WHEN DISASTER STRIKES
INTRODUCTION
This is a story that is loosely based on Pinstar’s Apocalypse Challenge. Readers who are interested in the full challenge should go to:
http://s3ac.wikia.com/wiki/Sims_3_Apocalypse_Challenge_Wiki One innovation I’m using, which others might want to consider for their stories as a way to keep things going in the event of a game-breaking bug, is to go into CAS and save a copy of each heir as a young adult. The new heir can continue the challenge, incorporating the abilities that have been unlocked, but in a different town.
A new ability arises each time a member of the bloodline (heir, spouse of heir, or spare) achieves a lifetime wish. Each lifetime wish should be unique.
If all goes well, I'll write up rules for the project section, but this is basically a test story.
The rules for this can be found here:
Restoring SimilizationCHAPTER ONE -- Denim
Denim Bellew could not believe his eyes. He had gone off to France to interview someone for the Stary Community School newspaper. When he returned, everyone was gone. Everything was gone. The Twinbrook he had known had vanished, leaving a smoldering, smoky ruin in its place. It was the sort of thing that made you grow up fast. Denim had left Twinbrook as a teenager; he returned as a young adult.
“Better get inside, son,” a passing stranger suggested. “The zombie hordes start roaming the streets at sunset.”
Denim could only stare at the man in bewilderment. “What happened?” he asked. “Where did everybody go?”
The man looked at him in suspicion, so Denim explained about the trip to France.
“You won’t be doing any traveling for a long time,” said the man. “Well, it started with the meteor shower. Boom, boom, boom! It was like we hit the Perseids or something. One of the meteorites landed right in the middle of some top-secret project at the Science Lab, and the next thing we knew there was toxic sludge all over the place, and then people started turning into zombies. Everyone except the vampires, worse luck. Anyway, we shouldn’t stand here talking. I’ll take you to the Emergency Powers Committee. They’ll get you sorted.”
The EPC was located in City Hall, one of the few buildings, along with the Science Lab, the Hospital, the Office Building, the Police Station, and the Military Base, that was still standing. To Denim’s shock, the school was gone – that seemed even worse than his home having disappeared. His former middle school teacher, Mrs. Curious, was still alive, however, and seemed to be in charge of the committee. For once, her bossiness didn’t bother him.
“I’ve assigned you to the bunker over on Puddlewick Drive,” she said. “That’ll be $6500, please.”
“That’s highway robbery!” said Denim.
Mrs. Curious ignored his comment. “You can work wherever you like so long as it’s not a profession or self-employment or a part-time job. If you miss a day of work, you’ll automatically be fired and reassigned to some other necessary career. You may stay late if they ask you, and you may complete tasks for the people you work with. You may not take on challenges that require you to go anywhere other than work, however.
“When you leave here, you should pick up the books on gardening and any other how-to books you might want. You can also meet people and get their phone numbers.”
She handed Denim a 500-page tome:
When Disaster Strikes, A Guide to Re-establishing Similization.
“I think that covers everything, and besides, it’s getting late. Good luck. Oh, and sorry about your family. Hope was really a lovely lady, and your dad –“ Mrs. Curious sniffed loudly. “We could use a few like him, but the zombies took him the first day. You should be proud of him; he went down fighting.”
Embarrassed, Denim edged over to the table filled with books.
“I forgot!” Mrs. Curious called. “Under no circumstances should you sleep on the ground, plant anything in the ground, or eat any fish you might catch. In fact, you shouldn’t even try fishing until the Science Lab issues the all clear.”
Denim found a job at the police station and chatted with several young ladies before going home. To his dismay, they were very young ladies – children, really. Everyone else seemed to be either elderly or married. Oh well, maybe they had older sisters he could meet.
He got a ride home in one of the taxis that had been commandeered by the military. Home was an empty lot with a garbage can, a mailbox, and a stair railing poking up out of the ground.
“Just a minute, friend!”
The man who hailed him was rather sleazy looking – not someone Denim wanted to be friends with.
“It’ll cost you $3200 to head down those stairs,” he said.
“I already paid at City Hall,” Denim objected.
“That was your donation to the EPC,” said the man. “This is what you pay the Neighborhood Committee.”
“This is extortion,” said Denim. He reached for his cell phone.
The man laughed. “You can’t call the police with that. And trust me, you don’t want to get on the bad side of Mr. Racket by complaining. I’ll come by on Friday for your weekly payment.”
Denim had heard of the Racket family. According to his dad, they were responsible for at least half the crime in Twinbrook.
“I’m not going to be able to afford $3200 a week,” he said.
“We’re not asking that much,” said the man. “$1200 a week, until you build a sub-basement; then the fee doubles.”
“And what do I get in return?” asked Denim.
“A guarantee that your property won’t suffer from arson or burglary – at least not by anyone affiliated with the Llama Warehouse Corp. There’s a lot of free-lancers out there, but we’re trying to take care of that.”
“Isn’t that a job for the police?” Denim responded.
The man snorted. “Old Dudley’s not done a thing except suck on plasma fruit since the emergency. Bill and Shark are the ones you want to hang with.”
Denim handed over the money, but he didn’t feel good about it. He knew Dudley was the “good” member of the Racket family, but if he was a vampire now, that wasn’t very encouraging. Apparently, conditions in Twinbrook were worse than he had imagined.
The bunker was pretty uninspiring. Denim had a bed, a refrigerator, a wind-up radio, a bookcase, and a chess set. Mrs. Curious had told him he was lucky -- the restrictions on meals and bathing had been lifted. He could shower and eat as often as he wanted. He could buy any furniture that cost $500 or less, except for home decor items. He couldn't buy any of those except the cheapest mirror. He couldn't redecorate either.
After he had his bread and jam, he opened the manual that Mrs. Curious had given him. In capital letters, the first page read:
ANYTHING NOT EXPRESSLY PERMITTED IS FORBIDDEN.
