CULTS, CUISINE, AND THE DATING SCENE OF THE APOCALYPSE

ABOUT

ABOUT

F Y S H

I get it, man, the apocalypse wasn’t for everyone.

But it sure was for me.

My name’s Fysh – you know, like ‘fish’, for of the scales and all, but then I went and stuck a ‘y’ up in there cause there’s only one thing you need to have at the end of the world, and that’s a cool name.

I know I had a real name sometime before sulfuric fire rain became just a little lame, and the novelty of flowers producing radiation instead of oxygen was lost; but breathing in all those toxic sulfides really scrambled up my hippocampus, so when I say the apocalypse gave me a chance to start anew, I’m not speaking in inspirational metaphors.

I do remember how my mom felt about the Armageddon, though.

She believed it was our individual responsibility to stop the apocalypse – I mean, most people did back then, it was weird not to agree that if we lived by a perfect set of rules we could avoid the absolute demise of society.

But civilization hit it’s expiry date all the same.

The post-apocalyptic world we’re rollin’ with these days isn’t all that bad! 
You’re in a great place now, cause the city of Sporyn is FANTASTIC!
Any sentient creature left survived with crazy mutations, and crazier ideas about how we should spend time now that time isn’t a concept to be abided.
The second we realized our old misguide convictions were lost, we went out and made new ones! We’ve got cults to join and inane events to fight about; the Nihilist’s have the best parties, the Crafters’ have built cafes into sinkholes, and the Grafts’ are terrifying; but I won’t be the one to tell you what to do with whatever amount of life we have left, no one will.

The world has ended.

What are you up to now?


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