I was planning on posting content because it's 106 pages, so finding the good nuggets can be difficult

Robots made up much of the work force of Wal-Mart before society collapsed, and now they still try to run the store as though this had not occurred at all. Many of these robots possess artificial intelligence (AI) of varying complexities. Because of this they can be reprogrammed (Computer Use check DC 25) to act as individuals. Some of them do this on their own because of some sort of part failure or glitch, but this is rare. All robots receive a +8 bonus to Computer Use checks because the basics of this are as natural to them as language is to us.

Of the five most commonly found robots in Wal-Mart the first are Stockerbots, they resemble forklifts with two claw-like pincers on either side. They are automatons with nothing even resembling artificial intelligence; they are large in size and move on treads. They are not playable, though are commonly used as a method of getting to higher shelves by the dwellers

Second are the Cashierbots, they are immobile robots that resemble humanoids from the waist up, but are simply boxes below this. They are non-intelligent, and simply programmed to grab products, scan them, put them into bags and tell people to swipe their cards. Unfortunately now they just grab whatever is within arm's reach, scan it, and put it in a bag. And then they tell whoever's left to swipe their card. Cashierbots are regarded as more of a minor hazard or nuisance than as an intelligent species. They are not playable.

Next are Greeterbots, they are roughly humanoid in shape and possess a primitive AI. They are programmed to greet people, and make brief small talk, they can also give directions, and being connected to the programming that runs the Stockerbots they know where everything is. Or at least that is the way it was supposed to work, most Greeterbots have a few minor malfunctions, and occasionally crafty consumers have rigged them with IEDs, making a deadly robot who's only intention is to help the consumer

Security Drones are one of the other main types of robots found in Wal-Mart. They look like hulking black clad S.W.A.T. members. They patrol around Wal-Mart looking for shoplifters. They were originally designed to be the Wal-Mart Guard. However because the Wal-Mart Guard no longer exists they simply roam around aimlessly, following criminals (anyone who uses, destroys or opens something without paying for it). Security drones are among the most likely to achieve independence without outside assistance.
They are equipped with multiple methods of disabling shoplifters, though quite often these need to be recharged, common examples would be built in tasers, tear gas, and powerful pincers


Adminbots are the last of the common robots. They were designed to oversee much of the tedious aspects of Wal-Mart, mostly involving numbers. Since the collapse of civilization many of their original functions have become obsolete. However, because they were given the most advanced AI of all the common robots they learned to adapt and to alter their own functions to fit the way Wal-Mart now exists. They look much like greeter bots, except instead of the greeter's smock they all "wear" something that looks more like a conservative gray suit. Not a lot is known about these bots

/tg/'s stuff was better, Grimdark or not.

It is, I'm reading through a lot of the stuff and here is an example of a line for the admin bots
>Many human computer hackers enjoy altering Adminbots to be independent because they are much more interesting to talk to than most of the other robots.
I MEAN WHAT THE FUCK

I think that the /tg/ threads were better, but the WOTC stuff has a lot more fluff.

>>6247117
Say what? all the /tg/ threads were nothing but fluff since nobody could pick a system to use

>>6247125
They decided to use d20, and there is a lot of stats on everything, but most people didn't really like those posts.

I'm going to post some content from the WOTC thread, would you guys mind making it a bit more grimdark?

I like /tg/'s stuff better. Also, I vote for using CoC's or DH's system.

>>6247153

Excellent idea

Who doesn't. But WOTC just has a lot more content to base this off of.

>>6247117
then steal it and rip out any attatched d20 mechanics

Well, I guess I'll start posting some stuff.

The manager's office is a strange, mysterious, and indeed almost legendary place to the walmartians. All people know about it is that the "Magic Voice" originates from it. The voice that can be heard everywhere, but comes from nowhere. Sure, these days the "Magic Voice" doesn't exactly say much that is useful or interesting, and the robots definetly ignore it, but the "Magic Voice" still speaks. Some among the walmartians feel compelled to seek out the origin of that voice, and constantly wander the aisles, looking for the Office.

Manager's Offices tend to be well hidden, far out of sight of most of the aisles in what is usually robot territory. Sometimes, getting past security to reach the Office is an incredibly difficult task. But when the Manager's Office is found, the person who finds it is usually quite surprised.

Each Manager's Office in the giant Wal-Marts is actually a fairly large office space by our standards. They are spartan in their decoration, filled with cubicles, rotting desks, vending machines, meeting rooms, and are populated by a race of people that would seem very strange to an aisler.

The managers are no longer the corporate masters they once were. The actual management of the Wal-Marts had been taken over by the new AI Board of Directors long ago, and thus these people actually don't have a role in running things at all. But the managers do hold onto a lot of the lost knowledge and wisdom of the past, and a lot of weird superstitions and traditions.

>I was thinking more along the lines that this voice would anger the mindless masses which would flood en mass to try and destroy the source of the voice. Just my idea

Continued

The managers are all part of a kind of new religion, devoted to numbers, accounting, and corporate lawsuits. They all live an ascetic lifestyle, not going down to the aisles to obtain goods, but instead living off of the food that comes from the vending machines placed in the offices. Indeed, they pretty much live off of coffee and chips. They consider all other forms of food, and any kind of clothing aside from the suits passed down the generations, to be unclean and unusable. The only form of entertainment they allow themselves is composing strange poetry to be spoken over the PA system. The rest of the time, they study ancient account books, manuals, guides, and try to prove their number-crunching and history knowledge in an attempt to be summoned to the Holy Land and get to meet the Holy CEO.

The Holy Land, or rather, the Wal-Mart head office, is a massive mountain-like structure over a mile tall. It houses two things: the chosen of the manager class, and the robotic infrastructure that actually runs Wal-Mart. Both the AI Directors and the religious figurehead known as the Holy CEO dwell here. Anyone uninvited has to get past the most formidable security robots in the world. Many of the managers chosen to go to the head office are given obscure, meaningless roles in a fake beauracracy, which really only exists as a form of entertainment for the AI systems.

But for a normal walmartian, the head office is a fairy tale of a fairy tale, but the Manager's Office is an interesting dream. A manager is treated often like a wiseman who sits of a mountain, and is often listened to no matter how crazy he is.

>>6247142
d20 would suck for this.

d% with modifiers like Eclipse Phase or Dark Heresy would work so much better.

Setting history

The Rise of the Wal-Mart Monopoly: Lobbyist begin to create loopholes in the anti-trust and anti-monopoly laws by offer large campaign donations to presidential can congressional candidates.

Wal-Mart begins to expand its interests: Wal-Mart puts the first apartments and hotels inside its stores, using its massive corporate funding to lower the costs well below the profit line. After this becomes a success Wal-Mart begins to build factories and buy up mines and other resources. It begins its efforts to obtain autonomy.

Wal-Mart Stranglehold on the masses: A majority of the free world either shops, lives or works in a Wal-Mart.

Wal-Mart’s Political ambitions: Wal-Mart continues to advance its agenda by offering large bribes to politicians, who eventually no longer make major decisions without consulting Wal-Mart executives.

The First Wal-Mart-Cities: A Wal-Mart reaches a level of autonomy and population high enough to warrant status as a city.

The Workers are bred: The race that would later become the Unemployed is bred to save costs in production of consumer goods.

The Fall of the Middle Class: The Board of Directors Officially takes control of most of the first world nations of the world. They then raise prices across the board forcing people to spend all of their money on necessities. Many are now in debt to the Bank of Wal-Mart. This is the end of the middle class.

Pax Walmartia: War is stopped because it is not profitable, countries not under the sway of the Board are subject to embargoes until they give in.

The Orwellian Age: This is the period where the Board of Directors wields supreme power over the lives of all the people of the world. Everyone is constantly watched and pro-Wal-Mart propaganda is everywhere.

Revolution: Rebels realize that the Board of Directors is the cause of the dramatic plunge in their quality of life, and they storm the company headquarters. All managers from the CEO right down to assistant manager for sector 7G are slaughtered in a bloody massacre known as "the Battle for Always Low Prices".

The Collapse of Civilization: Without the order provided by the Board of Directors and the Wal-Mart Guard society falls into chaos, and must now live as nomads living off the resources gathered by the robots that stock the shelves.

>>6247166
Care to start on the bot descriptions?

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.

Gather around children and I shall tell a tale to make the ceilings weep.
Once upon a time when the Wal was still new there was a department which, if you believe the stories, lived in peace with the associates. The wise elders knew of a secret place inside that was left always unmolested and silent even in the dread season. This "Reading Room" gave grounds to a great civilization where all lived in prosperity and knew naught of sport!

But as all things do, so this must also have come to an end end. The elders grew foolish in their hubris and sought to bring the Associates themselves under their control. What came then cannot be imagined. A giant flame took the entire department, water fell from the ceilings in rivers the lights themselves flickered and lost light. What remains now is a desolate wasteland that the cleaners still seek to remake at all hours.
Its said however that all was not lost, the inhabitants of the room sought to protect their utopia and thus prevented a small sanctuary from being destroyed outright. It is from there that the Sages hail, still seeking the secrets of the associates and trading their knowledge for goods to send back to their barren homelands. Sure most of them will tell you they never heard such nonsense and that they simply learn the things they do out of habit but tell me this, do you think that it's a coincident that nearly all of them carry the same "alphabets" from their apprenticeships?
Thought so.

Anyone reading this?

The Manjer's Office is widely believed to be a myth to the dregs of Wal. There is no clear consensus on what they might be.

Techheads in 'lectronics tell of Manjers being the ghosts in the machine, controling the legions of Stockers and Kleaners. Each machine contains a fragment of the managers code and sometimes these normally slow and easily duped machines display a malevolent cunning accompanied by the Smiling Face ubiquitous to the Wal's legions turning upside down.

The Priests of the Smiling One do not speak the Manjer's name, instead calling them by appellations such as Damned Ones or Dark Holes. The Manjers are anathema to the Smiling One, the great darkness to his light. They turn men from the path of righteousness, corrupting them into servants of The Wal.

>>6247497
Finding the Manjer's Office would be an epic task just below escaping the Wal itself. It lays hidden in the uttermost depths of the stores dark areas where light has not shone for generations guarded by the most dangerous of 'bots (the Manjer's Favoured) who are able to flaunt the usual rules of The Wal and attack suspected shoplifters directly. Communities of Fallen survive in the dark, given over entirely to serving the whims of the Favoured. Presumably this means they serve the Manjers as well but none alive have ever seen one of them.

In most areas the lights dim from 4 to 2 during the night, some places run them on full blast on all the time, those areas tend to have more aggresive people, unless you can find areas to protect yourself from the constant light.

Other areas have the lights off constantly, and the people's eyes have adjusted to a practically no light environment. There are some lights that leak through and make sight possible for the locals, but for people travelling through, it's nearly impossible. These dwellers can be blinded by having light shone on their eyes, but they know the area better then any traveller, and how to ambush them from the shelvs

>>6247566
Lights on constantly shouldn't cause madness, flickering lights should

I've lived my entire life without having to go into a Restroom. I've met people who have: usually have acid burns on them, often smelling of some unidentifiable substance. We would avoid them entirely, but the sinks are a reliable source of water, given that the water fountains are too open to be of use (except to those roving merc bands) and we like to have the soap for some semblance of hygiene.

They tell of labyrinthine halls lined with stalls, patrolled by Cleaners. They fight an endless battle against filth, but they don't realize that they'll never win: the toilets all backed up long ago, and the combined cleaning agents and years of human waste have formed the most horrific slurry imaginable. The guys who go in their always wear masks boots, both of which they change every time.

You'd never catch me anywhere near one of those hell-mazes.

No one goes to Health & Beauty unless they have to...

Sure, it sounds like a bonanza. Bandages, medicine, tampons, everything you need to keep you going just a little bit longer in this fluorescent purgatory. And soap... goddamn, most of us would kill for the chance to wash our dark places once in awhile.

But H&B's, they're... unpredictable sometimes. Half of 'em are strung out on aspirin, mouthwash, diet pills, and certain more palatable brands of shampoo. They rummage in the makeup aisles, painting and sculpting themselves in the image of the advertising placards they adore. Sometimes you can trade with them, but you never know when mascara-streaked eyes might fall upon you in judgment, and decide you need a...

"Makeover."

Enough reposting! We need ORIGINAL CONTENT.

And so I give it to you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

02:22.13 and counting. Less than forty minutes until the scrubbers hit this section. I could make it.

My wheelchariot whistled beneath me - or squeaked, more accurately. I preferred to think of it as whistling. The WalMutts ahead of me were less than subtle, but they did their job. Specifically, they pulled me really, really fast. I knew some Razculls that weren't half as quick as my boys.

"Are you sure about this?" Jen gripped my shoulders, grimacing. Jen came from Office Supply, and was obsessed with a strange science she called statistics. Basically, she watched people try things lots of times, and figured out if it was a bad or a good thing to do - there's more to it than that, but I couldn't grok how it all worked.

"Doesn't matter. We're here!" The boys took the turn a bit sharply, but nothing the ride couldn't handle. We careened to a sudden, jolting stop in front of the cases.

It was bitterly cold, and far too bright. I pulled on the Wal-Bans that I'd picked up just for this purpose, and pulled my rugcoat tight. There it was, in all its glory.

The Ice Cream.

>>6247708

I'd managed to get to it before the rest of the departments raided the store - it was always the first thing to get torn to bits when it was restocked. That and the vital stuff - batteries, especially. But Ice Cream... there's no greater treat. You can trade a gallon of Chocolate for three Dethcarts if you play your cards right.

"Okay - pack it up!" She squeaked. "We've got about three minutes in our window!" She popped the chests, and we went to work, packing in as much as we could. Chocolate first, then Vanilla Bean, Rocky Road, Orange Sherbert, Strawberry... we ran out of space on the Cookie Dough, and by then she was getting fidgety, playing with her readers. I had told her not to tell me any odds, but she was ridiculously easy to read. It was time to go. I hauled two of the cases up to the wheelchariot myself, and helped her with the third.

"We're good. Let's roll." She nodded eagerly, biting her lip, and leapt back on. She would have given the mutts the order to leave herself if they would respond to her. We peeled off, squeaking away, and made a beeline away from the frozen section to Lingerie. We needed to get across the line, and fast. The Associates would be making a sweep soon. But we had what we had come for...

That's when I heard the Greeters shriek.

>>6247726
Know that you are being read

>>6247726
Jen wailed. The brain-plugged ones freaked her out, and I can't blame her. I knew that if they caught me, I'd be given The Treatment - they knew my style. Knew that I was one of the most flagrant, most active shoplifters out there.

Fuck `em.

The associates slowly closed on us - Vices. Shit. Two of them, each one trundling along on its too-short legs, their great, long grasping arms reaching out to grab at us... to crush us. I heard Jen say to do something.

I had worked for a month to get the WalNerf gun from the Nevergrow. Now I could find out if it was worth all the hype. I pulled it from its holster and cocked the steel-and-plastic contraption. It was still mostly bright purple and yellow - I had to get it painted one of these days - and the barrel was big enough to cram a paint can down.

It should be - that's what it was loaded with. Not paint, but a pint can full of a volatile mixture that I couldn't begin to describe. I fired with a loud, metallic PTANG, and the gun bucked as the compressed air propelled the can at the foremost Associate. The can broke apart, and from it came a massive cloud of foam - Sadist String, but all at once instead of a slow stream. The unit's head dissolved in front of my eyes, and it slumped over. I still had another to take care of... I reached back for another can... and realized, to my horror, that someone had lifted my ammo.

>>6247726
Cocktease

>>6247837
Scratch that, you are awesome

>>6247820
I growled, urging the boys on faster. We were close to the department boundary, and while the Vice units didn't stop all the time, it was still our best chance. That's when Jen thumped my shoulder.

"Pull right!" She pointed towards... a WalSub joint. It wasn't widely used, since the cashier unit didn't actually dispense ice if you asked for it, and sneaking in was pretty much impossible.

Then again, we weren't sneaking.

We charged forward at full speed, my boys blasting through the dining room and out again, plowing past tables, moldering chairs - I reached out, and managed to grab a few Sam's Choice Blisterin' Hot Sauce bottles as we avoided smashing the sauce and pickle bar - and a very confused looking cashier. If a cashier can look confused... I swear I saw its red eye blink a few times.

And then we were out. She pointed back towards Lingerie, and I looked behind us - the unit had stopped. It registered the restaurant as another Department, and when we entered it, we were no longer its problem. The Cashier, on the other hand, was equipped to deal with people who couldn't pay, but it would take it a few minutes to realize that it had been vandalized - after all, no one's crazy enough to mess with a restaurant!

We were safe. Gloriously safe. And we were home free...

>>6247887
moar?

>>6247887
It would be a while before I could get us back to the Pet department - a couple hours, at least. We pulled back into the settlement, and were immediately surrounded by the amazons. Jen was pissed when she found out that I'd picked this place as our stopover, but I told her that it had nothing to do with... that. I just had a contact there, and knew they would honor our agreement. I took one of the chests, and hauled it up, walking over to the chief.

"Half a chest for safe passage and tribute... half for the item." She opened it warily, and bent over to peer in. Most men would have taken the time to look at her almost dangerously exposed cleavage - I wasn't the suicidal type, though. She nodded in assent after seeing that we'd got Cookie Dough for her, and slipped me a small box.

"As agreed." She hefted the case above her head and shook it. "LET THE FEAST COMMENCE!" The amazons descended upon the sugary goodness, and I left the crowd. The boys were resting, and I had something to do.

Jen was still on the wheelchariot - I beckoned her over. She collapsed off, straightening her beanie, looking more than a little pissed. She still didn't like it... oh well.

"So... we leave at 5?"

"On the dot. That'll give us three hours of smooth sailing."

"Good." She glanced back at the crowd. "You're not going to go eat with the Amazons?"

"Wouldn't be proper. That's their food now, not ours."

"I still don't get why you had to pay them a full chest." I smiled at Jen. My thinker. The woman who had saved my bacon more times than I cared to count. The only person crazy enough to actually go on runs with me... and I ran a hand over the small, square, faux-velvet box with the item that the chief had acquired for me. The time wasn't right now... not yet. But once we got home...

"Trust me. It was worth it."

>>6247990
fuck year

>>6247990
I wonder what is in the box

>>6248016
>small velvet box
>romantic overtones
>time isn't right
Are you really that dense?

I d'awwed.

>>6248016
her pretty head

>>6247708
>>6247726
>>6247820
>>6247887
>>6247990
I want more from this person. A lot more.

The reason that the Ice cream is so rare and valuable is because the major place you could find it is in the frozen foods section. And that area was pretty much completely barriered off from the rest of the store. The doors to the freezers are locked from the inside, and there is a group of barbarians who are known to reside in the area, eating the frozen meat raw. The traditional way involves going deep into the area, countering the barbarians in their home turf, having to fight the heavily armed barbarians in extremely low temperatures.

That's why ice-cream would be valauble

>>6248224
I was the first writefag in the first thread that came up here, and I came up with Martin... trust me, I'm not going anywhere.

More to come from me in a while.

>>6248235
Everyone loves ice cream. Back in World War 2, the crew of a submarine traded a JEEP for ice cream.

I have to say, I feel that this kind of rejects basic notions of proper area design.
For example: a giant, centralized bathroom, freezers in an area so remote that the contents melt before one could reach the cashiers, the concept of a store so large with access to incredibly fast and intelligent robots even being made with human navigation and product acquisition in mind rather than simply selecting the desired product from a terminal and having a robot bring it to you.

>>6248260
But the reason it's so hard to come by is because of the vikings in frozen foods

The Chairman approves of this thread!

>>6248294
Land vikings are now canon

>>6248286
That would be the central conceit of the design. It's supposed to be gargantuan, dehumanizing, and surreal.

>>6248323
good enough for me- I think that it's worth it in terms of artistic license to make it bear similarities to real wal-marts even when they doesn't make total sense in context, because it is sort of the point of the setting, and it makes the layout more intuitive and conducive to ADVENTURE

>>6248235
Scratch that. I mean Frozen foods is the home of the vikings of the area. They blockaded the area, and the only way to get through is past the viscous guards. Once you do that, you would have to get into the freezers, fight the vikings there, find where they store the ice cream, fight your way back out, and hope you store it in a way that it won't melt halfway through your trip back.

>>6248235
>>6248286
Building on these concept: retail spaces such as wal-mart and grocery stores are built in many regards to be INefficient. For example, milk, a product which almost everyone has a near-constant demand for, is generally in the back or away from the registers, arguably so that one has to walk past and be tempted by all of the merchandise between point A and point B. Conversely, cheap shit you don't need is often placed near the register as an impulse purchase.
This could be used as a plot point to explain many of the conceits of the setting. For example, items which are placed in more remote areas, despite being mundane for you and I, would be hugely valuable because they're so hard to obtain and so universally valuable. Also, wal-mart could have refused to build transport robots or evenly distribute toilets because they WANTED everyone to have to travel past a lot of crap to get there, back when it wasn't a horrible death-defying odyssey to do so.

Has anyone delved into the crazy shit that must be in the futuristic Pharmacy?

>>6248453
there was, it was pretty gruesome shit.

Because you wanted it....

~~~~~~

Shrapnel rained down over Hardware today.

One of the Associates got too close to a Topdweller nest. They had a booby-trap rigged, and... well, `nuff said. The Tool Men weren't too happy, but then, they're tough folk. You have to be to survive in Hardware for more than a week or two. And it wasn't like they didn't know about the traps - they were the ones that bartered the gas canisters to the Topdwellers in the first place.

Still... things have been kind of tense.

One of them comes down every now and then. The kids call him "Ace" - mostly because of all the bandages. I've never asked, but the scuttlebutt is that he's just really sensitive to the light. He's polite, and he never tries anything, so we really don't have a problem with him.

Funny thing about Ace is that he never really does any barter with us. Once in a while he does, mostly for toasters.

This time he was serious. I think he was setting up a different kind of trap - no idea what it might be, but he picked up a huge bag of toasters and Mr. Coffee's.

I've seen him swinging around up there, doing... things. I can't say what - I'm no Elec. But it's different.

And beneath, the Tool Men are getting agitated. The new trap's taking up more room, and I think they're afraid the whole roof's gonna come down on them.

>>6248482

It's been three days since the explosion.

I was amazed that Ace was out there so quickly. He was setting up the new trap as soon as the first exploded, him and his family.

But today, everything's been calm. I saw an associate coming towards the nest again... and then it just veered off, like it had hit a wall.

It wasn't a trap - it was a repellent.

That didn't sit well with the Tool Men. They don't mind blowing up Associates, but the idea of deflecting them seems to piss them off. I think they're afraid that they'll hit their department more if they get "bounced".

>>6248569
You are awesome, people are reading this

>>6248569
Ten days since the Explosion.

Sam help us, one of the Tool Men got a supply of Sporting Goods.

They rigged up an old Cherry Picker and headed for the rafters - they seemed determined to take down the Bounce trap. I still don't get their logic. Then again, they're all about the whole "Strong survive, screw the rest" mentality.

Anyway... the attempt didn't go well. One of the Topdwellers swung out and took apart the supporting bolts from the picker's arm.The whole thing fell apart - no one got hurt, but the message was pretty clear.

Then one of the idiots decided to fire off one of their Sporting Goods.

Someone got hit. I don't know who, but I heard the screams from the rafters. And then the Associates closed in...

Wait, who are the associates again?

>>6248661
Generic term for stockers/security drones/etc

Home cleaning end up having a lot of home cleaning supplies, which ended up supplying various drug labs throughout the area with a home base. These were originally hidden to have a place to hide the drug labs from the wandering Walmart patrols, but now they are just used as hidden alcoves, and living areas, out of site from most of the automated bots. These places are a great place to lay low, or stash something if you want to keep it for later because you can't carry it.

There are some remains of the drug labs of yonder, but most of the chemicals have no use to an average wanderer, only the completed product.

>>6248639
Fifteen days.

The fighting spilled over into the other departments. A few guys in Auto are in the Parking Lot now... Pharmacy got hit worse. Probably a good quarter of the squatters there got caught on a shampoo high, they're all collared. And the Tool Men are celebrating their "glorious victory."

I just count myself lucky that the associates didn't get to us - we all hid as soon as the watch saw them coming. We knew once the Tool Men fired off that shot that they'd be coming... the Stockers around here have ears like you wouldn't believe.

I saw Ace swinging by with his family. They're relocating - the whole nest of `em. They were all carrying their things in baskets, except Ace - he was moving one-handed, with a bundle in his other arm. Larry says it's the kid the Tool Men shot. Wouldn't be surprised.

I found a letter on one of the shelftops when I was walking home... Ace wrote it. He knew that we used that shelf a lot - must have left it there, knowing we'd find it. It was short. Said that he'd miss us, we were the only guys that were pleasant to live near they'd found. And it said to stay out of Hardware for the next week - he had burial rites to perform.

Like he needed to tell us that. We're not going anywhere near those maniacs.

>>6248774
Eighteen days.

The cracking woke me up. All of us. It was enough to bring every stocker in the whole `plex out - and the Sportfire from the Tool Men didn't help things.

Ace was scuttling around the ceiling. I couldn't tell what he was up to - he was moving too damn fast. Even one-handed. But the rafters... the rafters were shattering.

And then the ceiling fell.

Have you ever seen an entire department wiped off the map?

Okay, neither have I. The section was probably less than a quarter of Hardware - but still. Every Tool Man was gone in an avalanche of steel and rebar.

It was only then that I remembered. The Topdwellers "bury" their dead on the roof. Guess he decided the kid needed a bigger bang than a Sporting Good shot to go out on.

You are a literary genius

>>6248820
Twenty-one days.

The ceiling still hasn't been repaired. It may be months. May be years. Who knows? I've never even seen a construction associate.

We saw rain yesterday - I spent all day just watching it come down, and run into the drains. Some of the others gathered up bins to catch the water.

They say that Auto's claiming what's left of our Hardware section. I'm fine with that. They may be a bunch of loudmouthed speed freaks, but they're focused on what they like, not on what other departments are doing. And they're used to dealing with "weather" - their department doesn't have AC. Or not enough, anyway.

I've been thinking of heading out to see where Ace and his family ended up, but I know he'll be back.

I didn't know that he even had a daughter - never paid that much attention. But now that he's buried her... well, I guess he'll be back to pay respects every now and again. Larry told me the details, said that he was surprised I didn't notice. Ace just didn't talk that much... and I don't like to pry.

You keep your nose in your own business, and you won't get it cut off. But you have to keep your eyes open to make sure that other people's business doesn't become yours.
~~~~~~

you are awesome

Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the Writefag Emeritus of /tg/.

>>6249010
Is that like poet laureate?

SOMEONE ARCHIVE THIS SHIT!

So...
Elecs hack things.
Pet Departmenters train animals and go with their instinct.
Autos are mechanics and speed freaks.
Office Suppliers are beauracrats and accountants that can keep track of anything.
The guys from the Book Department are sages who carry the knowledge of the ages.
Lawn and Garden folk are druids.
Pharmaceuticals and H&B are full of druggies and mad biochemists.
Housewares is a bunch of scavengers who have to be either really good at bartering or making things.
Lingerie Amazons... `nuff said...
And the Nevergrow and Topdwellers.
Anything I'm missing?

>>6249222
FREEZER VIKINGS and the savages from Produce, plus the other clothing departments.

I would imagine that most of the food aisles would be a neutral zone, since everyone needs to eat. The constant theft of food would mean that it would get restocked more frequently than other areas, and no one would be able to hold it for long since every department would band against people who tried to keep it.

>>6248774
Moar fluffy goodness

archive?

>>6249395
er um, as I meant to say. Some how we need to integrate People of Walmart.com into the setting.

>>6249407
bad idea

>>6249359
Seconded.

The Topdweller "burials" do raise an interesting point. I guess most bodies just get picked up by cleaning drones, or else "buried" in the noxious toilets of the dread restroom complexes.

I posted >>6249407
Oh well, guess not all my ideas are gems.

>>6249585
Vikings freeze their dead

Thomas sighed, and rubbed his pained and weary eyes. Hours of trying to stare past burning florescent bulbs through a poor set of binoculars had earned him nothing but spots in his vision and a crick in his neck. He knew he was close to a Rafter settlement - the people in Kitchenwares spotted three of them climbing down their shelves during first shift, trying to make away with a load of knives and flatware for weapons. They wouldn’t have even noticed if one of them hadn’t knocked a peg full of spoons from the shelf.

>>6249646
Mystery meat.

For what must have been the fifth time, he contemplated giving up and making the trek back to Electronics, but third shift was coming soon, and the stockers would be out in force before he could make it back to a dead spot in the shelves. Staying perched on a shelf top, hidden by massive ad signs, was his best option.

To the north, he heard metal clamoring adjacent metal, and turned in time to catch what he’d been waiting for. The shoddy binoculars revealed long ropes and chains extending down from above the light fixtures, obviously pilfered from Hardware. They ended in makeshift hooks, each swaying, vying to catch the beams of a clothing rack.

The noise drew the attention of an Outcast - the only people who stay in Clothing for long, and rarely out of choice. He was a ghostly pale man, hairless as far as he could tell from that distance, and until he reacted to the dangling hooks, Thomas mistook him for a mannequin placed by the Stockers. The Outcast rushed the clothing rack just as all three hooks had established a firm hold on the rack and had begun hoisting it into the air. This was a new sight - the Rafters were always elusive, but it seems they would do anything to prevent unnecessary trips to the ground.

With the Outcast now raving in gibberish and clinging to the rising rack of clothes, the Rafters catch was in jeopardy. The response was quick and remarkably graceful.

Without a sound, a Rafter slide down one of the ropes - a young, seemingly frail man with an ornamental curtain rod in one hand. With feet crossed, he controlled his decent with ease, lowering himself to within a few feet of the rack and thrusting out with the rod, the tip of the seemingly decorative fleur de lis stabbing violently into the raving man’s chest. The mannequin ambusher spat blood and slipped from the cargo of graphic tee shirts and cargo pants, flailing until his body met the floor with a heavy thud.

Up top, the rack was pulled level with the support beams. Thomas strained to see past the lights, catching glimpses of hands grabbing at their skillfully won bounty. In moments, the clothes were pulled away from their hangers, both carried away in different directions. The rack was disassembled immediately, and the disappeared behind the lights. Nothing was returned to floor, nothing was wasted.

Thomas looked about him, and saw the same technique being used on top peg items and ad signs. It seems they had learned to fish just before third shift, when most shelfers are cowering and preparing for the coming burst of Stocker activity.

He scrawled out the events in as much detail as he could, recording the patterns and behavior of the Rafters. In the Wal, information could be more valuable than a Sporting Good. Knowing how to tell the Shift, knowing the Seasons and when each Department is under the most risk, and knowing where to find goods could be the difference between thriving and being opened up by a confused Stocker and having your innards spread among the pegs.

Archived for awesome.
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/6246976/

Damn... the rodents have been getting weirder since the chemical spill down by the kennels...

I've been trying to figure out how the store works for a long time, and I think I've figured some of it out.

The changing designs of the Associates, for instance. That's because they're all made from recycled parts. There's new bits in them, sure, but the vast majority of their innards are entirely reclaimed from old, broken Associates, and other things. The redesigns change their purpose, and also prolong the time before they have to get large shipments of new Associate parts in.

Security. That's a tricky one. The black globes in the ceiling may have cameras inside, or may be empty - decoys. We break them open whenever possible to make sure which is which. And even then, it seems that not all of them are monitored... or even most of them. But the deity of your choice help you if you do anything questionable by the fishing gear.

Management... that's the big question. Are there still human managers out there somewhere? Mutant brains in a jar? Or just a giant, semi-aware computer program running the whole thing?

I don't know. I don't know if I even want to know. But that may be the key to the whole thing... once you know what kind of madness you're dealing with, you can make sense of the method.

Right?

I'm thinking that DH would be a good system to run this. Remap the different origins as different human "species", and the different paths as different departments. Then it's just a matter of mucking with the skills until it looks right.

Hey that's UW-Madison campus, Ed's Express, right?

I recognize that anywhere.