i am a scavenger in the ruins of norwich, england, 20 years after a global nuclear exchange killed 90% of the worlds population. my goal is to reach the forum, the library in the center of norwich, and reach the sacred texts (the first volume of the manga called chobits). i must travel the roughly two miles from sprowston road into the heart of the city, which is now inhabited by mutated animals and paranormal anomalies. the rules of engagement are:weapons free. the setting is inspired by the "metro" game series.
You stand at the edge of what was once Sprowston Road, the remnants of the last bastion of civilization before the unforgiving wasteland that is now Norwich. Twenty years have passed since the world ended in nuclear fire, reducing the sprawling city to a desolate playground for the irradiated and the insane. Your heart beats a little faster as you adjust your makeshift gas mask, the hiss of the filter a comforting reminder of the thin line between life and death. Your companion, a grizzled veteran named Harris, squints through his cracked goggles and points towards the distant silhouette of the library, the rumored sanctum of knowledge known as the Forum. "We've got two miles of hell to walk, kid," he says gruffly. "But if the whispers are true, the first volume of Chobits is in there, waiting for someone to find it. It's gonna be a hot ticket, worth more than a lifetime of canned food and clean water. You ready for this?" You nod, gripping the trusty pipe-wrench you've named 'Lucky Strike' a little tighter. The journey to the library's sacred texts is fraught with danger, but the thirst for knowledge and hope for a glimpse of a lost world burns brighter than any radioactive flame. With a final look back at the crumbling suburbia, you both step into the desolate street, ready to face the mutated beasts and unexplained horrors that lurk in the shadows of this post-apocalyptic labyrinth.
> bearing in mind the pressing fact that both harris and i are heavy smokers on top of being alcoholics, we must secure cigarettes and vodka. it is possible that we may find vodka in the storeroom of the local aldi supermarket, but it is unlikely, not to mention the danger posed by the local wildlife. there is an off licence down the road, however.
You and Harris cautiously navigate the desolate street, the skeletal remains of vehicles and crumbling buildings casting eerie shadows in the pale, irradiated light. As you approach the off-licence, you notice a group of mutated rats, their eyes glowing an unnatural shade of green, scurrying around the entrance. The glass panes are shattered, and the metal door hangs on one hinge, leaving the interior open to the elements. The shelves inside are bare, picked clean by scavengers over the years, but in the corner, you spot a half-crushed pack of cigarettes. You exchange a hopeful glance with Harris. The smell of decay and the distant wail of a feral animal serve as a grim reminder of the world's fate.
> flames cannot be radioactive, nor can light be irradiated. that aside, as rats are primarily scavengers (like harris and i) i decide to distract the rats by throwing a stale sausage roll a few yards away so that we can search in peace.
You toss the stale sausage roll a few yards away from the off-licence entrance, and the mutated rats, driven by hunger, abandon their vigil to scurry after the potential food source. As they pounce on the treat, you and Harris take the opportunity to slip inside the store, the door creaking ominously in the silence. The shelves are indeed bare, but a faint scent of alcohol lingers in the air, hinting at the past lives of this place. You spot a few half-empty bottles scattered on the floor, but they're all smashed beyond salvage. The cigarette rack, however, has a few packs of cigarettes, mostly crumpled, but a couple look like they could still be smoked. You also notice a dusty, locked storeroom in the back with the faded words "ALCOHOL STORAGE" barely visible through the grime.
> harris suggests that i, being lighter in build than he, and thus less likely to set off potential traps, should tkae a look while he watches the entrance so that we are not ambushed.he knows that i am a sneaky bastard well suited to picking my way through delicate situations and checking for traps as i pick locks, because the reason we know eachother in the first place is that he caught me in the act of attempting to steal his rifle.
You nod to Harris and cautiously approach the dusty, locked storeroom. The metal lock seems to have rusted over the years, but it's not as secure as it once was. Using your nimble fingers and the makeshift lock pick you've become quite adept at using, you manage to jimmy it open. The door groans as it swings inward, revealing a dimly lit space filled with cobwebs and the scent of stale alcohol. Inside, you find several bottles of vodka, mostly intact and likely preserved by the cool, dark conditions. The sight of the untouched bottles brings a smile to your face.
> i inspect the scene, satisfying myself that the bottles are not sitting on a pressure plate triggered trap, that there are no wires attached the bottles which would likely be part a trap mechanism of some sort, and intentionally stir up some dust from a nearby surface to reaveal any visible spectrum laser beams that could be part of a trap. probably unnecessary, but paranoia has kept me alive this long.
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