ReGenesis

Transcript of briefing by Senator Angela Murray (Senior Lecturer in History in Dept. 7 Vault 3)

Present: Classified

Good Morning. I know you must have a million questions, and I'm going to try and answer them as best I can. I realise some of what I'm about to say will be familiar to you, but I'm going to try and be thorough, because I'm not particularly familiar with some of the details myself, for reasons that will become clear.

Since the 1970s the US Government maintained a series of branches researching into what would widely be considered the lunatic fringe. The branch you will be most familiar with was the one your mother worked in - Paranormal Science Investigation and Operations - PSIOps. The group found limited latent powers in a small number of humans. Your mother as you know was among the strongest that they uncovered. PSIOps was eventually disbanded when the Senate felt that the returns were not worth the costs.

Another well established program gained much of the redistributed funding. Evidence of alien visits to earth had been discovered and eventually research led to a way for small groups to travel beyond the solar system without the use of spaceships. This led to rapid advancement of technology, as alien artifacts were slowly backward engineered - the chamber you woke up in was a variant of something called a sarcophagus. Of course the risk of bringing back something dangerous was great. As such, the majority of research work was done and ensuing data held, in the underground base - secretly under Cheyenne Mountain, the public home of NORAD. After many close calls the units based there won safety for humanity from an alien threat, only to be destroyed by something much more insidious.

In 2006, one of the devices studied was found to be an ancient stasis field from before humanity evolved. When the field was broken into, something came out. It wasn't noticed at first, but slowly the base was being transformed. Initial studies revealed that the device had contained a nano-technological terraforming device. While many attempts were made to stop the ravages of the device, a failsafe nuclear weapon was detonated to sterilize the area. It destroyed the majority of the gains made but failed to stop the nano-devices.

Due to flashes of possible telepathic contact between the devices and the few survivors, several PSIOps agents were reactivated, including your mother. While attempts were made to halt the advance of the alien environment and save the earth politicians conspired to destroy it. Refusing to lose face even after such a massive catastrophe, the administration of the time blamed it on terrorists. Since NORAD had also been destroyed, they gained the support of NATO, an organization consisting of the majority of the worlds conventional military forces.

About to be destroyed for a bombing they had no knowledge of (while publicly claiming the responsibility for) the terrorists did something unexpected. They detonated a Nuclear weapon no one knew they had. The ancient city of London was all but obliterated, along with the British government while western Europe was covered in fallout. Automated retaliatory strikes followed, spreading the conflict. Battle lines were drawn and a rapid exchange of nuclear missiles only stopped when the worlds’ intelligence organizations found themselves, thanks to decades of paranoia the only branch of government still intact and in contact.

Ending the war, intelligence communities around the world secreted their countries finest underground to weather the expected ecological collapse of nuclear winter. Department Seven, the US's Paranormal Intelligence branch, hidden from the eyes of the world had fared better than most - but also had more challenges. While helping other agencies stock vaults, it also helped the remaining PSIOps agents - your mother among them - try and reason with the approaching wave of alien-ness.

The end of the threat came in an unexpected way. Your mother became infected with the nano-devices, forming a stronger link than any had managed previously - since the devices were now numerous enough to form a rudimentary intelligence. Since she had been involved with the interstellar program they were able to learn from her that the alien masters they once served no longer had a use for planets, indeed, for them. Unable to stop the spread of the nano-devices that comprise its body, the now joint being forged a new purpose, while unable to do anything about the radioactivity, or nuclear winter, she/they/it would alter as many species as possible to allow them to survive the coming darkness. Bidding us to remain in our vaults for a hundred years, we were to preserve as much knowledge as possible, while she/they/it would concentrate on preserving life.

As part of that process, nonessential personnel with valuable skills were sealed in what became known as the RIP Vans - a play on the story of Rip Van Winkle who slept for twenty years, and referring to the fact that the sleepers appear to be Resting In Peace. Most of the RIP Van residents have since been revived, keeping our grasp on history strong while providing useful skills that could not have been preserved in a small community.

While this has been going on, surface civilization has collapsed into barbarism, although thanks to the now pandemic nano-devices more life survived than anyone expected. Also unexpected - though in retrospect it shouldn't have been given how this all started - was the spread of nano-devices into the vaults, and their effects. The remaining PSIOps agents and their descendants are able to command limited portions of what is now known as the nano-field to perform seemingly miraculous feats. While the Department 7 vaults, as the collective home of the PSIOps research division has had an advantage, the fierce competition for resources topside, in combination with the shorter generation length means that progress among the Surfacers - mutated and/or changed humans - has been quick to catch up.

It is now ten years since the date your mother gave us to return to the surface. We have established a small fort topside, from which to send mebers of the recon service - known as Divers - stupid ancient tradition - Department 7 Vault 3 Reconnaissance Service - D7V3RS, and establish radio contact with other vaults, both in former US territory and those maintained by other organizations still in existence. The Earth is changed beyond all recognition. Knowledge of alien life and technology, coupled with a human imagination has led to a proliferation of life. Intense competition and the twisting effect of high levels of background radiation have conspired to make the majority of this life dangerous, powerful, or both. Not forgetting the occasional human or other sentient who has found a cache of long forgotten alien technology.

Something of a balance exists between those who have maintained the knowledge of the past, and those who possess the power and the knowledge to survive in the present. That balance has been shifting. A voice has been heard on all frequencies. It claims to be the entity formed by the merging of your mother with the now omnipresent nano-field - such a being, is, I am told, indistinguishable from a god on Earth in its knowledge and its ability to reshape matter on a whim. It claims to have reached a turning point. It know has the knowledge and the power to transmute matter and is unsure what to do with the ability - it offers the ability to influence a being who could reshape the world. Guide ReGenesis.

It invites delegates from all of the sentient power groups, to the place where it was formed - Boulder, Colorado - at the night of the seventh full moon from now. We were hoping to send you with a full platoon of guards to try and remind what remains of your mother of her humanity. However that will not be possible. It seems that the nearby Mutant Township, with who we have been skirmishing for some time also got the message. Not wishing us to attend the meeting - for in a world of monsters, the monstrous have a distinct advantage over the merely human - they have engaged us in almost constant battle since then, tying up a considerable amount of resources. With what resources the quartermaster can spare, you will be leaving in two days with a combined guard and scout from a secluded rear exit. We hope that where a platoon would barely be enough to force a way through, a small stealthy group will suffice. If we can we will send reinforcements after you, while I personally encourage you to seek allies en route - an extra gun arm may well be worth a weeks side trek to a vault.

Good luck and Godspeed.

Ulsurlan d'Medani - a pen picture

Thanks for the drink, coulda sworn it was my round but what the hell. Where was I? Oh yeah, you were asking why a Dragonmarked1 “scion” of House Medani2 is hiring themselves out as a freelance inquisitive3. Well it all started years ago, back in my late teens I started sneaking out of the compound. I was always a pretty athletic kid, and it wasn’t much of a challenge. Course I soon figured out I needed some bodies to camouflage me –its hard to hide from House Medani2. That meant hanging out in some of the lower markets in some of my older clothes – after a bit of petty theft I managed to get in with one of the gangs of street kids. Things trundled on for a while, I’d sneak out as often as I could and hang out with Titch – an accomplished little halfling4 thief – and the others.

We used to go to the markets for the necessities of life – never paid for of course – and then explore the city. I still know the city better than most of the members of my house – I’ve had my hair crisped by the heat of lava in the cogs5 and been chased out of private gardens in Skyway6. Street kids back then were accepted as part of the furniture, a few of the more decent clerics would feed’em from time to time, various groups would give them a few coppers to run errands or watch people. They weren’t expected to belong to anybody, they were just everywhere, a part of the city. Not only that but they knew more of the city than anyone else – and loved it more. This city at its best is as majestic as any mountain range or forest. The sun breaking through the towers to illuminate the street to night creatures stalking the cities bowels at midday – I love this city.

O’course this was before those damn 7 turned up. I never did correctly know the politics around it – though I’ve no doubt they were there. That soon led things to change. The first clashes were pretty minor, but they had consequences. From then on people without affiliations who had to live in the lower wards became prey pure and simple. Even gangs of street kids started to clash with each other. Titch’s crew had always been small enough to get by with a coin here and a jest there. No longer. After a few minor scraps they started dispersing – joining one group or another. One of the crew freaked the others out – turns out he was a changeling,8 ended up joining the Tyrants9. I never did get to find out what happened to the others, ‘cause my family stopped me going out. Turns out they’d known all along – decided if they didn’t let me sneak out I’d disappear – not only that they decided it was good training.

I never forgave them for that, manipulating me like that. S’one thing I hate, being manipulated. Manipulators in general really, people who’re willing to sit behind a desk a hundred leagues away and send a coded message to order someone to convince someone else to kill someone. See, I learnt more about that after my wanderings were stopped, all those power groups that use Sharn10 as their battlefield, not caring about the little people that get squashed.

You’re starting to look a little nervous friend. Don’t worry I won’t start talking politics. I was just going to explain the final bit – how I came to be here. I was telling you how I was rather upset at my family; well half elves11 can afford to be a bit more patient than humans. After I completed my education, I was all prepared to tell my father to take his precious House Honour and stick it somewhere unpleasant, but he took the wind right of my sails. Gave me the lease agreement for an office in the middle wards and told me to go out and help people, it was obviously what I wanted to do. Said the House’d be there for me if I got into serious trouble, and may approach me for help every now and again.

So that’s what I’ve been doing since then. Made a few enemies – most recently in digging out a few members of the Watch that had gone really bad, of course if you’re lucky for each enemy you make a friend. One of my friends is Officer Mithran – if you look behind you you’ll see he’s just walked in. S’nice to see he got my message, there are still a few good street kids after all, the paralytic in your drink seems to be working as well. Just so you don’t think I’ve been manipulating you – since I did say I hated manipulators – this is what we call distraction, since it was me talking to you, rather than me getting someone else to do it. It’s been a pleasure talking your ear off, but I doubt I’ll see you again, and if I do, I’ll take great pleasure in claiming the bounty for bringing returnees from exile to justice.

Officer Mithran, he’s all yours.

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I'm hoping to start playing in a new D&D campaign soon, in the new Eberron Campaign Setting. This is what I wrote to illustrate the character, both to myself and the DM. The plan was to cover in as little space as possible, his feeling towards various groups, his lifestyle and how he got where he was. There is however a fair amount of setting specific terminology...

1. Mystical birthmarks borne by a small percentage of the members of 12 families that confer limited magical ability and an increase in rights and responsilities within that house

2. One of the 12 Dragonmarked Houses, specialising in personal protection

3. Eberron for private detective/investigator/journalist

4. D&D for hobbit. They didn't want to get sued for calling small, hairy footed, cheerful people hobbits

5. The bowels of the city. An area of heavy industry using lava flows as a heat source

6. The very highest level of the city. Approriately owned by the very highest in local society

7. A gap for the name of one of the organised crime groups in the city - I don't have the book with me

8. A race of mixed descent who can change their appearance at will

9. An organised crime group run by and for those who can change their shape

10. The name of the city all this is set in

11. Crosses between elves and humans. Now a true breeding race

Gods and Zeroes

To be continued, but too good a title not to record somewhere. Came up in a conversation about maths/religion/deserts.

The perils of concentrated thought

Our hero walks towards a bridge, hunched against the rain, obviously thinking hard. Slowly, we fall seemingly inside his head finally coming to rest in a dark space, lit by a single spotlight.

Illuminated in the light is our heroes face, blindfolded tightly.
"They haven't called. We haven't spoken to them in ages. They know where we are, they have free calls when we don't. Why haven't they called me, Mr Fluffy?"
Another spotlight comes on, illuminating a sock, that could, when on a hand, be mistaken by small children and the deranged, as a rabbit.
"Mr Fluffy?" The voice is now accelerating from melancholy to hysteria.
"Mr Fluffy?" The voice is now a shriek which would be capable of shredding nerves if any existed here.
"Mr Fluffy!" The figure swoops unerringly on the rather sad seeming sock.
The voice wails into the darkness "He's dead, my one steadfast loyal friend" and hands reach out to provide solace to the departed.
After the blindfold is dashed away the sorrow visibly evaporates. "You were a sock?" The voice, careering over the emotional scale, now comes to rest at incredulous.
"You never told me you were a sock" The voice now belongs to someone obviously repressing tears.
"Its not that I've got anything against socks you understand. It just would have been polite to say" Just as quickly the voice now oozes contriteness.

We return to our hero, just in time to see him throw himself back from the steep embankment next to the bridge. Picking himself up, we see a flicker of thought cross his face before he gets out his phone and dials.
"Hi, sorry I've not called for so long. You'll never guess what I just did..."