Greater Utah

Greater Utah

The Historic State Flag of Utah (1913-2024)

The red stones and salt white deserts of Utah. Once known for its canyons, arches and wide-open salt flats, Utah is among the few active front-lines standing against the spread of the Flesh. Cancerous growths sprout from sand and stone where meteors fall, streaks of fire that stain the natural splendor with an unrelenting infestation.. but a lack of organic matter stymies the spread. The heat bears down on the invading meat just as viciously as any human’s.

Before the world fell silent, the local CDI correctly identified the mountainous terrain as a likely holdout against the ongoing spread of the Flesh and carved its mark. What began as land deals with the county government became a proving ground for several experimental bunkers- an attempt to secure humanity’s future under the ‘protection’ of the burning sun. Sealed beneath rock and steel, kept alive by what self-sufficient systems could be procured on such short notice, the bunkers held.. for a time.

The skies above Utah never found their rest. Day by day, night by night, meteors burn up as they fly overhead. Helicopters manned by the Whyte-Shioda Corporation are commonplace, ferrying soldiers and technicians to carve out the precious cores of the fallen rocks- and deliver aid to the struggling survivors sheltered in the canyons below.

Whether the high canyon walls and scorching heat will shelter the remnants of humanity forever remains to be seen.

The Civil Defense Initiative and Bunkers

The Civil Defense Initiative was announced in the aftermath of the Great Scare. A desperate attempt to reignite Cold War era defense programs in event of a nuclear strike - now finding purpose from a different kind of threat. Should a series of strikes truly catastrophic occur, the population would need safety.

Federal funds were earmarked for the program, but it was hampered by governmental instability. The responsibility to carve bunkers out of rock or retrofit existing structures into civil defense shelters was pushed down to state governments, county boards, and even private contractors.

Shoddy craftsmanship dogged them. Important subsystems had gone years unmaintained. Not all of them were even capable of sealing. But for a select few (and a couple lottery winners), the Civil Defense Initiative's bunkers are the only reason they're alive.

The Utah Bunker

Built late into the Collapse under the Civil Defense Initiative, the bunker is one of several attempts to sustain a human population underground, sealing away a hundred or so chosen souls away from the chaos above.

Originally a cold-war era nuclear shelter for the local townships, the bunker was carved directly into the canyon wall. Construction was rushed, regulations bent or ignored, and the rusted foundation of long-forgotten nuclear defense programs meant the bunker inherited many of its aging problems. Water recyclers clogged, and filters degraded. Generators burned out, and fume vents backed up. Oxygen scrubbers relied on finite supplies of filters, impossible to replace as time marched on. America no longer had the industry, materials, or will to build a vault that could last centuries, leaving it a patchwork project of desperation.

The bunkers weren’t intended to be humanity’s new home- they were designed as lifeboats. A pause on extinction.

When the Flesh swept across the globe, surviving on the surface wasn’t impossible, but it was far from preferable. Most of the occupants of the bunkers were chosen for their skills, their status, or their value to society- priority was given to officials, government workers, and technicians tied to vital infrastructure. To the CDI, survival wasn’t intended to be democratic, but strategic. In the face of slow-rolling unrest threatening to unseat its control over the rapidly deteriorating surface, the Initiative was eventually forced to open additional slots. To distribute them, a lottery. For a lucky few in 2002, survival came not in the form of merit or status but sheer chance.

Over the years, the state of the outside world was reduced to myth. No radio signals, no knocks at the door, nothing but the groan of machinery and life support systems. The survival of the CDI, the spread of the Flesh, even the fate of humanity itself became increasingly unclear as the years ticked on.

Life Inside the Bunker

The closing of the doors in early `02 marked not salvation for those inside, but a new form of living.

Brochures passed out as the doors closed spoke of safety, food, and shelter. At least until the surface cooled and the skies cleared up. Those chosen by the Civil Defense Initiative - doctors, engineers, technicians and the like, or even those simply lucky enough to be chosen by the lottery - were stepping into a world where they may never see the sun again.

Artificial lights and the hum of recirculated oxygen. The walls were clean, and the food at times was bland. A consistent need to disinfect the small world they now lived in left a reoccurring smell throughout the communal areas of the bunker. Every day followed some form of structure, broken up by the difference in foods or people you saw.

Weeks turned into months. A Warden put in place by the CDI alongside a small contingency of security - drafted from local National Guard and Sheriff applicants - kept the bunker at peace with itself. But the consistent reassurance that it was only a temporary relocation underground did not inspire confidence in many.

Rumors would eventually begin to spread that outside radio communications had shut down entirely. In a form of protest, some of the inhabitants staged a sit-in protest in the communal area. An event that went on for days and saw the bunker brought to the brink of revolt. When the riot was eventually subdued, the protest's leaders were exiled to the outside world. At the time, this was a new event, and it struck fear into many. For the outside world was now unknown, and it may as well have been alien - surely this was a death sentence.

By year two maintenance crews were stretched thin, both in manpower and supplies. Duct tape and spit was less of a phrase and more of a way of life in repairs. Arguments erupted over anything - rationing, oxygen, water, recreation. The Warden became increasingly authoritarian - which led to even more exiles. In time, many renewed their love of faith, be it God Almighty or the Sun they hadn't seen in years. everyone needed something to believe in during a time of crisis.

By the final year, year three, entire corridors of the bunker were be cut off due to maintenance failures. Only a quarter of the bunker remains operational to this day. A need to conserve air would only worsen over time. In a desperate bid to avoid accountability, Warden Byers would ultimately take his own life.

Failing hydroponics, flickering lights, and the breakdown of authority saw the ill situation of the bunker spiral further out of control.

Will the inhabitants retake control of the situation? Or let it degrade further into the ground?

Whatever happens, is up to them.

The Burnt Miles

The ozone, torn apart by years of constant meteor strikes, is no barrier to the sun here. Its unending heat beats down on the parched ground. Temperatures can soar to 120F and higher - further than most thermometers can measure.

That heat wears down the Flesh just as much as any other living being. Its unending push forward is slowed to a crawl. But the monstrous mass won't be stopped. Untold numbers of its spawn trudge forth to stake its claim in the dunes.

Meteor strikes are just as common a sighting as corporate helicopters. Often the former precedes the latter, but many who wander the wastes have been privy to a fly-by from a bird carrying potentially life-saving aid.

The few communities eking out an existence in this inhospitable area cluster around oases and rivers whose banks slowly dwindle year after year. Most every other town is inhabited only by sand and ghosts.

Rare as it may be, life still finds a way to thrive in the Utah desert.

Life In the Burnt Miles

The bunkers' closure in early 2002 forced a choice on those not skilled enough to be selected or lucky enough to win the lottery - stay in Utah and brave the heat, or flee to cooler temperatures. Most chose the latter.

Those who ran found little respite. News of a military coup only a month after the bunkers closed preceded the near-total collapse of governmental power. Urban areas were marked by constant pandemonium. Gangs rose to power as quickly as they fell out, leaving the average civilian uncertain over who controlled their block each day. Rural areas were safer for a time - but sooner or later the Flesh would consume them. Cities too fell beneath its unending expansion. Refugees returned to the ever-hotter deserts.

Natural desert oases were the saving grace for many groups that gathered together in the years that followed. With traditional supply lines cut, they were one of the only sources of drinkable water. Nomadic groups and ramshackle towns alike stuck nearby them whenever possible. Other areas offered shelter - caves, canyons, motorway tunnels - but water, which took on a critical importance as the temperatures rose.

Nomads, bandits, townsfolk - all were bound by an eternal struggle against the sun. The ozone barrier was irreparably breached by the meteor streaks, ensuring that temperatures kept rising and sunburns afflicted any who braved the outside while the sun was at its peak. Water was in high demand and short supply. Lives were taken for only a few bottles.

Life isn't easy in the scorching Utah wastes. But it always finds a way.

Penance

The original town had no name - less than a hundred souls called it home. The name given to the shanty town that sprung from the podunk town came from the church's signboard. Time had plucked away all the words but one, and it fit well enough.

Penance is a scrap-built frontier town at the base of the canyon. The town is built around a sealed off shelter harboring a handful of souls who sought shelter years before. The natural canyon faces that surround Penance shelter it from storms and raiders alike, and an oasis blesses the town with only an hour's walk to fresh water.

Its population has waxed and waned over the years.