Walmart Apocalypse
No one knows what year it is. The calendars have all been stuck on 2032 for as long as anyone can remember - probably a virus.
This much is certain; whenever a business fell, Wal-Mart was there to replace them. The Detroit auto industry was first, replaced with WalMotor. Then came Walton Electronics. Wal-Volt power. The Wal Apartments. Wal State University. Somewhere amid all that, the governments of earth began to fall - no one really noticed. The Wal was everywhere by then. The Wal was everything.
400 feet in the air, the white girders of the ceiling gleam above. A flicker of movement catches your eye - one of the topdwellers. You've never understood what they see in living up there - oh, sure, there's less stockers, but it makes it hell to make supply runs. You've got your Rascal out, hotwired, of course, with the half-back cart and the locator chip fried, and you're on the way to the electronics department. You just hope that none of the other departments have declared Sport on them this week - you don't think you could handle that. Oh, sure, you've got your own Sporting good at your side - a nice little sawed-off model. But you're low on ammo, and you just don't have the barter for more right now - not since the latest Nevergrow incursion.
That's when you hear the telltale beeping behind you. Gunning the engine, you tear off into the distance, as the monolith with the smiley face roars after you.
>SHOPLIFTER. ACQUIRE. RESTRAIN. ACQUIRE. RESTRAIN.
Thus begins Walmart Apocalypse, a homebrew setting that got started when an Anon asked about a homebrew they had heard of called Walmart Apocalypse.
Not knowing anything about the setting except for an Anon's brief description, /tg/ decided to make it's own version. Awesome ensued.
After the collapse of civilization only giant stores are left, now sometimes the size of small countries, who's spread heralded the fall and where the survivors scavenge even now, hiding from the heavily armed Stocker robots and the insane Cults of the Smiling Face.
COMMON TERMS Cult/Temple/Path of the Smiling Face/One - cults that worship Wal-Mart, and Management. The smiley is seen as their holy icon; messing with stockers/greeters/etc is a grave sin to their faiths. They're effectively all the same, but claim dogmatic differences that divide them. Sport - War. The original word has been forgotten, and since "sporting goods" are designed to kill things... Sporting good - Gun. Occasionally used to refer to blades or armor, but rarely. Department - Loosely refers to the actual departments; for practical purposes refers to the group of people that live in said department. Unstocked - A "blind spot" for stockers. These are few and far between, and used for housing. Shrine of Commerce - One of the old registers in the Auto, Pharmacy, Elec, and Garden zones. Useless (since no one has any money), but kept by the CoSF/SO/whatever. Stockers - 15-foot tall giant machines of death and restocking. Greeters - Lobotomized cyborgs that do menial work for the stockers. Ostensibly they greet customers. Customers - No one. No one has money, so there are no customers. The Stockers/etc do not realize this, and never will. Nevergrow - Munchkins who run the toy department. Vicious, but playful... in the same way that Jigsaw is playful. Topdwellers - Ninja-monkey folk who live in the rafters. Some have made working gliders for transit. Most stick to grappling hook travel. The Stockroom - Where the stuff comes from. It's known that the stockroom is supplied by mechanized trains that carry goods from distant farms and factories, but any attempt at boarding them has been disastrous. The Stockroom is truly Employees Only. The Lounge - Home to Greeters when they aren't "on duty" (read: sleeping). A cramped, disease-infested barracks.
Origin thread here.