Style

Third Person, past tense

Genre

Horror, Dark Humor

Setting information

After the Monsters Have Gone is set in a standard post-apocalyptic world, with all the tropes we’ve come to know of the genre.

There are scant resources, jealously gaurded by those who control them. To that end, people have banded together in tight-knit and highly competitive tribes, gripped by an “us-vs-them” mentality that frequently drives shocking acts of barbarism.

There are mysterious ruins of cities that once stood gleaming, now nothing more than the empty twisted skeletons of a culture long since decomposed. Those with the heart for it can find breathtaking wealth and lore inside, but is the risk worth even that reward?

Feel free to populate your character history with the kinds of stories we’re used to from the genre. Likewise, add themes in if you feel that they’re appropriate.

Below are some basic structures that should help.

Nearby Points of Interest

The Great Steel Ruin

To the northeast, about a day’s journey, there is a nearly endless expanse of concrete, glass, and metal. What once stood as a testament to mankind’s ability to achieve now rots as a silent witness to his hubris. There is without a doubt a mountain of treasure and knowledge hidden in the hollowed out husks of those old buildings, but wild magic and terrible beasts stalk the streets too.

The Breeding Grounds

The residents of this settlement are renowned in the area, and trade on the rarity of the service they provide for protection and immunity from inter-village hostility. With so much of humanity stricken by mutation, plague, or outright sterility, the Breeding Grounds offer high quality fertile men and women to act as stock for population maintenance.

This is not to say that the stock are slaves, and in fact being chosen by the Grounds as suitable is considered a unequalled prestige.

Carter

The village of Carter has been by all accounts quite successful. They are well defended behind high walls, their wards are rigorously maintained, and their outlying farms provide corn that is generally free of taint.

Nonetheless, there has always been a seething distrust between the leadership of the Gulch and Carter. If the propaganda is to be believed, the devils will stop at nothing to break your ritual circles and let the black things pour into your walls.

Magic and the Occult

Magic still exists, and in fact has become vastly more prevelant in a world that no longer needs to hide it. Wards are etched around villages, and their energies are monitored and repaired by highly-respected priests. Prayers are offered to various entities, frequently netting observable and immediate response.

This isn’t the magic of sword and sorcery stories, though. It is is brittle, unpredictable, and immensely dangerous. Every single utterance of one of the dark gutteral words damages the mind irreparably, and it is not uncommon for priests and other occultists to totally succumb to murderous and incurable madness.

The practice and even study of these arts are strictly controlled by village elders. Occultists of any stripe are subjected to frequent, grueling psychological tests. If a person fails such a test, they are honorably retired from occult practice in a public ceremony. The purpose of the ceremony is twofold: to thank and congratulate the retiree, and to ensure that everyone knows that they are to be meticulously watched for further signs of magic use, and reported to the authorities immediately if they lapse.

Religion

The inhabitants of the world left behind after the departure of the Great Outsiders aren’t that different from us. They stare at the stars at night in awe, and cower at the fury of treacherous weather, and tell each other stories around the fire to explain those phenomena and to pass the time.

Those stories, told again and again throughout the generations since the Cataclysm, have come to paint a bizarre and highly inaccurate version of the end of the world that was.

While there are of course myriad religions (each of which portray their chosen diety as the savior/creator of man), the predominant religion of the area near the Gulch is based on fierce belief in the following conceits:

The Creation of Man, the Earth, the Universe, and Everything by Azathoth the Mad Father

The Mad Father, Azathoth, was the author of all things. Every speck of dust and every burning star was the design of the endless random dream from which he refused to wake. When Creation began to spin towards chaos, and the Gods begged their father to stir and take the reigns, still he would not.

Chthulu’s Fascination With and Subsequent Interment on Earth

In the swirling insanity of Azathoth’s creation, chance created a perfect aquiline orb, calm in temperament and full of wonder. Chthulu, the Creator’s beautiful daughter, fell in love with the cool seas and calm winds there, and spent all of her time guiding the creatures that began to develop. The other Gods, jealous of Chthulu’s serenity, and knowing that she would object to their treacherous plans, tricked and entombed her at the bottom of Earth’s oceans. There, comforted by the sounds of lapping waves, she would sleep until the Cataclysm tore open her door.

The Murder and Cannibalism of the Mad Father, Azathoth

In the absence of their pious sister, the Gods descended upon the sleeping form of their father, and mutilated him with knives. Desperate to subsume his omnipotence, they carved him up between them and devoured him, and slurped up his blood. This grew within them all a spark of his power, but also a shard of his madness.

The Ascension and Reign of the Wicked to Earth’s Thrones

Without the guiding hand of Chthulu to steer them, the Kings of man fell one by one to wickedness and despair. Chaos, which had begun to creep in after the death of the Creator, caused subtle corruption that led all of the people of Earth into excess and carnality and hate. After great eons the Gods would take note and, embarrassed by what they had caused, resolve to return mankind to its purer state.

The Capitulation of the Noble Gatekeeper Yog-Sotthoth to the Will of His Brother Nyarlathotep

The Gods, with Nyarlathotep at their lead, went to the Gatekeeper and asked that they be allowed into Earth, that they may destroy the civilizations of man and return him to purity. Yog-Sotthoth refused, though, and reminded the other Gods that their last attempt at direct intervention in the affairs of the Universe had been nearly disastrous.

After much debate, though, Nyarlathotep convinced his brother of the wisdom of his intention. Yog-Sotthoth agreed to open the gate, but made the other Gods swear that they would wake Chthulu, and return her to her place as the monarch of human development.

The Unfettered but Necessary Destruction of the Human Race

The Gods entered the Earth, and driven by Nyarlathotep’s Holy and Malign will, they laid ruin the civilizations of man. Billions died, and no Kingdom was spared. Those who survived were simply lucky, as no man was pure enough to claim innocence.

Chthulu, Sister of Mankind, Begs the Gods for Clemency

Having been awoken from her nearly eternal slumber, Chthulu found herself distraught at all that had changed. Her father was dead, her brothers in power, and her beloved man laid ruin. She begged the Gods to cease, and to allow her the promised reinstatement of her throne. But Nyarlathotep had grown blood-hungry, driven by the memory of the taste of his father. He refused to stop, and intended to spare nothing of man despite his oath to Yog-Sotthoth.

In desperation, Chthulu plead her case to the Gatekeeper, begging him to close the aperture and eject the Gods while mankind still had hope. Moved by her love for man, Yog-Sotthoth agreed, but with a single devastating caveat.

He could not close the gate fully while a God remained on Earth. If she wanted the people to survive, she too would have to leave the ocean planet.

Saddened, but determined, Chthulu agreed to abandon her home. Yog-Sotthoth closed the door, locking the Gods away from reality once more, and mankind was left to fend for itself.

The Truth

Yeah.

It’s all bullshit.

300 or so years ago, a fanatic cult hell bent on capturing ultimate personal power dealt with some forces they didn’t fully understand. Driven by insanity and the will of the Outer Beings, they created a network of ritualized massacres connected through natural ley lines that spanned the globe.

The glut of blood was enough to open the way, and the Outer Beings did, indeed, tear through.

Far from being intelligent pruners with a noble plan, though, these beings were gluttonous fiends who longed to grow fat on destruction and desecration. Worst of the all, perhaps, was the towering (and genderless) Chthulu. It was a tempest of furious calamity, responsible for at least as much misery as any other Being.

For whatever reason, the Outer Beings eventually grew tired of the wasted world they had almost totally engulfed, and they simply left.

That’s it. They just got bored.

Of course, no pious religious person would dare consider such a thing, and saying something like this out loud is enough to get you thrown from the village walls.

The truth hurts, they say. Being devoured by Once-Wolves hurts much, much worse.