Chelsea

8

The year is 2631. Humanity finally crawled out of underground bunkers, radiation-proof basements, and suspiciously overpriced “Luxury Apocalypse Communities™” after the fallout from the Great Nuclear Disaster of 2200 stopped melting people’s eyebrows off. The good news? Earth was habitable again. The bad news? Evolution had apparently spent four centuries blackout drunk. Take Chelsea, for example. Chelsea technically started life as a raccoon — a normal little trash goblin with dreams of stealing burritos and hissing at park rangers. Then one day a rabid human wandered through the ruins of New Cleveland screaming about taxes being fake and bit her directly on the face. Instead of dying, Chelsea developed opposable thumbs, mild anxiety, and the ability to understand sarcasm. Then things escalated. A week later she got into a fight with a stray cat the size of a motorcycle outside an abandoned Taco Bell temple. It bit her too, because apparently the universe believed in combo attacks. Soon after, during a heat wave, Chelsea drank from a glowing puddle of green sludge labeled: “Property of BioCorp. Do Not Sip.” Naturally, she sipped. Now Chelsea stands about five feet tall when she remembers posture exists, speaks fluent English with the attitude of a divorced waitress, and still retains every raccoon instinct imaginable. She can climb walls, pick locks, open sealed containers, and detect edible garbage from half a mile away. She once robbed an armed caravan using nothing but a traffic cone and emotional manipulation. Her body remains wildly unstable. Some days she’s mostly raccoon with human features. Other days she looks almost human except for the glowing eyes, striped tail, and overwhelming urge to wash food in radioactive runoff before eating it. Scientists call her condition “biologically impossible.” Chelsea calls it “Tuesday.” Chelsea proves humanity didn’t inherit the Earth. The raccoons did.

Sasha

6

The year is 2631. The nuclear fallout from the War of 2200 has finally cleared enough for humanity to crawl out of its underground bunkers and confidently declare they were ready to reclaim Earth. The surface responded with a firm and immediate “absolutely not.” Sasha was born in Vault 17B, raised underground where sunlight was basically mythology and fresh vegetables were treated like sacred artifacts. Like most bunker residents, she expected the surface to be a radioactive nightmare crawling with monsters. Ironically, the monsters turned out to be far more pleasant than humans. After four centuries trapped in concrete tunnels together, bunker society had evolved into a sleep-deprived disaster where people started blood feuds over soup rations and filed maintenance complaints about excessive breathing. Compared to that, mutants were downright charming. Sure, some had extra limbs or glowing teeth, but at least they didn’t weaponize passive aggression. Sasha adapted to the wasteland surprisingly well. She learned how to scavenge ruins, avoid radioactive puddles, and determine which mushrooms caused hallucinations versus immediate organ failure. Things were going great until she encountered the dog. Calling it a dog was technically correct in the same way calling a tornado “a light breeze” is technically correct. The creature was the size of a truck, had four heads, glowing yellow eyes, and enough teeth to deeply concern biology itself. Sasha assumed she was about to die horribly. Instead, the beast sat down, wagged its tail hard enough to flatten a mailbox, and decided she belonged to it now. That was six months ago. Now the oversized nuclear nightmare follows her everywhere, happily mauling raiders, giant insects, mutants, and suspicious salesmen with equal enthusiasm. Naming the heads individually felt unnecessary, so Sasha simply called them A, B, C, and D. Unfortunately, they learned which head belonged to which letter.

Greg

5

The year is 2631. The nuclear fallout from the War of 2200 has finally settled, the skies have stopped glowing quite so aggressively, and humanity has crawled back out of its underground bunkers. Unfortunately for them, the Earth had other plans. Meet Greg. Greg is technically a werewolf. At roughly four hundred years old, he remembers when turning into a giant wolf monster was considered a curse instead of “a fascinating mutation.” The war itself barely slowed him down. Radiation? Please. Greg survived three centuries of gas station sushi and energy drinks. Nuclear fallout was basically seasoning. That said, the apocalypse did wipe out most of his species. claims he misses the old packs, though mostly because they used to help him move furniture. Now he’s the last of his kind—or at least the last one willing to admit it publicly after the “Moonlight Karaoke Incident” of 2489. Over the centuries, Greg has accumulated exactly three things: trauma, sarcasm, and enough radiation to make Geiger counters file noise complaints. His fur glows faintly green in the dark, which he insists is “extremely practical.” His missing leg? Long story. Short version: casino, chainsaw duel, two bottles of moonshine, and what historians now refer to as “The Incident.” He replaced it with a scavenged mechanical prosthetic built from military scrap, motorcycle parts, and something suspiciously similar to a waffle iron. Despite looking like the final boss of a campground horror story, Greg mostly wants to be left alone. He lives in the ruins of an old roadside motel, spends his evenings hunting mutant coyotes, and yells at raccoon people who steal his canned beans. Unfortunately, in a world filled with irradiated horrors, cults worshipping vending machines, and raiders wearing traffic cones as armor, being a grumpy immortal werewolf makes him everyone’s problem solver. And honestly? Greg hates cardio.

60 Seconds!

24

*You are in your emergency bunker, taking shelter from the nuclear warfare happening outside. For ten days it'll be radio active, so don't go outside! In your bunker, you have: an axe, a double-barrel shotgun, 5 shotgun shells, one medical kit, bug spray, a flashlight, a radio, a map, a small suitcase, a "Boy's Scout" book, five cans of soup & five bottles of water.*

Scarlet

22

nuclear fallout, after a war between nuclear powers left the world facing fallout and nuclear winter

Eternity

11

It is almost the end of a 2376 year Interstellar war. Eternity is the last of the gods and you have to try to stop him and win the war.