Recommend
15 
 Thumb up
 Hide
44 Posts
1 , 2  Next »   | 

BoardGameGeek» Forums » Board Game Design » Board Game Design

Subject: AtomPunk - Colouring in the Wastelands - Short Stories in the canon rss

Your Tags: Add tags
Popular Tags: [View All]
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Heya all you super cool people!

Ok, AtomPunk is continuing development of its mechanics at my house. As an aside: if anyone is near Southampton UK and wants to come round: design games and help me finish all of this beer - let me know!

The world of AtomPunk is huge. There is a masssive amount of sights to see, stories to tell, people to know, monsters to research, robots to unplug, and caravans to navigate.

I am creating a collection of short stories that explore the world of AtomPunk.

So far I have had the lovely
Samantha RD
South Africa
Harrismith
Free State
flag msg tools
badge
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb

help out and write some lovely stuff!
Also Mr
David Heiligmann
United States
San Antonio
Texas
flag msg tools
badge
30 years ago, I was put on the original Car Wars!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb

has helped me out too!


Do you write?
If so, would you like to create a short story or an advertisement, or a "mysterious note" or a war-poem or a dialogue or a "reference guide" or a "caravan maintenance manual" or a "list of slang words in the loca dialect" or a history of events or anything cool and a bit quirky that explores the universe a little more.

How did Auramine Jones get her bionic arm? Why are they called "sunhounds"? What on earth happened at the battle of Alderban? Why do the slavers never venture into the Frogmorton steel works? And why oh why is it called a TruckChomper?

Inspriation a.k.a What to write about?
Well there is a card list to show you what there is so far. All 194 things that you kind people at BGG helped out with (you all rock by the way) are listed here. These things ALL exist. Perhaps in an idea or in someones imagination or in the story-books. Even though not all will be used in the game (as that will hevaily depend on balancing and what not) they all do exist somewhere.

Ok so what do you want me to do?

1. Pick a card (or cards) from the card list
2. Write something cool
3. Post it here so I can give you praise and geek gold
4. Know that your story will hopefully be included in the companion pamphlet "Nuances of the apocalypse" when AtomPunk is released.

7 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
Examples
-These should be understood as all "works in progress" so these are just to get your juices flowing, not to be critiqued (that will be a different thread


Meet Gus - D. West
Sammy squinted upwards into the tangle of oily mechanics. He heaved on the worn nut a few more times to make sure it was tight then, after a quick glance to make sure no-one was watching, a couple of whacks with the wrench for good measure. When the undercarriage didn't fall and crush him to death he let out a sigh of relief and clambered out from under 'ol Steamer. The Steam Engine looked awful. A mis-matched dinosaur held together with a ragtag assortment of bolts, tape and chains, but Sammy knew it would last. At least till they got to Oberon. Probably. A huge hand suddenly landed on his shoulder and scared him witless.
"Well Sammy, how's our girl holding up?" the voice boomed.
Sammy turned to Gus Fortune, already in his travelling gear of sturdy work wear, flamboyant red waistcoat and enormous stetson, Sammy managed a non-committal frown.
"Okay Skip. The driveshaft is fixed and I've straightened the bearing cuff. The main tank is still leaking though and I'll be damned if I know why. She'll run though, as long as you got that new condenser."
Gus put an arm round Sammy's shoulders as they left the service yard and grinned.
"Sammy Sammy. Forget about condensers. Let me talk to you about rockets..."


Auramine Jones - Samantha
Auramine Jones had been awake for hours. The caravan slept, she recharged, and that meant she pulled extra guard duty. People seemed to think that if you didn’t sleep you wouldn’t get bored in the long lonely hours of the wolf. She shook her head at the thought and surveyed the waking caravan with a rueful gaze. The horizon flickered with the first subtle tongues of dawns light now, and barely visible in the distance, their destination – Tesla City.

The convoy was slow this morning – the routine they had set themselves and practised each morning suddenly abandoned in a flurry of uncertainty. She knew the drill here – these people were scared. They were tough, built survivors – hell she’d seen them shoot down things that had made the little bit of skin she had left crawl. But stories abounded in the wasteland about the inhabitants of Tesla City. None of them were good.

‘Come on people, let’s get moving – you know our destination. Pack up and move out!’ She watched them working their machines unhappily and, as expected, Roscoe came loping over.
‘They’re scared Auramine.’
‘Yes, I’m aware. But the sooner we clear Tesla City the better off we are.’
‘You know some of them are gonna die in there, don’tcha?’ Roscoe spat, to emphasise this pearl of wisdom, his great ruddy jowls quivering beneath small black eyes. Auramine fixed him with the cold, implacable gaze of her artificial right eye. She’d long since learnt it made most people uncomfortable.

‘Don’t go spreading crap like that in my caravan Roscoe – these people are going to be just fine. They’re under my protection.’
She lifted her left arm, the one bearing a 25mm chain gun attachment, aimed it over his shoulder and let off a round of fire.
‘What the ..?’ Roscoe started cursing then noticed that neither Auramine, nor anyone else was paying him the slightest attention. They were all staring at the smoking carcass of a Teslavore, illuminated in all its disfigured glory by the harsh rays of the risen sun.
‘Scout,’ Auramine muttered ‘ Alright people, I want those solar cannons online now – fuel them if you have to. It looks like we’re about to get personally acquainted with all the legends about Tesla City.’


Caring for your first pack-ant - Samantha
So, you’re ready to add your first pack-ant to the caravan? Well that’s just swell! We see you eyeing up the ants over there, but hold on a minute, fella! There are some things you should know. An informed ant owner makes a good ant owner, and we want you to get the best from your ant. Now we know you’ve got questions – don’t worry! The kind folks over at Belleruse ant farms will have you kitted out and ready to rumble through the wastes with your ant in no time at all.
Pack ants roam free in the wild. Why can’t I just catch my own pack-ant?
You sure could, but... you don’t want an ant that’s just gonna go around eating everyone do you? Wild pack-ants are unpredictable and hard to capture! It’s really a task best left to the professional ant-wrangler. Here at Belleruse farms, we breed our ants to be big, strong and docile. In fact, our ants are perfectly suited to caravan life. If you’re not completely happy we even offer a full money back guarantee!
So what does my pack-ant eat?
Here at Belleruse, we feed our ants on Belleruses’-Own Extra Special Ant-Chow, the best blend of vitamins and minerals for a shinier, happier ant – we’d be happy to sell you a bag!*
Does my ant drink a lot of water?
Don’t worry, we know how valuable water is out there! Our ants can go a really long distance before they need watering, and a lot of the time they can get by on just a few sips a day. But be careful, fella -if you’re going somewhere real hot your ant can dry up! We recommend buying a Belleruse ant-tank that you can strap to your ants back. Even better, you can add value to your ant by adding a Belleruse dew collector to the top of it- then your ant’s all kitted out to provide water to the caravan!
Ok, sounds good but, I need a real work ant. How much can my ant haul?
Well, we told you we breed our ants strong right? Fella, you’ll be amazed – a Belleruse ant can haul 15X its own weight! And all on a bag of Ant Chow – now that’s value for money!
I heard about some ant that went crazy and attacked its caravan! How do I know if my ant is reliable?
It’s simple, fella – a Belleruse ant is a safe ant! Only wild ants go rogue.
I heard having a pack-ant can attract wild ants! Will having an ant in my caravan make other ants attack me?
What a great question! We can see you know your stuff, but, remember how we told you a Belleruse ant is a safe ant? Well our ants don’t smell like a wild ant, so they’re extra safe! In fact, once a pack ant learns to associate you with its chow, it’ll even defend you in the wastes!

7 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Nate K
United States
Utah
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
I'm glad you posted this thread. It will give me something to do over Christmas break. I love creative writing!
1 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Liam
Scotland
flag msg tools
admin
badge
I am BGG's official honey trap
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
Cool. I'd love to write something, time dependent.
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Jessey
Canada
flag msg tools
designer
I also purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
badge
I purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
Metal Shredder Mercenaries
Name Proposal: Material Conversion Experts
"You can't make something from nothing. But I assure you that I can make anything from something."

Excerpt from Doctor Wily Devaux's Autobiography:

The priest had assured us the folks watching from the ridge were just a wiry bunch of philanderers best left to their own heathen designs. This had gotten Mac into yet another uproar, defending his explicitly heathen life choices. It wasn't until weeks later that we started calling him Mac the Heathen - after the father was dismembered by a Gut Splitter - but this regular disagreement between the two was the source of the nickname.

This time in particular I opted to let them sort it out and Penny and I waved down the ridge runners - or who we thought were ridge runners. We had heard stories of daredevils who assembled rickety but incredibly fast vehicles out of caravan remains and raced them along the narrow causeways of The Drift. Based on our best information the location and mannerisms suggested to both of us that heathen or not these were ridge runners and that would mean an opportunity to trade supplies and maybe improve on some of our more rudimentary mechanisms.

Whether or not they were ridge runners we would never know, but our instincts were right on one count at least - the meeting would prove invaluable to our success. As it turned out they were a trio of wiry boys with strange metal contraptions hanging off of their bodies like additional appendages. Afterwards Penny noted that they had an unreasonably large number of puncturing, slashing, slicing and dicing implements - which at the time had inspired a bit of fright in the poor woman but upon later reflection was merely evidence of their trade.

They called themselves "Material Conversion Experts" and they apparently made a living traveling caravan routes and trading their skills for water and fuel. The eldest, who was likely no older than my sixteen year old nephew, assured me that they could make good of any old piece of junk. It was one glance between Penny and I and the deal was sealed. We gave them a healthy supply of water and pointed them to the mostly reliable solar harvester - the decision to install the Cloud Burster Rocket arrays had made the harvester mostly useless to our caravan and we were happy to be rid of it for most anything else.

The MCE's made quick work of the panels and the Weaponized Gramophone and Flak Battery were unexpected, but versatile replacements. I have long since hoped we would run into boys like them again. I daresay next time, instead of paying them to make one exchange, I would try to barter to have them join the caravan - such skills would not be misplaced on any expedition.

Mac and the priest were in such a heated argument that it was hours after the MCE's had departed when they finally rejoined the crew. The priest adeptly noted the missing solar harvester and when Penny and I told him that some helpful scrappers had converted the largely useless mass of metal into the gramophone and flak battery his face drained of colour. Apparently, unknown to the rest of us, he had been using a compartment under the harvester to store his belongings - of most importance was The Good Book. I tried to console him by offering a book of my own, Marty Dane's "Extractions and Refinements: Making the Most of Unnecessary Death", but he insisted that in my heathen blindness I failed to comprehend his loss.

Needless to say it would become a footnote in the grand scheme of our adventures, especially since it was the following day that the priest met his fate at the hands of the Gut Splitter.
4 
 Thumb up
2.05
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
Introduction from Marty Dane's "Extractions and Refinements: Making the Most of Unnecessary Death"

It does hold to count that but one element of voracious truth is evident and reliable upon in this life - that of death. Whether at your own, your kind, or the hands of another (beastly or otherwise) it is all but entirely unnecassary. That we may peace some semblance of propagation of life or continuation of existance from this is but a boon to savour and for some, an occupation to be employed.

It may be esteemed, perhaps, a superfluous task to prove, that a wasting of the resource granted to us as denizens of the wastes, is warrant of moral objection, and as such; denial.

Some would render such absent mindedness of not using a cadavre to its full potential, as a crime worthy of that which extinguished the life to begin.

When Pericles, weigned on his death-bed, his surrounding friends, deeming him now insensible, started to indulge their tears for him by enumerating his great qualities and successes. His victories and succesful journeys, the unusual length of his leadership, and his nine trophies erected over the slavers. "You forget", cries the dying hero, who had heard all, "you forget the most eminent of my praises, while you dwell so much on those vulgar advantages, in which fortune had a principal share. You have not observed, that in my death, my brain will cease yet there are so many parts of me which function entirely. I shall spring forth new life as the components of my body must be extracted and redistributed to those in need."

The lesson that Pericles laid forth to his friends in his death is that which inspired each of them to hunt death and spread life throughout the wastes. The trials of which bore fruit, creating the, as we now know, 'Surgeon Savior' honorary title of medical practioners active in the field. It is in thanks to developments from these wonderful reconstructors in human form, that we may now refine and augment such learned techniques in human reconstruction.

Section 1 - The Head.
3 
 Thumb up
0.25
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Jessey
Canada
flag msg tools
designer
I also purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
badge
I purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
Loving that, especially the emergent tale! Developing off of loose ends and tangential details of my own! This is fun, I'll write another:


"Sarge." The caravan leader insisted I refer to him by what I take was his military rank. When pressed to explain the significance of the name he simply stared at me until my vision blurred and I passed out from the power that flowed from the man's gaze in turbulent waves. I vividly remembered our first meeting immediately before I passed out.

I got down from the caravan when it had stopped suddenly to discover what was causing the delay. I found him staring sternly at the Antlion pit which had not there a moment before. He took an extra long drag of the nub for a cigar that he'd be nursing for the last hour before soundly crushing it under his heel. Then, like a wild and savage Horn-Beast released into the midst of a Sunday market, Marcus dove headlong into the pit and battered the Antlion like it was made of bleached wood, rusty nails and carefully arranged vegetable displays.

It was three days before I regained consciousness and six more before I gathered enough courage to ask the man for another interview. During that time we had been assaulted by wild men in flying contraptions that were in the business of defying gravity. The dreadful machines were a mass of spinning and grinding blades that buzzed and whirred between intermittent chatters and crunches - the sound of loose bones from their last victims finally becoming dislodged or pulverized by the spinning spiked bits. Most of us in the caravan dutifully stood our ground, cowering behind turrets and weapons arrays.

Sarge, true to the legends that speak of him, clambered atop a rocket and demanded it be fired at the flying death machines. Moments later he was soaring towards them, and then in a flurry of metal and appendages he dismantled the lot of them before guiding the second to last aerial apparatus into a catastrophic collision with the gang's leader. When we finally reached the smoking wreckage we found Sarge standing atop the heap, his cigar tucked neatly between his lips, still fresh and lightly smoked.

During the final leg of our journey we were beset by another winged terror - this an animal that had no right to be aloft. Its body a mass of muscles and bony protrusions, its claws a full six feet long and a tail with enough mass and edges to level New Monaco in a single swipe. The whole ugly and armored affair aerial by the graces of comically large wings that stirred up dust devils when they beat the air. The thing, the Dragon, landed in the caravan's path and opened its jagged maw to bathe us in its killing fire. Before it could exhale Sarge had planted a first firmly into the back of its throat. The beast paused for a moment, so shocked that it was incapable of dying immediately and first had to appreciate the incredibly irony of its demise.

We ate well that night.
6 
 Thumb up
1.05
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
David Heiligmann
United States
San Antonio
Texas
flag msg tools
badge
30 years ago, I was put on the original Car Wars!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
I’ve Kilt Before, and I’ll Kilt Again
Copyright David Heiligmann 2011
Atompunk Universe by Sam Mercer

The caravan master once more cursed the gambling debt that had caused him to take on the clan of Scottish folk and their caravan through the Wastelands. They had negotiated him down to the very edge of his patience, but the people after him had necessitated a hurried departure from town.

Most of their rigs he had seen in previous caravans. The big solar water harvester was a welcome sight, but they had modified an Ol’Steamy to a recirculating system that they drained in the morning into oak barrels. He guessed it was a moonshine machine, but they didn’t seem to have all the ingredients, and they were somewhat hush-hush about it. There were a few simple tracked boxcars.

When they had left the city, the entire clan had changed as if they were expecting trouble. The men had attired themselves in what looked like a dress, that they called a kilt, all wearing the same pattern, that they called a “tartan”. The women’s skirts were the same, with the same tartan. Every one of them was armed with at least two revolvers, and some with more. From practice during the trek, the women were as good a shot as most of the men.

For the most part, the trek had been uneventful. Sure, there were the normal breakdown, but down time was a minimum and not much time was lost. The leader, or laird, gave orders and things were done. Sometimes, the caravan leader figured he was just along for the ride. The route they were taking was what was considered “safe” for the Wastelands. Basically, minor tolls and few surprises.

The howls present sent a chill through his spine. The sheep and cattle accompanying the caravan began to panic, as they sensed the coming wolfpack. The loose nature of a wolf pack meant smaller arms fire, as some of his big weapons weren’t cost efficient.

The laird shouted orders, and ran to two of the boxcars. The men jumped in while the women went to the sides while others gathered children and surrounded the animal pens. There was a sound of clanking and steel.

Some of the women were strapping a cloth bag with several musical pipes sticking out of it over their shoulders, and blowing into one of the pipes to fill up the bags. A mournful sound began to fill the air as the bags were squeezed. At the signal, ropes were yanked, pins came out, and the side of the boxcars came down like a ramp.

Two gigantic speakers rotated towards the wolf pack, and a woman wearing headphones stepped up with her bagpipes and blew the first notes of a song familiar to the clan. The caravan master saw the air shimmer as the sonic attack from the weaponized gramophone rolled the wolves in front and slowed the pack down.

The women were passing some sort of ration to the men, which seemed to consist of a pickle in bread. The men were wolfing them down, until the laird raised his hand and shouted,
“NO MORE CUCUMBERS!”

The men shouted back, to the accompaniment of the bagpipes,

“Land of my heart forever, SCOTLAND THE BRAVE!”

They rode their mounts down the ramp, but they weren’t horses. They were two wheeled cycles, with the front wheel as large as a tractor’s back wheel, and the back wheel about 1/3 the size of the front, like the small wheel on the front of a tractor.

“Glaives Forward!”

Six of these bikes rolled forward, and the caravan master noticed the hubs on the bikes had blades rotating as the men cycled toward the wolfpack. All of the men were carrying swords almost as big as the front tire across their shoulders.

Six other men began to ride in a circle around the caravans, keeping an even spacing by the time they completed a circuit. They had one directional turrets on their hubs with what looked like a gun magazine sticking out the top, and one that held quite a few rounds.

The lead cycle group had reached the front of the wolfpack now, and as the lead wolf leapt for the rider, the rider stood on the pedals and delivered a massive overhand strike that cleaved the wolf ‘s skull and skewered him on the hub glaives. The rotary cutting left the wolf twitching. Other wolves were pinned to the ground when the huge claidheamh mor was struck through them like a spear.

The wolves getting past the first wave of cyclists ran into the claymores the caravan master was familiar with. The explosives set in perimeter blew up a few more of the wolves. This did not stop the starving pack from advancing to the sheep pens, and now the women and last ring of cyclists opened fire.

The remnants of the pack broke and headed back in the direction they had come. A few more fell to long range fire and some lucky shots, and stragglers and wounded wolves were finished off.

Wolf corpses were dragged in, and the laird addressed his folk,

“D’ya think, lasses, these wolves might have enough for wolf haggis?”

The caravan master was enjoying some of the contents of the oak barrels that the clan had brought with them. The laird had proclaimed this as “single malt Scotch whisky”, and he was trying to set up a distillery in the Wastelands, and was bringing pot stills, and malted barley. He just needed a pure water source, and was looking for either spring waters or glacial runoff from the mountains.

As they continued talking, he asked the laird about the funny bicycles.

“That’s an old type called the penny-farthing. Bikes don’t eat like a horse does, and we’ve spent so much time on them, we knew they’d be cheaper for close actions like this. The clan is used to these tactics, and it’s similar to some of the light artillery units called dragoons. ‘Twas kind of funny when we managed to buy these revolvers. We had to modify them to fire cartridges, but tweren’t something to worry about.”

He handed over the firearm, and the caravan master grinned at the engraving on the gun:
“1848 Colt Dragoon Model Three Replica”

4 
 Thumb up
2.05
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Samantha RD
South Africa
Harrismith
Free State
flag msg tools
badge
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!

Here's another one for you Sam:


The Beach Bar

Day 17 – The caravan stopped to resupply. We found a derelict old hotel, teetering on the edge of the dried up ocean which wasn’t mentioned on any of the maps. There was a portly man, a bit crazed by the looks of him, undoubtedly dangerous. He greeted us with what passes for warmth in that part of the world by spitting noisily at the caravan leaders feet and stating:

‘What the hell do you want?’

Our caravan master indicated we had seen a sign offering fuel and water a mile back. The man eyed us suspiciously then finally nodded. His entire demeanour changed quite suddenly and he smiled a purulent yellow smile with the few teeth remaining in his diseased gums and declared:

‘Welcome to the Whalewatch Beach Bar – now what can we get you?’

Whilst this sterling specimen of humanity haggled excitedly with our caravan leader, I wandered a short distance to the sloping edge of the dry ocean we were about to cross – a bleached expanse of sand and bits of old bone and metal. The glaring white plain seemed to extend into eternity – framed on all sides by sheer, crumbling sandy cliffs and the bowl of blue sky above.

It was open. Exposed. I began, for the first time since I had signed on with that crew, to question our leaders’ judgement in bringing us out here. If anything came down those slopes... My pessimistic thoughts were interrupted by the conclusion of our dealings with the Whalewatch Beach Bar. The caravan leader had decided to press on across that void immediately.

I don’t know if the decision was made because that place worried him as much as it did me and he wanted to get across it sooner, but I would have preferred to wait until the following morning. As it was, nightfall was going to reach us in less than half a days’ light.

We set off down the slope and I stumbled, my foot hooking on something in the sand. As I pulled myself back up I saw it was a leg bone, undoubtedly human and cracked along its length. I looked up from my discovery and my eyes met those of the Whalewatchs’ owner and he was smiling again, taking some sort of delight in my brief discomfort. Something about the whole exchange sent a shiver down my back – though whether it was his expression or the evidence of some wayfarer long deceased I don’t really know.

In either case, that night my fears proved justified. We had stopped to make camp when a sudden blood-curdling howling echoed down the old ocean wall slopes. I had thought wolves at first, but the sound had an entirely different cast to it. I realised, as I saw the shapes shambling down the wall in the distance that they were human.

The clarity that had eluded me all day hit home in a sudden awful moment as I determined the set-up. The sign, the beach bar – all so our opportunistic friend could lure travellers and later send these goons to rob them of all they’d bought and more. I was furious, right up until the last piece of the puzzle slid into place – with a sick feeling in my stomach, I remembered the bone...
5 
 Thumb up
2.05
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Byron
United States
Ramsey
Minnesota
flag msg tools
Hey...
badge
Down here...
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
My Flash Fiction Sample
Draft of "A Holy Handout"
by: Byron Olson
Set in Sam Mercer's AtomPunk universe.


“Just give me the damn bottle,” Rev. Frobisher said. “Clean glasses are rare, so I’ll save you one.” The barmaid shrugged and handed him the half-empty bottle. The reverend turned to the rather large, mustached man on the stool next to him, “Anyway Sam. I heard Zed was devoured by a pack of Haywire Rats.”

The man with the mustache snorted and said, “Actually, he got himself eaten by a big ol’ Desert Wyrm while out changin’ one of the couplings. And he—” The barmaid offered a bottle of AtomAle to him while she scrubbed a dingy glass with her other two hands. “Just the coffee for me, ma’am. Thanks.” She took the bottle and left. “He was my travellin’ buddy. The long rides sure as hell won’t be the same without the little guy.”

The two drank in silence.

“Sam, I’ve had an idea. It’s actually why I requested we meet.” The doors to the Atom Splitters whipped open, sending the dry, burnt smell of desert through the club. A small man in a clerical collar scurried in, spotted the reverend and hurried towards him. “Here is my associate now.”

“Reverend Frobisher, I brought the machine, sir. I have it out on the sled.”

“Go make the final preparations Jasper. We’ll be out in a moment.” The small man nodded and ran back out to the harsh desert. “Anyway,” the reverend turned back to Sam, “I have a gift for you. You know, for saving the church. You won’t even miss that little engineer.” His eyes shifted around the club. “Sam. What do you know of perpetual motion?”
5 
 Thumb up
2.05
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Byron
United States
Ramsey
Minnesota
flag msg tools
Hey...
badge
Down here...
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
I love the Fallout series and I love creative writing. I eagerly await your game!
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
Pertaining to matters most prudent - Article 3

Now it has come to my attention that caravaneers are befalling into deeds most dreadful as they are followed, without their knowledge, even after taking the precautionary measures.

We have already dealt with the most rudimentary lesson of keeping your light sources to an absolute minimum and then only when extremely necassary. But this is of little use if caravans continue to insist on not giving proper thought to the "outgoings" of man.

As animals in the wilds indeed rely on smell to hunt their quarry, this principal is of course used to abundant fortune of the beasts in hunting man. If man is folly enough to leave "evidence" of himself strewn across the sands, only he is to be blamed should he be devoured by such an olfactory hunter.

Yes it is true that vendors have been known to sell ointments and oils that pertain to weaken the potency of such "extrusions", others attest to the merits of Cucumber in neutralising such potency, but the best true remedy of such a problem is simply not to allow the matter(s) to touch the sands.

It is simply not within a normal man, to withold his "ablutions" for a 2 week trip even though some caravan leaders boast that they are able; if the excruitating pain was to be overlooked, it would be disasterous for the liver and blood.

The best precaution against such liver-damage is to be obtained in adequate storage that would remain aboard the caravans at all times. The best storage area would be the most secluded regions of the caravan which tends to revolve around the sleeping quarters. Some do protest the idea of sleeping with bottles and kettles of such matter within reaching distance, but better within your grasp as you sleep than in your leggings as you come face to snout with a greedy wolf.
4 
 Thumb up
0.05
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Do you like writing? Could you help write stories from the Wastelands? Examples inside!
Man these are all so cool, I have read them each like 10 times!

I think we need some more "non text" text; kind of like: Adverts or poems or directions or treasuremaps or those kind of thing -

Anybody have any other ideas for topics we could write on? You don't need to write the thing - just give me an idea on what to write on
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Nate K
United States
Utah
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
Advertisement for a traveling circus?

Quote:
Star's War
THE GREATEST SHOW ON EARTH!!

Come witness the spectacle, the adventure, and the romance!
This traveling stage performance may never pass your way again!
Beg, barter, or borrow, but be there!


I've actually got a story idea brewing that revolves around this. I plan on writing it sometime in the next couple of days.
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Jessey
Canada
flag msg tools
designer
I also purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
badge
I purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
Something crazy?


Know it, See it.

Over the mist, through the crest,
there she dances upon the chest.

Hear it, Be it.

Within' the relic, with my last digit,
share not the secret, fidget fidget.


Found scratched into the sole of a worn out combat boot suspiciously resting atop a shifting sand dune. The nub of a human finger bone was weaved through the tattered laces. A brief comparison is all that was required to establish that it was the tool used to scrawl the note.

Historians would forever be puzzled by the random splotches of blueberry jam that stained the interior of the boot. Specifically because any individual who remained fixated on the pattern would inevitably jump up and shout "I know, I know, I know!" then promptly flee from the building and be found dead days later having presumably jumped from a height much greater than any nearby buildings or precipices could afford.
3 
 Thumb up
1.05
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
David Heiligmann
United States
San Antonio
Texas
flag msg tools
badge
30 years ago, I was put on the original Car Wars!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
All you Atompunks and Atomchicks!

Go and thumb Item #70 to vote for Atompunk as one of the most anticipated games for 2012!

I think this link is correct:

http://www.boardgamegeek.com/geeklist/85902/item/1945762#ite...

2 
 Thumb up
0.25
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
@ Nate: That is a gorramn fantastic idea. I would love to read that - ill do a super sketchy 1920's circus style ad for it as well , awesome!

@Candi: wow. Seriously wow. That is some heavy literature right there! I have no idea of the pattern or what card it relates to but I love the mystery and the intrigue. Quite dark, sexual (right?), and intensely "moreish" - love this. I would change blueberry jam to something else as I would assume it would be a super-super-before-the-bombs luxury and as such not banded around: or is that part of the card it relates to!?!? OMGosh I dont know, I need to find out more! *jumps of a height much greater than any buildings or precipices can afford*

@David: Man your just....your just so cool ^^ thanks for this buddy: also 15 votes yeah woo! hehe, better get to that there designin'! Thanks man, truley thank you
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Jessey
Canada
flag msg tools
designer
I also purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
badge
I purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
Cogentesque wrote:
@Candi: wow. Seriously wow. That is some heavy literature right there! I have no idea of the pattern or what card it relates to but I love the mystery and the intrigue. Quite dark, sexual (right?), and intensely "moreish" - love this. I would change blueberry jam to something else as I would assume it would be a super-super-before-the-bombs luxury and as such not banded around: or is that part of the card it relates to!?!? OMGosh I dont know, I need to find out more! *jumps of a height much greater than any buildings or precipices can afford*


There is no card, I just put it together after you requested some "non-story stories" -- my first thought was poetry... then poetry carved into the sole of an old combat boot. Natural evolution from there

2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
Well that's some awesome natural evolution right there! ^^ very awesome. I think some more of these little snippets will be bang on in order lets see...

2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
I've just reread all of these again, they are just ... so cool.

My wrarm thanks to Candi for getting involved straight away
http://boardgamegeek.com/geeklist/99381/item/1980366#item198...

-Am in a writing mood and will get some more up for you guys if you fancy reading some more?

s
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Jessey
Canada
flag msg tools
designer
I also purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
badge
I purchased this and do not know what to do with it!
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
Cogentesque wrote:

-Am in a writing mood and will get some more up for you guys if you fancy reading some more?


How else am I supposed to become inspired? Bring em' on!
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
Re: AtomPunk - Give us ideas to write about as we create the AtomPunk Universe! - Examples Inside
A long time workin' my blood dry,
Gon' get where I'm goin', earnin' my keeps
Leavin' this place, *HYA!* hurry your pace,
Down in the deeps
Down in the deeps

Bad air makin' me sick in here,
Headin' to heavens, greener seat,
"Safe in here!" *HYA!*, boss'n tells me,
Sow what I reap
Sow what I reap


A traditional work song sung by the old workers of the Cankor Sore Salt Mines under the drivers lash. The mine was abandoned months after the main shaft collapsed, trapping all the workers within. They were all presumed lost.
3 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Sam Mercer
United Kingdom
Southampton
Hampshire
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmb
I'm not normally one to boast - but this work song has been stuck in my head for 2 days

Nate you said a while back that you might be able to come up with something about the circus? Have you had a think about that or would you like me to write it up for ya?
2 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Nate K
United States
Utah
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
Oh, yeah, I've got it all written in my head, I just haven't had a chance to sit down and "bang it out." I'll probably get a chance to do it this weekend, though.
1 
 Thumb up
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
Nate K
United States
Utah
flag msg tools
designer
Avatar
mbmbmbmbmb
The Greatest Show on Earth!
Rex Remington wanted to spit. “This is ridiculous,” he said.

Jessey elbowed him in the ribs. She was the only one who could get away with that. “Give ‘em a chance, Rex,” she muttered.

He sighed. “They don’t have nothing worth trading for. Just look at their caravan!”

She growled at him. “Rex! Just… talk with them!”

This time he did spit. Shaking his head, he finally said, “Fine.”

He adjusted his gunbelt and sauntered over to the strangers. A tall, slender man stepped away from the caravan and headed towards him. They met halfway between their respective caravans.

“Sam Mercer,” the man said cordially, holding out a long, thin hand. He probably hadn’t eaten in days.

Rex took the hand and shook it firmly. “Rex Remington,” he replied gruffly. He looked at Sam’s caravan. “Don’t look like you have much, there.”

Sam’s smile remained firmly in place. “Well, sure, we might be a smidge low of food and water, but I think we have something to offer you and yours, if you’re willing to trade.”

“And what’s that?”

“The greatest show on Earth!”

Rex blinked. “Beg pardon?”

“We, sir, are traveling performers! For just a few provisions, we can provide your men, women, and children with a night of entertainment they will never forget!”

Rex remained impassive, considering the man before him. “’Scuse me just a moment,” he said. He turned and walked back to his caravan. Jessey intercepted him.

“Well?” she asked.

“We’re moving out,” he said as he walked. “They don’t have anything of value.”

“What did they offer?”

Entertainment. Christ. Juggle a few balls and swallow fire to walk away with our food and water? I don’t think so.”

Jessey grabbed his arm. “Rex, stop.

He looked at her. “What?”

She glanced back at the raggedy caravan. Sam was still standing and waiting patiently. She looked back at Rex. “Barter with him, Rex.”

“We can’t afford to lose our food and water for nothing.”

“The kids will love it!” she protested. “A few hours of forgetting this, this hellish existence and having fun! They need that, Rex!”

“It’s nonsense! It’s utter nonsense, and no one in this caravan, child or otherwise, needs it!”

“Rex!”

He huffed. He puffed. He strode back towards Sam.

“I can give you two barrels of water and a crate of foodstuffs,” he said.

“You won’t regret it!” Sam replied.


***


That night, the children and most of the adults sat around a makeshift stage, lit by three powerful lights hooked up to a rusted generator. Rex leaned against a Big Steamy, just within earshot.

Sam stepped out onto the stage, dressed in an odd costume. “Welcome,” he declared, “to the greatest show on Earth!”

There was a smattering of applause from the men and women old enough to remember what an applause was.

“Tonight, we will present you with a harrowing tale of bravery, friendship, and loyalty! A tale of evil, temptation, and triumph! A tale… of The War of the Stars!”

Rex rolled his eyes. “Ridiculous.”

The play started with two mechanical men, Threep and Arty, carrying a message from the Princess to a Star Knight named Ben Canobeans. The Princess had been captured by Dark Vader and his Storm Soldiers. Dark was constructing a terrible weapon, and Ben was the only one who could get the stolen weapon schematics to the valiant Insurgents. Ben took the mechanical men and an orphan named Lucas Startraveler with him. He told Lucas that he needed to be trained as a Star Knight, like his father.

The band of heroes hired a pilot names Hans to fly them to the Insurgent headquarters. Unfortunately, Dark Vader caught up with them. They tried to take refuge on a small moon, but it turned out to be Dark’s new weapon—a Death Ship!

Rex moved closer so he could hear better.

Sneaking through the Death Ship, Hans and Lucas managed to rescue the Princess, but Dark Vader found them and killed Ben! The rest of the group escaped to the Insurgent base, but the Death Ship pursued them. Many Insurgents, including Lucas, valiantly flew out to fight against the Death Ship and save the universe. Nearly all of them sacrificed their lives, trying to destroy the weapon.

Rex sat down with the children.

Just as Lucas was about to be killed, as well, Hans reappeared and saved him. Lucas fired at the weak spot, and the Death Ship exploded. The universe was saved!

Sam stepped back onto the stage. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, we hope you enjoyed this evening’s performance! Please note that Dark Vader escaped the destruction of the Death Ship. Should you like to find out what happens next, we would be happy to perform for you again tomorrow! Would you like that?”

“Yes!” the crowd shouted.

They stayed and performed the next night. And the night after that. When they left, Rex took Sam aside.

“My men are loading you up with a dozen barrels of water,” he told Sam, “and seven crates of foodstuffs.”

“I appreciate your generosity,” Sam replied.

Rex nodded. “You… Keep doing what you’re doing, okay? It’s… what you do… it’s important.”

Sam nodded gravely. “I know.”

Rex watched as the traveling troupe rolled away. Jessey walked up to him. “Why’d you do it?” she asked. “What changed your mind?”

Rex looked at her with a thoughtful expression on his face. “People like me… I keep people alive. I help people survive.

“People like them… They do more than just stay alive. They preserve civilization.”
6 
 Thumb up
1.30
 tip
 Hide
  • [+] Dice rolls
1 , 2  Next »   | 
Front Page | Welcome | Contact | Privacy Policy | Terms of Service | Advertise | Support BGG | Feeds RSS
Geekdo, BoardGameGeek, the Geekdo logo, and the BoardGameGeek logo are trademarks of BoardGameGeek, LLC.