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An opening thought for a RPG


Post-apocalypse, North America. It would be all players taking turns, talking about how their characters reacted to the epoxyclipse and gathering to try to find a livable place on the continent.

Here is a journal entry from my character:

Truck's still running good. It wouldn't dare do less, for me.

All dead but Tavish, now. God, I swear I did my best.

Fought and shot and killed and I did my best.

He's starting to ask questions. I can answer them, yes, but are the real answers going to make him sleep any better?

Crossing the river to Wisconsin. Cold as hell. Kid seems to sleep okay in the camper.

Low on gas.

- Lord, have mercy on a country boy

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Oh, f@ckin' hell. I was never cut out for this blatant stupidity.

I did what Abbi asked: I protected her students as best as I could. But none of my knowledge could really protect any of them, when the radioactivity started to melt their internal organs.

On the I-70 bridge, going East from St. Louis.

Abbi died, last night.

I drove. I petted her, and I talked to her. And when she stopped talking, I knew she was dead.

The kids were inconsolable. So was I, but I had to maintain. Abbi told them to count on me. Awful bitch.

So I drive, and I cry.

- Lord, have mercy on a country boy

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