transmission third world war third round; [opening narrative.]
Prologue; Everyone knew it was only a matter of time before World War Three broke out. In 2010 two years of cold war finally concluded in more or less every country that was able to, firing their nuclear missiles. By 2012 there were no missiles left to fire and the world was devastated.

Horizon Technologies swept in to pick up the pieces. With their unfathomable resources they built the Complexes, clusters of buildings in the centre of the major cities designed to house the survivors and to keep an eye on them too. It is in these carefully controlled environments that people live and work, trying to salvage something of the lives they once had, but one thing certainly hasn't changed from before the war: Nothing is ever as easy as it seems.

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Times were hard in the New York Complex.

Of course, they were always hard; living in a post-nuclear wasteland, the only pocket of civilisation for miles around wasn't supposed to be easy, or comfortable. It was about survival. That was all. That was ultimately all that mattered now, money, greed, power, sex, none of it really mattered as much as things that the human race had come to appreciate as necessities, such a breathing and eating and having enough heat to ensure that they didn't all take the plunge into the The Big Sleep. The climate was nothing short of apocalyptic; rough winds buffet the buildings, often causing damage to the structures that it howled past, snow and ice caress the landscape in a state of perpetual winter and the cold can render the human body inanimate with horrifying ease. None of that seemed to be changing in the near future and it certainly wasn't the weather that made this month a harder one than usual for a few very simple reasons that all ultimately had the same effect on the population of one of the biggest Complexes that Horizon Technologies had constructed to date.

Every single shipment for that month was late.

There were no cigarettes. No chocolate. No milk or bread. There was no alcohol in either Rostat or Cavern. The public didn't like that one bit. Where were they supposed to go to unwind now? The premises were still open, but without liquor to grease the wheels, it was a futile endeavour. Haresa had closed its doors, there weren't enough supplies to make any of their meals and the only reason that Miseti was still open was that they had bigger stock rooms and therefore had in their possession more resources to begin with. Soon though, even they would have to close up and wait it out. Without the deliveries of fresh produce there was nothing they could do but wait and hope. Even the Medlab was suffering. Usually the one place it was a sure bet would receive their supplies for the month, they were running low on everything; gauze, ambu bags, morphine, even bed sheets. The staff was harried and drained, having to prioritise cases as they came in: Who could just be given a pill and sent home? Who really needed that bed that had just opened up?

With the absence little luxuries that had so far made life a little easier on the population of the Complex came frayed tempers and anxious conversations. There was no word on why the transports hadn't made it this month. There was no knowing if they had even set off from their original destination, where ever that was. The Magistrate issued a message intended to placate the masses; one week ago he had told them all not to worry, but give no indication on when this problem would be rectified, or even if. Some assumed he didn't know, that Horizon weren't telling him. Others took a different interpretation away from his words. Maybe there was something they weren't being told. Maybe Horizon was keeping something from them.

Maybe their luck had finally worn out and the end of the human race was finally about to commence. Yes, no, maybe so. There was no way of knowing for certain.



[OOC! The game is now officially open! Make sure to read the mod post HERE if you haven't already.

The general jist is that supplies are at an all time low right now, that means ANYTHING that is not a basic necessity like dried or canned food and water is unavailable. Pencils, paper, chocolate, alcohol, fresh bread, milk, eggs, meat, cigarettes; none of these things are currently available. The general mood in the Complex is one of unrest, tempers are frayed but work still has to be done if the residents want to survive the cold. Another post will go up letting you all know when, or if, the trucks make it to the Complex. ENJOY!]