Set long after the flood, the blackout or the silence, when the running is over and the rebuilding has begun. Each prompt gives you a trade in a settlement, someone who needs your help or your vote, and a deadline.
You play a quartermaster who counts every tin. The safari park's giraffes wander the ring road now, and nobody has the heart to fence them in. A canal warden who decides which boats pass, someone you once stole a cart of food from, wants you to bargain for the settlement's stolen horses with the people at the ford. But the people at the ford didn't steal the horses; they bought them from someone in your own settlement. Before the meeting at dusk, the fields are ploughed by hand this spring while the real seller keeps a seat on the council. What do you do? Keep the mood frontier-bold.
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Most apocalypse stories are about the day it happened. These are about the tenth year: a market town trading from rowing boats tied along the old high street, a motorway service station with goats grazing the slip roads, a cathedral that now serves as hospital and school. The danger is real, but so is the community, and the question is usually what kind of place it will become.
Roles are trades the new world needs: a seed-keeper carrying the last packets of wheat, a mechanic who can make anything run on chip fat, a teacher with three books and forty pupils. Give your character something they're proud of and something they're short of.
The strongest hooks force a trade-off. Swap the last batteries for a box of antibiotics. Open the gates to the families camped outside, or don't. Restart the turbine at the weir before the generator runs dry. The hidden information tends to complicate the bargain: the vault holds enough seed for one valley, not three, and all three know it exists.
Council meetings make excellent scenes for a group. Lock a vote as the hook and “before the meeting at dusk” as the clock, then give each player a household with its own reason to vote.
Choose the tone with care. “Bleak with a stubborn hope” and “grief-worn but hopeful” suit a serious story; “muddy, cheerful and stubborn” or “resourceful and funny” suit a lighter one, perhaps with a trader's very loud goat stealing the scene. Either way, keep any violence off the page and let the hard choices carry the weight.
You play a seed-keeper carrying the last packets of wheat. A wind farm on the ridge powers one valley, and three valleys want it. A rival scavenger with a better map — whom you once stole a cart of food from — has found a sealed seed vault under the old agricultural college and needs help to open it. What you don't yet know: the vault holds enough seed for one valley, not three, and all three know it exists. By the next full moon, whoever leaves with the seed decides which valley eats next year, and you have to decide how far you'll go.
You are a bicycle courier on the relay route. No signal has crossed the hills since the silence, so the post goes by bicycle relay. A grandmother who alone knows how to make cheese asks you to deliver a wedding cake across forty miles of washed-out road, and they're someone you taught to read. The catch: the wedding joins two settlements that nearly went to war, and some on both sides want it to fail. By the end of the week, the cake doesn't arrive and the peace falls apart over the insult — so choose now.
You play a radio operator listening for anyone at all. A lighthouse holds the only working radio on the coast, and everyone has a reason to want it. A council leader twelve days into the job, someone you nursed through the fever, has picked up a new voice on the radio, a child reading out the weather every evening. But the child is alone in a bunker, reading from a script left by adults who went out and haven't come back. Before the radio goes quiet again, the child's batteries run out with nobody knowing where the bunker is. What do you do?
You are a quartermaster who counts every tin. The first harvest in five years is in, and the whole settlement is arguing over how to store it. A barber who hears everyone's business wants you to find out who has been leaving food on the doorsteps of the poorest houses, and they're someone you have traded with for years. The catch: the food comes from an old couple who've been halving their own rations for months to give it away. By the next market day, the council goes looking for a thief and the kindest people in town face the charge — so choose now.
You play a ferry pilot who knows the safe channels. Allotments ring the old football stadium, and the stands have become the town's granary. An orchard-keeper with the valley's last apple grafts — whom you patched up after the raid — asks you to deliver a wedding cake across forty miles of washed-out road. What you don't yet know: the wedding joins two settlements that nearly went to war, and some on both sides want it to fail. By the spring thaw, the cake doesn't arrive and the peace falls apart over the insult, and you have to decide how far you'll go. Keep the mood quiet and hard-won.
You are a former footballer who runs the stadium farm. Ten years after the flood, the market town trades from rowing boats tied along the old high street. A medic from a settlement that once turned you away asks you to help them get home to the island they left in the first year, and they're someone you voted against at the last meeting. The catch: the island has rebuilt without them, and their family has a new life they may not want disturbed. Before the tide turns, the last boat of the season sails with or without them aboard — so choose now. Keep the mood tender and practical.
You play a nurse with half a medicine chest. The safari park's giraffes wander the ring road now, and nobody has the heart to fence them in. A musician who plays for safe passage, someone you hid a cache of seeds with, wants you to go and look at the chimney smoke rising from a town everyone thought was empty. But the town is full of people hiding from your settlement, because of something it did in the first year. Before the river rises again, the scouts reach the town first and the old quarrel starts all over again. What do you do? Keep the mood lean and resourceful.
You play a quartermaster who counts every tin. The trains stopped years ago, but a hand-pumped trolley still carries messages along the line. A deserter from a much larger settlement — whom you owe a winter's worth of grain to — brings word of a radio voice offering places on a ship to anyone who can reach the coast. What you don't yet know: the ship is real, with room for only a dozen, and the voice has made the same offer to every settlement. By the time the beacons are lit, the ship sails with whoever reaches the quay first while the settlement splits over who should go, and you have to decide how far you'll go. Keep the mood bittersweet and rebuilding.
You are a cook feeding a settlement of two hundred. A caravan of solar-panelled carts crosses the dry downs, following the last reliable wells. A council rival who wants your seat needs you to fix the old water tower so nobody has to carry buckets up from the river, and they're someone you argue with at every council meeting. The catch: the only spare valve is in a settlement that owes yours nothing, and they know what it's worth. Before the post rider comes back through, the settlement keeps hauling water by hand or pays a price it can't afford — so choose now. Keep the mood gentle until it isn't.
You are a beekeeper whose hives keep the valley fed. A ferry still crosses the estuary twice a week, the only link between two towns that don't trust each other. A deserter from a much larger settlement asks you to read out the letters that came with the post rider, because nobody else can, and they're someone you have never quite forgiven. The catch: one letter is from a settlement everyone believed was lost, asking for a doctor the town can't spare. Before the water runs out, the settlement that wrote the letter is lost for real unless someone here agrees to go — so choose now. Keep the mood tender and practical.
You play a former estate agent who now maps the ruins. Allotments ring the old football stadium, and the stands have become the town's granary. A rival scavenger with a better map — whom you once stole a cart of food from — asks you to deliver a wedding cake across forty miles of washed-out road. What you don't yet know: the wedding joins two settlements that nearly went to war, and some on both sides want it to fail. By the time the geese fly south, the cake doesn't arrive and the peace falls apart over the insult, and you have to decide how far you'll go. Keep the mood tender and practical.
You are a wanderer coming home after leaving in the first year. The dam above the town is holding, just, and every month the town votes on whether to leave. A boat-owner who carries anyone for the right price offers you a working bicycle in exchange for one favour, to be named later, and they're someone you walked the long road south with. The catch: the favour is a vote on whether to let outsiders in, and their side is one vote short. Before the ferry stops for the season, you owe the favour as soon as you ride away, whatever it ends up costing your friends — so choose now. Keep the mood dusty and sunlit.
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