InsaneJournal

Tweak says, "Who wants a xandwitch?"

nebular (nebular) wrote,
@ 2011-02-19 15:26:00

» PREMISE.
game premise.

The Mayans predicted the world would end in 2012. In the scheme of things, it was a remarkable insight--they were only two years off the mark. And, when you consider that the apocalypse was billions of years in the making, the mistake is relatively insignificant. But that’s besides the point: the end of the world.

In 2014, the sun flared. It shredded half the earth, sucking up the Pacific Ocean. Half of the Americas, a quarter of Asia, portions of Russia, and all of Oceania perished. Only Africa and Europe were left unscathed by the scorching tongue of boiling hydrogen; still, areas of Western Europe fell to heat waves, populations dwindled, cities crumbled.

It’s two hundred years later, and if one were to look at the solar system, there would be something missing. Earth is gone. Moved -- transported through a gap in the fabric of space itself, squeezed like toothpaste through a tube too small to even see with the human eye. Earth is now located in the birthplace of a new star, the Gaia Nebula. A new home, a new beginning for the human race.

But new beginnings aren't always what they seem. Something looms on the horizon.

Cerulean Enterprises.

A name, a company, steeped simultaneously in both publicity and mystique. With countless corporations under its masthead, everyone has had their pockets dipped into by this mammoth business poacher. Sometimes it even seems that even the laws that regulate NWC's citizens are tailored just so for Cerulean. They wanted to grow and sell cannabis as a cash crop; it was legalized. They wanted to wipe out fossil fuels in order to market their magnetized transportation systems; use of gasoline was criminalized.

And then there are the disappearances. People just go missing. Their lives are not just in limbo, they are erased completely. Only memories and family photographs remain once someone is taken. No one is sure why it happens; maybe it's the government, maybe it's Cerulean, maybe it's coincidence. But those who have had their loved ones vanish know that either way, you don't want to be on the receiving end of that phone call.

And then there are those who know better. The few who know of the affair between President Robinson and Cerulean CFO Willard Mope. The many who are terrified to speak the truth, but whose only weapon is knowledge. They call themselves the Banshees, a primitive organization, really, when you see what they're up against. They use outdated encryption without even the simplest code names, meet in the back of seedy bars and unsuspecting flower shops. They are a support group, not a legion. Not rebelling. Just sharing information. Not staging a revolution--but maybe planting the seed of one.