimistic." He looked around. "Most people these days are down on their luck, looking for a way out." She took in every word he said, her brow scrunched in concentration. "What kind of things did he say?" "He talks like me, a bit." He chuckled. "Talked about his travels. How he just wanders, with no real destination. Knows how to say a lot of words without saying anything at all, y'know what I'm talking about?" He set his rag down and looked at her, taking in her features. "You and him are the same." He smiled. "Sharp, but tired eyes. Eyes that have seen too much. A cold killer's eyes, you might say." He saw her eye twitch as she brought her hand up to her pin, taking it off and re-pinning her hair. "Don't compare me to that man." She muttered darkly. Then she added, "Then wouldn't you say that you're the same? A trader who has been to so many places in this broken country?" "Ah, but the difference is," he said, looking past her, "I never involved myself in the affairs of the one of the shadiest groups in the wasteland." Her eyes narrowed, glaring at nothing. He held his hands up. "Sorry. Just telling it like it is." A few moments later, she stood up, checking her pocket watch. "Well, thank you for your assistance." She said as she turned to leave. "Wait." She stopped, her hand on the counter. "Want my opinion?" She looked over her shoulder. "Sure." "Keep doing what you've been doing." He said, taking up his rag again. "The way he talked, it sounded like he was waiting for something to happen." He looked up. "Or maybe someone to catch up with him." She adjusted her holster and looked him in the eye. "Waiting for someone, huh?" "Humor me, kid." Mark said, curiosity peaking for the first time in years. "I won't ask you why you're looking for that guy, I can tell it's personal, but I will ask you this. What's your business with Hermes?" For a moment, she looked far older than him. The dark bags under her eyes made her look bitter. She looked so tiny under the huge cloak, as if it were a burden she had to carry. "I'm a courier." She answered simply. "But it is not I who works for them." "You mean-" She gave him a weary but determined smile. "I have a message for that man." He smiled, satisfied with the answer. "Good luck then, Ananke." Drawing up her hood, she nodded at him. "Thank you." "And get some rest." He advised, his attention returning to his bar. "It won't do you any good if you're on the verge of exhaustion." Taking her silence as an affirmation, he bid her goodnight. Mark waited a few minutes after she left before he turned to the last customer left in the bar, who had been listening intently. He closed his eyes and shook his head. "You were almost found out." He called. The customer looked up and a shadow of a grin flickered across his face. "Yeah, that was a close one. She probably would've known I was here, if she wasn't so tired." He paused for a moment. "Why didn't you sell me out?" He leaned on the counter, looking at the door. "She's got determination, that one. Got a hint of the Western dialect. That's a long way from home." Looking back at the man, he grinned. "I want to know what happens when she finally catches up with you. I can feel a great story stirring up." The man lifted his glass to his lips, hiding a smile. "Ananke, huh?" "Interesting name." He commented, the glasses in his hands tinkling as he set them down to dry. "What's it mean to you?" He stood, the falcon stitched on his sleeve visible. "Ananke, the goddess of fate, destiny, inevitability." He explained. "Her handler in the ranks, Chronos, god of time." He shook his head and let out a quiet chuckle. "They thought they pulled out the big guns." "You're not worried?" "Oh, I'm worried. More than you can imagine." He said lightheartedly. "Hermes thinks it's just a job for her. They think she'll get it done down to the T. But I know better." Sitting down at the bar, he twirled a desert lily pin with his fingers, smiling as the shiny metal flower glinted in the dim light of the bar. "She's got a score to settle with me."
#4
The Station became one of the main settlements after civilization was essentially collapsed. It had formerly been, of all things, the main train station of a major city. The name of the city was forgotten, remembered only by those whose ancestors had lived when the city was still intact. It still remained to be the central hub for travelers from all over, retaining some of its original purpose. The trains still remained, left to rust on the broken train tracks as improvised shelters for travelers and wanderers looking a place to stay for the night. Over the years, the Station had been stripped of most useful supplies, but the people were resourceful; they set up shop in the empty ransacked stores, selling their wares and repairing old equipment to make a living.
One such place was The Old Still, a bar opened by Mark, an old trader who decided to settle down after years of travel. Old World memorabilia decorated the tacky wallpapered walls, mounted heads of long extinct animals, silly slogans for products that only existed in name, faded and signed pictures of famous, now obscure, celebrities. His establishment was well-liked by the regulars and he was known to be a generally nice guy, so visitors of the Station never hesitated to drop by and have a drink of his famous moonshine, which everyone was willing to drink as long as they were not told what was in it. Little did they know, the moonshine had a hint of truth serum in it to loosen lips, the means by which Mark collected secrets. But most of all, they stayed to listen to his stories, the experiences he had when he was traveling around the country to provide supplies to all the settlements. He spoke of snowy towns nestled high up in the mountains, people who had devolved to tribals and cannibals, cities that still had bright flashing neon signs, forests teeming with wildlife, treasures found in the most unexpected places. He would gesture to the walls, pointing out the things he had picked up along the way. It was beautiful and exciting to the travelers, who had traveled nowhere in comparison to him. The world had once been so accessible to everyone, but after the collapse, the world had shrunk once again. With the rumors of the remnants of technology that could bring people from the opposite ends of the ocean together lying in undiscovered territory, people wanted to see for themselves what was beyond their street, to bring their world back to its former glory. His stories ignited their souls, rekindled their desire to see what they could find in the unknown. Mark, a rather heavy-set man now, leaned against the counter, wiping an imaginary stain with a dirty rag. The loose ceiling fan spun lazily, casting second-long shadows on the patrons. He stroked his beard. "Ah, but the story of the mysterious wanderer is my favorite of all." The travelers leaned forward, eager to listen to a story of someone much like themselves. "Hermes Messenger Service." He began. "It emerged from the ruins of this country as a way for people like us to communicate. It was unlike any other. The efficiency of its business was unmatched and no one could understand how it worked." He thought for a moment before continuing. "People, including myself, speculated that they had acquired some of the Old World technology and used it to create their network of couriers. That, however, is not the most intriguing part. There are rumors of a traveler who bears the mark of the Hermes Messenger Service on their sleeve. However, the strangest thing, the traveler does not wear the uniform of the service, nor do they follow the normal routes of the couriers. They come and go as they please, dropping off packages and picking new ones up every once in a while. They do not follow the code of the service. This courier carries the name, Ananke." He stopped as the door opened. A small cloaked figure entered, their face hidden under a cloak. The travelers turned to look as well. Mark smiled. "Ah, it seems we have a legend in our midst." Dropped her hood, Ananke nodded at him, the patch on her sleeve visible. "Nice story." She said dryly. He bowed his head as if in apology. "We could all use a bit of myth and legend in our lives." Her boots clicked against the wooden floor as she walked over to the bar. People quickly made room for her. "I assume you're the famous Mark?"