The Road So Far…

It started with a Revolution, as all necessary acts of progress do. Previously, The Hills enjoyed the docks' self-serving Solestros and Retrograde overseers bending to their favor. Pure Bloods took all of the dirty business they didn't want to sully their exotic rugs with to Dock's End, away from the watchful eyes of their nosy neighbors and seditious families. Everyone but the workers came out on top of that former arrangement. Then a lone Red Star, hungry for change and a place to call home for her cluster, ignited the first spark. It didn't take much. With the Have Nots of the docks eager to eat and shelter their loved ones, and a little forceful nudging from "unseen parties", the Solestros and Retrograde counted their losses and fled to the Hills. But the Haves didn't want them either, especially the unsightly Mutants. The Retrogrades who survived the hostile takeover took their chance back at the docks, begging forgiveness and blaming the Solestros. Those same innovative Elitariats, chastised by the Hills for the coup, came up with a plan to make themselves useful again. Their eyes were set on idyllic Isla Verdes and a new settlement that didn't depend on docks trade from the Wastes to meet the Pure Blood and newly-arrived Accensorites' needs. All they asked for was a small army of idle priests eager to prove their devotion to the Sponsor. The Solestros merged their own Light of Hedon beliefs with Telling Visionary Merchandising to recruit new island laborers. Fast-forward to Vista del Soul™,  a settlement suddenly formed by disturbing the peace between the Tribes of the Seasons priestess, her Natural One and Lascarian flock, and the Quiet Ones of the bluffs of Isla Verdes. 

Isla Verde, a lush paradise whose natives honored the balance of the seasons for growing, harvesting and hunting game, was suddenly the agricultural mecca of the Shattered Coast... but only for The Hills and The Light. Vista del Soul™ still needed the docks for other goods, and the newly elected Red Star dock supervisor needed more Devoted medicine, fast. A new deal was struck between The Host of Vista del Soul™, who introduced the rewards-based Hedon heresy of "Sinfluence" to the swayed island natives, and the docks. As long as The Light kept its "faith" and corrupting currency of The Hills to itself, the docks would function independent of outside influence. Done deal. Then calamity struck immediately after the agreement, as if on cue.

The Green Ghast, a shelled and shuddering ship of ancient origins covered in algae and shuffling zed, became active again. The docks rarely paid it any mind, its shadow too far afield to be of concern. Shamblers had always circled above deck in a parody of luxury. Nobody questioned why its horn blew multiple times a day like clockwork, and the workers timed their daily schedule to its bellows. Until the appearance of Vista del Soul™. Suddenly, the dead were no longer satisfied strolling the upper decks. While nobody ever ventured onto the ship to gauge its depths or its residents, there were now far more dead spewing forth from its bowels. As more and more emerged from within the ship it reached more than maximum occupancy and the standing-room-only dead spilled overboard at daily intervals… in time with the ship’s bellows. And with every horn blast, major earthquakes unrecorded since the Fall shook Wetside again. The ship's souls, falling overboard from the Green Ghast on schedule as if arriving at a Pre-Fall cruise liner destination, floated towards Wetside climbing anchor chains, seafood traps, and ancient concrete ramps in a grisly exodus to their next tourist spot. The Light, again as if on cue, began extolling the safety of Vista del Soul™ over the docks and poached more skilled Wetside laborers to its hallowed settlement. Dock's End became too unsafe to accept any shipments. Thus Vista del Soul™’s claim to fame of suffering no zed, no Raiders, and no reported deaths.

The new dock supervisor, seeing everything they worked for crashing down, began recruiting of her own. Unstable and Irons, previously disregarded as freaks or mere laborers, were given a seat at the table to discuss the future of Dock's End and its surrounding Wetside. But first, there was a small issue of the floating dead. In a master stroke of urban innovation, the Unstable of the Wastes were able to herd the newly encroaching zed through non-trafficked avenues and alleyways, which protected the workers and their families. And should the dead ever shift their single-minded focus passing through the docks, the Irons built fortifications that funneled and impaled the shamblers long enough to send for more help. But there was no local help coming. 

Wetside’s closest neighbor, Isla Gardena, had lost all access to the outside world when its Pre-Fall roads collapsed into the new bay during the Fall. While this was still best for all of their neighbors as the Raiders who devolved into existence at Isla Gardena were legion, the island’s Yorkers, Vegasians, and Accensorites suffered their own daily battles and need for aid. The rocky chasms surrounding Wetside also made arrival to the docks by land impossible. And Vista del Soul™ removed all welcome from any who didn't choose The Light, despite the dead’s constant exodus to Isla Verde. So the dock supervisor rolled up her sleeves and got to work.

A gradual homeostasis was found of closing up shop when the Green Ghast blew its horn, the resulting earthquakes struck, and when to get right back to coastal commerce. But the morgue that existed at the docks became overburdened in the war of attrition with the migrating dead and groaned under its new strain. So the same interested parties who nudged the workers revolution stepped in to silently collapse it before it became corrupted. This left the only morgue nearby aboard the Green Ghast, surrounded by its shambling inhabitants forever waiting to welcome new permanent passengers. To retrieve those newly reformed souls lucky enough to actually escape the zed onboard, Unstable ferrymen were recruited to patrol along the ship's outskirts at all times using scrap metal dinghies to bring them all back. It wasn't ideal, but the docks returned to supplying the Shattered Coast and the Wastes. And while the docks’ criminal element maintained its trafficking with The Hills and its currency, the supervisor picked her battles and chose to look the other way. So the black market thrived and maintained its hold.

Game One: A Rehearsal at the Docks

As more and more of the docks' protectors fell to the migratory dead, less and less escaped the Green Ghast's morgue after reconstituting. It was still far safer than creating a new morgue in their families’ midst that risked spewing out more zed than they already managed. A frantic call went out to any listening to aid the docks. Enter the survivors. It was a tough sell not paying in currency, but many outsiders had their reasons to not question a complementary signing bonus scrap metal shanty or free sustenance provided with hard work. And most had pasts they needed to atone for. When the docks actually delivered on its promise of purpose, privacy, and dignity, very few new arrivals along the Shattered Coast chose The Light. But Vista del Soul™’s surreal allure of instant wealth and guarantee of complete safety wasn't entirely devoid of draw...

…some new arrivals came from nothing, or wealth, and sought more than community handouts.

On the year anniversary of Reclamation Day, which celebrated the Revolution's end, the docks invited any willing to share in its story. Even The Light. Rumors of deaths at Vista del Soul™ had surfaced and the settlement had lost its untouchable luster. It was time for counter-recruitment. 

But on that day the dock supervisor was nowhere to be found.

Orders were abruptly given to Riff Raff, her Unstable second-in-command, to instruct the workers to celebrate by being with their families. This was unheard of since the Revolution, but the Red Star had earned the docks' respect and took her advice. The Light became acutely aware of its unchallenged opportunity to put Sinfluence on full display. The attending Pure Bloods, normally unwelcome at the docks, began peddling The Light's virtues and circulating The Hills' currency. The "Yacht Club", a shady bar with a not-so-subtle dig at the ruling class, became an actual yacht club of The Haves overnight. The illicit entrepreneurs of the docks, forced to stay in the shadows after the Revolution, began to act publicly with impunity again. Currency was back in play, and with it new opportunities for control of criminal enterprise. The newly-arrived Red Star refused the currency, turning away The Light's ostentatious overtures.

Had anybody who usually did business along the waterways been present, they would’ve informed the visitors that a morgue was just installed earlier that day. Something that the dock supervisor would have never allowed. To make matters worse, strange glowing blue mushrooms had sprung up in the new morgue, as well as on the shambing dead who wandered off-course. None knew the source of the fungus. Was it purposely propagated from some far off land? Was it a new species the Wastes had never seen? Why were spores on zed from the Green Ghast? When the new arrivals were beset upon by shamblers more robust than normal, especially those with Glow-Shrooms growing on their rotting flesh, there were not enough fighters to save everyone. A lone Retrograde, who raised a shield in defense of his new dwelling, was consumed alive in front of everyone present. And when he came out, not only did he have a new fervor in his dead eyes, he was unnaturally fatigued. The morgue had left him a parting gift.

Finally on that fateful night, when a permanently departed Red Star shambled idly into the warehouse, it seemed the result of yet another routine occupational hazard. And while a newly-arrived Red Star acted quickly in securing his sister-in-Strain before others dispatched her, the uneasy feeling that something sinister had just occurred at the docks sank in. The risk of death having been put on full display, “Welcome to  Vista del Soul™ flyers went up right away.

And The Light shown all the brighter for it.

Game Two: The Hills Have Eyes

Time passed. The ever-absent supervisor gave sparse directives to Riff Raff to maintain the docks status quo, leaving nobody in-the-know. Even the Unstable's facade of arrogance in advancing their leader's mission showed cracks of uncertainty. The Light had expanded its reach. The once well-oiled maritime machine of trade risked becoming almost nothing more than a rutting haven of Light of Hedon heretics plying Sinfluence, littering like tactless tourists. 

Drugs, solely allowed as a means of medicine after the workers’ revolution (and a well-known secret of underground trade), found their way into the local populace again. Without guidance, the docks’ residents lost hope and sought chemical solace. Discarded syringes dotted the wooden gangways and became part of the local landscape and the Yacht Club. Pure Bloods of The Hills, satisfied that The Light's middle-managers had secured its safety, flooded to Dock's End like the centuries before the Revolution. They brought with them showy Merchandising via Signal Boosts. These live promotional relics, previously known as "commercials" in the Pre-Fall, advertised products that The Hills found value in others producing for them. Just as their initial performances served to Isla Verdes before Vista del Soul™ dominated. The Hills reclaimed their old haunt, free from the opulence of their daily lives. At the docks, they could "slum it" in style. 

But not everyone let what transpired on Reclamation Day go unchallenged nor uninvestigated. With the flyers of Vista del Soul™ serving as flags claiming discovery and conquest came new counter-programming. Another faction, previously unwelcome at the docks, saw its chance and posted its own banners of resistance and recruitment. Still, commerce carried on as the supervisor had intended, having instilled lasting purpose despite her sudden disappearance. The new docks residents ingrained themselves into the old routine and helped pick up the slack.

Meanwhile, upon visiting the newly dead Red's home to redistribute her belongings, Riff Raff found a letter hastily written to her cluster. The industrious Red claimed in her letter that she saw... something she shouldn't have. And she was scared. A design had been hidden in the departed’s belongings detailing a hydroponics tower that would help Wetside break its agricultural dependence from the monopoly of Vista del Soul™. Having gone into hiding suddenly she left her implements scattered across the docks, a project never to be realized. If not for Martin the Red taking up her project, along with the aid of the rest of Dock's End, none would have been the wiser. Even worse, after another Signal Boost was hosted at the Yacht Club's "premiere eatery", it was clear that The Light and The Hills weren't going to leave soon. 

With the new temporary morgue glowing even brighter from faster Glow Shroom propagation, and the Retrograde who died last suffering from a new condition known as Spore Sickness, it became clear that more research was required. The infested morgue had, in fact, infected the visiting Rottie on his way through. In a much needed win for the docks, by dissecting and digging through a disturbingly full-grown Glow-Shroom, and with the proper application of Big Words, the disease was stopped in its tracks and the Retrograde was cured. But how does one treat Glow-Shroom infected morgues? Can a stabilized morgue ever be safely installed? By the time the supervisor made her return to discover all that had transpired, The Light's litter had been mostly removed and the hydroponics tower was built to...  near-exact specifications.

The returning supervisor, justifiably furious at the cultural cancer that had metastasized at Dock's End in her absence, sprang into the sudden action she’s widely known for. She rallied the new arrivals to defiantly remove The Hills’ red carpet, quite literally. But will The Light and The Hills accept that they're not “on the list” anymore? And why did a local Pure Blood have plans for a custom zeppelin with no hangars nearby? Tune in next month Viewing Audience!