> F L O O D < -- (A Mostly Text Adventure)

[fuzzysocks]

Wipe your feet, set down your crates, and wait for them to tell you where you can sit down, or what they'll be expecting from you.

[Eversor]

*Take off shoes*

*Really, make yourself at home, you earned it buddy*

[minty]

> Try not to offend your hosts, but relaxing and decompressing in this cozy little place amidst a sea or hardship is a great idea.

> Have you even eaten since you woke up? Suggest chatting over food.

> Ask who else uses this place.

[kaninchen]

You begin to set down the crate, and Max beckons you to keep walking.

"Nah, nah, not here. Gotta get upstairs first."

You nod and continue to follow. More stairs, though lacking the debris and dirt of other buildings. It's warm in here, and dry. You can already feel your tank top beginning to feel less damp.

Voices echo from upstairs. Chatting, talking, and even... singing? There's graffiti on the walls, but it's incredibly artistic -- a rainbow of colors, humanoid shapes all helping one another in some way. Some of the shapes are lifting bags of scrapped materials, others are passing food and water to each other. Others hold torches, lanterns, and flashlights to light the way, and actual light bulbs are slotted in the wall where their lights are. You then notices below each figure is a name, and in many cases, a set of dates.

That's when it hits you: it's a memorial. These are the names of those who scavenged here before, who lived and died in this broken city.

As you get further up the stairs, fewer names have an end-date next to their name. Once you're at the fourth floor, almost none have an end date. You even catch a glimpse of a familiar name next to one of the painted figures: "Maximilian Timmens Sr". No end date, of course, but you don't have time to see the start date.

And now, you come upon the last step. There are more steps upwards, obviously, but this fourth floor is your destination.

Suggested Audio Experience:

Clearly, this was once an apartment building, but many of the walls have been intentionally gutted to make larger spaces. Dozens of people mill about. Some work at salvage tables, taking apart scavenged items. Others clean their gear and weapons. A makeshift ping-pong table is set up in another room, and two scavvers -- both dressed similarly to you -- are having an intense match. Another hollowed-out set of rooms contain various tables and chairs, where a few scavvers are eating rationed food. So many people, talking amongst themselves, some laughing at stupid jokes. A radio is set up, scratchily playing some music, to which some exercising scavvers sing along to as they perform jumping jacks. People, humans, of all shapes and sizes and colors. You have seen humans, obviously, in your mental images and memory implants. But there's something about seeing them move and talk and breathe that is so... refreshing.

Many of them look up at Max and Autumn, and then to you. A few have suspicious looks on their faces. Most just look curious. A few small smiles help balance out the uncomfortable attention.

A man quickly walks up to Autumn holding a clipboard in his only hand -- his right arm stops at the elbow. His shaggy hair is a reddish-black, and slightly cracked glasses rest on a thin, pale nose. He walks alongside Autumn, who doesn't break her stride in the slightest.

"Ma'am! Our team arrived at the site and has begun counting inventory. We know it's mainly just weapons and general supplies, but the hydroponics team is asking if they can also divert someone to find 2-inch PVC endcaps for unit 3."

Autumn waves a hand dismissively. "Fine, as long as we get all the sniper's supplies back in time. Get Jeff to do it, he has a knack for finding random plastic crap."

"Yes ma'am. Oh, and Diana wants to know if we can divert some of the rainflow into storage. We know we don't have the purifiers for it, but the rain has been heavier lately and she's afraid of it overloading our non-stora--"

"Yes, yes, go ahead. And," -- Autumn points to your case of water purification tablets -- "... take those to Diana. She'll appreciate them."

The man tucks his clipboard under his other arm and takes the case from you. He barely even acknowledges you for a few moments, but then does a double-take. "Wait, who's this?"

Autumn sighs and stops walking. Many of the nearby people lean in slightly, curious. The talking subsides.

"We found them at the sniper's nest, and though we have no direct proof, we believe they killed the sniper. It's... Summers, right?"

You nod. "Pat Summers. Uh... nice to meet all of you."

There's several mumbled greetings, a couple of smiles at the mention of the dead sniper, and a handful of waves as well. Some of the suspicious looks soften, but not all of them.

Autumn turns back to face you. "Go to Cory. Tyler here will take you. I've got a scavver sanctuary to run." She then looks at the pistol and rifle that she and Max are carrying. "And as for your weapons, you aren't getting them back. They need to be scrubbed first, just in case they have trackers. I'll let Tyler find you some new clothes and maybe one of our spare rifles."

Her face is still stern, and her eyes still scan you up and down, but there's something a bit kinder about her now. Max chuckles. "Better do what she says. I'm gonna go get some grub. See ya 'round, sister." He gives you a friendly wink and walks off with Autumn, the two of them discussing more about the sniper's cache.

The glasses-wearing man, evidently named Tyler, beckons you with a tilt of his head. "Alright Pat, c'mon. I'll take you to Cory. I think he'll be happy to finally have company like you." He passes the case of purifiers to a nearby scavver, mentioning Diana, then continues. His stride is quick, and his voice is even quicker. His one hand pushes his glasses back up his nose. "You look pretty confused. Everything alright?"

[fuzzysocks]

Uh...yeah, for the most part. It's all a bit new to me, is all. ...You mentioned Cory would be happy to have company like me, is he a conean as well?

[Fish]

make sure you ask tyler about his flannel clothing choices, it's important

[kaninchen]

You rub the back of your head. Valerie's node is warm and tingly, but silent.

"So, why would they be happy to see me? Are they...?"

"Conean? Yes." Tyler adjusts his flannel button-up shirt, smoothing out a few wrinkles. "The last one of our group. We don't know much about the other groups and their make-up, but Cory might be the only Conean here in the city. We told him he can leave whenever he wants, but he insists on staying."

You turn a corner, following into a room filled with scrap metal. And there, a Conean, like you, is sitting on the floor. He is surrounded by scrap, wearing what appears to be two layers of pajamas. His dark fur is matted, his hair getting slightly long. He sorts through the scrap, finding what is or isn't worth keeping around. He looks up at you, with only one brown eye. The other is a creamy white, a scar running through it and down his face. There's a very shallow but wide dent on the side of his head, as though some sort of concussive wound struck him and he somehow survived.

"H-Hello Tyler. H-... H-How are you?"

"Very good, Cory. I just thought, while we find some new clothes for Pat here, they could talk with you."

"O-Okay. H-Hello Pat." Cory dips his head in greeting. Tyler gives you a pat on the shoulder and heads out, leaving you two together. You awkwardly raise a hand in greeting.

"You c-can sit. It's fine. S-Sorry for the mess. I l-like to work on the s-scrap, and find the useful stuff." He passes his hand around the room, showing the various piles of springs, screws, metal plates, wiring, and various other salvageable materials. A pile of unsorted scrap is next to him, illuminated by a single lightbulb on the ceiling. "It's f-fun. I like knowing h-how things f-fit together."

He looks back up to you and smiles.

[Eversor]

Is their anything interesting amoungst the pile of scraps? A glint of imagination and wonder?

[kaninchen]

"You find anything good?" you ask, looking at all the scrap.

"Y-Yeah!" He reaches points to one pile. "W-Weapons. Other folks will s-scrub them, and then I t-take them a-apart. S-... S-So that we can repair our own stuff. I f-found... here, l-look..." he reaches into the pile, rummaging through recoil springs, gas pistons, firing pins, and spare scopes and sights. He pulls out a thick metal tube, about two inches long, with texturing on the inside that looks like really small solar panels. "This w-was a big find! E-Energy convertor, from a rifle. T-Turns bullets into i-ionized slugs, to penetrate armor. I t-think we can turn i-it into a plasma cutter, s-so we don't have to use c-cheap welding torches."

Cory motions for you to take a seat, which you do. "S-So, news travels f-fast around here. I h-heard you took care of the sniper." His smile fades slightly. "T... T-Thank you for that. Very b-brave of you. That bastard... h-he... he took the lives o-of a lot of my f-friends." He points up to one of his ears -- tall like yours -- which has a large hole in it. "A-And he nearly took my ear off."

"He tried to kill me, too." You say, nodding. "I didn't even know you all were here. I just... I knew I had to get rid of the sniper, or I wouldn't be able to leave the city."

"O-Oh? How long have you b-been here?"

"Not long." You suppose you're lying, in a way, but as far as your conscious experience with the city goes, it's been less than a day.

"I s-see." He looks at your legs and arm. "Cool p-prosthetics. Where'd you g-get them?"

You shrug. "I genuinely can't say."

"Oh. O-Okay. Don't worry, I w-won't pry. I'm s-sure the others did, t-though."

You nod slightly. "Yeah. I can't blame them though. They're just looking out for one another. Someone like me comes along, with all this hardware and taking out a big thorn in their side... probably seems suspicious."

Cory laughs. "U-Understandable! You s-seem trustworthy t-to me though." He cants his head, looking slightly past you. "B-Backpack... anything i-in there? Maybe we c-can trade!"

[fuzzysocks]

Sure! Let's carefully take out any contents of our backpack we'd feel alright taking out, and figure out a trade or two.

[kaninchen]

"Oh, sure," you say, slipping the backpack off and unzipping it. There's the supplies you stole from the cache, and the things you scrounged in the apartments, which you set out in front of you. "I figure you all have enough medical and food supplies already. Not sure if any of this looks useful to you."

Cory points to the utility box. "What's i-in there?"

You shrug. "Dunno. Can't get it open."

"W-Want me to take a c-crack at it?"

You shrug again. "Go ahead. Don't see why not."

Cory nods and picks up the box, examining the lock. He reaches behind himself, grabbing a roll of cloth and unfurls it in front of himself, revealing a set of various lock-breaking tools. He grabs two, using one to push the pins up and the other to force the lock to turn. The lock snaps and the box pops open.

"Won't lock a-again after what I d-did. But we c-can get you a better b-box, with a b-better lock."

"Thanks, Cory," you say, taking the box with a slight smile. "It's fine, I just wanted to know what's inside."

Inside... a smaller box. Clear plastic, and thankfully not locked. Within this smaller box, a cassette tape, unmarked.

"W-Woah! A Cassette!" Cory's eyes go wide. "Old s-school, even by E-Earth standards. Lemme see if I can find my player..." He crawls over to his own set of supplies, where a few backpacks, bags, and small boxes contain his personal belongings. Rooting through his things, he finally pulls out a chunky-looking cassette player, as well as a set of headphones. You notice the headphones have a set of earbuds and clips coming off the top band. "H-Here, try this. We found a f-few tapes before, and I refurbished t-this to play them. E-Ever used EVO headphones b-before?"

You shake your head. No images flash in your mind, so clearly this is something new.

"W-Well, obviously human headphones are useless t-to us. B-But the vibrations f-from the bass still can be h-heard through the sides. Any higher o-octaves..." he points to the two earbuds coming off the top "... come t-through these. The clips keep t-the earbuds on your ears."

You take the headphones as Cory sets up the player. The headphones slip on well, with the cushioned 'phone' part resting on either side of your head. You tuck the earbuds into your ears, using the clips (which have soft rubber pads) to hold onto the sides of your ears. Cory then hands the player over to you, motioning to the audio jack.

"Plug t-them in here. Battery s-should be fine, since I s-salvaged it from a pulse r-rifle. T-Those things last forever."

You nod and offer another small smile. "Thanks Cory."

Now... let's see what this cassette has in store.

[kaninchen]

You put the tape in, and hit the large play button...

SPOILER: Click to show

{Transcript }
Tape 1

The year is... 1329 XE.

My name is Stephen Preston Lockwood. I hope this tape finds you in good health, subject v1201. Or, Pat Summers, as my daughter has come to name you.

I am your creator. We started our work in 1320, and by the next year nearly all of our secret labs were destroyed. I am in charge of the final remaining lab, where nearly a decade of our work is coming to an end. The result... is you.

You probably have a lot of questions. I'm sorry, but I cannot answer them all. By the time you listen to this, I will be dead. I am being hunted, just like you will be when you listen to this tape. And I know I cannot run and hide forever.

But, I can still be helpful to you. Our estimates suggest you will wake up in about 20 years, give or take a few months depending on the AZIN-3 supply. You will wake up in an abandoned building. The mercenary group known as Midnight Eclipse has recently destroyed the flood walls, dams, and dykes protecting the city from the ocean, flooding it. They did so to show their power, and in the process, killed millions. By the time you wake up, little to no people should still be in the city.

It will be dangerous, but I know you will survive. I made you that way. You... You are the only one I refer to by name. Pat Summers. My daughter named all one thousand and two hundred of your 'siblings'. She has a big heart, and I can't fault her for wanting to name all of them. But... I can't call them by name. I know they'll begin to die, one by one, as the mercenaries come to hunt us down. I don't want their names on my conscience.

But you, Pat. You're special. You can do it. There are multiple tapes, each one guiding you to the next, that will provide you with instruction and guidance. Your first task is to leave the city of Sevenbridge. Get to New Haven, but do not enter it. Instead, arrive at the southern outskirts, and head to these following coordinates:

three nine one whiskey oscar lima foxtrot

seven seven lima alpha indigo romeo

These coordinates will only make sense to Valerie, your companion. No other AI will be able to determine the location of what I have told you. The next tape is at that exact location.

Good luck.

Doctor Lockwood, signing off.

[Fish]

Well, it sounds like you have your next goal, but, more importantly, how are you holding up, Pat? Mental health check after getting that kind of information dropped on you!

[fuzzysocks]

I know we have headphones in, but did Cory hear any of that? Sometimes headphones leak sound.

[kaninchen]

You slowly take the headphones off as the tape finishes. Your hands are shaky.

"I-Is everything okay?" Cory asks. You were worried that he may have heard, but clearly he hasn't. These headphones are pretty good at not leaking sound.

"Yeah I... I'm okay."

You're not sure if you're okay, to be honest. That was a lot. The voice... it's so familiar. It's the one you 'heard' back during the fight with the sniper, when you saw your... past?

<I have the coordinates locked in, Pat. This is a lot of information to process, for both of us. I will remain in silent standby, so as not to distract from your conversations. At your command, however, I will begin to lead you to the coordinates.>

"Mm," you say, as a subtle 'thank you' to Valerie without tipping Cory off. Well, you have a goal now, and perhaps these next tapes will have answers.

"What d-did it play? I-If you don't mind m-me asking."

"It... it was meant for me. I have to leave the city, and arrive at a specific place. That's all I can really say."

Cory nods. "I u-understand. I won't p-pry."

You begin to pass the player back to him, and he stops you. "K-Keep it. If s-someone gave you i-instructions via cassette, I c-can reasonably guess t-that it'll happen again. You'll n-need it more than me."

"Oh. Thank you."

Tyler walks back into the room, holding a pile of clothes. "Back. Got some clothes."

"Thanks," you say, taking the clothing. A dull black hoodie, fingerless gloves, an old olive-green military cap, a plain dark-blue face bandana, a sports bra, and a pair of denim short-shorts with a matching belt.

"Nobody in their right mind will wear shorts out there. But you have prosthetic legs. Figure you wouldn't mind shorts."

You nod, smiling. "Yeah, I'll be fine with them." Your tank top and shorts have mostly dried by this point, though a little awkwardly stiff. You'll probably keep them just as undergarments. Good to have layers... and spare clothes.

"S-So... you're leaving?" Cory asks. He looks a little bit disappointed.

"Yeah, I guess so. I have a job to do. First bit of genuine direction I've had all day."

<Hey, now.>

You quietly snort at Val's comment, but don't say anything out loud.

"Well, the weapons you found are being scrubbed." Tyler says. "Serial codes being sandpapered off, checking for tracking devices, and so on. Autumn's willing to give you spare weapons that are already clean. You'll need them out there."

Cory raises his hand. "I-I can help. I have... I h-have something." He turns back to his pile of personal supplies and pulls a rifle out from under some bags. Long, bolt-action, genuine wood for the stock, weathered metal parts. There are tally marks scratched into the side. "It's c-clean. It's mine. I d-don't go out anymore, s-so I don't need it. Is it o-okay if I give it t-to them, Tyler?"

Tyler shrugs. "Go ahead. If you want to, and it's clean."

Cory smiles and hands the rifle over. You very carefully take it, examining it closely. "I've o-obviously improved it with t-the scrap I found. B-Better springs, replaced t-the screws and stuff. It's z-zeroed to one hundred yards."

You open the bolt, examining the internal magazine. Cory hands you a few stripper clips with rifle cartridges already installed. "T-Thirty-aught six. Best b-bang for your buck."

"Does it have a name?" You ask, pointing to the gun.

Cory smiles. "LRSR 30.06. W-Well, that's the official name. People n-now nickname it the 'Hunter-Killer', because C-Conean rebels would steal them from H-Human snipers during the Second C-Conean War. The h-hunters became the h-hunted with their own guns." He gives you a sly wink with his one good eye. "Like y-you, with that bastard s-sniper."

You can't help but let out a chuckle. How fitting, that a weapon with a history like that is now in your hands.

"K-Keep the rifle and the cassette p-player. You'll u-use them better than I ever can."

"Thank you, Cory." You look up at Tyler, who offers a small smile as well. "I gotta say... I'm glad you guys caught me. You're the friendliest faces anyone could ask for in a place like this."

"Yeah, well, real coin-flip with Autumn," Tyler quips. "Lucky day for you. Anyways, I'll take you to the armory. We'll get you a spare sidearm or something."

You nod, packing your gear back into your backpack. There's certainly more space now that the big utility box isn't in there. You manage to fit the rifle clips in there, then sling it over one shoulder. The rifle, you tuck into an armpit, and the clothes you carry in your hands with the cassette player on top. Before you go out the door, you turn to face Cory.

"Thank you, Cory. This means a lot to me."

Cory gives a fake little two-fingered salute. "G-Give 'em hell out there, s-sister. I expect h-hell to be packed by the t-time I get there."

You smile again, nod, and follow Tyler once more.