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On your mark… get set… GO YOU BASTARDS!! GO!!


Drop the hammer, let’s do this.

All I ever did as a kid was take things apart. Speak and Spells, watches, toasters, Ford Fairlanes. It got so my parents started asking me if I could just watch the front of the television like any other kid. It’s not my fault I found things a lot more interesting under the hood. But yessiree, after that Doctorate in Physics from MIT, top of the class, seventeen papers under my belt, I thought I had found my place in life. Like Top Gun you pretty much get to pick where you want to go and I always thought it would be pretty sweet to see Colorado, nice skiing, decent sushi, fine people. Cheyenne Mountain was also working on some of the hottest shit around. Yeah, I couldn’t chat about it at the bar, but they wouldn’t have believed me anyway.

Long story short, I was in the right place when the atoms fell from the sky: not at work. Cheyenne Mountain was Cheyenne Crater within minutes, hell, that place got hit so hard it woke up in the 1820’s. But that didn’t matter to me when I had my '65 Shelby Cobra with a few modifications already under the hood. I swung out for the hinterlands for a few years before finally making my way out to the coast.

Done a few little favors along the way for a few powerful people. Had my share of fuckups too, not gonna lie. But when zombies are knocking at your door, hell dogs are sniffing at your trail, and the cyber scorpions are coming out of their caves, you could do a lot worse than to hear the 427 rolling up to get your ass out of the sling.

I’m right back where I started, taking things apart. Mostly by .50 cal Browning these days. Gets a little hot (been meaning to put some water cooling on that thing…) and sometimes ammo gets scarce, but when you’re scavenging a B-17, well, you’re a damn fool if you don’t take a few things like that home with you to show off to your friends.

I hear there’s a new plan to get off this rock though. Seems like I’ve caused enough trouble around here, might as well raise some hell and solve some problems on another planet or two. Be seeing you around, keep your rear view empty and the road ahead clear.

user: Steampunk Banana
character: Desmond Baltar
vehicle: 1965 Shelby Cobra, hunter green with white stripes
class: Scout of extraordinary panache
favorite possessions: “Wrenches. Gotta’ have my wrenches. And where’s my frickin’ rope? No point going on any trip without rope.”


|                                               | |\
|           JUNIOR'S JOURNAL                    | ||
|              ENTRY #1                         |,""---:___
|                                               ||==  | .-.|
|                                               ||==  | '-'-----.
|_______________________________________________||    |~  |   -(|
   |_____________________________/<  _...==...____|   |   | ___ |
         \\ .-.  .-. //       \|  \//.-.  .-.\\ --------"-"/.-.\_]
          ( o )( o )                ( o )( o )"""""""""""==( o )
           '-'  '-'                  '-'  '-'               '-'

THIS is Junior Burton in the Pepperoni Eggspress and I’m talking to whoever’s listening out there.

You just listen to ole Junior and take his advice on a dark and stormy night, alright? When some wild-eyed-8-foot-tall mutant grabs your neck and taps the back of your favourite head up against the barroom wall and looks you crooked in the eye and he asks you if you’ve paid your dues?

Well, you just stare that big sucker right back in the eye and remember what old Paw Burton used to say at a time like that.

“Have you paid your dues, Junior?”

“Yes sir, the $HITCOIN is in the mail.”

Oh yeah well you see I’m not saying that I’ve been everywhere and done everything. But I do know it’s a pretty amazing planet that we’re living on, or used to be, and a man must be some kinda fool to think we’re all alone in this badass universe.

That’s why ole Junior has a tip for you. I’m privy to a sweet hauling gig that might, if we’re lucky, just might get us off this damn blasted rock and on the great space highway to some greener pasture.

But to earn that information you’ve gotta have a good hauler or a great wrench. Sure we’ll need scoots and sure we’ll need road warriors, but I’ll leave that recruitin’ to someone more qualified. If that’s you, and you’ve got to moxie to meet me at Dead Weir’s Bar tomorrow night, you’re almost there. But, you’ve got to have the luck to beat me at cards. Lose at cards and well, I’ll be looking forward to collecting 1,148 slices of your pepperoni.

Alright, the oven timer’s gone off so I’ve got to eat me this slice now if I’m to keep on pace. If you’re driving in this storm, remember what I used to say to my last wife, “Honey, I never drive faster than I can eat. Besides that, it’s all in the reflexes.”

user: funruly
character: Jack Burton Jr. aka “Junior”
vehicle: 1975 Freightliner FLC - conventional tractor with sleeper cab.
class: Mule
favorite possessions: Dad’s boot knife, this here trucker hat, and a 6-pack of Zima I’ve been keeping in the cab for a special occasion.


Sir Gonville De’Ath, 9th Baronet of Perranuthnoe, at your service. You may be wondering what a minor British aristocrat is doing out here, in the midst of all this. Well, the full story will doubtless come out in the fullness of time, but for now I’ll just give you the condensed version.

Now, the 8th Baronet may not have been much of a father figure to me, packing me off, as he did, to Repton as soon as he could after mother died, (and from there up to Cambridge, for a brief, but memorable period) but he ran the estate well enough, and made enough profit to indulge his hobby of collecting classic cars. That was the only way we connected, in those rare times when I was out of school and he wasn’t away on business. We’d take one of the old cars out on our private track, and he’d teach me how to drive it.

After he passed , having little interest in taking over the family firm, I sold up and shipped out (car collection in tow) to Southern California - La Jolla, to be precise, where (so I’m told) my rakish good looks and charming accent brought me plenty of welcome attention. Until the zombies.

You all know what happened then, so I won’t dwell on the details. Suffice to say I did what I had to in order to survive. I now find myself cybernetically connected to a viola negro (purple, to you) 1969 Iso Grifo with the big block Chevy L71 V8. With hindsight,not the most practical choice, but it has a certain je ne sais quoi. Some putative Drivers raided the garage and took most of my collection, but as luck would have it, this one was in my private workshop for some tinkering, so I wasn’t left totally in the lurch.

I fear the neighbourhood has been going downhill somewhat, so I rather think it’s time to move on. So, here I am, signing on for some suicidal convoy mission into the godforsaken desert., in an effort to hitch a lift to Mars. I’ve volunteered to take on Escort duties, but I’ll also be keeping an eye out for my stolen cars.


“I’ll turn you on like a tiger, baby
Hard body, motor city, love life
I’ll take you for a ride down the mind way, baby
Be my little human sacrifice”

Jacky Blacque checking in. I’ll give you the low down on this bad ass soul sister tomorrow.


Oh, you sleepyheads! Where’s Number Five?

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Maybe there’s just no interest at THREE IN THE MORNING BECAUSE I AM INSANE.

I go bed now.


I’m sorry! I’m just not willing to make this kind of a commitment! :cry:

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Nighty-night, Nanner.

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Hmph! Phooey! Fine then: no reading our game from the sidelines for you!


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Never seen one of those before. That’s a mighty purty ride you got there. Mighty purty.

Hope you can defend it. Shit don’t stay purty for long these days.


Listen Prince Charming, I won’t pretend to understand half of those fancy words you’re using, but if you drive that thing half as good as you talk, then I guess we’ll get along just dandy.


I’m gonna snooze for a couple hours. If somebody signs up in my absence, tell 'em I’ll send them the Registration form around 4:00 PST.

And try not to waste too much gas showing off for each other! Some of you are still pretty far outta town, and we’ll need you (and your gas) when you get here.


Them is some awful nice wheels you three got, and well, you all got some interesting stories, too. These days though, I guess that everybody’s got a story…

Ain’t sure why Jacky’s so quiet, but some folks is just shy, I guess. Hopefully we hear something from Jacky and Lucky Numbers 5-10 real soon.


And our next round begins… NOW!



Heh… Well, while you East Coast types dig your cars out of the snow and try to get to work, I’m gonna catch a few more winks. Any new subscribers will receive their congratulatory registration forms in a few hours. No rush… missions don’t start for a while yet.

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Esk, committing.


@Donald​_​​Petersen, maybe you ought to tag some folks who you think would be interested. I’m wondering if people just aren’t seeing the thread.

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Well, that’s what comes from me overestimating our popularity and making the barrier to entry a wee bit steep. Well, I’ll send out a note or two and see what happens.

@Agfish, great to see you! Here comes your registration PM.


Not sure if this was a slack period (event horizon in mid-Pacific?), but count me in, PLEASE!

If I’ve missed the window for this one, I’ll apply in the next iteration.

Thank you for running this game :smile: