BleakerMUCK: Theme

What's the MUCK about?


Humanity has survived into the year 2274, but only barely. In a time drifted long past, lost in the ashes of passing generations the grand doom of mankind was played out. Be it war, plague or divine intervention itself there is no doubt that all that remained of life on Earth clung to what they could to overcome what befell them. Now, like rats from tunnels more than the rebirth of a phoenix, mankind has re-emerged.

In the blasted wastelands that make up what was once North America there is but one sanctuary from the almost unnatural elements and inhospitable surroundings. Where the city of Seattle once stood, and where the ruins of its fall lay strewn about the people have gradually made a place that bears the name still that it received when it was but a camp run by criminals and charismatic madmen. As so were their chances of survival as man poured from their secure but resourceless bunkers, so too was their future in the camp bleak. So the camp, and then the city became known as Bleaker.

Bleaker has grown from its dark beginnings but little has changed and no lessons of the past have been learned. Though it thrives, it does so on the back oppression and injustice, teetering on its own self-inflicted oblivion as an enigmatic individual reigns supreme with an uneven hand closed in an iron gauntlet. This ruler, so called "Mr. Zero", is an unseen individual, but his influence is felt with his army of mercenaries and criminals (though one would be hard pressed to tell the difference) dubbed "Zero Tolerance" and feared by all, even its own members. Paid in flesh and gold, blood and treasure, and granted free reign to enforce his law, only those of suitable influence can even hope of getting any vestige of true justice from Zero Tolerance, and those that earn their ire are all but dead men walking.

Even then, with such an imbalanced protection the loss of life is but the second worst fate that can befall the denizens of the city. To lose one's freedom, one's self; here lies the true horror of what is cruelly dubbed 'sanctuary'. In Bleaker human trade is rife and profitable, as many of the survivors who have bloodily carved themselves a comparatively greater fortune than those beneath them enjoy using and breaking slaves, as though the act itself grants their minds a moment of superiority that removes them from the hellish city they are forced to rely in.

To those neither rich enough, nor with enough friends to ensure their safety, the lowest section of Bleaker is where the word 'eke' does not describe the manner in which those dubbed the 'lower class' make a living. Amongst the unimportant and poor there are no rules for survival, and throughout the city's depths the barely human stalk, and things still more horrible in mind and form are granted a glorious chance to enact their darkest and most depraved fantasy. In Bleaker, as the city grows and its tower rises towards the sky, so too does its belly widen and the sunless depths become sprawling.

BleakerMUCK is a city where the crudest of means are melded with the great remnants of sophisticated technologies in a dystopic future. The aftershocks of mankind's Apocalypse are still rumbling hundreds of years after the fall first occurred, a place where those more machine than man rub shoulders with the animalistic and superstitious. Some in Bleaker seek its downfall, others to raise it above its dread existence, and most to preserve a status quo. Killers, pleasure-seekers and pleasure-givers, hired guns and gumshoes, criminals both crude and sophisticated, salesmen of both goods and those that acquire or (in the case of slavery) hunt them, and those that hunt for the sake of it. Almost anything is a possible entity to exist in this MUCK, a possible fit is always possible. A possible survivor may be marginally more difficult.

Watch your back in Bleaker, a hundred eyes are doing so at any one time.




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