Archive for apocalypse

Drogo’s SCOD Quest 2012

Posted in Fictional Stories, SCOD Fallout Projects with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 1, 2011 by Drogo

There is always more work to be done. One can be finished working when one is dead, but the work itself may live on long after.” 

~ Drogo Empedocles

The SCOD Pipedream Pub as an idea started decades ago.

For years we planned in secret, because we knew that the Pipedream was not for most people. We refined the concept into the Master Plan known as The Sustainable Cooperative for Organic Development (SCOD).

If our over-lords had not been over-thrown by their own wars, we probably would have never been able to get our land to build on. Before Armageddon land was very expensive, and we came from less-than-royal families of common trades, that would never have been able to save enough money, or get the sponsors necessary to loan such exorbitant amounts of money. We were prisoners in a Capitalist consumer debt society, with no real democratic way to change the system.

However the system was broken, and so things changed. Everything finally went to Hell. Land titles meant very little because public records were often destroyed and there were few legal enforcers since they stopped receiving paychecks, and all their money was increasingly worthless anyway. Sure some cops and firefighters stayed on as fraternal clubs, like biker gangs, but it was not the same.

So we talked to some local survivors that wanted to see the return of more stable communities to the area. We tipped the appropriate people for a few acres of land that was not contested by anyone recently. We felt confident about homesteading that land in particular, and that was important. No one ever challenged our right of eminent domain, at least no one with a previous claim.

Also before the Apocalypse it would have been harder to start an alternative community within an uncompromising empire, such as the one we had. It was not that we were lazy before, because we had probed the corporate climate for years without any ally. So the time was right, but we still had to face a serious dilemma.

After the Apocalypse things were much harder, and life changed for everyone. It was easier to leave where you had been, but harder to pick up with fewer motorized transportation options. It was also easier to make shelter from existing ruins and reused materials, than try to build entirely new structures. So this was the main decision for SCOD members. Do we compromise the main Circle Field with buildings on the perimeter, for land that is closer with many structures already there? Of course
there were many other problems, and questions within questions, but this stood out in my mind.

Often people had nothing of value anymore, so there was nothing holding them back besides loyalties,  nostalgic depression, or worse psychopathic issues that had manifest since the Breakdown. You had to really ask yourself the question; where are you and what are you there for?

Most SCOD members pre-Apocalypse had lived hundreds of miles apart. This meant many days travel once the highways and many roads became unusable for vehicular traffic. Luckily as SCOD members we were more prepared than others to be survivors, and we had contingency plans that we had been putting into place. Not all our plans would be successful, but that is why we had more than one plan ready to go. If you only have one plan, it is harder to reset and try something new.

*

* to be continued *

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2012

Posted in Film Reviews, SCOD Fallout Projects with tags , , , , on November 15, 2009 by Drogo

It’s not 2012,

It’s 2020.

http://www.youtube.com/view_play_list?p=706861D5307125B4

 

SCOD Fallout: The Journal of CD-Serra-Set

Posted in SCOD Fallout Projects with tags , , , , , , , on June 20, 2009 by coffeedude65

It was a few years ago, I cast off my white robe and along with it everything else.  I set off into the world, letting my hair grow (the itch at first was terrible!).  The only thing I kept was my old Ray-Ban sunglasses; the sun was frightful at times during the peak of the day.

You see, I was old enough at the time to remember the Before.  I remembered world leaders on TV throwing shoes at each other, coming to full blows in the august halls of the United Nations.  I remember joking about how people in the stores would nearly shove you out of the way to grab a package of toilet paper from the heaping shelves.  When it actually WAS the last toilet paper in the world, my joking prophecy paled in comparison what really happened.  I once saw a woman cut a man’s throat on aisle 12, grinning like a demon while clutching a four pack of Charmin extra soft.  She didn’t seem to mind that his blood had soaked through the package, turning the paper a bright crimson.  Ever after, when the tradition of wearing white clothes came about, I would replay that scene over in mind, even visualizing people’s clothes on the street slowing turning pink.

Oh there’s plenty of stories from just after- even enough stories from the Before to make your hair curl.  You wouldn’t know it now, but the world was full of people who called themselves truth seekers, divining their secrets from the depth of the Internet, using the very products of the corporations to denounce the corporations.  Does that sound redundant?  Well, it is- because that’s what it was.

After, I had little choice.  You see, it was a choice between joining some roving gang of lunatics who were more bent on partying and looting than setting things right or to cling to romantic notions of the past.  Those notions that things could be worked out through elected committees and officials, what you would call government.

That’s right!  I said the word of heresy, but it was the way in those times.  But after the apocalypse, there was none.  There were no more jobs to go to in the morning, no office, no rat race of cappuccinos and conferences.  I saw it coming and had enough stored for a bit, but like everyone soon I had start scavenging what was left in the stores, then through garbage- anywhere you could think of.  Oh, some of us tried to grow what we needed, but so many didn’t have the skills or the time, not to mention the seasons.   And those that did, most were victims of the scraggs that were stronger. There were no more police to call when someone invaded your home.  A few had guns, but the gangs had more.

Then came this rot called “The Restoration of Purity”.  I still haven’t figured out what the hell that was supposed to mean, but the end result was setting up regional Citadels for the “advancement of humanity”.  Everything outside of those citadels became a vast wasteland, ignored by the so-called rule of law.  It seems that all anyone ever cared about were those that lived in the dense population centers like New York, LA, or Chicago. In the early 21st century if you didn’t live in one of the megalopolises, we weren’t shit.

But in these citadels, it became unbearable.  They were centers of social and psychological experiments and conditioning.  Something worse than Huxley could ever envision, but you wouldn’t know about that, I am sure.

So I had heard tell of a place that I had kept in mind.  It was called ‘the Pipe Dream Club’.  Whispers only, really- but the word came around.  I thought if only I could make through the white walls of the Citadel, through the Wasteland (over the hills and through hills, however that fairy tale goes).  And that is that.  I am on the trail, my noble quest, the proverbial knight errant in search of his personal Holy Grail.  I am not a warrior by nature, but one must adapt in the Wasteland.  It’s lucky that most of the so called warriors out there are nothing more than drunken slobs with only the strength of arms to their side.  A guy like me, who has something between the ears more than cheese can do ok, if they’re careful.  Though I will admit, there’s a mighty number of them out there and I’ve spent many a’ night cowering in ditch, afraid of even breathing for fear of being heard by orc-ish brutes.  And the fires!  The skies would rage orange at night from all the burning.

I feel I am close though.  I cannot be sure, but I think yesterday I saw a girl jump behind a junk heap of old cars.  It was just a fleeting glance of a lithe form that disappeared behind those fossil fuel burning behemoths of the past.  Maybe it’s my imagination.  I hope not.  I am ready to leave the trials of the road behind me for good.  I may be chasing a dream, but then at least I’m chasing something.

– written by Coffeedude65