|The world is a world like any other, a world like ours. With one exception – or it may not even be an exception because black and white make gray, y’know? This world has things – evil things. Things like demons, things like zombies, things like Hell. … And the accompanying hand baskets, with pretty pink bows and shiny silver tassels.
So welcome to Crescent City. If this is your first time here, you might want a brochure. If it isn’t, you might be begging for a shotgun instead. Thing is, it used to be normal hereabouts. Normal kids, normal parents, normal school. Hundred year old theatre where they played normal re-runs of eighties scream films on nights so late all the kids shoulda been sleeping, but when you can defy parental authority for some lost sleep and a fiver, who wouldn’t?
Crescent City’s a sleepy, lazy little town on the beautiful coast of Northern California, ‘bout twenty miles from the Oregon border, ‘bout fifty miles from anything you could pass as ‘civilized’. It’s the perfect place to escape from the rat race, everybody knows everybody, a real ‘it takes a village’ kind of shindig. Got a population of 4006, until you include the local Pelican Bay State Prison, which bumps it up to about 8700. And ain’t that quaint, because dollars to donuts they don’t mention on that fancy little brochure you’ve got clutched now in your hands that the inmates outnumber the quiet, law-abiding locals.
So it’s sort of like Suburban Utopia. And it was, man, it really was, until a few months back. Things started happening in this sleepy, lazy little town. Animal mutilations (we’re talking cows ripped clean open from stem to stern, we’re talking deer with their little fawn heads twisted right around until they looked like nothing you’ve ever imagined before), crop failure (you ever bite into an orange that’s ran right through with mold? Ever split open a pumpkin and realize that it has maggots instead of seeds?) and a sharp decline in the local bird population. But these things are the least of your worries, man, the least of all your worries. Don’t be scared, I’ll ease you right into it, ease you right in the middle of everything until you’ll find yourself believing it’s normal to live like this, normal to sleep with a knife under your pillow, normal to run, normal to hide. Normal to clutch someone in your arms as they … well, I said I’d ease you in.
Some people are leaving. Some have already left. Could be anything, they said. Animal desecration could mean cult. Could mean prison break. Could mean the good-goddamn, honest-to-angels end of the world. Hell, could mean anything.
There’s a storm coming. What’ll you do when you find you’re in the middle of it? Come on, man, it’s sink or swim, Survivor without the safety nets, Russian roulette with every barrel loaded. There’s a storm coming and you’re smack in the middle of it and you’re going to find out the hard way who you really are.
Welcome to your own personal four years of hell. No take-backs, no turnarounds, you’re stuck here now, man, and all you’ve got to do is survive.
Hey, that almost sounds easy.
|AND NOW FOR SOMETHING DIFFERENT|
|So, premise, you say. I guess this is crunch-time, the spot where you want to make sure I really know what I'm doing.|
This is where I LAUGH IN YOUR FACE, amirite?
But in all seriousness.
The game starts on prom night. La la la, Johnny's off dancing with Suzie, all is well in the world... and suddenly! Zombies! Zombies everywhere! And then OH SHIT IT'S A
So amidst the zombies, and the demons, and the werewolves, and the vampires, we're just hoping to have a lot of fun. Some of it serious, some of it hilarious, all of it awesome.
-When And Where-
The Story Thus Far.
|AND WE ARE?|
AIM: Sandcest Is Love
Journal: cabintwelve or policing