Systems Failure---Spreading the Word

I recently found a neat old game called Systems Failure, which asks the kind of goofy question, "What if the computer 'bugs' we feared would cripple systems during the Y2K scare weren't just computer glitches, but were actually otherworldly or other-dimensional insect-like creatures that used the momentary weakness in our computer systems to infiltrate and attack our world?" That's a pretty long and schlocky B-movie concept for a game, but it looked really fun. It took one part alien invasion, one part modern apocalypse, one part Mad Max, and one part horror/survival and formed them into a crazy fun concept.

I had the urge to run a game for some time. Originally, I wanted to run an ultra-high level D&D game, just so we could exercise our D&D muscles doing things that our regular characters never could, like go up against a demon on its home plane, for example. So, I worked on that game for awhile. Then, I found Systems Failure, and decided, that I wanted to run a game that would be unique. The characters would actually be based on the people who played. So, Susan would play Susan, just 10 years after surviving the Y2K attack, in a world where the human population falls into one of three categories: "bugged" zombies under the control of BUGS, cattle, waiting to be bugged or forced into manual labor, and a few pockets of free-thinking humans, at various stages of civilization. About half to three-quarters of all people have been killed over the last decade.

So, I wrote a back story, which I will include next in its entirety, to introduce Mike, Susan, Molly, and Carl into the adventure. Before we began to play, Joe and Joey would also be added into the story, but their story doesn't begin until the module I wrote begins. Without further ado, here is the backstory for "Systems Failure."

The End Of The World As They Knew It

It was December 31st, 1999, the “end of the world,” “Y2K,” which anyone with any sense knew was not going to be squat! The worst that would happen would be minor problems with some minor systems not recognizing what year it was.
Mike, Susan, and their three-year old daughter, Molly, from Mt. Vernon, joined their friends Roger, Lara, and their three-year old, Carl, for a fun, family-friendly New Year’s celebration at their friends’ house in Metropolis. The weather had been unusually warm, and despite it being the dead of winter, a mild and uneventful trip down for the Rodgers clan left them looking forward to ringing in the balmy new year with the Pugh’s. Once they arrived, and hugs were spread around, the kids dove into a mountain of toys in Carl’s room and Mike asked to use the computer, to check some bulletin boards and Y2K chatrooms he had been reading on and off over the last year. Lara and Susan chatted and after some initial discussion about dinner, Roger realized that they were out of beer, and decided to make a run up to Huck’s a few blocks away before food would be ready.
As Roger drove away, Mike noticed that there was a hell of a lot more traffic on the BBS than in this quiet neighborhood! But, that was to be expected today. There were thousands, perhaps millions, of users lapping up all the Y2K hype. In between the reports of people partying like it was 1999, Mike caught the odd bits of news, from New Zealand, and other places, in which power systems seemed to be having major unexpected problems. Despite what the experts said, there were reports that the lights were going out. Impossibly, in some places which were 100% Y2K compliant, power systems, banking systems, and entire grids were failing. At first, Mike thought it was a hoax, and was laughing along with the throng on the BBS. He called Susan and the others to take a look at what was happening. Lara turned on the TV to CNN, which was reporting widespread systems failures across the globe, with entire countries failing in seconds. Quickly, pictures from the steppes of Asia, from Australia, and from Central Europe showed similar scenes of systems failures and chaos. Rioters burned, looters sacked, people prayed. Then, at 6:15 p.m., just after dark, the power went out in Metropolis. Susan commented, “It’s not even Y2K here yet.”
Everyone gathered in the living room. Lara lit some candles, and the parents attempted to calm their kids---“It’s like a slumber party, Carl! Let’s get your blankets.” Lara found a battery radio, which still had some juice, and turned it to WKMS, the local public station, and for the first time in their lives, the annoying test signal which had always broadcast the first Tuesday of every month, was broadcasting now, for real:
“…the Emergency Broadcast System. This is not a test. Please stay in your homes and listen for further instructions. Repeating: WKMS, signal transmitter 2851, from Murray Kentucky, received authorization to employ the Emergency Broadcast System….” A few moments later, a steady southern drawl came from the radio, amidst increasing static.
“This is Matt Roberts, from WKMS. A bulletin from the Emergency Broadcast System indicates widespread power failure throughout the United States and the world. Even power systems that had been isolated seem to have been affected. We are currently running off of generator power at the station and will do so until we can no longer broadcast. We have news that National Guard Units have been called up in the Paducah area. There are unsubstantiated reports of gunfire at USEC outside of Paducah.”
As the reporter continued, Mike asked, “What’s USEC?”
“United States Enrichment Corporation,” said Lara, apprehensively.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“They enrich uranium.”
“Oh,” said Mike.
“Shit,” added Susan.
They turned their attentions back to the radio: “...reports from police of strange lights and gunfire at Honeywell, in Metropolis…”
“I’m guessing uranium, too, right?” asked Mike to no one in particular.
“Uranium hexafluoride,” Lara replied. “Radioactive gas which is a key step in enriching uranium.” A year prior, a spill out at the plant had caused the evacuation of this end of town. Lara was all too familiar with the industrial giant next door.
For Susan, this didn’t make sense. “Are they trying to imply that terrorists are doing this? Nuclear terrorists getting uranium? How could terrorists engineer a worldwide power collapse and infiltrate two little nobody towns among how many other more important or more strategic targets, and strike all at the same time?” “This isn’t right.”
Mike asked Lara, “How far away is Honeywell?”
“Only about two miles.”
Mike was sweating. “Do you have a gun?”
Carl looked up at his Mom, smiling. “Pow! I have a gun!”
Lara practically jumped out of her skin. “Carl, damn it, not now!” she yelled. His expression changed as he ran into his room. “God damn it,” Lara fretted, “Where is Roger?”
Mike said, “I’m going to go look outside.”
Outside, Mike saw people on their porches, peering curiously about. In the Lindsey Addition, which had been underpowered by an aging transformer up the block, power went out several times a year, so for some, the darkness was no surprise, but others were clearly enjoying the new year’s outage. There were some folks whooping it up, some drinking on the lawn, and several cars chugging up and down the streets. However, Mike noticed up the block, the old transformer, just out of sight, emitting large blue arcs of power, and he saw strange shadows dancing on the walls of houses up the street across from it. Then, as he moved out in the street to get a clearer view, he saw the owners of the shadows. He breathed heavier, and wanted to run, but his eyes simply could not move from the spot, and since his eyes wouldn’t move, his body stopped trying. He felt he should make some kind of noise, but couldn’t. A vise-like pain entered his chest, and his left hand began to tingle. “This can’t be happening,” he finally exhaled, an acknowledgment of what he saw but couldn’t believe, and the heart attack that suffocated him like a python. He stumbled backward, and lurched across the yard. He crashed against the door of the house, and crumpled inside.
“Oh my God,” gasped Susan, who was surprised by Mike’s abrupt entrance. Mike looked grey.
“Aspirin,” said Lara, recognizing the signs of a heart attack. She raced to get some Bayer out of the medicine cabinet.
Mike rasped, “Must..go..now.”
“Oh God, we will baby, we will. I’m getting the keys now,” Susan fumbled, shouted “fuck” as she rifled through her bag, and commanded Molly to go to the car which she dutifully did.
Lara quickly administered the aspirin to Mike. She said to Susan, “Go. I’ll call the hospital. It’s two blocks over, off of 45. Can’t miss it.”
Mike struggled to stand as Lara and Susan tried to shoulder his weight and carried him to the car. Mike whispered, “All…must…go…”
Lara replied, “No Mike, I’ve got to stay. Roger isn’t home yet.”
Mike wobbled on his feet, but stood up on his own, clutching at his chest. “Then hide,” he said, as they trundled to the car and he tumbled into the passenger seat.
Lara could see Mike inside the car, pointing up the street, and Susan backing up the car, turning, and going the opposite way. Lara looked up the street, and what she saw two blocks away made her stomach churn. It was…wrong. Mike was right. She needed to hide. She needed to get Carl. She wished Roger were home, and then briefly, she knew why he wasn’t. They were coming from up the street. Huck’s was up the street. She ran back in the house, and frantically searched for both Carl and their shotgun. She found the shotgun, but her desperate whispers for Carl to come out were met with silence. “Carl, please,” she pleaded, with tears streaming down her face, “Mommy’s sorry for yelling earlier. We have to go. Please come out.”
There was a guttural noise from outside the house, like a growl, a screech, like a power saw cutting corrugated tin, and then some clicking on the driveway. Lara began loading shells into the gun. She dropped one. The noise got louder and a large shadow passed in front of the picture window. Four shells were in. There was a scrape on the front door. It wasn’t locked. It was hardly pulled closed. She leveled the barrels. “Carl,” she whispered, “Don’t come out now, no matter what. Hide. Hide for a whole day. Mommy loves you.” The door burst open wide and Lara’s scream could be heard over the blaze of the 20 gauge.
Susan made it to the hospital. As she drove by oblivious revelers, she saw glimpses of other things like the things she left in the street; the things she left in front of the house; the things she saw in the rear view mirror as they drove away. She felt sick, but at the same time, she was watching the life flow out of Mike. He seemed carefree, and was looking at Susan as if he was exactly where he wanted to be. Molly began to cry in the back seat. She said, “What are those things?”
“I don’t know, honey.”
“They look like big ants.”
“Yes, they do,” said Susan, but inwardly added, ‘except they’re nine fucking feet tall, and shoot electricity out a hole above their heads!’ Susan shook, despite an iron grip on the steering wheel.
Molly said, “Those are some freaky bugs, Mom!”
Susan blurted, “They sure freak the fuck out of me,” at which Mike took a moment and chuckled, in spite of his own internal debate about whether he should go towards the light.
Susan gunned the car to the emergency room entrance, stopped it up on the curb, ran around to the other side of the car, and frantically dragged Mike through the doors. Mike said calmly, “Hey, I think the aspirin helped.”
“Shut up.” She looked around the ER, which looked like a trauma center: burned people, shot people, and people who look like they had been filleted, lined the walls. “Help! My husband’s having a heart attack! I need help now!”
Two hours later, it was over. Mike now had a permanent reminder on his chest of just what a rib spreader does. But during that time, the world changed. Susan watched as the entrances to the hospital were boarded, and then blockaded. She saw several police and armed citizens fire at dozens of enormous ant-like creatures. She heard many things that didn’t seem to register at the time, but later, would begin to fit together. She wondered later why the hospital still had power, and then she remembered hearing that they had their own generators. Armed men were shouting, and one insisted that all hardlines to the building had to be cut. A hospital staff person said something about their old generator stand-by circuit had already bypassed the mains. Not long after Mike’s surgery started, there was a large explosion on the roof. Apparently, a helicopter had crashed. A policeman reiterated that all lines, including phone lines, had to be cut. A loud, squelching two-way radio announced that Honeywell had been hit, it was on fire, and a large spill was moving across the area. Things got quiet for awhile, and despite Y2K, heart attacks, monsters, and radiation, Susan slept. She fell asleep in the chair in the recovery room where Mike would be when she woke up.
While Susan slept, Molly kept herself close to her mom. Once, a shadow passed in front of the door to their room. She knew it was an ant. She wanted to scream, but couldn’t. She wanted to run, but was frozen. She couldn’t even move her eyes to see her mom. She tensed the muscles of her jaws so tightly that she heard a “pop,” and then felt a funny tickle at the back of her head. Little bursts of light were twinkling in front of her eyes as the ant turned, stooped, and looked directly through the window of the door into their darkened room. “Go away,” Molly hissed at the thing, as she imagined that she was invisible. The thing hesitated for a moment, and mechanically turned and clicked down the hallway, but apparently didn’t see Susan or her. Later, there were bursts of gunfire, and shouts of “I said cut everything!” and then there was silence again.
Over the next two weeks, Mike recovered. Across the nation, the power grid was being restored, but marshal law had been instituted, and a curfew was imposed from dusk until dawn. The hospital, now a local National Guard Center, had also instituted its own security policies. No one was to be let in or out, without official approval. Not that Susan wanted to go anywhere. There was power, there was food, and since the first night, there had been no more reports of BUGS. The major networks were back on, and to Susan’s surprise, she heard commentators talking about alleged incidents of large animal attacks, fueling speculation that whatever some people thought had happened was probably the result of “Y2K hysteria” and not the result of some “alien invasion” or “monster bugs.” However, anyone still alive in the hospital knew otherwise.
The incredulity of the news anchors changed relatively quickly, however. Photos and videos were mailed in. Conspicuous by their absence were neighborhoods of people, thousands, or perhaps, nationwide, millions, of people missing. Although some power systems were coming back online, no one could address reports that almost all of the military hardware at our disposal was destroyed overnight. There were rumors of planes flying without pilots, automated weapons turning against U.S. forces, and nuclear weapons first authorized by the President, and then failing to launch. Soon, news agencies didn’t report about what did or didn’t happen. They just wanted to know where so many people had went, and why some areas of the country, like St. Louis, Detroit, New York City, and others, were still silent. Reports came through the news that if you tried to drive in to one of those areas, your vehicles’ electrical systems would shut down. If you got out and walked the rest of the way in, you were not seen again. Stories of “escapees” from Manhattan and other urban areas were almost too hard to believe. There was anarchy in the streets, with gangs and thugs looting everything, and people killing each other if they had the weapons to do so. There were also reports of giant bug-like creatures, more than just ants. There were some reports of huge holding areas where thousands of people had congregated, and were standing, docile. Pictures from a news helicopter broadcast what had to be a quarter of a million people, standing shoulder to shoulder, quietly, in Yankee Stadium. It defied the senses.
While Susan, Mike, and Molly were at the hospital, several new doctors came to see Mike. Besides checking the incision, and continuing his physical therapy, the doctors insisted that Susan and Molly also should have some tests to see if they were “alright.” Immediately, Susan suspected that these doctors weren’t really doctors, or at least not MD’s, and speculated that they were here to make sure no one in the hospital was “infected” with some kind of alien or monster virus or dna. These doctors ran everyone in the hospital through blood tests, a radiation removal bath, and gave out iodine tablets over the next several days. An obvious and strange mark that each of these “doctors” shared was a purplish bruise under their noses. Once, when Molly was staring at the bruise on one of the doctors, he said with a smile, “Do you want one of these?” and he pointed to the mark. Molly shook her head ‘no.” The doctor then looked at Susan and Mike. “This is the result of the radiation treatment we had to take before we came in to assist the staff here at the hospital.” They didn’t believe him, and apparently, he didn’t care.
Susan noticed that after the first week, there were fewer and fewer people in the hospital. The new doctors had said that an evacuation was ordered, and lower risk patients were being moved out to a more secure location. As soon as Mike was stronger, he would be moved as well.
Mike regained his strength quickly, more quickly than his “doctors” suspected. In fact, since a blockage was removed, he felt stronger and more energetic than he had in years. Through physical therapy and diet, he had already shed 22 pounds. Over a dinner of chicken broth with actual bits of chicken, Mike put his hand over his mouth and said quietly to Susan and Molly, “I don’t think the other patients are being evacuated to more secure locations. Maybe some have, but over the last week, over half of all patients and their families are gone, and all of the doctors have been replaced. I have only heard two helicopters and a three vehicles leave this area. Do you think 200 people could fit in two helicopters and three cars?”
Susan and Molly got a little closer to Mike, and he casually gestured to Susan to put her hand over her mouth, and she did. She asked, “Well, then what is happening?”
“I’m not sure, but I think some people are being taken away, while others…..are not.”
“Who’s doing the taking?”
“It’s gotta be government types. Who else has the money or helicopters?”
“What if there is something going on? What do we do about it?”
“All I know is that I do not want to be on the last helicopter out, nor do I want to be excluded from the last helicopter out. I think I would rather be gone before they knew I was gone.”
“What are you going to do, walk out?” Susan thought that the bones in Mike’s chest had not yet strongly knit themselves back together. “You can barely walk up and down the hallway without grimacing in pain and breathing hard.”
“That’s exactly what I want them to see. Why else do you think we are still here? Those dumbasses look at me and say, ‘Fat guy had a heart attack. No wonder it’s taking him so long to heal---look how big he is!’ which is just the way I like it. I am ready to move right now, Susan, but I think I can milk it for another day or two. I need for you and Molly to look around the hospital and find a way out.”
“What then? How are we going to get home? We haven’t seen our folks, they have got to be worried sick. What about Roger, Lara, and Carl? We don’t have a car…”
“Susan, we’ll figure it out. Now, we just need to get out of the hospital.”
Susan and Molly started their reconnoiter of the hospital, and noticed that it was deathly still. Every “official” person they saw had purple bruises under their noses, and the few patients they saw in rooms really were too weak to move. In a deserted hallway, Susan took a moment to look at a chart on the end of one poor unfortunate man’s bed. The man was sleeping fitfully. On the chart, besides several notes regarding status, were two words that seemed out of place. The first was “irradiated,” and the second was “ideal.” The sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach dropped away entirely. Time was running out.
In the cafeteria, there were 11 other people that looked like her---ragged, family members who were in the hospital when it was closed and when, she surmised, uranium hexafluoride and who knows what else washed over them all. There were too many staff around to make more than eye contact with these scattered remnants, but eye contact was enough. They too, sensed an end was coming. What escaped the notice of the staff, and Susan feared, the other survivors, was an unguarded and unblocked door in the back of the kitchen by the trash bins.
That night, Susan carefully planned with Mike. With few words, Susan told Mike it was time to go. She said, “Things are looking up. It looked beautiful outside today. I wish I could see the stars tonight.”
“We should just look out the window,” Mike said. “I’m just not ready to move. My incision still hurts terribly,” Mike continued, while he gave Susan a wink. Mike had been busy that day, too. He had accessed the back panel of the large monitoring machine in his room, and had hacked the program for the heart monitor. He pointed to it, and the clock. He held up nine fingers. It was 8:31 p.m. Susan sat back and waited with Molly.
At 9:00 p.m. sharp, an orderly, looking more and more disorderly over time, walked in. “Here is your medication,” he said woodenly. He handed Mike a cup, which Mike dutifully put to his mouth and pretended to swallow with a drink of water.
“Thank you,” Mike said, breathlessly.
The orderly said, “We think that tomorrow the doctors will release you and you will be going home. How does that sound?”
“Wonderful. Please tell the doctors I appreciate their care. Tell me,” Mike asked, following a hunch, “Did you see those pictures of all those people in Yankee Stadium?”
“Yes.”
“How are they ever going to play football in there again with all those people trampling the grass?”
“Ha. Good question. Now get some sleep.” The orderly left. Mike leaned over and spit out the pills he had been given into a napkin, and gestured to Molly to take the paper and flush it in the toilet, which she did.
Mike looked at Susan, and nodded. “Football in Yankee stadium?” his eyes said to her.
A few moments after the door closed, Susan went to it quietly, looked out of the window, and waited until the hallway was clear. She signaled to Mike that it was, and Mike quickly sat up. Earlier in the day, he had taken several rolls of athletic tape, and taped them around his bandage on his chest, in case he coughed or strained the muscles in his chest. He couldn’t risk breaking open his incision, or breaking a bone loose, because despite his strength, he wasn’t healed, and probably wouldn’t be for several more weeks. He turned the monitor around, popped the back panel off, and quickly typed in a code which started a training program. He took off the electrical leads monitoring his heart, and as he crossed his fingers, he hoped that if the monitoring station down the hall saw anything it was only a momentary blip on their screens. Mike, Susan, and Molly waited nervously in the room for one, then two minutes, and decided everything must be okay.
Susan had taken part of her day to sketch out their path back to the cafeteria, and had estimated how long it should take to get there. In three minutes, they should be free.
_______________________________

Carl was in his bunk bed, on the far side of the mattress, against the wall, where his little frame could fit and no one could see him. He didn’t want to see his Mom right then, or maybe ever. Things were weird. People were acting strangely, and his Dad was gone. His Uncle Mike went outside, and then a few minutes later, there was a crash, and lots of yelling, and Mike was lying on the ground. Everybody left, and for a moment, Carl was alone in the house, and thought that maybe he should come out. But then, Mom burst back in through the door, and whispered for him to come out. She seemed scared, and that made Carl scared, too, and he thought that maybe he shouldn’t go to her. Then, he changed his mind. As he was ready to move, she told him to stay and hide for a whole day. Before he could respond, some thing, like an ant, but so big it had to duck not to hit the ceiling, pushed the door open, and he heard the loudest noise, the “crack” of the shotgun, that he had ever heard in his life. His Mom was yelling, the thing was screeching and clicking, and there was another loud bang. The thing dropped to the ground, and bluish green liquid splattered the carpet.
Carl saw, but couldn’t find the noise to speak, when an arc of electricity jumped out of the wall socket by the front door, and five more things like the one his Mom had just shot seemed to appear out of nowhere. He thought they filled the room like a big bag of jiffypop popcorn, and he watched as they crowded around his mom. She fired two more times, and one of the bugs raised an arm and hit her. She fell to the ground, bleeding from her mouth. He was too scared to move, even though he wanted to help his Mom. One ant grabbed her, and hoisted her over its arm, and walked out of the door. Another looked into the kitchen from the living room, while another peered its head into Carl’s room and the spare bedroom. Carl tried not to breathe, his face behind a wall of stuffed animals on the side of the bed where he had been hiding. The creature stepped in the room, thumped the bed frame, and knocked over some legos on the floor. The hiding place served Carl well.
________________________________________

For all the suspense of preparing to leave, leaving had actually been easy. The hallways were deserted, and though the sound of every step felt like a betrayal, no one came down the hall. They made it to the steps, and walked two flights down. Susan scouted ahead, and found the cafeteria empty. She retrieved Mike and Molly, and carefully they threaded their way through the maze of chairs and tables in the cafeteria hall. Once, Mike bumped a chair, and the ‘honk’ of the legs against the tile floor sounded like an alarm, but no one came. About that time, the rapid “thrup” of a rotor announced a helicopter’s approach the hospital. Perhaps the hall had been deserted because the staff were busy preparing for whatever had to be received or shipped on the roof.
The kitchen was beckoning. The side door beckoned to them. They reached the door, but as they prepared to cross the threshold to freedom, they were surprised to notice that Molly was no longer at Susan’s side. In instant panic, Susan’s eyes burned as she wildly looked around, and thumped Mike solidly on the arm, who had not yet noticed Molly’s absence. Molly was just there a second ago! Mike looked at where Molly should have been. “How could this happen?” they both thought. Mike frantically scanned the room, and Susan was nearly ready to shout, when they found Molly near the pantry, grabbing some Little Debby cakes.
“Yummy!” she said. Mike held up a finger to his lips, heaving a sigh of relief. Susan quickly ran to embrace her, and whispered a scolding and hugged her daughter at the same time. Tears came unbidden as she thought of how many monster movies she had watched, and said to Molly, “You never wander off alone, you hear?” While Susan gathered up Molly, Mike found a couple of trash bags by the trash cans, and proceeded to hurriedly fill the bags up with snacks and food. He smiled and gave Molly the “thumbs up” sign” for giving him a good idea. He went to the cooler, and gestured for Susan to grab a flat of bottled water, which she did. Then, they opened the outside door. There was some resistance. Mike and Susan both pushed, and the door slowly moved. They forced their way through the opening.
Outside, trash had not been picked up for days. Food, garbage, medical waste, and the remains of patients were piled up in front of and around the door and the receiving platform on which they were standing. The smell hung in the air like smoke. The copper tang of blood soaked bandages mixed with rot and rubbing alcohol turning their stomachs. Several neighborhood dogs, startled by their exit from the building, growled and eyed them, but left them alone. Away from the perimeter of the hospital, there weren’t any other lights they could see. Quickly, they realized that their car was on the other side of the hospital, and probably was part of the barricade in the front. They hugged the side of the building, and made a desperate dash to some trees east of the hospital. In the course of the run, Mike felt a pain across his chest, but said nothing. There was a ditch on the other side of the trees in which they hunkered down, covered by shadow, gathering their wits. A wave of exhaustion and relief swept over them. For the first time in a long time, they smiled. They breathed normally, and Mike finally said, “Ow.” However, he indicated that he was okay. He firmly believed that this was the kind of pain he would rather have, than what might have been in store for him tonight or tomorrow in the hospital. From this vantage point, they could see a military helicopter, a big one, like a Chinook, with its rotors still spinning on the roof of the hospital. There was no other activity they could see or hear in town.
“We have to move, and soon,” Susan said. Mike agreed, and they decided on walking to the Pugh’s to see if somehow they were okay, and also because they knew of no other way to easily get a vehicle. They knew the Pugh’s kept their extra keys on a key peg board on the inside door of one of their kitchen cabinets. There were no sounds except the whirr of the helicopter in the distance, and the occasional barking dog. Two weeks had erased almost all signs of humanity from Metropolis. If there were survivors, none were advertising their presence. As they walked, hiding in the shadows of bushes, garages, and cars, they noticed that almost every house they walked by had a black “x” painted on their doors. Some had a red “x” painted on their doors. They crossed over the railroad tracks, and as they crested the raised tracks, they could see the Pugh’s home. There was a red “x” on the door.
______________________________

Carl heard noise at the door. He remembered, not too long ago, there had been noises at the door. The first time had been the day after his mom was attacked. That day, he heard a van pull up outside, and he was too curious not to stay up in his bed any longer. Besides, he had to go pee. He ran into the living room, then stopped, seeing all the bluish green dried blood on the floor. He stepped around it, and launched himself to the couch by the picture window, forgetting his bladder for a moment. Outside, a group of men who looked just like his army men, were approaching the house. They had guns. They didn’t move very quickly, or like soldiers, he thought, and one of them had a spray paint can in his hand. Carl didn’t like the looks of them. He slid down off of the couch and rolled underneath it. The men approached the door, opened it, and came inside. One man said, “One survivor encountered, female. She shot two of the *screechkrickeeeech*” or, at least he made some noise to that effect. Carl couldn’t make out the word. The soldier continued, “County records indicate two others at this residence, a male and a juvenile, but there was no evidence that they were here at the time of the incursion.”
Another said, “Check the residence, mark as ‘direct encounter,’ and move on.” The soldiers fanned out, looked around, and then gathered back by the door. Carl faintly heard the rattle of marble in the spray can as the soldiers marked the door; then the soldiers left.
____________________________________

When Mike walked up to the door, he didn’t know what to expect. He hoped there was someone inside, but the “x” looked too ominous, like the “x” on a can of Black Flag, except this time, it was the bugs who were spraying us.
He slowly opened the door, and looked around. Susan and Molly also came in, noticing the stain on the floor, and the empty shell casings. “Lara?” Mike called, louder than he wanted, “Carl?” They moved around the house, in the dark. The only light came in from the moonlit sky shining in the picture window, enough to illuminate the carpet, but not much else. However, Susan noticed signs of life. Cabinets were open, and empty food containers, like cereal and pull tab cans of Spaghettio's were on the floor. It had gotten colder, too, over the first weeks of the year, much more like winter, and they could see that blankets had been gathered up in two or three places. Someone had definitely been here in the last few days, but they couldn’t tell if it were the Pugh’s or someone else.
Carl couldn’t bear it any longer. They sure looked like Uncle Mike and Aunt Susan to him, but Mike in particular, he noted, just wasn’t ‘fat’ anymore. But it looked like them, and they were calling him, and they said his Mom’s name. He came out of his bundle of blankets and clothes in his closet and shouted, “Uncle Mike!” and gave him a bear hug, at knee level. They quickly hugged each other all around, and Susan was able to get most of Carl’s story from him.
“They took Mom,” he said, “but every night I have had dreams about her. She’s okay. They gave her something that makes her brain sleepy. Dad’s okay too. He’s up in the sky.”
They were afraid that they were going to have to convince Carl to leave his house, but Carl made the suggestion first. “Let’s get out of here before the bugs or the bad guys come back.” They packed suitcases for clothes and there were some toys that Carl wouldn’t part with. Mike found a 12 gauge shotgun, shells, and a .357 magnum in the closet. “Jesus, Roger,” he said, as he gathered up all of the ammunition and an additional .22 pistol. “Susan,” he asked, “Did you have any idea that Roger owned four guns?” Mike included the broken remains of a 20 gauge on the living room floor in his count.
“Who said they were Roger’s?” Susan knew that Lara had been an avid French and Indian War re-enactor, and was very comfortable around weapons. Mike looked to the back of the master bedroom closet, and found two muzzle-loading rifles, one a reproduction, and one an original Charletville. He found a bowling ball bag full of gunpowder, slugs, and cartouches, or paper cartridges, for the weapons. He also found a powder horn, some flint, cleaning supplies, and a bayonet for the old gun. At first, he was going to leave them, but Susan said that more guns were better than fewer guns, a point which Mike found hard to argue. They used two large duffel bags to empty the kitchen cabinets of food, and loaded up as much soda and bottled water as was left in the house. They scrounged up batteries, blankets, candles, tools, cleaning supplies, and almost everything they could get their hands on that met their criteria: ‘Can we make it ourselves?’ and if the answer was ‘No,’ they loaded it in a bag if it could fit and it they could get it quickly. Mike got the van keys off the cabinet door, and said, “Let’s go.”
Thankfully, the van was full of gas, and it took only a few agonizingly long minutes to load it. Mike started up the van, and tuned the radio to the same public station they had listened to a few days, and a whole lifetime, ago. A very different monotonous voice with no southern accent greeted them as they listened. “….to WKMS. Civil order is being re-established by National Guard forces. Curfew is enforced from dusk until dawn. Violators of curfew will be shot. No looting or civil disobedience will be tolerated by authorities. If you are in need of assistance, and are without power or phone, please wait until morning and report to your local disaster center for help. In Paducah, report to the convention center. In Mayfield, report to the high school. In Brookport…” and so on. “In Metropolis, report to the hospital.”
Mike flipped through the dial. Most of the rest of the fm band was static. The am band was mostly static too, except for a station near the end of the dial. “Radio-Free America. Don’t believe the lies. Don’t believe the government. Don’t believe the bugs! Beware of the purple moustache! If they don’t sound right, if they don’t move right, and if they don’t get the joke, then they probably ain’t human anymore! Find a hole, get some guns, and pray they leave before they find you. Don’t trust anyone you haven’t been in direct continual personal contact with. Cut your hardlines! Beware of anything with an electrical system. Bugs can live inside them. This is Radio Free America, bug-free America!” The message repeated.
The van was already running. Mike and Susan looked at each other. If a bug lived in the electrical system, wouldn’t it have already come out and got them? They decided to chance it, and slowly backed up out of the driveway, with their lights off. Across the railroad tracks, lights from the top of the hospital began to brighten. The helicopter was leaving, and a siren of some kind began to wail. Mike and Susan had a decision to make: freeze, or run? They decided to run.
_______________________________

The New World

They drove out of town in silence and in darkness, taking back roads, and saw few signs of human life. Cars littered the interstate, and most small towns were abandoned. Those that weren’t were ruled by local thugs. Over a period of a year, Mike, Susan, Molly and Carl made their way around the southern part of the state, narrowly missing roving gangs, purple-bruised soldiers and other purple-bruised civilians, and on more than one occasion, hiding from BUGS. Unfortunately, none of Mike or Susan’s immediate family were in Mt. Vernon when they made it there. Time and again, they consolidated gear and weapons, and kept as much stuff as they thought they could use. Over time, they became experts at driving at night in the dark, and laying low during the day. Almost every night, Carl had increasingly vivid dreams, in which he claimed to see his mom, and sometimes his dad, too. He was convinced that they were alive, and that his mom was in danger, in one of those “camps” that existed in the big cities. Dad was harder to pinpoint. Sometimes he was in the air, sometimes in a mountain. It didn’t always make sense.
In May of 2001, after living more or less on the move, criss-crossing southern Illinois, which was actually more free than most other parts of the country, Mike and Susan decided they needed to find a more permanent place to live. It was clear that the chaos and anarchy and BUG menace was not going away, and they wouldn’t simply be able to wait it out for things to turn back to normal. They set out for Carbondale, a town in which they knew a “free” settlement still existed, in hopes of finding some information, supplies, and maybe even a home.
As they crossed route 13 on Crab Orchard Lake, they noticed, too late to turn around, what looked like a gate across the road. It looked solid, and Mike didn’t think he could make a break for it without a fight. If this road were held by hostiles, they were in trouble. Camouflaged, hard to see at first from the highway, were two duckblinds on either side of the road, from which he caught the glint of .50 caliber machine gun barrels. A man in armor, with an M-16 pointed in their direction approached. Mike’s hand comfortably rested on his 12 gauge. He said out of the corner of his mouth to Susan and the kids, “Get ready.”
As they got close enough to establish eye contact, Mike could see there was no purple stain under the soldier’s nose. He did not want to kill a “normal” person, but sometimes, “normal” people had acted more barbarously than the BUGS. As the soldier approached, he said clearly, “Let me see your face,” and as Mike peered out through the window slowly, an incredulous smile crossed the soldier’s face: “Mike? Is that you? It’s me, Scott Furtwengler!” None of them could believe their luck, and were genuinely happy that dear friends once thought gone were still here. Scott looked in the van, and noted that although Carl was there, Lara and Roger were not. He grasped what must have happened, which was a pain he had seen many times over the last year and a half.
Scott was the head of a local militia called the Carbondale Pork District. Emblazoned on on a patch on his sleeve, the outline of a pig containing the letters “CPD” announced his allegiance. The words “Makin’ Bacon” were scrawled on the barrel of his gun. About a year ago, he and several other Carbondale residents who initially went underground decided to storm the National Guard Armory, and after a brief fight with about 25 “zombies” (what he called those people who had purple moustaches) they scored enough weapons, ammunition, explosives and heavy vehicles to withstand almost any attack. They set up roadblocks and checkpoints on all major roads coming in and out of Carbondale, and slowly, they had widened their circle of protection. This month, they moved the east checkpoint out to Crab Orchard Lake, which explained to Mike why he hadn’t run across a roadblock here before, even though he had driven route 13 on more than one occasion over the last year. Scott invited them to a meeting tonight, on the campus of Southern Illinois University in Carbondale, or actually, under SIU’s campus, in the steam tunnels which ran underground and connected many of the buildings. Mike and Susan agreed, and they were escorted to a secure facility, what used to be the Wal-Mart in Carbondale. A temporary shelter turned semi-permanent home for over 1000 people, the Wal-Mart provided hot food, clean water, and children, Molly and Carl’s ages! This was the first time in nearly a year that they saw children playing without fear. It revitalized their spirits.
That evening, Scott came out to pick them up. He drove up in an air compressor powered car, with absolutely no electrical parts or systems in it. “Some eggheads at the University came up with it. Cool, huh?” A young kid, probably no more than 13 or 14, manned a mounted .50 caliber machine gun on the back. “Hop in,” Scott said, nodding to the back of the open air vehicle.
He drove them to campus, and parked his air car in a hidden spot in campus woods. A group of men in camouflage covered it in a forest green tarp. Scott led the group to an access hatch for the steam tunnels which run under the campus.
Some areas of the steam tunnels were accessible to staff at the university before the BUGS, but some areas hadn’t been opened in so long, that people had forgotten they were there. Scott and several of his militia used the tunnels from the beginning, and found nearly every building had a “secret” entrance, and over time, he had explored many of these previously forgotten areas. He led them to one of those areas, a large, auditorium-sized room, lit by solar-powered battery lights.
Scott introduced Mike, Susan, Molly, and Carl to a large group of friendly and some familiar faces (both Mike and Susan had attended SIU) who were apparently waiting on Scott to begin an informal meeting of some kind. Scott’s nod to his four guests was enough approval for the group. The group began to discuss the next phase in a new major push of the CPD. The CPD was training people to seed new operations in the surrounding areas, safeguarding people, and training soldiers to fight. The BUGS had left southern Illinois alone because frankly, there was very little power infrastructure there. After a variety of viewpoints had been heard, Mike raised his hand, and Scott pointed towards him. Mike asked, “Scott, why was there such a big presence down in Metropolis, then?”
Scott nodded towards Mike and said, “Well, our information is sketchy, and we hope you can fill in some details, because I understand you were there, but apparently the BUGS hit major power productions centers as well as major population centers. It is obvious they had studied us for some time, because they nearly simultaneously hit installations all over the globe. They hit USEC and Honeywell down by Metropolis. They also hit the hydroelectric facilities upriver from Paducah. My guess is that the BUGS had a special purpose down there which required the radioactive material from USEC and Honeywell, but we don’t know what. Not long after they hit those installations, the towns were nearly bled dry of humanity. Some people were taken to zombie camps, but others were taken somewhere else. BUGS controlled several pieces of military hardware that came in and out of there, but after a few weeks, the place was hit hard by free American hardware. The rumor is that they were forces flying straight out of Colorado Springs, at NORAD. Anyhow, bombs were dropped so large there that they changed the course of the Ohio River. It's possible the place was nuked, but we have not been able to confirm this. There are some high levels of radiation there, but that might be coming from USEC and Honewell.”
Scot then continued to talk about the mission of the Pork District. The next phase of their expansion was to use the abandoned coal mines in the area to hide a human population, cover the community’s use of power and conceal any experiments the community may conduct. The community would be autonomous, but could depend on help from the CPD if necessary. He needed a core group of people willing to relocate, willing to risk their lives, to embark on this bold plan to rebuild, one underground community at a time. Mike and Susan now knew why Scott had been so happy to see them. They didn’t need to be asked. They stepped forward.
Their new world was very different from the old world. The new world was located in an abandoned coal mine two miles southeast of Creal Springs, in the middle of hill country. An initial population of about 35 lived underground, tended well-hidden gardens, and collected every artifact they could possibly use in a larger and larger circle of influence. This was the community that Mike and Susan helped found, in the years after they reunited with Carl.
___________________________

Blackrock

Their new home was christened “Blackrock.” As of 2009, 10 years after the BUGS, 9 years after they took Scott up on his offer, there were over 500 people living in a self-sustaining community. There were kids, a school, a market, active trading, scavenging runs, and absolutely nothing of the sort visible on the surface. A façade of what looked like a drifter’s camp was maintained on the surface, to serve as cover to any passersby or BUGS that might get suspicious of the occasional plume of smoke. Gardens grew, but they were artfully disguised so that a BUG or zombie patrol would not notice they were cultivated. There were a variety of natural features which aided their seclusion: there were cliffs and creeks, all of which made approach by stealth difficult; there were loose rocks, so on the very rare occasion that any unwanted guest came too close, their demise could look natural; and lastly, they were small and of no practical value to anyone, including other people. Several in the group were content to live a new way of life, in which humans were no longer the top of the food chain. However, it had been Mike’s and Susan’s desire since their horrible experiences early in the invasion, to fight back, in some way. It was clearly Molly’s and Carl’s inclinations too. In fact, at some point in the next few years, there would be no stopping them if they wanted to leave to fight.
Work began immediately on mining coal for fuel, and finding a way to burn it without attracting too much attention. Power systems based on steam technology seemed the most efficient, and some of it, deep in the mine, was used to begin to power some electrical systems. At first these experiments were small, and many tests were run to determine if the emf signature could be read above ground, and despite a risk, the use of electricity continued. No BUG could get to their dedicated lines, unless it got physically close to the mine entrance, and community leaders figured if BUGS were at the mine entrance, then they were done for, anyway.
Another project, to dig underground and link Blackrock to Carbonhell, Hell’s Patio, Deathrock, and the Dark, all the cheery names for underground settlements initially seeded by the CPD, had begun in earnest. An extension of the mine, northwest towards Carbondale, had resulted in 5 miles of tunnels, or approximately a mile every 2 years or so. The sedimentary rock was relatively soft, and along the way, they had encountered some natural cave areas.
The new life had taken its toll, however. As Mike became one of the technical administrators of the community, and spent more and more time working on restoring certain computer systems, and writing software that might protect electronic systems from BUG hacking, he and Susan grew in two different directions. Susan found the ways to make older things work. She depended and trusted less and less on the things that needed a high level of technology to work, or on those things that had to be interconnected to function. They didn’t know how to meet each other halfway, anymore, and one day, they realized, that they had stopped doing so for awhile. While Susan made sure that a windmill 11 miles away was still lifting fresh water to the surface, Mike was a quarter mile underground, trying to build a BUG trap, a coiled loop of electrical wire with switches which, though small, might loop around itself forever. Carl had become an odd young man, preferring longer and longer hunting and scavenging trips on his own. Molly also preferred her own company, or sometimes Carl’s, although when Carl did talk to someone, he usually bounced around so much it was hard to listen for very long. Every once in awhile, they wondered separately and together, what life would have been like had the BUGS not appeared. Would Roger still have worked at the University? Would Carl have had a baby sister or two? Would Mike and Susan have split? Would Molly have been an only child? Those moments of reflection and regret passed quickly. There was no time for sentimentality in their world now. Wondering about what might have been gets you killed, or worse.
____________________________________

Game 2 In The Return To Elfland....

A new party member joins, Raziel, the half-elf. Once the dust clears and we take stock of each other, Rabbo and the others give him the short short version of what is going on, and gives him the option to walk away. He decides to stay.

We set up a plan to drag a bramble along the path. It will dangling from a rope from the broom. In what came to be an interminably detailed accounting of how big the bramble would be, or how effective it could be, we were attacked again by kobolds.

About 200 kobolds attack, some summoning elementals. Ethan again uses wall of fire effeciently. Eyar is set upon by a swarm of bats. After enough damage is done, the kobolds scatter. We regroup, and heal up. Raziel was killed after the initial attack, and was brought back. Ethan fireballs an area as the kobolds return. After another fireball, the wand of fire turns to dust. According to plan, we pack up all the players in the portable hole. We decide to go to a variety of places around the map, and then go to the Mires. The first place we plan to go is where our elf-friends are. Rabble dimension walks, and he encounters a problem. Something is moving him. Rabbo maintains control, but tries to drop out of the dimension walk but can't. We notice that he is moving in a spiral and we decide to ride the spiral. He fails and gets sucked in closer to the ethereal palne and sees a spiral inverted at the center of which is a large spider, who is attempting but not succeeding in closing a hole.

Rabbo drops out of the dimension walk. We end up in a tree in Elfland, west of the capitol. We set up a plan, and Validor goes exploring. He trips a falling trap and dies. Raziel and Eyar go to search for him, and Topaz recons. From the portable hole, Rabbo gets out the barrel of healing, keoghtum's, the necklaceo of adaption, the rod of absorption, and bracers AC 14. Rabbo doles out 35 points of healing to Ivy, 40 points to Ethan and has 36 left. Eyar, Raziel, and Validor are all caught in a trap, but it was an illusion. We desbelieve, and gather up our stuff after we got some darts fired at us. The darts were not illusion, but likely kobolds alerted to our presence.

We all get back in the portable hole and Topaz flies off with us.

We find a defensible cliff, and take watch. Within two hours, we are attacked by white kobolds. Rabbo goes after the chanters, kills them, and the party kills most of them. We find 3 gp, and a scroll with 6 spells: Kobold chant; Cause moderate wounds REV 2D8+1; prevent nausea, REV; striking,tracker, putrify food and drink.

Rabbo takes the last watch flying, and we end up in the dawn hours a mile from the Mires. We see the 3 towers and decide to walk thorugh the bog to them. Rabbo's arrow of direction says to go the middle tower.

We encoutner a camp of approximately 100 kobolds. Ivy gets hit with a flaming arrow, Raziel hit with a needle. We fight and kill lots. Eyar and Jerik teleport and kill several magic using kobolds. Ethan tries to hit a kobold, misses and hits and kills Raziel. We kill hundreds of kobolds. We make it to the tower, and then we decided to take a break.

A Long Time...

...since the last post. Since then, we have played Adventures in Elfland one more time, and also played the first of two installments of my alternate present apocalyptic game, Systems Failure. When I get some time, I will post notes to the Crystal Quest, and then also post notes from the module, "Spreading the Word" in the game, Systems Failure.