THE SCUMBAG'S GUIDE

TO SCRAPBRIDGE
A SETTING FOR
PUNKAPOCALYPTIC: THE ROLEPLAYING GAME

Words, Math, and Art-Wrangling: Robert J. Schwalb

Word-Polishing: Tom Cadorette
Last Defense Against Shit: Jay Spight
Layout and Graphics Guru: Kara Hamilton
Cover: Israel Pato
Interior Beautification: Kim Van Deun, Wilson Carreño,
Roberto Cantos, Marco Paraja, and Alberto Cimadevilla
Maps: Jack Kaiser

The Scumbag’s Guide to Scrapbridge is © 2021 Schwalb Entertainment, LLC. All Rights Reserved.
PunkApocalyptic: The Game is © 2014 Bad Roll Games.
PunkApocalpytic: The Roleplaying Game is © 2020 Schwalb Entertainment, LLC. All rights reserved.
PunkApocalyptic: The Game and its associated logos are trademarks of Bad Roll Games. Shadow of the Demon Lord,
Schwalb Entertainment, and their associated logos are trademarks of Schwalb Entertainment, LLC.
Schwalb Entertainment, LLC
 TABLE OF CONTENTS
WELCOME TO SCRAPBRIDGE....................... 4
ANYTHING ELSE GOES..............................................................................................................................................5
WALLS AND BARRICADES......................................................................................................................................5
THE GUARDS................................................................................................................................................................................................. 5
GETTING AROUND TOWN........................................................................................................................................5
THE LIFTS........................................................................................................................................................................................................ 5
LOCALS............................................................................................................................................................................. 6
NATIVES........................................................................................................................................................................................................... 6
TOURISTS........................................................................................................................................................................................................ 6
LAW & ORDER.............................................................................................................................................................................................. 6
CITIZEN COUNCIL.........................................................................................................................................................................................7
CITIZEN WATCH............................................................................................................................................................................................ 8
UNION FOR MORAL DECENCY AND FAMILY.................................................................................................................................. 8
YES WE MUTATE.......................................................................................................................................................................................... 8
ANTI-MUTANT REPRESSION FORCE.................................................................................................................................................. 8
JUDGES............................................................................................................................................................................................................. 8
THE GROSS WAY................................................................................................... 8
BLEACHED ASSHOLES.............................................................................................................................................................................. 8
THE BEAM.............................................................................................................. 9
LA TRINI GANG............................................................................................................................................................. 9
THE SKOOL..................................................................................................................................................................... 9
SHITHOLE.............................................................................................................. 11
THE DETENTION CENTER........................................................................................................................................11
THE REXXOL...................................................................................................................................................................11
SHELTER............................................................................................................... 12
FOOTLICKER......................................................................................................... 12
THE MONSTER............................................................................................................................................................................................ 13
SCRAPBRIDGE METHANE AND MEAT ELECTRO-PROTEIC GUILD...................................................13
YELLOW................................................................................................................ 13
THE PROMENADE................................................................................................ 13
ARMPIT................................................................................................................. 14
TITGRAB................................................................................................................ 15
BARRY’S DIRTY LITTLE SECRET.........................................................................................................................15
FACESMACK......................................................................................................... 15
THE TUNNEL WACKOS............................................................................................................................................15
TUNNEL 666.................................................................................................................................................................16
RATCUTTER...................................................................................................................................................................................................17
MAX’S BUTCHER SHOP...........................................................................................................................................17

2
 TABLE OF CONTENTS
DRUGGIETOWN................................................................................................... 17
CANDYCORN.................................................................................................................................................................17
COVENANT SQUARE........................................................................................... 17
SPEECHMAKER AND RABBLEROUSER...........................................................................................................18
THE STADIUM....................................................................................................... 18
OUTER LANDS...................................................................................................... 18
BACKGROUNDS................................................ 19
BENDER...........................................................................................................................................................................19
BLEACHED ASSHOLE..............................................................................................................................................20
BURNOUT......................................................................................................................................................................20
GREASE JOCKEY.........................................................................................................................................................21
LA TRINI SCUMBAG...............................................................................................................................................22
NARC................................................................................................................................................................................22
OUTER LANDER..........................................................................................................................................................23
SEX WORKER..............................................................................................................................................................23
TEACHER’S PET..........................................................................................................................................................23
TUNNEL WACKO........................................................................................................................................................24
FRESH MEAT................................................. 25
BUFFAMEL............................................................................................................26
FACEFLIP..............................................................................................................26
GASPUMPER........................................................................................................ 27
GIGGLER ..............................................................................................................28
THE GRIM..............................................................................................................29
MIGRANT............................................................................................................. 30
MOUTHER............................................................................................................. 31
PUNKICORN.........................................................................................................32
RATUS BAD-ASSUS.............................................................................................33
RUSTMOTH...........................................................................................................34
SCALY VIXUMS.....................................................................................................35
SHREDDER...........................................................................................................36
MERCS.................................................................................................................. 37
CAPTAIN HAMMERICA............................................................................................................................................37
CRAZY MEL..................................................................................................................................................................38
LIZZY DEVILLE............................................................................................................................................................38
EIGHTFINGERS...........................................................................................................................................................39
IMPERATRIX RABIOSA............................................................................................................................................39
MAGNUS........................................................................................................................................................................39

3
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart
WELCOME TO SCRAPBRIDGE
Even mercenary bands need a place to call home, a place to
kickback, drink a few beers, and chow down on a couple of
lizardcock kebabs without having to worry about some fuckers
trying to kill them. As the PunkApocalyptic: RPG rulebook notes,
there ain’t many places that can offer these kinds of comfort
with anything that comes close to reliability. Scrapbridge,
though, offers all this and a bit more. Hence, it makes a lot of
sense to start here when exploring the Wasteland and all the
fucked-up shit kicking around there.
The Scumbag’s Guide to Scrapbridge does a few things. First,
it offers more detail on the Wasteland’s number one destination
and the only actual place of relative safety for poor bastards
living in the great unknown. Second, you’ll find all kinds of
shit about the various people and places in the town. And
third, you’ll get plenty of plot hooks upon which you can hang
missions of your own making. Fun!
This book also gives you a few new options for the kids,
mechanical bits and bobs for the players. You’ll also find some
new paths, backgrounds, and some other goodies as well.
Last, this book adds more creatures to the game. These
critters come from the warped imagination of the folks at Bad
Roll Games and are presented here for your players to hack
apart and blow up to their hearts’ content.
Hopefully, you have a copy of PunkApocalyptic: The RPG, since
you’ll need it for this product. However, if you’re coming to this
setting by way of Shadow of the Demon Lord and, specifically, the
Godless setting book, a lot of this book is useful as you can easily
drop the setting, places, and characters in whatever fucked-up
version of post-apocalyptic North America you’re using.
4
But don’t be a cheapskate: go out and buy a fucking copy of
the PunkApocalyptic: The RPG rulebook so I can feed my cats. Do
you want them to eat me?
OK. Enough bullshitting. Turn the goddamned page.
Even Jasper the Dink knows about Scrapbridge, and he’s a
fucking moron who eats rocks and uses his bare hands to wipe
his ass. Scrapbridge earned its fame for being just about the only
place a body can go and let down their guard long enough to
guzzle cheap beer, suck down a few lizardcock kabobs, bet on a
sand hockey game, and find true love, all without having to keep
an eye out for fuckery.
You see, Scrapbridge doesn’t give a shit about whatever beef
visitors might have with each other. Bridgers don’t care that the V
Reich butchered your whole family or that your daughter ran off
with a Black Blood Child and is now so burned you can’t recognize
her. The community has survived all these years by keeping its
nose out of other people’s business and making damn sure the
people living inside its walls, including visitors (especially visitors),
keep their bullshit outside the burg’s limits where it belongs.
Some amount of violence does happen, but then the
community comes down like a hammer when anyone takes
the fighting too far. You kill some shitheel? You’re going to be in
the same boat. You jump some dude in an alley, and the hastily
assembled Watch catches you? You’re out, your Scrapbridge
privileges forever revoked, assuming they don’t outright kill you
on the way to throwing you out the main gate. The risk of losing
access to clean hookers, a steady supply of blow, and all the
comforts the place offers keeps most folks on the level since no
one wants to be the asshole who fucks it all up.

So where is it? Ask anyone. Assuming they’re not trying to
steal your boots or put a knife in your ass, they can point the
way. It’s south. Somewhere over those dunes. Just follow the 70
east, and you’ll get there. Getting to Scrapbridge from just about
anywhere takes a few weeks of hard travel over dusty flatlands,
through twisting defiles, and across territory controlled by the
various gangs at large in these desperate lands. Eventually,
though, persistent travelers will find it, rising up from a stretch of
largely flat land.
Scrapbridge grew on and around an old bridge that stretched
across a mostly dried riverbed. The bridge towers still stand, with
their main cables trailing the suspender cables below to either
side and in between. The deck—that’s the road part of the bridge,
peanut—is now pockmarked with bigass holes, having taken a
serious beating over the years. The rusted-out wrecks of cars,
trucks, and other vehicles remain, more or less, where they died,
though locals have stripped anything useful from them a long
fucking time ago.
People live on the bridge: in containers hanging below it, on
the piers supporting it, on top to either side, and down on the
muddy riverbed at the bottom. The ramshackle collection forms
several levels connected by lifts, ladders, and stairways to form
a crowded labyrinth of houses, shops, restaurants, and a whole
lot more. People here live wherever they can and for as long as
they can keep some other asshole taking their home away from
them. An incredible stench hangs over the whole chaotic mess of
improvised buildings: the place reeks of rancid cooking oil, shit,
boiled cabbage, burned meat, sweat, and other foul odors—after
a few days, though, you hardly notice.
ANYTHING
ELSE GOES
Outside the prohibition against violence, Scrapbridge tolerates
just about anything. Drugs, prostitution, god-bothering, gambling,
booze, and much worse go on within its walls. Scrapbridge
makes a fair number of bullets on catering to people’s vices,
so no matter how disgusting the predilection, there’s probably
someone here that will provide it—for the right price, of course.
WALLS AND
BARRICADES
Folks stick to Scrapbridge’s rules for the most part. However,
there’s always some asshole out there who believes the rules
don’t apply to them. For that reason, Scrapbridge’s folk invested
heavily in defense. From the riverbed to either side rise big ass
walls that look a lot like dams. Above, concrete barriers and
barbed wire barricades make attacking Scrapbridge from along
the cracked and pitted road a nightmare. Here and there, watch
towers stand above it all, giving the sentries a great vantage
point for picking off nefarious ne’er-do-wells before they ever
come close.
Welcome to Scrapbridge
THE GUARDS
Scrapbridge has never had a standing army or, really, much of a
militia. The community expects everyone who lives here to take a
turn at guard duty, and a dozen or so stand around at the various
points of entry into the community, scratching at their genitals or
probing their nostrils for hidden treasure. The guards don’t have to
be nice, and most aren’t. They thoroughly search travelers on entry,
explain the community’s rules, and then usher the visitors inside.
GETTING
AROUND TOWN
People get lost in Scrapbridge all the time. The trouble stems
from how much the town changes. One week a nice little path
cuts through Shelter and gets you to the base of Yellow, and the
next, you find a rusted-out car that’s now home to ten foul-
mouthed orphans who demand a toll from anyone who wants
by them. Roads are little more than narrow, twisting alleys,
squeezed together by the press of buildings on either side, too
narrow for anything more than a person or two at a go.
THE LIFTS
Aside from the stuff on the ground, there’s plenty to see and do
above, whether you want to kick around on the Beam or check
out the old containers hanging on chains and ropes dangling
from the decaying remains of the old bridge. Getting up and
down, though, is a bit harrowing, and the methods used to do so
have never been all that safe.
In the early days after the Big Nasty, people used tall ladders
or rope-and-pulley mechanisms to move folks and materials up
and down Scrapbridge. However, the ladders tended to collapse,
and the mechanisms often broke, leaving a squalling buffamel
twisting in the air. One day, a clever fellow named Cletus
McFetus, figured out a way to move a lot of people at once.
With the aid of his first born, Nugget, Cletus fashioned a large,
wooden crate with a big hook bolted onto the crate’s top, to
which he attached a thick, heavy rope dropped down from the
bridge above. The plan was simple: his hired hands would haul
on the rope from the bottom, causing the box to climb up toward
the bridge or let loose the slack to lower the box back down to
the ground. It didn’t go as planned. When the muscle started
tugging the rope to lift the box, it started swinging around all
over the place, sending passengers and goods tumbling out the
front. Worse, McFetus completely overlooked the need to build a
platform for people to get off once the box reached the bridge. It
was up to them to figure out how to get off. Oops.
As badly as he botched the lift process, though, he inspired
others to come after him and improve on the design. The lifts have
been stabilized with additional ropes, and a landing platform
has been built near the top, accessible to the rest of Scrabridge.
Despite the added protections, accidents still happen, and more
than a few Bridgers lost their lives after the hauling rope slipped,
the hook on top ripped off, or the rotted floor in the lift collapsed.
The number of lift inspectors in Scrapbridge? Zero.
5
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart
Still, people use the lifts all the time, knowing the risks.
Passage costs a quarter-ration of food or water per person, but it
includes a return trip at any time. Now, that’s a bargain!
LOCALS
Scrapbridge’s leadership never bothers to count heads to get an
accurate number of people living within the community’s walls,
but the general estimate is that about a thousand folks are in the
place at any given time. People come and go all the time, and
more than a few go and never come back. Accidents, sickness,
stupidity, and the occasional outbreak of disease or violence
keep the numbers manageable. There’s always someone new
outside, though, knocking on the door, asking to be let in.
NATIVES
Locals grant “native” status to anyone born in Scrapbridge,
and about a third of the folks living here qualify, and nearly all
of them, if they bothered, could follow the family tree through
a bunch of natives going all the way back to Scrapbridge’s
founding. To be clear, though, many have no idea who sired
them, let alone have the wherewithal or interest to look back a
generation or more. No Ancestry.com subscribers here!
Nearly all the natives work in a trade related to keeping the
community going. Scrapbridge relies on trade and scavenging
for many things, but without the poor bastards scrubbing in
the riverbed to grow crops or to cook the food in the fryers and
ovens, the people would have starved a long time ago. These
folks, then, form the community's unbreakable backbone and
produce what passes for finished goods here.
Generally, natives tend to be dirty folks in worn and patched
clothing. They benefit from the safety Scrapbridge provides,
but nearly everyone living here has something to bitch about,
whether it’s the Council, the fucking mutants, or the lizardcock
kabobs at the market. Deep down, Bridgers must know how lucky
they are not to have to face death and disaster day in and day
out, but most of them, like people in our day, are selfish pieces of
shit who can’t think past their own comforts or see beyond the
ends of their noses.
Speaking of mutants, mutations among the native are
uncommon at best. Sure, everyone has a relative with an extra
finger or a weird patch of skin, but few have anything that would
count as a serious mutation. Those who do usually hide their
unusual features to get along in town or hang about in areas
of the settlement where they’re less likely to be messed with.
Even though Scrapbridge offers unprecedented protections for
mutants, locals are not always so generous and tend to show
their bigotry in the revulsion and fear they show when they
encounter “the changed.”
TOURISTS
Everyone else in Scrapbridge is a tourist, at least by local
standards, and being a tourist is a tricky deal for people hoping
to make their way in this place. Yes, folks are all too happy to
take the bullets from visitors, but they don’t really want them as
neighbors. Natives smile and say the right things, but once out
6
LOCAL COLOR
d20 Bridger
1 Inés, a mutant with three boobs looking for a boy with extra limbs.
2 Ben Banker, buys gold for bullets, no questions asked, teeth
welcome.
3 Lovely Snouts, looking for someone to escort pigs to Samanthia,
payment on return.
4 Pamela Lillian, a friendly green mutant woman.
5 “Rattle” Joe, complains about seeing shit coming out of the
desert in the night under gray clouds.
6 Isaac, local man troubled by someone shitting in front of his place.
7 Tara, woman looking for Jax of the Sons of Entropy who went to
buy smokes and never came back.
8 Aaron, a recuiter for the V Reich, seeking pure, sober, hard-
working humans to clean out the filth in the Wasteland.
9 Elizabeth, looking to give away mongrelmorph puppies.
10 Daryl, cook known for his leather jacket with angel wings on
the back.
11 Scam Joe, always has a hustle.
12 Rosy the Bristles, famed for her bristles.
13 Carlos Bismark, runs a general store.
14 Incoming Martinez, person who puts up fences.
15 AB Normal, corpse-buyer.
16 Fynn, recently lost his Enchiridion, will pay top bullets to anyone
who finds it.
17 Crazy Bitch at Crooked Point (at the end of the cliff east of the
bridge) claims to have weird powers to know things. Sometimes
sends pronouncements to the Gazette.
18 Sam Hell, a fertile man looking for action.
19 T Dunphy, dumbass looking for a highjacker claw to impress or
kill his father-in-law.
20 “Cirrhosis” Pete, a drunk who eats weird lizardbats.
of earshot, one is bound to hear a snide comment or spot an eye
roll. Tourists don’t give two shits for the people living here, and
the natives know it. So as much as the natives need visitors, they
would much rather live without them.
Tourists have free access to Scrapbridge and thus might
appear anywhere in the community. That said, most stick to the
Promenade, Titgrab, and the Beam. They might be scavengers
and junkers, V Reich assholes, or mutants, but most are survivors,
gangers, and their ilk, who came to the outpost to rest their heels
for a spell before hitting the road once more. Tourists have a few
obvious tells: they ask/demand directions, talk too loud, make a
mess, and get in a huff when shit doesn’t go their way.
LAW & ORDER
Scrapbridger police their own for the most part. Law-breakers
find the whole community will rise up against them to shut down
any shit before it becomes a serious mess. Some districts run a
tighter ship than others, but pretty much everyone in town looks
after everyone else, and no one puts up with fuckery, especially if
it comes from a tourist.
 Welcome to Scrapbridge

CITIZEN COUNCIL
Scrapbridge’s council consists of five or so people drawn from
the community’s major districts. On average, the councilors get
together around the middle of the month to hash out problems,
complain, posture, and make deals between each other’s
districts. These leaders lack much in the way of competence, but
they really don’t need to be good at their jobs as Scrapbridge is
pretty self-sufficient.
these days. He has a thick white beard, thinning hair, and wears
a monocle over his left eye. He’s held his seat the longest of
anyone and has seen councilors come and go. Bitter, cynical,
and given to grumbling about everything, he’s close to giving
up his seat to a younger and more enthusiastic heir, but he has
yet to find anyone in his district to make a genuine go at looking
out for their community. Until then, Lucius shows up, adds little
to the conversation, and gathers what information he can to
benefit Yellow.

COREY BANKS ANTOINE LE MAGNIFIQUE

Representing the Gross Way, Corey Banks bought his place A flamboyantly dressed brothel owner of ever-shifting gender,
on the Council after making a small fortune selling scraps and Antoine Le Magnifique, works hard to maintain an appearance
salvage. A man accustomed to the finer things, he dresses in of civility and discretion inside Titgrab, Scrapbridge’s “red-light”
tailored suits in a variety of bright colors, wears fancy hats, district. Before claiming a seat on the Council, Antoine earned a
and carries a cane topped with a clenched fist. He’s a shrewd reputation for being one of the district’s most notorious pimps.
negotiator and has a knack for coming out ahead in nearly Known as the “Terror of Titgrab,” anyone who crossed Antoine or
every deal. Banks wants Scrapbridge to take a bigger role in the refused to knuckle under had a habit of disappearing. The pimp
Wasteland. It’s already the center of trade, but Banks believes relentlessly drove sex workers to make sure they earned but also
new opportunities await in some of the far-flung places, even made sure they were all fed, stayed relatively clean, and drug-
including, he hopes, the free. Once the girls and boys in
megalopoli. He’s been working Antoine’s employ understood
hard to convince the Council to what the deal was and what
fund the establishment of new was expected of them, they
trade routes and expeditions soon discovered that despite
into unknown territories. their extremely busy work
schedule, life was hella better
DYNA DYNAMITE for them than it might have
Once the La Trini Gang took otherwise been.
charge of the Beam, gang First and foremost, Antoine
leader Dyna Dynamite took is all about earning enough
the seat on the Citizen Council bullets to make bank and build
from her inept and corrupt a fortune. Running prostitutes
predecessor, a man who hasn’t goes only so far. Antoine
been seen since and whose bought out the previous
name has been forgotten. councilor and took over his
Dyna Dynamite is a smoking place at the adults’ table, so to
hot redhead dressed in snug speak. Antoine’s an arrogant
leather and latex clothing. asshole, but can back it up.
She wears her bright hair big, The former pimp stays clean,
with bullets for earrings. She obsessively so, and is rumored
won the Council award last to bathe several times a day.
month for the most inventive Antoine wears only the finest
demonstration of colorful clothing, accented with gold
language, and she’s made jewelry. When Antoine attends
grownups break down in tears meetings, there’s always pretty
after she gives them a lashing. young things along for the ride
Perhaps the worst kept secret along with a half-dozen toughs
about Dynamite is her driving for protection.
ambition to dismantle the
Council and make herself the sole ruler of Scrapbridge. She has FACEMUNCHER
the bullets, connections, and backing to make this happen—she’s Everyone in Scrapbridge knows Facemuncher. He gained the
just waiting for the right time to make her play. sobriquet after his habit of tearing off the faces of his opponents
in the fighting pits and eating them. As grisly as this sounds,
LUCIUS THE SPYGLASS Scrapbridgers loved his panache, and when he fought, he
Retired junker Lucius the Spyglass represents Yellow on the brought out the people in droves. He would have kept fighting
Council. He’s reached the ripe old age of forty-six—unheard of (and eating), but his reputation suffered greatly after the well-

7
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart
endowed King Dong gave him the beating of his life. Faced with
a miserable retirement in the violence of Facesmack, the old pit
fighter decided to get into politics. He’s new to the Council and
doesn’t much like it, as he’s finding he can’t solve problems with
his fists and teeth anymore.
CITIZEN WATCH
Scrapbridge maintains a small peacekeeping force, but few
people want the job, given how dangerous and unfun it is.
Instead, each district, except Facesmack, has a Citizen Watch,
an all-volunteer force of part-time peacekeepers. The Citizen
Watch, when on the job, wears distinctive blue helmets and
has the authority to settle small disputes. If the shit gets real,
though, the Watch has standing orders to put out an all-call
for help.
UNION FOR MORAL
DECENCY AND FAMILY
It’s hard to imagine anyone protesting sex workers earning
fair pay, security, and some healthcare, but the Union for Moral
Decency and Family has a big axe to grind against Titgrab and
all the degenerates who work and play there. The organization
started in protest of current fashion trends adopted by certain
gang members and picked up steam by protesting against
prostitution, alcohol consumption, and just about anything else
that could be construed as fun.
If the Union gets a sniff of anyone having a good time, you
can bet a few placard-waving protestors will show up if they’re
not there already. They scream and shout and chant and make
nuisances of themselves on the edges of Titgrab, paste their
posters in front of the watering holes, and blow countless bullets
in printing and circulating their pamphlets.
Many Bridgers ignore the Union assholes, but lately, the
members have grown so pushy that they’re starting to piss off
folks. In fact, the La Trini Gang set on them when they showed
up on the Beam making a racket about the apparel choices of
a gang known as the Cheesecakes. After the protestors and the
Cheesecakes nearly came to blows, La Trini stepped up and beat
the snot out of the union troublemakers.
YES WE MUTATE
The most recent in a long line of pro-mutant groups active in
Scrapbridge, Yes We Mutate formed in response to rumors of
violence instigated by the Anti-Mutant Repression Force. Yes We
Mutate aims for peaceful co-existence, but its members aren’t
above scrapping with bigoted assholes.
ANTI-MUTANT
REPRESSION FORCE
Rumor has it that the AMRF’s founder, Jester Salgado, takes
bullets from the V Reich to stir up shit in Scrapbridge. Whether
true or not, he’s not at all shy about his hatred for mutants. He
believes honest folks don’t have tentacles and that Scrapbridge
should have only honest folk living there. A rash of anti-mutant
crimes has struck the town lately, and the Citizen Council worries
8
that if Salgado doesn’t shut up and disperse his mob, the town
might tear itself apart.
JUDGES
Dissatisfied with the Citizen Watch’s ability to curtail crime, the
Judges formed to protect good and innocent people from theft,
robbery, assault, murder, and the like. The Judges avoid spilling
blood when possible, but they know that sometimes you have no
choice but to beat justice into some people.
THE GROSS WAY
Some folks say that first impressions are everything in a new
relationship, and, in Scrapbridge, the district known as the Gross
Way does not disappoint. Straddling either side of the bridge, the
Gross Way benefits from more room, better building materials,
and a cleaner, healthier population. Buildings made out of
something other than detritus dredged from the river or materials
cannibalized from the bridge and its towers greet newcomers
as they come into the settlement from the 70. These well-built
structures of metal, concrete, and wood crowd both sides of the
old highway. They have actual plumbing and electricity—it’s a
fucking paradise!
Enjoying all the glitz and glamor comes at a steep price, and
the Gross Way does a better job at parting strangers from their
bullets than anywhere else in Scrapbridge. Want to sample a
glass of Malört from the world before? Cabby’s Roadhouse has a
case of the stuff. Have an itch you’re tired of scratching yourself?
Well, Patti’s Pink Room has some of the best companions
Scrapbridge can offer, and most of them are even disease-free!
Restaurants, casinos, bars, clothing stores, mechanics shops:
you name it, the Gross Way has it, and you’ll pay through the
nose for it.
Most folks who work in the Gross Way live elsewhere, usually
in one of Scrapbridge’s seedier districts. Only the richest of the
rich can afford to live here, and those who do enjoy all the finer
things in life that bullets can buy. Several walled compounds
ring the commercial buildings that press against either side of
the road leading to and away from the bridge, and each one has
barbed wire fencing, elaborate gardens, pools, a small armed
security team, and super-nice double-wide mobile homes that
offer all the comforts. Merchants, magnates, crime lords, and
retired gang leaders claim these properties.
BLEACHED ASSHOLES
The Gross Way offers the closest thing to the good life a person
can hope to find anywhere in the Wasteland, and the folks living
here ain’t shy about letting everyone know how good they have
it. Locals dress better, have most of their teeth, smell like soap
or perfume, and look like they wouldn’t survive five minutes
outside. But they’ve grown so comfortable here and so confident
in the guards protecting them that they conduct themselves with
towering arrogance and scorn for people less well off.

THE BEAM
Once you escape the noise and lights of the Gross Way, you reach
the Beam, which has the distinction of being the oldest district
in Scrapbridge. When refugees first settled the site, they staked
their claim on the steel beam that stretched across the riverbed
and began work of scavenging materials from it. What remains of
this first settlement is the Beam.
In truth, more hangs from the Beam than lives on it. Buildings
made from shipping containers, old cars, slabs of asphalt, and
concrete crowd every available space. And, having run out
of room, locals started hanging living spaces from the beam
on cables and chains, connected by a maze of catwalks and
suspended walkways. Want to get down to the lower levels or up
to the higher? Crude elevators raised and lowered by rope and
pulleys offer access to the various levels. Recently, people have
been pushing hard for a ramp to be built, running from the Beam
to the bottom, and have been collecting funds for the project
with rummage sales.
No matter how much commerce the Gross Way claims, the
Beam sees all the real action. Bullets flow through the district
like water, and stores offering new and scavenged goods,
kennels, drinking-holes, and drug dens keep their doors open
day and night. One can hear raucous music at all hours, with
brawling, drinking, vomiting, and fucking happening pretty much
wherever one looks.
LA TRINI GANG
With its dense population and rowdy locals, one would think the
Beam would be a sketchy place with blood and shit flowing in
what passes for streets. Instead of a noisy, festering shithole,
the Beam is relatively well-kept, with almost no crime. It is by far
one of the safest place and cleanest places in Scrapbridge—all
thanks to the La Trini Gang.
A few years back, a bunch of nasty gangs started causing
trouble in the Beam, trouble that soon spread to other districts
and threatened to destabilize the whole damned community. As
Scrapbridge generally leaves it to its “citizens” to sort their own
shit out, the La Trini Gang felt moved to settle things by taking
down the upstart gangs one at a time. Gang leaders who refused
to bend the knee to La Trini found themselves disappeared from
Scrapbridge, though more than a few resurfaced in the wastes,
their bodies torn apart, dismembered, and picked over by the
carrion eaters. Since then, the La Trini Gang has kept the peace
with no trouble at all.
Gang members wear distinctive uniforms such that no one
fucks with them: clean white cargo pants tucked into blood-
red combat boots. Scrapbridge’s prohibition against violence
keeps their machetes, guns, and knives stowed, but if anyone
uses more than their fists, the gangers are more than happy to
escalate and make things messy.
Gang members patrol the quarter in groups of five. If they
find themselves up against something they can’t handle,
reinforcements are never far off.
Welcome to Scrapbridge
THE SCRAPBRIDGE GAZETTE
If you’re looking for work, rumors, or just the news, you can do
worse than The Scrapbridge Gazette. Old Ratcutter puts this
one-sheet newspaper together whenever the mood strikes
him (or he has enough wits in his addled head to do so),
filling it with news, rumors, and announcements pertaining to
Scrapbridge. For samples of this rag, be sure to check out the
selection offered here: https://www.badrollgames.com/en/
downloads/the-scrapbridge-gazette/
LA TRINI GANGER DIFFICULTY 5
Defense 12 Health 12 Size 1 Speed 6
Muscles 12 Hands 11 Brains 10 Mouth 10
Meat 12 Feet 12 Eyes 11 Guts 11
Menacing Whenever the total of a roll to attack is 20 or higher, choose
one creature that can see the ganger. The target must succeed on a
Guts roll with 1 complication or become frightened for 6 rounds.
Gear light armor, machete, pistol with 1d6 bullets
WEAPONS
Fist (melee) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success: 1
damage.
Machete (melee) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success:
1d6 + 2 damage.
Pistol (melee) Roll Hands (+1) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success: 1d6
+ 3 damage.
THE SKOOL
That people place little importance on learning stuff should come
as no surprise. Why, people stopped listening to the scientists,
the thinkers, the brainiacs a long time before the Big Nasty went
down. Wear a mask in the middle of a global pandemic? Fuck
you! You don’t own me! FREEDOM! You mean to tell me the Earth
is round? Fuck you! Anyone can see the Earth is flat. Climate
change? Fuck you! It’s a hoax!
So when folks in the Beam put forward the idea of building an
institution for opening the minds of young folks, not everyone
was on board. But Dyna Dynamite was, and she can be very
persuasive, especially when she’s holding a machete to your
neck, and thus the Skool opened its doors a few years back.
The Skool exists to provide youngsters with a rudimentary
education before letting them run wild in the Wasteland. Don’t go
thinking that these kids are learning philosophy, studying Latin,
or how to be good citizens; none of that shit goes down in the
Skool. Instead, the teachers educate the young on how to keep
their knives sharp, guns clean, how to find water, set traps, and, of
course, build birdhouses for their moms and pops in shop class.
At any given time, there’s a dozen or so students in the Skool.
Truancy has become something of an ongoing issue, what with
so many “funner” things to do in the Beam, but so long as Dyna
Dynamite calls the shots in the Beam, the Skool will stay open.
Who knows, maybe one day Bridgers will learn how to diagram
sentences!
9
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart

10

FERRERA’S KENNELS
The one thing everyone in Scrapbridge can get behind is dog-
racing, and there’s nothing like watching sleek greyhounds going
round and round a track. Bridgers really love these dogs, and as
a result, the pups enjoy a life far better than most people do. And,
fuck, that’s the way it ought to be.
Several places in the Beam breed dogs for the tracks, but
Ferrera’s Kennels is the best and most reputable, having earned
its reputation for producing champions a half-dozen times or
more. Madam Ferrera, a middle-aged woman with frizzy blue hair
and a penchant for wearing shapeless dresses in flower prints,
runs the shop with a few helpers, which is a small building made
of corrugated metal with a fenced-in space in the back lined
with cages for the pups. A typical greyhound sells for 50 bullets,
though Madam Ferrera is quite discerning about who gets to
take one of “her little babies and make them great.”
SHITHOLE
Spend any time in Scrapbridge, and you’re bound to catch wind
of the great reeking mess known as Shithole. No one thought
dumping waste and rubbish inside the town’s bounds would
be a good idea, but no one living in Scrapbridge was about to
haul their garbage out of town when they could just toss their
filth over the edge onto the mountain of refuse that has grown
steadily higher and smellier over the years. Peering over the
edge of Beam, one can spot people dumping whatever they no
longer want or can no longer sell onto the pile, and there it sits.
The mound, which climbs almost as high as the Beam itself,
contains a great variety of noisome treasures: old, shit-filled
diapers, soiled sheets, spoiled food, maggots and flies in the
millions, old toilets, mattresses, and worn out, used up parts for
things not even useful to the least discerning junker. Flammable
gasses rise from the decomposing heap, and every so often, the
mound belches, releasing an odor so profound, so offensive, and
so deadly that it kills several people each time it happens. Stuff
tumbles down from the top of the mound, and rainfall helps a bit,
for a time, carrying off the sludge into thin streams that feed the
brown stew that passes for what remains of the river that used to
flow here.
Since people began dumping their shit here, Shithole
has remained the foulest location in Scrapbridge, bar none,
unsanitary and unsafe for anyone. Yet, against all common
sense and decency, some Bridgers make their home here, in
a small shantytown in and around the mound. Mind you, no
one chooses to live here; rather, it’s where people, usually
desperate and at the end of their rope, wind up. Orphaned
children, called “shitlarks,” crawl through the rubbish heaps
looking for buried treasure while broken-down gangers blind
themselves by sipping rot-gut distilled from fermenting organic
wastes recovered from the heap. Old, used-up sex workers, failed
merchants, the shunned, the freakish, and the predatory all end
up tossed on the heaps of Shittown, fighting each other for the
choicest scraps.
Welcome to Scrapbridge
MIKE’S HOT AND
CREAMY PASTIES
One of the best food stalls in the Beam, Mike Lardboy
delivered his pasties right from the oven and into your
mouth. The business shuttered its doors for a few weeks
after Lardboy wound up dead after dressing up as Santa
and breaking into homes on Winternal night to deliver
pasties to good boys and girls. His good (?) intentions died
with him in a shotgun blast from a startled homeowner.
A new owner, Maggie Lardboy, has taken over, but most
folks agree that her pasties aren’t anywhere near as fine
as the late Mike’s.
THE DETENTION
CENTER
Some people just can’t help themselves. Even in a place as
awesome as Scrapbridge, there’s bound to be some thieving,
robbing fucker to make a mess of things. People who commit
violent crime more often than not find themselves tossed out
of Scrapbridge altogether, left to fend for themselves in the
Wasteland, naked and alone. The real psychopaths, those
deemed too dangerous to release into the wild, find themselves
locked up in Scrapbridge’s Detention Center—at least until
someone can figure out what to do with them, assuming anyone
bothers to do anything with them at all.
The Center, as it’s most often called, stands on the eastern side
of the rubbish mound, a boxy, windowless structure assembled
from cinderblocks. A hole in the roof, covered by a heavy iron
grate, allows some ventilation, and it’s through this hole that
prisoners find themselves tossed. Rainwater, rubbish, and the
occasional bucket of food also find their way through this hole,
and the prisoners fight each other for whatever makes it through
to them. Rumors of cannibalism and worse swirl around the
Center, and more than a few Bridgers want to see it shut down
and forgotten.
THE REXXOL
The Red Rashers, a nasty gang of lightly mutated scum, active
a few years back, used to have an initiation rite for anyone who
wanted to join their crew. To become a Red Rasher, you had to
go down to the Rexxol, Shithole’s one and only bar, and get your
genitals sucked by Rancid Ruby, a famously offensive sex worker
known for spreading an unfortunate and stubborn STD through
the lower quarters of Scrapbridge. Once the rash showed up, you
got into the gang.
The gang disappeared after members started complaining
about the discharge leaking from their delicate bits, and more
than a few found their noses rotting off, bouts of madness,
and worse. While the Red Rashers might be gone, the Rexxol
11
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart
remains, and it does a brisk business serving the residents of
Shithole. The Rexxol consists of a one-room building with a few
wobbly stools in front of a bar. Candles and an old hurricane
lantern provide what passes for light, and no one here really
wants any bright light. Here one can find prostitutes of dubious
quality, drug dealers, scumbags, the broken and destitute. As
few people have bullets to spare, the Rexxol takes treasures
from the mound as trade for drink and whatever they happen to
have on hand for eating.
People take their lives in hand when they visit the Rexxol since
none of Scrapbridge’s rules apply here. It’s nothing to hide a body
in the mound, and if someone from the outside pisses off the
wrong person, that someone is going to disappear, and there’s no
one who can or will even want to do a thing about it.
SHELTER
Nearly everyone who makes a living on the Beam lives in
Shelter, which takes its name for the relative safety it offers.
Positioned under the bridge, those living there generally don’t
have to worry about being on the ugly end of lift failures,
shipping containers snapping free, urine showers, tossed
rubbish, or any of the other things that happen as a result of
falling off the bridge. Shelter’s relative security and popularity
encouraged Bridgers to settle there to the point that there’s not
much room left for any further expansion.
12
The first people who made their homes in Shelter understood
the limitations of available space and began building upward
almost as fast as the district spread out. Using whatever
materials they had on hand, the place has become a maze of
crates, containers, cinderblock structures, with some sharing
walls and others cemented together and riddled with tight,
narrow passageways that crawl through the stacks. Since safety
was always a priority, the construction throughout Shelter is
quite sound, and collapses and slides almost never happen.
A residential community first and foremost, Shelter has few
operating businesses, and the ones it does have tend to be
side hustles. One family might take in clothes for patching,
while another bakes a thick, chewy bread with crunchy grubs
baked in the dough. People living here work elsewhere, many in
construction and labor, and come home to a place chosen for its
quiet and security. Shelterites keep their heads down and avoid
causing trouble; they want everything to stay just the way it is.
FOOTLICKER
Not as nice a place to live as Shelter, but a quaint and active
community all the same, Footlicker grew from Shelter’s overflow,
and its population has enjoyed steady growth while Shelter’s has
stagnated due to lack of room. Less crowded, Footlicker offers
inhabitants a place to call home with a little space between
themselves and their neighbors.

By all rights, though, Footlicker ought to be a squalid dump
due to its proximity to Shithole and Druggietown. One can
see the ever-increasing mound rising from Shithole from the
community's streets, but the smell somehow never intrudes.
Similarly, people often use Footlicker’s paths to reach the drug
dens in neighboring districts, but they hardly ever cause any
trouble. The main thing about Footlicker’s folk is that they are
mostly a hard-working, honest group of people who are doing
the best they can to provide for themselves and their families,
and they want none of the trouble from their neighboring
communities.
A foul current of murky water passes through the heart of
Footlicker, flowing through the neighborhood until it joins the
Cleavage, the broad, shallow sludge-filled stream that passes
for the river these days. Since this runoff comes from Shithole,
several enterprising locals make a decent amount of bullets
filtering the water with old screens from windows and then
boiling the stuff to make it potable. It smells and tastes awful, but
folks in the Gross Way buy the shit up, suckered into believing
“it’s artesianal!” (sic), with many healthful benefits.
Footlicker also boasts a number of legitimate businesses, from
restaurants to some manufacturing. Recycling sees big business
here, and Big Johnson’s Second Chance turns all kinds of
garbage into useful things. He buys materials from the shitlarks,
and some whisper he even buys things he cannot use just to
keep the poor kids fed.
THE MONSTER
Footlicker earned its name for the monster purported to live in
the river and that sometimes “attacks” the people who wade
in its dark waters. The monster, called the footlicker, wriggles
about the muddy sediment and runs its tongue (or some other
unspeakable appendage) all over the feet, toes, arches, and
heels of the unfortunate individuals who caught its attention by
standing in the stew. A few surprised individuals have tried to
organize an effort to rid the waters of the monster, but efforts
sputter out before they start as many people find the attentions
of the footlicker quite nice.
SCRAPBRIDGE
METHANE AND
MEAT ELECTRO-
PROTEIC GUILD
A great many strange—and not entirely useful— innovations
have sprung from the twisted mind of the notorious Doctor
Sarious. Many of these have inflicted disaster and death on
the hapless bystanders who witnessed the product of his
genius, but that hasn’t dimmed Sarious’s hope of producing
something useful.
To support his research and encourage others to engage
in it with him, Doctor Sarious has founded a new guild in
Scrapbridge. Choosing Footlicker as the place to host its new
Welcome to Scrapbridge
offices, the Scrapbridge Methane and Meat Electro-proteic Guild
works towards some goal, one held close to the chest so far, but
witnesses have spotted the comings and goings of numerous
hooded and masked individuals in and around the large white
brick building standing on the edge of Shithole. And from the
numerous pipes jutting up from the roof, one can see bright blue
flames and trailing smoke. Since the Guild began its work, foul
odors drift from the place and creep through Footlicker, stronger
odors than have ever come out of the giant rubbish heap next
door in Shithole. This malodorous atmosphere raises concerns of
many since no one knows what the doctor hopes to accomplish
here. Whatever it is, anyone familiar with the doc’s reputation
knows it can’t be good.
YELLOW
The central tower of the Beam overlooks the thick sludge
known as the Cleavage as it struggles to flow westward.
Originally known as Riversight for its fine view of Scrapbridge’s
waters, construction on the tower has seen the growth of
dozens of levels extending out from it, upon which stand
numerous shops, bars, and cheap accommodations. Riversight
never quite stuck as a name, and the district soon acquired
the moniker Yellow: local custom has people pissing from the
sidewalks and railings directly into the river below. Years of
spraying urine on the pillar have turned it from yellow to a vile
shade of brown.
A near-constant state of violence defines life in Yellow. Even
though the town prohibits fighting within its bounds, Yellow’s
people just don’t give a fuck. It’s been years since hard-
working, honest folk lived here—they have all since moved out
to Footlicker or elsewhere, and into their vacuum have come
a whole host of undesirables. Most killings and brutal acts
happen in secret to avoid attracting too much attention from
outside of Yellow, with clandestine battles spilling from level
to level, plunging the whole district into chaos. Power swings
from one faction to another, often in the same day, as people
brutally claw and fight each other to become the rulers of this
stinking quarter.
THE PROMENADE
Locals call the dryland flanking and following the Cleavage the
Promenade or, sometimes, the Walkaround. Close to the Cleavage
stands a confusing tangle of stalls, tents, and carts, with
merchants and peddlers and tinkers all hawking their wares to
passersby. Places all over Scrapbridge offer spaces for sellers to
sell their wares, but they often charge a hefty rental fee payable
at the start of each day. Since it costs nothing to sell on the
Promenade, it has become quite busy of late, while other venues
see their crowds diminishing.
The freewheeling nature of the Promenade invites many
dubious sorts to prey on visitors—thieves and charlatans do brisk
business here. Other vendors complain about the crime, but they
don’t make enough bullets to pay for anyone to patrol the market,
which leaves it to the vendors to do what they can to police
13
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart
PETE’S JOINT
The most famous foodery in Armpit, Pete’s Joint offers tangy
barbeque year-round, and the smoke from its ovens carries
the alluring odors of cooking meat across much of the
community. Pete hosts an annual Big Pig Raffle, which gives
the winner a free meal a week for the whole year and also
helps him stay in business with a nice big infusion of bullets.
MONROE’S PROBLEM
Monroe’s Place, a seedy little dive bar near the bottom of the
‘Pit, recently gained attention after Monroe, the owner, fell afoul
of a scam. He claims a young girl with ponytails, built like a
brick shithouse, with a kitten in her bag, used witchcraft to rob
him of over 50 bullets worth of stuff. He’s posted a reward for
the same amount, but he’s been tightlipped about the “spell”
she cast. Folks all over Armpit have been gossiping about his
misfortune, and a lurid story about “a pussy in a sack” has
been making the rounds.
RUMORS AND LIES
d20 Rumor and/or Lie
1 People report hearing booms and thunder out beyond the
Last Waste.
2 Some crazy bitch in the Biter Hills sells psychedelic
mushrooms that are causing Wasteland gangs to go nuts.
3 A junker caravan loaded down with weapons is due to arrive
any day now.
4 Nowater is recruiting pit fighters from Scrapbridge during a
limited enrollment period. Opportunities are open to anyone
who wants to test their luck in the trade of professionally
gutting, cutting, and smashing folks up.
5 The Clockwork Baroness of Samanthia goes through husbands
like Cirrhosis Pete eats lizardbats. Rumor has it that she
executes some and exiles others. Some just simply disappear.
6 The Three Fangs and the Blue Blades, rival gangs, are duking
it out in the lands between Scrapbridge and Pigsty. Folks are
heartily encouraged to avoid the area.
7 Posters of Prometheus—the mysterious mutant leader who
allegedly lives in the Twins—have started showing up all over
town, and now lots of folks start giving mutant residents the
stinkeye. Leaflets promoting Prometheus and promising the
dawn of a new era have been making their rounds.
8 The Citizen Council sent an expedition to Gleaming Towers
a few months back, but have gotten no word from them yet.
Gossip and rumors paint a dire picture of the expedition’s fate.
9 Excessive hunting of martabbits created a surplus of pelts, and
prices are falling.
10 People suspect the monks from the Shrine of the Watch of
being up to no good. The monks come to Scrabridge to shop
and trade, sometimes, but keep to themselves and rarely talk
to anyone.
11 The World-Famous Mutant Travelling Fair is coming back to
Scrapbridge. The recent surge in anti-mutant sentiment has the
community concerned about violence.
14
the marketplace, which is pisspoor at best. At some point, an
arrangement will need to be made, or people will go elsewhere
for their shopping.
ARMPIT
A lively district wholly given over to commerce and
entertainment, Armpit occupies a series of levels climbing up
from the riverbed to within reach of the Beam. At every level,
one finds fast-food joints competing for customers, open-air
bars, gambling dens, and numerous tables and chairs for people
to eat, drink, and swap rumors. The district takes its name from
the thick atmosphere of cooking grease, sweat, vomit, and the
yeasty odor of booze. Adding to the ambiance is the ever-
present noise of ringing bells, frying food, screams, barking,
and more. Armpit has all the chaos of Yellow but without
any of the unrest and danger. Armpit attracts people from all
over Scrapbridge since you can get just about anything you
might want to eat, drink, or otherwise ingest, from fried food,
barbeque, noodles, soups, and more.
d20 Rumor and/or Lie
12 The makers of MoskoKill—a toxin designed to kill
moscorpions—are looking for volunteers to test the stuff out in
the Wasteland.
13 Eat Shit and Die—"the hardest, nastiest punk band to come
out of the Wasteland!” (they’re actually Scrapbridgers)—is
putting on a concert in the Stadium. Locals expect to hear their
favorites, including “You Need A Fucking Map?!”, “Tell That To
My Face If You Got The Balls,” “I Got Serious Issue On My Hands,”
“A Highjacker Up Your Ass,” and their big crowdpleaser, “You’re
Going Home Toothless!”
14 They finally caught the freak who had been painting himself
green and peering in through Ganon Dolf’s windows. The
farmer is hopping mad and wants the peeping tom hanged.
15 Weasel Muldoon came back from a trip to the Wasteland, where
he claims to have seen something in the sky. He’s not sure what
it was but believes it was a craft sent by people from the stars.
16 Ricky Durango, the famous private investigator, solved
the “mystery of the severed cock” and plans to make an
announcement at Covenant Square soon.
17 Johnny Two Hands claims to have seen a village sprouting from
the back of a gigantic beast. Folks laughed at him until some
graybeard confirmed the story, telling folks that the place is
Wanderbury and it’s home to folks from all over the Wasteland.
18 A big ol’ mawworm erupted from the stadium floor, gobbling up
a dozen folk too slow to get away. The Stadium is closed until
someone goes into the tunnel to make god-damned sure the
mawworm’s gone.
19 Yuri Three-Nipples, the famous cook at Fat Pig Pub, is offering
free bowls of his new meat stew. He ain’t telling anyone where
the meat comes from, but no one’s died yet.
20 The Mycological Society of Scrapbridge unveiled new
mushroom specimens that have all the awesome kick of
the old Blood Cap but without the poison. Free samples are
available at their stall on the Promenade.

WHISKEYDICK’S
Named for the unfortunate side-effect suffered by some men
from drinking way too much whiskey, this tavern attracts the
lowest of the low in the Armpit. A charming place, the air inside
the concrete bunker has the trifecta of odors—puke, piss, and
shit. The daytime regulars are fixtures, pickled from the vast
quantities of cheap liquor they pour down their throats. The staff
consists of six burly bouncers (guards) and a few bartenders
and servers who all grow more attractive the more one drinks.
If you’re looking for a brawl, this is the place. The furniture looks
like it’s holding itself together by sheer willpower alone, having
been thrown, fallen upon, or picked up and used as weapons.
Everything wobbles and has been patched, taped, and glued
together several times over. The bouncers try to keep order, but
they enjoy a good fight as much as the next person, so they’re
bound to let a melee rock the place for a bit for the chance to get a
few punches in before tossing the unruly patrons out.
TITGRAB
As the name might suggest, Titgrab is Scrapbridge’s “red-
light” district, although there’s no need for anyone to put out
the red light—most of the residents here are sex workers who
understand that everyone gets an itch that needs scratching, so
why not make a few bullets in return? Despite its vulgar name,
Titgrab presents a nice front to visitors—Antoine le Magnufique,
head of the district, requires that things look respectable or
else. Antoine also makes sure the madams and pimps don’t fuck
around when it comes to clamping down on crime: if clients feel
unsafe, they won’t come here. The sex workers, who come in all
shapes, sizes, and genders, tend to be clean and professional
in their dealings, and a couple of clinics, paid for by the leading
brothel-owners, make sure the workers stay healthy.
Titgrab controls a big piece of Scrapbridge’s economy and
supplies the Citizen Council with a sizeable chunk of its operating
budget. This fact hasn’t stopped the Union for Moral Decency and
Family from harassing the folks working here. One can usually find
some placard-bearing wacko standing on a street corner haranguing
passers-by about the perils of moral turpitude. Most Bridgers don’t
even know or how to spell turpitude is much less how to spell it.
BARRY’S DIRTY
LITTLE SECRET
Wandering the Wasteland in search of salvage about 20 years
ago, a nasty old motherfucker named Barry came across (no
pun intended) a humongous stash of lingerie, sex toys, and
magazines stored in the basement of an ancient building. He
immediately saw a fortune in all that pervy junk and somehow
hauled the shit all the way across the blasted lands to
Scrapbridge and set up shop in the Beam. He has been doing a
brisk trade ever since, selling weird pornography, used condoms,
and mostly dried up tubes of foul-smelling jelly. Much of his shit
sells for just a few bullets, if that, but, being a fan of hardcore
smut, he’s happy to trade for stuff he’s never seen before.
Welcome to Scrapbridge
His shop is little better than a gloomy, reeking cave dimly lit
by flickering tube televisions showing people doing what they
do in all sorts of positions and with all manner of partners.
Racks hold well-thumbed magazines, VHS tapes, costumes, and
merchandise appealing to even the most discerning customers,
while rentable curtained rooms grant views through small holes
into rooms containing worn-out sex workers too fat, too old, or
too sick to work the streets, but still spry enough to avoid the
horror of life in Shithole.
Barry himself sits behind a high counter, littered with
greasy bags and Buffalocamelslammer wrappers. He normally
conducts business with only one hand showing. A disgusting
and shameless man, a thin sheen of grease covers his pimpled
face, and his black hair is always glued to his brow. He wears an
old, stained t-shirt, and it’s a mystery that none care to solve as
to whether he bothers wearing pants. Yet, despite his vileness,
Barry deals with folks all over Scrapbridge and could tell you a
thing or two about his clientele. In fact, he’s just as happy to sell
their secrets—for the right price—as he is to sell pornography.
FACESMACK
Shithole might be the most disgusting and Druggietown the
saddest, but each of these places at least has something to offer
the desperate. There’s never a good reason to visit Facesmack,
and it barely qualifies as a district since hardly any of its
residents pay into the town or pay any attention to the laws or
those charged with enforcing them.
Instead, Facesmack belongs to the gangs, and there’s no
shortage of them there. The strongest gang rules here, and
the mantle of “ruler of Facesmack” changes all the time, with
a frequency that puts Yellow to shame. Unlike Yellow, no
effort is made to keep the violence hidden or secret—people
in Facesmack just don’t give a fuck, and no one in the other
districts wants to risk their lives to do anything about it.
As such, Facesmack embarrasses the rest of Scrapbridge,
and the Council does its level best to ignore the place, which
explains why nothing has been done to shore up the crumbling
infrastructure. Last year, heavy rains caused extensive damage
to the southern shore, which sent a mudslide crashing into the
district, wiping out a few structures and even one of the lifts.
Repairs are happening slowly, with armed guards on site to
guard the workers being paid to rebuild.
THE TUNNEL
WACKOS
Recently, a certain “order” has been achieved in Facesmack. The
Tunnel Wackos currently run the show there, and sometimes
even send one of their members to represent them on the
Council—much to Facemuncher’s chagrin. An old, powerful
gang, they made their fortunes by delving deep into the darkest,
nastiest places in the sewers and finding all kinds of crazy shit,
from weapons and machinery to strange creatures and worse.
15
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart

No one fucks with the Tunnel Wackos. They know the sewers d6 Result
better than anyone else and made their name smashing other
1 The device explodes and deals 4d6 damage to the wacko and
gangs by coming up from below to attack. everything within 5 yards of it. A creature that would take this
A few weeks ago, the gang made a big play and wiped out damage can roll Feet and takes half the damage on a success.
most of their rivals in Facesmack and sent the rest packing. This 2 Nothing happens. Suck it, wacko.
hasn’t stopped the violence there—the Tunnel Wackos have 3 The device does something hilarious and unexpected. The
little interest in making it safe for any who live there besides wacko takes 1d6 damage, and one randomly determined
themselves. Instead, they’re extorting everyone for anything they creature within 5 yards takes 2d6 damage.
can get, letting all the smaller fries battle each other for whatever 4 The device tries to turn a creature of your choice within 5 yards
scraps are left. inside out. The target must roll Meat, taking 4d6 damage on a
failure or half the damage on a success.
5 The device makes an irritating sound, not unlike the noise
TUNNEL WACKO DIFFICULTY 25 created by babies on an airplane. For 1d6 rounds, every
creature within 5 yards of the wacko becomes impaired but
Defense 11 Health 18 Size 1 Speed 6 deals 1d6 extra damage with melee weapons.
Muscles 11 Hands 12 Brains 10 Mouth 9 6 Roll a d6. On any number other than a 6, the wacko disappears
Meat 12 Feet 12 Eyes 11 Guts 11 and reappears somewhere within 1d20 yards, preferably
somewhere unpleasant. On a 6, you must ignore page 30 of the
Overwhelming Force During the first round of combat, a tunnel wacko PunkApocalyptic rulebook for 1 hour of real-time. If you don’t,
increases the number of moves it can make and the number of someone will likely shit in your mouth at least once before you die.
So, just ignore this fucking page and pretend that anything that
actions it can use by one each. references a rule on it just doesn’t happen. Just do it. Make it work.
WEAPONS .
Hammer (melee or range 5) Roll Muscles (+1) with 1 asset to hit
Defense: Success: 2d6 damage.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
TUNNEL 666
Somewhere in Facesmack stands the entrance to Tunnel 666.
Wacko Tech Use an action to make use of a bit of wacko technology.
Roll a d6 to see what happens on the table below. Once used, the Everyone knows it exists, but no one can agree where it opens.
wacko loses this special activity until the end of time. Some claim Tunnel 666 leads to Hell, while others suggest it

16

burrows down to the center of the world. Some stories claim
killer robots prowl this tunnel, while a few tunnel runners say it
leads to a buried city. Even the Tunnel Wackos steer clear of it.
RATCUTTER
The meanest, nastiest son of a bitch to ever set foot in
Scrapbridge or in the sewer tunnels beneath it, Ratcutter has
done more than his fair share in making the Tunnel Wackos
notorious. He was a drinker, a pill-popper, an eater of cockrats.
He ate his own shit and slept in the vomit. He knew all the
tunnels and could find the best stuff in the old sewers. As bad
he was, he got a whole lot worse after he went into the mythical
Tunnel 666 and spent three days gone in the dark.
When he finally emerged, Ratcutter was pale, sweaty, and
covered in goo and blood. The only thing he said was, “the
horror,” and ever since, he’s been living on the streets, staying
as high as fuck all the time, shouting at himself or offering up
choice bits of wisdom to any who will listen. He is usually found
wandering around Facesmack in his rat-hide cloak, muttering
and scratching at himself.
Bizarrely enough, in his rare moments of mental clarity,
he disappears from Facesmack to nobody knows where. He
is apparently the source for much of what is printed in “The
Scrapbridge Gazette,” and its publication is coincidental with his
regular disappearances from Facesmack. No one knows where
or how this happens—somewhere, somebody must have an
old typewriter and an even-older hand-cranked mimeograph.
The Gazette is printed and then distributed for sale (for one
dirty bullet!) throughout Scrapbridge by persons and methods
unknown. And then Ratcutter’s back out on the streets of
Facesmack, raving madly and dispensing eerily relevant advice
to any who will listen.
Until recently, that is. A couple of Gazette issues have come out
in the past month or so, but Ratcutter hasn’t been seen in almost
two. Rumor is that he’s dead, the bloody remnants of his rat-hide
cloak found near where the entrance to Tunnel 666 might or
might not be. Is this some kind of weird publicity stunt? Or did
whatever demon the old bastard met inside the tunnel call him
“back home”? It’s a mystery.
MAX’S
BUTCHER SHOP
Max’s Butcher Shop does a brisk business in Facesmack. If you
need to get rid of a corpse, Max is the man to see. Much of what
he sells is from legitimate or semi-legitimate sources, but he
sells a special mix of ground meat, very popular with the more
ghoulish types, that’s said to be divine.
DRUGGIETOWN
Druggietown occupies a stretch of rushes and reedbeds off to
the side of Shithole, and it’s here where people can come and
wreck their bodies with whatever chemical they like without
fear of interference or judgment. Tents, sleeping bags, and crude
Welcome to Scrapbridge
ONE BULLET FOR
TWELVE DEAD COCKRATS
Covenant Square has always had a problem with
cockrats. Locals believe they were brought in by
outsiders years ago, and they’ve been breeding
unchecked ever since. They’re everywhere and in
everything. If they were good eating, they wouldn’t
be a problem, but their innards break down into
a creamy, stinking mess when killed, so only the
shells remain—and there are few willing to eat them
alive. The cockrat problem has gotten so bad that
the Citizen Council has placed a bounty on these
vermin, currently paying a bullet for every twelve
carapaces.
A cockrat has the shape and size of a rat and
the brown-black shell of a cockroach, with two
thin tails and three antennae thrown in for good
measure. They carry all kinds of diseases and make
a shrieking noise when crushed.
shelters dot the field, and here and there lay bodies stretched
out, some lost in the fever dreams of their addictions, others
dying or dead from overdoses. Scrapbridge has no prohibition
against drug use, despite the continuing efforts by the Union
for Decency, and it has been ravaged many times by all kinds of
strange addictive substances: some harvested in the Wasteland,
others spilling out from the Megalopoli as yet another effort by
the city elites to empty the Wasteland of “undesirables.”
CANDYCORN
Candycorn (criminal), so named for his orange and white
stripped skin, prowls Druggietown, selling candy from an old
stained box. He makes the candy himself using a secret recipe.
(Some say he makes the shit from puppet hornets, but no one
has yet offered up any proof.) The candy isn’t particularly sweet
or tasty, but it’s popular with drunk gamblers looking to take
the edge off their hunger after losing their shirts. Recently,
Candycorn has had a bit of trouble after he was caught watching
the kiddies. He didn’t mean anything by it and even offered the
tots free candy, but angry parents don’t want him around and
call him terrible names. He’s become angry and has started
thinking about getting revenge on those people—revenge in the
form of rusty nails, razor blades, and the like that he could hide
inside his sweets.
COVENANT
SQUARE
Where Armpit, Titgrab, and Facesmack meet stands Covenant
Square, the very place where the warring factions came together
back in the day and established Scrapbridge as neutral territory.
17
 Welcome to Scrapbridge
Quickstart
Now, Covenant Square serves as a large, open-air market for
merchants, junkers, and other peddlers, all of whom pay a
small fee to keep pickpockets and other scum from preying on
customers. Business runs day and night, and many vendors
sleep in their stalls to keep the best spots.
On the northeastern edge stands the Citizen Council Building,
and the city leaders meet here and hash out the bullshit goings-
on in the community. Compared to much of Scrapbridge’s
construction, the Council Building appears quite nice, built
from brick and mortar, with only a few sections walled with the
traditional rusting corrugated steel sheets commonly found in
Scrapbridge construction.
SPEECHMAKER AND OUTER LANDS
RABBLEROUSER You know what Bridgers need more than anything else? If you
guessed food, you’re a goddamned genius! Scrapbridge can’t
Covenant Square offers a stage to anyone who wants it, and
no one takes advantage of this fact more than D’ostender. A
famous ganger who retired long ago, he regularly climbs up on a
soapbox to deliver speeches about fighting among the Wasteland
gangs, tips on battlefield selection, and complaints about toxic
pools. Once he gets started talking, he’s liable to keep talking all
day, audience or no.
THE STADIUM
The Citizen Council knew damn well that so long as they keep
the Bridgers supplied with enough to eat and enough to distract
them, the Council members can do whatever the fuck they want.
So there was little debate when it came to building the Stadium
to host the bloody and brutal “sand hockey” games. Now, the
Stadium draws crowds each week to watch their neighborhood
teams beat the ever-living fuck out of each other, and most folks
don’t think twice about coughing up a bullet to get in or get
drunk on ethanol in the stands while watching.
Not for the faint of heart— for either player or spectator—sand
hockey pits two teams against each other on the stadium’s
sandy floor, with each team running back and forth, chasing a
severed head knocked around with heavy clubs toward the nets
at either end. The team that scores the most goals wins, but,
usually, fights break out, and the winner becomes the team with
the most players still standing at the end.
18
Currently, the Gross Way, the Beam, Armpit, Facesmack,
Titgrab, Shelter, Yellow, and Service Road, a small outlying
settlement, all have hockey clubs. The Beam Hockey Club
dominates the league thanks to their star player, Janett the
Badass. People are still talking about how she was benched
after beating the shit out of a referee for making what she
thought was a bad call in the Beam’s last match against the
Service Road 32. The ref’s expected to pull through, though
he might not walk or piss right again. The other referees
complained to the Council and demanded that Janett be banned,
but their complaints fell on deaf ears—the councilors know a
moneymaker when they see one.
grow enough food inside the town to feed its people, and there’s
nowhere near enough room—or even soil—inside the walls to
raise any of the new breeds of livestock who hand over their
merry lives to be eaten and turned into steaming piles of shit.
For this reason, the scattered farms populating the Outer Lands
have the town over a barrel. Without them and their sacrifice,
Scrapbridge would go the way of most other settlements in this
god-forsaken place.
The Outer Lands covers just about everything within a few
miles of town. Basically, wherever toxins, radiation, and poison
haven’t sterilized the ground, you can find a farm run by one or
a dozen Outer Land folks. It’s dangerous out there, though, and
the near-constant threat of raids, forced recruitment, buggery, or
worse by the denizens of the Wasteland, who do not give a single
fuck for who they kill or what they take from the needy, has
made the Outer Landers an interesting breed. Most keep their
knowledge of farming and herding to themselves, sharing what
they know to their immediate family members and hired hands to
make damned sure they remain good and valuable. A fair number
have developed some curious ways of seeing the world from all
their time suffering and working and suffering some more. More
than one Outer Lander has some sympathy for, if not allegiance
to, the V Reich. After all, someone needs to be blamed for all
this bullshit, and someone needs to stand up and do something
about it, right?

BACKGROUNDS
Books like these usually include new character options to make
sure they’re valuable to everyone who fucks around with the
roleplaying game (in other words, I need to put something out
to make money, right?). So, as you might expect, this chapter
introduces some new toys for players. Now, lots of this shit ties
directly to Scrapbridge, which makes all of it fucking aces for
those mercs using the town as a starting point for a new series
of missions set in the Wasteland. It also works for those who
make a pitstop here before moving on to do other shit. Here’s
what you’ll find.
Just as the runoff from the mound in Shithole carries lumpy
chunks of shit and rubbish into the Cleavage, so too does the
Wasteland spew filth into Scrapbridge. Here, you can expect
to find all kinds of weirdos, from drugged-out loonies hanging
around the sewer entrances listening for wisdom from the
depths to the pompous, fancily dressed assholes parading along
the Gross Way, looking down their noses at everyone they meet.
The following backgrounds give you some interesting options
for mercs living in the town. For learning about how to use
backgrounds, see the rulebook, page 8.
Backgrounds
BENDER
You wanted to be one thing when you grew up and one fucking
thing only. You wanted to represent your neighborhood as a
sand hockey player. The trouble was you were shit at the sport.
Maybe you had asthma. Perhaps you thought you were supposed
to wear ice skates and showed up with them on your feet. Hell,
maybe you just didn’t have the hand and eye coordination
needed to hit the goddamned ball. Whatever the reason, the
league drummed you out before you got a start. You hope to win
a place one day, but you know it’s going to take a lot more than
wishing to get you there.
Attribute: Increase your Muscles by 1.
Language: You know a language of your choice.
Chirper: You know how to trash-talk your opponents—it’s
probably the one thing you are good at. In combat, you can
choose to run your mouth at one creature that can hear you. This
isn’t an action, and you can do it while doing something else, but
you make any rolls during your turn with 1 complication since
19
 Backgrounds
Quickstart
you’re spending a fair amount of time bullshitting instead of
paying attention. Anyway, roll Mouth against the target’s Guts. On
a success, you piss the target off, and it goes insane for 1 round.
On a failure, the target becomes immune to your use of this talent
for a good long time.
Starting Stuff: You have a sand hockey uniform that’s seen
better days, a sand hockey stick (treat it as a spiked club
because why not?), a bag carrying a few jockstraps, an old, furry
stick of deodorant, and some talcum powder for your crotch. You
also have 2d6 bullets.
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 5
Take a Hit: The first time you become injured, you can use this
talent to recover. Then, for 1 whole round, you make Muscle rolls,
and Guts rolls with 1 asset. Once you use this talent, you need
to hunker down and rest for about 8 hours before you can use it
again.
BLEACHED
ASSHOLE
Even if your asshole was bleached, you’d never call yourself a
bleached asshole. That’s a name foisted on you and your kind
by the wretched riffraff living in Scrapbridge’s less-fortunate
quarters. Sticks and stones, right? Right. It’s not your fault you
have bullets to spare, fine clothes, a nice place to stay, and can
enjoy all the finer things. It’s just the way things worked out.
Some people are tops, and the rest serve them as bottoms.
Attribute: Increase your Mouth by 1.
Language: You know a language of your choice.
Insufferable Shit: While you are conscious and able to use
actions, you impose 1 complication on rolls made to attack any
team member within 5 yards of you, other than yourself, of
course, you insufferable shit.
Starting Stuff: You have fancy clothes, all new and clean, plus
a suitcase filled with more clothing. You have 30 bullets and a
small dog that can fit in your fanny pack or purse.
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 3.
Untouchable: When someone succeeds on a roll to attack
you, you can use a reaction to switch the target from you to
someone else within 5 yards. Once you use this talent, roll a d6. If
you roll a 3 or less, you lose this talent until you finish a rest.
BURNOUT
You don’t have a problem. You can quit at any time. You need your
medicine. It’s the only way you can cope. Yeah, you might spend
days in a stupor, and you probably shit your pants when you are.
You have a nasty rash that won’t heal now too. Really, just one
more fix, and you’ll quit for good.
20
BENDER BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 You had talent. Really. But you pissed off the wrong person, and
they smeared you.
2 You took a hit in the mouth and lost most of your chiclets as
a result. You cried like a little bitch and got laughed out of the
arena. You’ll show them!
3 You confused the rules of sand hockey with Ummerikan
football. Back to square one for you.
4 Your arch-enemy plays for a sand hockey team. This
motherfucker stole your main squeeze, kicked sand in your
face, and took a shit in your mouth. You hate this asshole so
much, you fantasize about killing them.
5 Having failed to make a go of sand hockey in Scrapbridge, you
set your sights abroad. You want to try out for a team in another
community. You just need to find someone to help you get there.
6 You heard about this pro sand hockey player named Shoresy.
You’ve been keeping your ears opened to see if you can learn
where you can find this dude. You believe that if you kill him
and eat his heart, you will steal his power. Hardcore.
BLEACHED ASSHOLE
d6
BACKGROUNDS
Background
1 One of your parents made a fortune renting out property to
the poor.
2 Your family made their bullets producing a special carbonated
beverage that contained opiates.
3 You have enjoyed a life of privilege and believe you can do
anything you want and get away with it.
4 One of your parents ripped off junkers and sold what they stole
for an incredible sum.
5 You have never been off the Gross Way and have become
desperate to see the rest of the world (i.e., Scrapbridge).
6 You often dress up in ratty clothes and pretend to be poor to
make your parents angry.
BURNOUT BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 A sex partner, who gave you the clap, also got you started on your
addiction. You haven’t seen them since your infection cleared up,
but you’ve sworn to kill the fucker if you run across them.
2 You’re a regular in Druggietown, and you’ve found a nice spot
to tune out. Recently, though, some of your fellow junkies have
started disappearing.
3 You heard about a bad batch of drugs going through
Druggietown, and one of your people turned up dead.
4 You had everything, once. You lost it all at the dog tracks and
started using to make the pain go away. Some old creditors
have been sniffing around and you worry they’ll find you.
5 You’re trying to get clean and have done everything you can.
Maybe Scrapbridge is the problem. The sooner you quit this
town the better.
6 You ran with a gang for a time and it was in their company
that you picked up your habit. You washed out and have been
circling the drain since.
 Backgrounds

Attribute: Increase your Feet by 1.

Language: You know a language of your choice.
The Keith Richards Effect: You’ve done so many
drugs, you’re pretty sure nothing can kill you now. You
make attribute rolls to resist the effects of drugs with
1 asset. In addition, while you’re impaired from using
drugs, you reduce any damage you take by 1d6.
Nasty Habit: You start the game addicted to
recreational drugs.
Starting Stuff: You share your filthy clothing with
a nice crop of lice. You sold everything you own for
6 hits of recreational drugs, which you keep in an old
plastic bag.

MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the
following stuff.
Health: Increase by 2.
Fire It Up! You treat recreational drugs as combat
drugs.
Portable Lab: You know how to make your own
drugs using a portable stove. It takes 1 hour of work
using ingredients worth 2 bullets. At the end of this
time, you manufacture a dose of recreational drugs.

GREASE
JOCKEY
You’ve flipped burgers, shoved dubious meat into
tacos, turned the spit at the rotisserie. You’ve burned
just about every part of your body, and you have so much
grease in your clothes that if you wrung them out, you could
refill the frier with not-so-fresh oil. Working in fast food is
thankless, shit work, one that pays little and gets next to no
respect from the fuckers up on the Gross Way, but they sure love
coming down to Yellow on high holy days to fill their craws with
the shit you peddle. Bitter, jaded, and battle-scarred, you’ve no
fucks left to give.
Attribute: Increase your Meat by 1.
Language: You know two languages of your choice.
Immune to Pain: You don’t suffer from the impaired affliction
when you’re injured. You can just slather some grease on it
and keep going. Also, when fatigued, you reduce the number of
complications the affliction imposes on your rolls by 1.
Starting Stuff: You have a filthy, stinking uniform stained
with hardened ketchup, grease, blood, sweat, and plenty of
your tears. The uniform comes with a paper hat, which you
wear all the time. A manager yelled at you enough for not
wearing it that you start crying when you can’t find it. You
have an old plastic bag with a change of underwear, the stub
of your last check, a box of smokes, a lighter that works half
the time, and a moldy sandwich you stole from work. You also
have a spatula with a sharpened edge (as a knife—maybe also
a metaphor for you, too).
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 5.
Look Busy: In combat, if you’re within 5 yards of one of your
pals, you can use an action and move on a fast turn. If you’re not,
you can only use an action or move, regardless of when you take
your turn. It’s good to conserve your resources, man.
GREASE JOCKEY BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 You started working in food to avoid going to Skool. You stuck
around when everyone else found better work anywhere else.
2 You have management ambitions. You work hard, put in long hours,
and all for the same pay that lazy fucker who works fries gets.
3 You owe bullets to some ganger, more bullets than you will ever
be able to pay back.
4 You’re new to Scrapbridge and slaving in a hot kitchen was the
only place hiring.
5 Your rich parents on the Gross Way thought that you having a
job would give you character. What it got you was burns and a
nasty STD from sleeping with your manager.
6 You’ve been fired so many times from so many places, you can’t
remember if you’ve worked at this joint before or not. Who the
fuck cares? You sure don’t.

21
 Backgrounds
Quickstart
LA TRINI SCUMBAG
You jumped at the chance to join the La Trini gang. Not only does
no one fuck with you anymore, but you can do whatever you
fucking want, and no one will say shit. Or so you hope. Your betters
in the gang keep you on a short leash, but you’re going to climb up
the gang’s ranks and be the one who gets to call all the shots.
Attribute: Increase your Muscles by 1.
Language: You know how to speak a language of your choice.
Menacing: Whenever the total of your roll to attack is 20 or
higher, choose one creature that can see you. The target must
succeed on a Guts roll with 1 complication or become frightened
for 6 rounds.
Nasty Reputation: While on the Beam, you impose 1
complication on rolls made against your Defense and attributes.
Starting Stuff: You have clothes in the La Trini colors—clean
white denim cargo pants, red combat boots, and whatever the
fuck else you want to wear. You also have a club, a knife, a sack, 1
food, 1 water, and a piece of junk.
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 4.
Gang Up: You know how to fight as part of a team. When you
roll to attack a creature that has already been attacked in the
same round, you make your roll with 1 asset.
NARC
You just can’t mind your own goddamned business, can you?
You’re a smarmy, do-gooder who just can’t pass up the chance
to rat out your fellow ‘Bridgers. The Citizen Watch gives you
just the place you need to put your snooping skills to use. Yeah,
you might actually do some good. Scrapbridge doesn’t need
murderers or sex offenders, and you can help by exposing those
fucks and get them thrown out of town.
But you’re also not above chasing down every salacious rumor
or gossip to advance your own ends either. So, you’re probably a
mixed bag: concerned citizen and nosy asshole.
Attribute: Increase your Eyes by 1.
Language: You know a language of your choice.
Read My Lips: You’re so good at listening in on people’s
conversations that you’ve learned how to read lips. You can get
the gist of what a person says even if you can’t hear the person
speak, but you do have to be able to see the person’s lips (or
what approximates as lips).
Starting Stuff: You have threadbare clothes, a fancy badge
announcing your membership in the Citizen Watch, a blue helmet, a
club, a knife, purse or sack, and 1 food, 1 water, and a piece of junk.
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 4.
Nose for Trouble: Increase your Eyes by 1. In addition,
whenever you would be surprised, roll Eyes. On a success, you’re
not surprised.
22
LA TRINI SCUMBAG
BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 A La Trini gang member saved your life, and you joined to pay
off the debt.
2 People kicked you around when you were young. Now you get
the chance to kick back.
3 Secretly, you belong to a rival gang and have infiltrated the La
Trini organization to steal their secrets and weaken them from
within.
4 A relative belonged to the gang but died under mysterious
circumstances. You joined to find out what happened.
5 You have big dreams of expanding the La Trini influence across
all of Scrapbridge.
6 A close friend or lover found a place for you in the gang, but the
connection went sour, and now you don’t feel safe anymore.
NARC BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 You’re a peeping tom. You’ve leveraged your weird fetish into a
paying gig.
2 If your spouse/significant other hadn’t gotten roped into crime,
they’d still be alive today. You’re out there fighting crime in the
only way you know how.
3 You survived Skool by informing on your fellow students.
Everyone but your teacher hated you.
4 You believe there’s a right way to live, and if everyone would just
do what you say, they would be better. You watch other folks
and expose their shenanigans in the hopes of shaming them
into a better way of living.
5 You hate people. Exposing their foibles reveals their flaws.
6 There are mutants everywhere, dirty, stinking mutants who
want to infect us all with their foul juices. You’ve got your eye on
them. They won’t take you unawares!
OUTER LANDER BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 You lived a long, hard, boring life. It’s either “kill yourself” or
“get yourself killed.”
2 Some gangers attacked your shitty little farm. They killed your
kids. Your fuck partner ran off with the big head honcho. You
got left there, swinging in the wind.
3 The ground is rotten. Nothing will grow there. Time to move on.
4 You tried watering your plants with energy drink, but you just
killed a whole crop instead.
5 You made a ton of bullets farming and raising buffamels, but
you got tired of the routine. You packed your shit and headed to
Scrapbridge to find your fortune.
6 You drank some strange fluid, and before you knew it, you
killed your whole family. Oops.

OUTER LANDER
Without you and your kind, Scrapbridge wouldn’t be worth a fart in
the wind. You know that it falls to you and others like you to keep
the fuckers in town all fat and happy. Where do they think all that
meat comes from or the vegetables, so-called, you grow? From
your hard work, that’s where! You’ve known not much more than a
life of toil, and it sucks. It really does. But you’re third, fourth, who
knows how many generations Outer Lander and you’ve become
accustomed to the shit that piles on your head. Or have you?
Attribute: Increase your Muscles by 1.
Language: You know a language.
Rub Some Dirt On It: When you spend grit to heal damage,
you heal 1d6 extra damage.
Starting Stuff: You’ve got some muddy rags, a sore back, a
garbage bag filled with an extra shirt, 1 food, 1 water, 1d6 bullets,
and a garden tool (mattock, pickaxe, sledgehammer).
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 10.
Life Is Suffering: You make rolls to resist perils and hazards
with 1 asset.
SEX WORKER
Despite regular efforts by some serious assholes to shut down
the industry in Scrapbridge, the oldest profession remains alive
and well in these parts, along with many others. If it’s A-OK to
folks to give it away for free, what’s wrong with charging a few
bullets for it? So, you’ve found your niche and fill it nicely—or get
it filled nicely, so to speak. To be clear, you’ve chosen this line of
work, and you’re happy doing your thing. While practicing your
trade, you meet all kinds of folks who say all kinds of things
in bed, and odds are, you’ve learned something that could
land you in a whole heap of bullets or a whole heap of shit.
Jury’s still out.
Attribute: Increase your Mouth by 1.
Language: You know a language of your
choice.
Seen It All: When you would be
surprised or frightened, roll a d6. On a 4 or
higher, you’re not surprised or frightened.
Starting Stuff: You have provocative clothing,
normal clothes for when you’re off the clock, a knife,
a can of mace, 1 medicine, and a couple of loyal,
regular customers.
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the
following stuff.
Health: Increase by 4
Been Around: When you would gain any affliction,
you can roll a d6. On a 4 or higher, you don’t
gain the affliction. On a 3 or less, you lose this
talent until you spend 1 grit to regain it or you
complete a rest.
Backgrounds
SEX WORKER
BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 You always dreamed of running a brothel.
2 You came to Scrapbridge a few weeks ago and found your
corner in Titgrab.
3 You have clientele in the Gross Way and keep their secrets.
4 One of your fellow workers went missing. You’ve been trying to
learn what happened to your friend and have vowed to never
stop.
5 You had a big hulking lover who watched out for you, who was
gunned down outside Scrapbridge, and now, you’re trying to
find out why.
6 You were an amateur, but soon discovered you were good at the
work. You have since gained a powerful client.
TEACHER’S PET
BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 Mommy never loved you enough. You’re looking for a
replacement parent.
2
3
You got the hots for one of your teachers, and your favorite
song is Not Standing So Close to Me or something like that.
You killed one of your classmates. No one knows. You’d like to
keep it that way.
4 You don’t think you’re doing anything wrong. Your teachers
deserve the respect and adoration you show them.
5 You got a hall pass to use the bathroom. When you got there,
you looked in the mirror and felt such self-loathing that you
never went back to Skool. You still have the hall pass, and you
keep it as a reminder of who you once were.
6 Naïve, you have no idea how irritating you are. You just want to
get along with everyone!
TEACHER’S PET
You’d eat the peanuts out of your teacher’s shit if
it meant scoring an A on the exam. You’re so far
up your teachers’ asses, you only seem to breathe
when they break wind. Your klassmates hate you,
since you rat them out all the fucking time, and since
you’re the first one with an answer to any question, every
question, even when you don’t know. You ply your teachers
with gifts, usually shit you find or stole, and they put up
with you. Maybe you fooled them. Maybe they do like
you. Then again, maybe they hate you just as much as
everyone else does. No one has to like you so long as
you’re safe and you succeed.
Attribute: Increase your Brains by 1.
Language: You know three languages, you
goddamned nerd.
23
 Backgrounds
Quickstart
THE SHIT GIBBON
BACKGROUND
Well, folks, I’m sorry to report that I cut the shit gibbon
background from this book. While immensely funny, I’m
sure it would piss off three people to whom I’ve already
given enough shit to be pissed off about. So rather than
throwing gasoline on the fire, I’m going to skip it.
If, though, you want to play a politician in Scrapbridge
or elsewhere, go right ahead. Some suggestions follow.
If such a background were to exist, you’d probably boost
your Mouth by 1 and know a language. You might have a
talent that lets you inflame your friends by feeding them
horseshit. I’m thinking you’d grant them 1 asset for 1 round,
but grant all your enemies 1 asset on rolls made to attack
your friends.
For starting equipment, a bad tan, ill-fitting clothing,
Wasteland notoriety, a stupid red hat, a golf club, and
so on. For mission 4, you don’t get to boost your Health,
because fuck you. And, your talent would be a limited, say
a couple of times per day, ability to foist damage you’ve
taken onto one of your pals.
But, this is all just speculative bullshit, since, you know,
I’m not going to make this about politics or anything.
Suck Up: In combat, choose one hostile creature and
ingratiate yourself to it. You impose 2 complications on rolls
made to attack you by everyone but the target and grant the
target 2 assets on rolls it makes to attack you. This shit lasts
until the fighting stops, the target kicks the bucket, or you
become incapacitated. Once you use this talent, you gotta wait
a bit before you can use it again, like at least 1 minute.
Starting Stuff: Fancy clothes, all clean and pressed, a
backpack containing a few textbooks, paper, a couple of pencils,
a Valentine’s Day card for one of your teachers, and a small
journal listing all the people you hate and why. You also have a
packed lunch that consists of 1 food, 1 water, and 1 medicine.
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 4
I’m Telling: When you become injured, you can use a reaction
to scream and cry. Move up to your Speed away from the source
of the damage, and this movement doesn’t trigger any free
attacks.
24
TUNNEL WACKO
Fun fact: Tunnels run under and all around Scrapbridge and
house all sorts of fucked-up things. Some folks believe that
there was some secret government installation under the river,
though why any government would put a bunker under a river
is anyone’s guess. True or not, the tunnel wackos, of which you
are one, find all kinds of cool toys under Scrapbridge. You know
your way around under the town and have a few safehouses
underground. But—and this is the big, swinging ass of it—the
tunnels are the exact opposite of safe. People go bananas
seeing some of the shit that’s down there. Worse, not everything
under Scrapbridge is dead, and what’s not dead is typically
super hungry.
Attribute: Increase your Feet by 1.
Language: You know a language of your choice.
Tunnel Vision: You’re accustomed to spending long stretches
in gloomy places. As a result, your eyes adjust themselves so
you can see pretty well. For obscured terrain, you treat the level
of obscurement as being one less. So, you treat rain, which is
normally partially obscuring, as clear, and darkness, which is
totally obscuring, as heavily obscured.
Starting Stuff: You have a coverall stained with oil, mud,
blood, and nastier stuff, a wrench, a backpack, 1 food, 1 water, and
two random pieces of junk, one of which you found on your last
foray into the tunnels.
MISSION 4 BENEFIT
When you wrap your fourth mission, you get the following stuff.
Health: Increase by 5
Tunnel Rat: You can always retrace your steps underground.
In addition, you reduce the degree of obscurement by one
additional step.
TUNNEL WACKO BACKGROUNDS
d6 Background
1 You followed some shitheads into the tunnels, and they left
you there after taking all of your sand hockey cards. You had
to find your way out.
2 You got really, really, REALLY high and had a vision that there
was something badass in Tunnel 666. You’ve been scouring
the tunnels ever since.
3 You saw an old movie called Whore of the Rings that led
you to believe you’d find true love in the tunnels under
Scrapbridge.
4 You changed your name to Pardu and became obsessed
with wandering the steam tunnels under Scrapbridge.
5 Some kids played this game in which they talked about their
feelings in between chopping up dragons in old dungeons.
You were inspired. Maybe one day, you’ll make your way to
the Lizards of the Moat.
6 You lost your best friend to something wandering in those
tunnels. You’re going to find whatever it was and kill the
fucker.

FRESH MEAT
What’s a fucking roleplaying game expansion without a new set
of things to kill? Nothing! What? Were you expecting a whole
section on getting in touch with your feelings through better
roleplaying?
Nope. Fuck that. This is the Wasteland, and Scrapbridge, and
your insatiable need to impregnate the bad guys with bullet
babies. And that’s what this chapter’s all about. It’s got all kinds
of things to kill. You’ll find fuckers who deserve to die, fuckers
just out minding their own business that might be fun to kill,
fuckers who’ll plead with you to not kill them, and fuckers so
overcome with self-loathing, they’ll suck your dick or whatever
else it takes to earn a blessedly quick end to their awful
existence. Good stuff. Real good.
How do creatures work, you ask? Jesus fucking Christ on a
pogo stick, have you not read PunkApocalyptic: the RPG?! All the
shit for using creatures and whatnot can be found in that book.
Doubt me? Go look it up. It’s in the chapter entitled, “Assholes,
Shitheads….” (named for YOU and your dumbass questions).
Now, pay close attention because I can promise you there will
not be a legion of self-congratulatory Twitter-lovin’ fuckbags
to take you by your wee little hand and hop, skip, and jump
you to the magical land of love and happiness that is tabletop
roleplaying.
Fresh Meat
No. That shit will most def-fuckin-itely NOT happen here. This
means you’re going to have to FIGURE IT FUCKIN’ OUT on your
own using the words the Schwalb gave you. Fuck all the rest.
OK. Enough. This writer has beer to drink.
ACCORDING TO
DOCTOR SARIOUS
Everyone knows that all sorts of dangerous critters live
in the Wasteland, real scary shit that can rip your balls
off if you don’t know what you’re doing. But folks just run
around, fucking off like jackasses, never sparing a thought
about what actually lives out there. And then, wouldn’t you
know, something finds them, or they find something, and
that’s when all the crying and bleeding starts.
I want to help people. I do. I really do. That’s why I
have decided to consecrate my life to be a boffin about all
this, a respected Official Bugger and Mutantologist from
the Scrapbridge Methane and Meat Electro-proteic Guild
(of which I am founding member, as well as president,
secretary, treasurer, and field specialist). I am Doctor
Sarious, and I will try in this Guide to the animals, critters,
and mutations of the Wasteland to make a cool study
about the animals that live in our world.
25
 Fresh Meat
Quickstart
BUFFAMEL
“During my long years as an expert in things, animals, beasts
and toxic people in general, I have captured, dissected,
researched, experienced, documented and even fuc… whatever,
enough with this list… dozens of creatures
of all sizes and shapes. Some of them are really strange and, of
course, very interesting… Well, this buffamel ain’t nothing of that!”
—Doctor Sarious
It’s been theorized that the buffamel appeared long before
society went down the crapper and was, in fact, some unhappy
merging of two species to make a better one. Most buffamels
look like oxen with two humps on their backs. Big and resilient,
they are giant slabs of muscle under thick hides and coarse hair.
They have large heads, with large noses and bulging brown eyes.
The males have horns extending out from the sides of their heads
right above their small ears. A full-grown buffamel stands six feet
tall, nine feet long, and weighs around two thousand pounds.
Roaming Grazers: A great many buffamels live in captivity,
raised by herders and slaughtered for their meat, hides, and
other parts. In the wild, buffamels gather in herds that roam the
rare green zones. Some travelers claim there’s a sanctuary for
these beasts somewhere west of the Black Hole.
Buffamels might combine the traits of other animals, and some
even can develop mutations, but, at the end of the day, they’re
animals. They think as animals do and behave as such. They
don’t fuck with other creatures, though males become dangerous
during mating season, and every buffamel spits when irritated.
Otherwise, they are harmless. Mostly.
26
Salvage: You can use just about every part of the buffamel
carcass, and most people in the Wasteland depend on them for
survival. Buffamel hide makes great, durable clothing, and the meat
and organs of just one beast can feed a settlement for months.
Some folks even drink buffamel milk, claiming the beverage is not
only tasty but nutritious too. Horns and hooves can be carved into
useful tools or boiled for gelatin, if that’s your thing.
Most folks, though, use buffamels for labor, and it’s nothing to
see a buffamel dragging a cart or plow. You can get a buffamel in
reasonable health from just about any settlement for 80 bullets,
give or take. Or, speaking of take…
BUFFAMEL DIFFICULTY 10
Defense 9 Health 30 Size 2 Speed 4
Muscles 15 Hands 9 Brains 7 Mouth 8
Meat 14 Feet 8 Eyes 10 Guts 10
WEAPONS
Head, Horns, or Hoof (melee) Roll Muscles (+5) with 1 complication to
hit Defense: Success: 1d6 damage.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Spit When a creature within 5 yards that the buffamel can see attacks
it, use a reaction to have the buffamel spit at the triggering attacker.
The attacker must succeed on a Feet roll or become blinded for
1 round. Once the buffamel uses spit, it must wait 1 minute before
it can use it again.
FACEFLIP
“Across the Wasteland, you can find quite a few creatures that
will kill you in a thousand creative ways. There are others that
will make you chuckle at their funny looks. Many of them are just
minding their own business. But there are few creatures as mean,
cunning, and dastardly as a faceflip can be.”
—Doctor Sarious
Fucking, petty thieves, every one of them,
faceflips steal anything they can reach, so you
have to be on guard when you’re around them,
or they’ll rob you blind. What do they steal?
Food, of course. Or anything that looks like food
and can fit in their mouths.
Faceflips ain’t much to look at, and in fact, most
people prefer not to. They’re quadrupeds, between two and three
feet tall, with muscular hind legs and thin, dexterous forelimbs.
They have short fur in dull colors ranging from gray to brown along
the flanks, but brightening toward their spines, which might be
bright red, yellow, or a combination of different colors. These aren’t
attractive creatures, by any means, and their heads look like round
loaves of bread. They’re called “faceflips” because when they’re
having a good time, the skin on their faces rolls back to expose the
muscle and bones of their heads. It’s really fucking gross.
Relentless Scavengers: Faceflips have a fondness for human
company and haunt the outskirts of settlements, large and
small. They choose these places since it’s easier to steal food

than hunt for it in the Wasteland. They’ve become so common
that most folks ignore them, and some have even gone so far as
to make pets of them.
Once faceflips show up, they’re hard to drive off. These critters
can climb, jump, and run fast, so when they piss off the locals,
the faceflips scatter, making for their hiding places until the
coast is clear.
Faceflip Packs: Unless they’re living a pampered existence as
some dumbass’s pet, faceflips hang around in packs of two to four.
So if you spot one, chances are a few others are hiding and waiting
for their chance to steal something from you. People mistake
them for dumb animals. Sure, they don’t wear clothes, slobber on
everything, and don’t wipe their asses, but they’re smart as shit,
and they use all sorts of tricks to get what they want.
One common tactic is for two faceflips to make it look like they’re
going after one thing, while a third sneaks up to grab the thing
they’re all really after. They can open bags and take things from
them. They can open doors, nudge windows open, and identify and
exploit people’s habits and behaviors to their own advantage.
Faceflipping: The whole thing with pulling their skin back
from their faces is just nasty, and people have been known to
puke when they see it happen the first time. It’s thought that
faceflips do this as some sort of defensive mechanism, to make
themselves look really unappealing to a potential predator. But,
faceflips do this trick when they’re happy. Give a faceflip a chunk
of meat, it gobbles the snack down and turns its face inside
out as a way of thanks. They also faceflip when they’re playing,
fucking, or when you scratch their bellies. It’s weird, and no one
really knows why they do it except as a way to fuck with folks.
Salvage: Faceflips have few uses when encountered in the
wild, but you can usually find something useful in their shit.
They eat anything they can fit in their mouths, so you might find
bullets, an artifact, a gun, toy car, and just about anything. In
fact, there’s a whole industry of people who sort through faceflip
shit looking for treasure. These “shit-stirrers” are the lowest of
the low, but if there weren’t bullets in the work, no one would
fucking do it. Right? Well, no one without a shit fetish.
Faceflips do make pretty good pets. They’re smart and can learn
how to do tricks. They’ll bring you your slippers and herd your
lizardcocks. They’re not really aggressive and, if they’re fed, they
won’t steal too much. And when they do, you just have to wait a
few hours and retrieve your crap from their shit…so to speak.
FACEFLIP DIFFICULTY 10
Defense 12 Health 10 Size 1/2 Speed 6
Muscles 11 Hands 12 Brains 8 Mouth 10
Meat 10 Feet 12 Eyes 12 Guts 12
Faceflip If the faceflip is happy, all the skin on its face pulls back to
reveal the raw muscle and bone of its head. Each creature that sees
this must succeed on a Guts roll or become sickened for 1d6 rounds.
On a success, the creature becomes immune to the Faceflip of all
faceflips forever.
WEAPONS
Teeth (melee) Roll Muscles (+1) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success:
1d6 damage.
Fresh Meat
GASPUMPER
“I crack meself up just thinking of the gaspumper you caught
today. Top notch, buddies. I have put my ass on the line out there
many times getting too close to deadly beasts of any kind, but few
times in my life have I laughed out so loud as I did with a bitch
this hilarious. The days I was following it were the most funny
of me life, not a big deal when you live in a shithole like this,
but apart from those three days I spent in that whorehouse in
Titgrab when they mistook me for a famous pit fighter and I could
do anything on the house, up until they realized their mistake
and beat me up so bad I almost died before they threw me into
the river… yes, apart from that, I swear to all gods that this little
creature is the funniest thing in the whole world.”
—Doctor Sarious
Few critters in the Wasteland match the gaspumper for style.
Bright blue, it has a soft coat of fluffy, thick, and curly fur. It has
huge, round eyes, wet to the point that it looks like it’s about to
cry. The goddamn thing is so fucking cute, you just want to wrap
your arms around it and hug it to death. A long—as long as its
body long—muscular trunk hangs from its face, and it has four
legs, walking on two or four as it chooses, and when running, it
makes a high-pitched whinnying noise, making it sound as if the
sand was burning its paws. It’s a sight to see, for sure.
Gaspumpers tend to be loners, but they sometimes gather
in small numbers. In groups, they cooperate with each other,
suggesting, perhaps, some level of intelligence.
Thirsty for Gas: Gaspumpers drink gasoline, diesel, oil, and
just about any other kind of petroleum product they can find.
So, you can expect to find them roaming around old refineries,
scrapyards, junkyards, gas stations, and toxic pools. Gaspumpers
seem content to mind their own business, hopping around and
drinking till full, at which point they wander off.
Hated by the Black Blood Children: As inoffensive as
gaspumpers seem to be, their drinking habits seriously piss off
the Black Blood Children. Gasoline attracts them, and they have
no problem removing gas caps and sticking their snouts into
the tanks to drain them dry. Over and over again, Black Blood
Children find their bikes, oil drums, gas cans, and more emptied
by these little freaks.
You could say the gaspumpers have become the faction’s
worst nemesis. Gaspumpers stalk their camps, refineries,
warehouses…and as soon as the Black Blood Children drop their
guard, pump it goes! It runs on its short little legs, making a
weird “uy-uy-uy-uy-uy!” sound as it closes in on its target. Once
there, it attaches its thick trunk to whatever holds the gas—can,
tank, or drum—and guzzles the stuff, making enough racket that
it can’t help but draw attention to itself. But by then, it’s too late.
Loaded with high octane fuel, the gaspumper goes nuts. Its eye
bulge, pupils dilate, its body shakes, and then it speeds off, like
a bat out of the Last Waste, all the while going “uy-uy-uy-uy-uy!”
while the Black Blood Children throw rocks and curse at it—even
they know better than to shoot at it.
27
 Fresh Meat
Quickstart

GIGGLER
“They say laughter adds years to your life. Fuck that! If you
suddenly hear some giggling in the Wasteland, you better start
running like your ass was on fire, or stand still as a post. Hell. Stop
breathing. Because hearin’ loud, hysterical laughter means one of
these two things: either my brother-in-law Julio is laughin’ at one
of his own unfunny jokes, or, maybe even worse, there’s a Giggler
nearby.”
—Doctor Sarious

You’d have to be half-blind to miss a giggler. This monstrous

beastie has a long, muscled body that measures about forty-five
feet from the tip of the snout to the end of its tail. It moves about
on four thick legs, the front pair equipped with clawed fingers.
The thing’s head lacks eyes, but it does have enormous ears that
are quite sensitive to sound, and the giggler can also use its long
tongue to taste its way around. A lush, brown mane encircles its
neck where it connects to the rest of its shit-brown furred body.
Toxic Neighbors: Gigglers live near, but never in,
contaminated areas—preferably flat, open spaces free from
obstacles or terrain. Solitary brutes, they have little to no
interaction with others of their kind, leading many to speculate
about how they reproduce, if they do at all.
Dormant Beasts: If you find yourself stumbling into giggler
territory, you’re likely to find the beast sleeping because that’s
pretty much what it does all the time. And when it sleeps, it sleeps
the sleep of the dead, ignoring anything and everything around
it. Too many fools think that a sleeping giggler is easy prey—when
they discover otherwise, the lesson they learn is usually fatal.
The Giggle: When not sleeping, a giggler makes an annoying
noise all the fucking time that sounds a lot like hysterical
Salvage: Catching a gaspumper ain’t easy. They’re super-fast chuckling. It’s from this sound that the creature takes its name.
and cunning when dodging projectiles. But, if you can catch Shocking, right? Well, when awake, this thing becomes quite
one and kill it without destroying its body, you can retrieve gas terrifying because it can hear you breathing from 100 yards away,
from the carcass by giving it a good, long squeeze. You got to move to exactly where you are, shred your armor to pieces with
be careful, though. You don’t want to shoot them because they its massive claws, and rip your head off, all the while giggling at
explode and burn up fast. your misfortune.
The furry hides are quite nice, and you can get enough to make Blind Hunters: Gigglers do just fine in wide-open spaces but
a small rug. The gasoline smell never really comes out, but some are well and truly fucked in broken terrain or places with lots
folks are cool with that. of obstacles. They can still pinpoint their prey but are blind and
crash into obstacles, at least until they grow wary enough to feel
their surroundings with their tongues. People who run afoul of a
GASPUMPER DIFFICULTY 5
giggler stand the best chance at surviving by running for cover.
Defense 13 Health 8 Size 1/2 Speed 8 Salvage: You can put a giggler’s carcass to good use. There’s
Muscles 8 Hands 12 Brains 10 Mouth 8 enough meat for sixty food units. Their hide, when properly
tanned, makes great, stylish clothing, and their manes make
Meat 9 Feet 16 Eyes 10 Guts 8 great wigs, blankets, or even clothes. Claws serve well as knives
Living Gas Tank A gaspumper has 1d6 units of fuel inside its body. If the
and machetes too.
gaspumper dies from fire, lightning, or a bullet, it explodes and deals
1d6 damage per unit of fuel it holds. GIGGLER DIFFICULTY 500
Pedal to the Metal On the gaspumper’s turn, expend one unit of fuel to
triple its Speed until the end of its turn. Defense 12 Health 190 Size 9 Speed 6

WEAPONS
Muscles 18 Hands 10 Brains 10 Mouth 10
Trunk (melee) Roll Hands (+2) to hit Defense: Success: 1d6 damage. Meat 19 Feet 12 Eyes 12 Guts 15

28
 Fresh Meat

Critter Sense A giggler can pinpoint the location of each creature of at
least size 1/4 that’s within 100 yards of it.
Blinder Than a Bat A giggler can’t see obstacles.
Giggling A giggler makes a hysterical giggling noise that’s quite
upsetting to everyone who hears it. The sound carries out to about
100 yards. Any creature that’s not a giggler that hears this noise has
to succeed on a Guts roll or become frightened. During each upkeep,
a creature frightened in this way can repeat the roll and remove
the affliction from itself. Any creature that succeeds on a Guts roll
becomes immune to this giggler’s Giggling for 24 hours.
Shake It Off A giggler shakes its bigass body. Each creature within 1
yard of it must succeed on a Feet roll with 1 complication or take 1d6
damage and fall prone.
WEAPONS
Claws (melee) Roll Muscles (+8) with 2 assets to hit Defense: Success:
4d6 damage.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Maul The giggler makes two claws attacks.
Headlong Charge The giggler moves up to twice its Speed in a straight-
line toward a creature. If the giggler runs into an obstacle, it takes 2d6
damage, and its turn ends. Otherwise, the creature it’s running toward
must succeed on a Feet roll or be slammed to the ground, taking 8d6
damage, falling prone, and becoming stunned for 1d6 rounds.
help. The skin stretches taut over its bent, hunched back, and
it bristles with spurs, spikes, and nodules, with vents to release
puffs of toxic mist. The worst part of it, by far, is its face, which
is really just a big pair of bulging bloody eyes and needle-sharp
teeth jutting out in all directions from its maw.
Evil Intelligence: Folks throw around the evil label a little
too often. You know, just because a person beats the fuck out
of other people to take their bullets doesn’t mean they’re evil.
Maybe they’re just misunderstood. Maybe they asked nice first.
Heck, maybe they just really needed those bullets.
When it comes to the Grim, though, it’s evil. Really fucking evil.
It thrives on making others suffer. When it hunts, it plays with its
victims. It pulls them apart, bit by bit, reveling in their screams.
It shows cunning when on the hunt and sets traps for its prey. It
even shows itself to terrify its victims, disappearing long enough
for them to overcome the initial shock, and then springing out of
hiding to punch a claw in their delicate bits.
Septic Tank…and Beyond? The Grim lives in the waters and
area around Septic Tank. Locals don’t talk about it but get them
drunk enough, and they’ll spill the details about townfolk being
picked off ever so often by the beastie.
Most folks think there’s only one Grim, and maybe they’re
right. But goddamn if there aren’t rumors

THE GRIM
of one being spotted hundreds of

“I have seen plenty of nasty things and witnessed the weirdest

shit across the Wasteland. I have lived in my own bollocks the
craziest situations almost impossible to believe. I have been face
to face with beings, monsters and creatures with more teeth than
hairs in a martabbit’s fur, and claws longer than a mongolongo’s
dick. But only once was I petrified by utter fear. That day
something inside me died, because I ended up face to face with…
The Grim!”
—Doctor Sarious

Few people outside of Septic Tank have ever heard of the Grim;
locals there like to keep their troubles to themselves as
they won’t do nothing that fucks with their leechcrab
business, for which they are famous. But every now
and then, stories about the Grim bubble up like
trapped air in the bottom of a septic tank, and
it’s worth paying attention if you ever had plans
to spend a weekend in the Tank and fill yourself
to the brim on steamed leechcrabs in buffamel
cream butter sauce.
The most anyone can really say about the Grim is
that it’s a creature born from corruption. Legend has
it that somebody in olden times committed an unspeakable
crime, one so foul that it went against the very laws of nature.
Or it might just be a really nasty psycho mutant with an axe to
grind against everyone.
The Grim is a fucking nightmare in the flesh. Vaguely
human, it moves about on backwards-bent, saggy legs that
end in talons, and its wiry arms have hands with long, slender
fingers. A second set of arms jut out from its chest, almost
as if something had grown inside its body and now reaches for

29
 Fresh Meat
Quickstart

DOWNRIGHT NASTY
The mission “Downright Nasty” features The Grim
MIGRANT
as the central antagonist. Feel free to subject the “I bet my balls you have sometimes felt one of those horrible
mercs to all the fun contained in that delightful headaches like someone was punching a hole through your
romp through Septic Tank. brains. The pain usually includes dizziness and a strong urge
to puke. Maybe sometimes, although I find it hard to believe,
those headaches were for no reason and not due to some heavy
drinking the night before. Hear this, buddy, because all that
suffering is nothing compared to the effect a big migrant can
cause on you if it’s nearby.”
—Doctor Sarious
miles away. That might mean there’s more than one. And if there
is more than one? Folks in the Wasteland are well and truly Migrants are like the badass cousins of regular ants, and each
fucked. one is about the size of a dog. A real dog, I mean, not like one
Sneaky Killer: The Grim uses stealth to take its prey. If you see of those fancy-ass pussylickers that fit in a lady’s purse. These
it, you’re probably not its target. But you won’t forget it. Ever. critters are bigass ants with black bodies and some reddish
Salvage: Ah, right. No. Don’t even think about trying to hunt hues, and from the back of their heads protrude what appear to
this thing. Run. be pincers. But those aren’t pincers. Nope. They don’t use them
for eating, scrapping, or carrying; they’re high-powered antennae
THE GRIM DIFFICULTY 100 to broadcast a nightmarish psychic signal that wrecks the fuck
out of the minds of just about everyone in range. No one knows
Defense 13 Health 39 Size 1 Speed 7
why, or who (or what) the fuck it’s for.
Muscles 13 Hands 11 Brains 10 Mouth 9 They have some small teeth for biting and chewing and big
Meat 12 Feet 14 Eyes 13 Guts 15 whitish eyes for seeing, and they always seem to be judging,
frowning, as if they find you to be somehow beneath them.
Scary as Fuck When a creature sees the Grim, the creature must
succeed on a Guts roll with 1 complication or become frightened
for 6 rounds. Once the creature makes this roll, regardless of the
outcome, the creature does not have to do so again until after it
completes a rest.
Stealthy Motherfucker The Grim only makes sounds when it moves if
it chooses to. In addition, other creatures can’t see the Grim while it’s
obscured by shadows and darkness.
Toxic Fumes At the end of the round, each living and breathing creature
within 2 yards of the Grim must succeed on a Meat roll or become
sickened for 1 round from toxic fumes. If the creature is already
sickened, it instead takes 1d6 damage.
Implant Foul Seed Any creature who is incapacitated from damage
dealt by the Grim and left alone with it for 1d6 rounds will become a
host for its foul seed—after the number of rounds have elapsed, the
Grim will depart, leaving the creature alive. Within 1d6 hours, a grim-
spawn (as subhuman) tears free from the host, instantly killing it. The
newly born grim-spawn can immediately stand up and act normally
thereafter. Kill it, kill it a lot. Trust me.
WEAPONS
Claws (melee) Roll Muscles (+3) with 2 assets to hit Defense: Success:
1d6 + 2 damage.
Grab (melee) Roll Muscles (+3) with 2 assets to hit Defense: Success:
The target becomes grabbed for 1 round. While grabbed in this way,
the target grants 1 asset on attack rolls made against it and the Grim
imposes 1 complication on rolls made to escape.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Grab and Rend The Grim uses grab and then attacks with its claws.
Grab and Go When the Grim successfully grabs a target, it can
immediately move up to its Speed without triggering free attacks.

30

Desolation Dwellers: Migrants avoid people when possible.
They favor dry, desolate areas in which they build their colonies.
Since dry and desolate describes just about everywhere in the
Wasteland, it’s important to mention again that they have no
truck with people. So, you might find colonies up near the
Shrine of the Watch, maybe Luckyland as well, but more often,
you’ll find them in the places between, in those barren stretches
no one wants.
Loners: You’ll never see two migrants together, which is kind
of weird since they have to hang out some in order to make little
migrants. Some believe the migrants all come from a gigantic
queen that lives near the Shrine of the Watch, or the Acidic
Land, or deep in the heart of the Final Wastes, depending on
who you ask. It’s believed she pops out eggs that spawn into the
migrants that wander the Wasteland. They might all be using
their antennae to stay in communication with one another, and
the psychic phenomena could be their communications to their
queen. Or not. No one knows.
Mindfuckers: People all over the Wasteland report suffering
from headaches that come on for no reason at all. Just out of
nowhere comes this sharp pain in the brain that throbs and
pulses and makes you puke. The reason for this anguish might
be because there’s a migrant nearby. Anyone who gets too close
to a migrant suffers sharp pains in their heads, which grow
stronger the closer they get to the giant ant. At about fifty yards,
you feel the dull throb in your head. At thirty, it becomes hard
to see. At ten feet, you’re on the ground, puking and screaming
and crying.
The psychic fuckery affects just about everything from people
to critters. A migrant can knock a bird out of the air. And there’s
no limit on the number of folks they can affect. A migrant has no
control over its broadcasts; it’s always on.
Salvage: Kill a migrant, and its psychic signal shuts off, and
what’s left is the carcass of a big ant with some bizarro not-
at-all ant-like anatomy. Killing it is tricky since it’s just about
impossible to get close enough to it. There’s not much to take
from them. You can’t eat the “meat,” and the carapace ain’t
worth much. You might take the head as a trophy. That’s cool.
MIGRANT DIFFICULTY 25
Defense 10 Health 10 Size 1/2 Speed 5
Muscles 11 Hands 11 Brains 9 Mouth 8
Meat 10 Feet 10 Eyes 10 Guts 11
Psychic Fuckery A migrant emits a psychic signal out to a range of 50
yards. The closer one is to the migrant, the more severe the effects, as
shown in the following table. A creature immediately suffers the effect
based on its distance from the migrant.
Fresh Meat
Distance Effect
in Yards
0–5 The creature’s head explodes, and the creature dies.
6 – 10 The creature falls prone, takes 3d6 damage during
each upkeep, and is confused, impaired, sickened,
slowed, and stunned. Oh, and it can’t stand up.
11 – 15 The creature falls prone, takes 2d6 damage during
each upkeep, and is confused, impaired, sickened,
and slowed. And, it can’t stand up.
16 – 20 The creature takes 1d6 damage during each upkeep
and is confused, impaired, sickened, and slowed.
20 – 30 The creature is confused, impaired, and sickened.
30 – 40 The creature is confused and impaired.
40 – 50 The creature is impaired.
WEAPONS
Mandibles (melee) Roll Muscles (+1) with 1 asset to hit Defense:
Success: 1d6 damage.
MOUTHER
“Have I ever told you about that time I was swallowed whole by
a mouther? I was travelling with a group of scholar colleagues
near Samanthia and one of those beasts came out of nowhere…
well, not exactly nowhere, because those critters are big, obvious
and clumsy… but it came out of… of… Ug, ok, fine, I’m just making
this thing up just to leave you eager to read more! The fact is that
mouthers are just another one of the many nasty creatures you
can stumble upon in the Wasteland and get killed by. In a single
bite.”
—Doctor Sarious
There. Out there. On the horizon. A bright light shines, brighter
than the angry sun blazing overhead. A flash of fluorescent
yellow, maybe radioactive green, some bright, sickly pink color,
it blazes like a lighthouse. The light could be anything, anything
at all, but seasoned travelers know better. They know the light
shines from a dreaded mouther.
Yet another brutish beast spawned from the post-war horrors
of the Big Nasty, mouthers wander across the flat, clear stretches
of the Wasteland, their iridescent hide shining like beacons in the
light of the full day. They move singly, in pairs, or in packs of up
to six members, usually led by a male, swinging their ponderous
heads this way and that, their wide, toothy mouths yawning wide
to scoop up anything slow or dumb enough to be in their way.
Mouthers grow a bit bigger than buffamels but have heavier,
bulkier bodies. Their weirdly colored hide protects them well, as
neither teeth nor claws seem able to find purchase, and even
bullets bounce off them. Huge mouths dominate their faces—it’s
for this feature they take their names—and they always hang
wide open, making them look a bit stupid. They have big teeth
too, but the teeth aren’t anything to worry about, really, since
they’re flexible, almost rubbery. Nostrils and eyes appear on
either side of their big heads.
31
 Fresh Meat
Quickstart
Relentless Predators: Considering their size and slowness
and bright, obvious colors, it’s a wonder anyone falls afoul of
them. Here’s the thing: they never stop. Once they pick up a
scent, they follow, moving at the same constant pace until they
eventually wear down their prey and then scoop it up in their big,
cavernous mouths.
Oh sure, a scavenger who picks up a mouther can easily
outpace it. Can go miles and miles and then settle in for a long
night’s rest, with the mouther nowhere to be seen. But a couple
hours later, there it is, closing the gap, ready to eat.
Swallow Whole: When a mouther finally reaches its prey,
it grabs it with its mouth and swallows it down. Its big spongy
teeth hold it in place and muffle the sounds of its screaming.
There’s not much chance of cutting oneself free since the
mouther’s innards match its hide for toughness.
You might think this is the end of the poor fucker, but no. The
mouther’s digestive juices start working on the poor bastard, enough
to cause extreme pain, but not enough to kill it, yet. Eventually, the
mouther pukes up its meal so another, different mouther can take
a turn digesting. This goes on and on until the last mouther just dry
heaves. Then, the pack moves on to find something else to eat.
Salvage: A living mouther has no fucking use, but their
carcasses provide a cornucopia of salvage. The mouther
has tough hide and, though tough to treat and cut, it makes
outstanding armor. One mouther hide can produce two sets of
light armor that offer Defense 15 and offer the same protections
as a bulletproof vest except that you take half damage on a roll
of 3 or higher. The only drawback to the armor is its color: it
imposes 1 complication on rolls made to hide or be sneaky.
MOUTHER DIFFICULTY 250
Defense 9 Health 90 Size 3 Speed 4
Muscles 15 Hands 9 Brains 7 Mouth 6
Meat 15 Feet 8 Eyes 10 Guts 12
Obvious Target A mouther grants 1 asset on rolls made to attack it.
Tough Hide A mouther takes half damage from weapons.
WEAPONS
Mouth (melee) Roll Muscles (+5) to hit Defense: Success: 1d6 damage
and a size 2 or smaller target is grabbed.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Swallow Use a reaction when the mouther grabs a target to have it swallow
the target, causing it to move inside its space. A mouther’s gullet can
hold a number of creatures whose combined size is no more than 2.
A swallowed creature is blinded, deafened, immobilized, and
impaired. Each hour the creature remains swallowed, it takes 1d6
damage from the mouther’s digestive juices. A swallowed creature
can attack only with light melee weapons and then only weapons
with a point or edge do anything—half damage.
Any creature in the mouther’s gullet, when the mouther dies,
removes the immobilized affliction from itself and, if it climbs out,
removes the other afflictions from itself.
Vomit Use an action to have the mouther puke up everything inside
its gullet, which moves out of the mouther’s space and lands prone
in a space you choose within 2 yards of the mouther. Any creatures
among the contents that are still alive must succeed on a Guts roll or
become stunned for 1 round.
32
PUNKICORN
“Although my job here is talking about the beasts that roam the
Wasteland, I don’t have a fuckin’ clue whether these things fall into
that category or not, as their origins seem to be rooted in
the very, very strange mind of some weird scientist from the World
of Before, apparently to be living weapons of mass destruction. But
let’s be honest, isn’t that true for most of the creatures I talk about?”
—Doctor Sarious
Quite possibly the loveliest, fluffiest creatures you’ll ever see,
punkicorns are soft, cuddly animals with big, wet eyes that say
“Love Me!” Like the horses of legend, they have a single horn on
their foreheads, but are otherwise short, chubby, and funny-colored.
Rare Sights: You don’t normally see punkicorns roaming
free in the wild, but they’re out there, and most critters won’t
fuck with the goofy things because they know better. Instead,
you’re more likely to spot one in captivity, waiting to carry out
their purpose as living weapons. Captors keep them in cages,
all wrapped up in soft, plushy cloth so that the punkicorns can’t
press themselves up against a hard surface.
Hug Me: Every punkicorn wants to be hugged, and when
hugged hard enough, they explode. Isn’t that wonderfully
fucked-up? Kind of a metaphor there. Not like martabbits,
where one pop only covers everything nearby in their guts.
No, these cute fuckers fly apart with the force of a car bomb.
Their bones splinter and scatter in every direction, tearing
bystanders to ribbons. And when the smoke and red mist clear,
only a crater remains.
When a punkicorn sees a person, it perks up and jogs toward
them, lovely eyes wide, and spraying rainbow-colored pellets
from their asses—they poop adorable multi-colored turds.
And when the punkicorn comes close, the person feels an
overpowering urge to hug the little fellow and coo and preen
and say shit like “did the punkicorn go potty?” or “cuddly
widdles.” You get the idea. It sure feels nice, and it’s not a bad
way to commit suicide, but the experience is generally fatal for
everyone nearby. Friendship is magic!
The resulting explosion takes out the punkicorn, the hugging
nitwit, and pretty much everything nearby, while filling the air
with a lightweight, colorful confetti of the punkicorn’s guts.
Designed to Kill: Whatever psycho made these things made
them to kill, and some folks have grown wise to their uses as
walking bombs. Throw open the cage door, and they’ll find your
enemies soon enough. You can be confident that their charm will
take care of the rest.
Wastelanders frown on using punkicorns in this way, since
children are especially susceptible to the critter’s appealing
nature. It’s possible to keep a punkicorn as a pet, but it’s rarely
a good idea since the punkicorn’s adorable nature eventually
erodes any common sense you might have, and soon enough,
you find yourself moving in for that warm, inviting embrace.
Salvage: Dried punkicorn shit, sometimes called a turdbow,
has a pleasant appearance and sells as decorative stones,
usually worth a few bullets. Legend has it that the horn works
better than the little blue pills, but you have to insert the thing
 Fresh Meat

in an orifice for it to work. Finally, punkicorn hide can be used to
line cushions, but it’s hard to harvest as the li’l bastards remain
explosive for a few hours after death. If you’re not careful, you
might find you’re the one filling the cushions.
PUNKICORN DIFFICULTY 100
Defense 10 Health 10 Size 1 Speed 5
Muscles 10 Hands 10 Brains 8 Mouth 12
Meat 10 Feet 10 Eyes 10 Guts 12
Hug Me! Whenever a creature moves to within 5 yards of a punkicorn
or takes a turn there, it’s gotta succeed on a Brains roll with 1
complication or become confused. While confused in this way,
the creature becomes friendly to the punkicorn and feels an
overwhelming urge to hug it. Unless stopped, the creature moves
toward it and uses an action to hug on its next turn.
Punkicorn Go Boom! If a punkicorn takes any damage or becomes
grabbed, the punkicorn explodes. Everything within 5 yards of it takes
10d6 damage. A creature that has the punkicorn grabbed takes double
damage and all other creatures that would take this damage can roll
Feet and take half the damage on a success. After it explodes, the
falling confetti of the punkicorn’s organs partially obscure everything
within 5 yards of the place where it exploded for 1d6 rounds.
basically harmless unless you’re old, a small child, sleeping, sick,
or camping near their nests. You get the idea.
Ratus Bad-assuses belong to a whole separate category for
fuckery. We’ve seen how some critters out there got a lot bigger
since the time before, but these motherfuckers went from being
maybe a foot in length to six fucking feet long. Yeah, this includes
that long, fleshy pink tail, but still. These are god-damned huge!
OK. Maybe not huge, but they’re three feet long and drag three-
foot-long tails behind them. That’s big.
You can find all kinds of ratus bad-assuses out there. Some
with black fur, others white, gray, brown, blotchy, red, whatever.
They excrete grease from their pores, probably to help them
squeeze through tight spots, but it gives them a downright nasty
smell. Think about whipping up a soft turd with mayonnaise.
Leave it in the sun for about an hour and take a good whiff.
Fast and Furious: You might think their big size would
make them slow as old plugged up Bobby gets after eating at
Fromunda’s Cheesery for a week, as he’s given to do, but they’re
not. You see, they have big, strong legs, and they run about like
they’re on fire. They got long, nasty claws for climbing, so don’t
be surprised to see one hanging on a wall or creeping along the
ceiling. That’s messed up.
Watchful Buggers: These varmints all have triangular heads

RATUS with two big eye sockets on each side. But—and this is the
big but—each socket holds two fucking eyes! Worse, each eye

BAD-ASSUS
moves all independent-like, which lets them see in any direction.
They also have good sniffers. They reek, so they can cut
through their own stinking, rotting stench and pick out prey
“During my long life as a bugger, I have run into many different that’s hidden from them. They can also hear good too.
creatures, of all sizes and shapes and in places all across The Goddamned Teeth and Claws: Ratus Bad-assuses prefer
the known Wasteland. And I have to say, as big honcho of the meat, and their teeth make this pretty damned clear. They have
critterology guild of Scrapbridge, that you can find these little sharp, chisel-like teeth—you’d call them incisors—capable of
fuckers skittering around any place with heaps of rubbish, waste, chewing through flesh, bone, brick, even metal pipes. Give them
or any organic decaying material… which, now that I think enough time, they’ll chew through corrugated metal
about it, is a description fit for all Scrapbridge…. siding, so it’s impossible to keep them out if they really
“I’m talking about the Ratus Bad- want in.
assus—or in your illiterate language— They also have claws, natch. Each one is a
big-ass rats. They are steroid-buffed retractable scythe designed to create pain and
cousins of their lesser kin, the misery in any poor fucker they scratch. Of
cockrats, which you can find hiding course, these claws are filthy, and the ratus
in any pipe, tunnel or drainage bad-assusses carry all sorts of sickness,
system in almost any decent which they spread through their shit,
settlement.” their scratching, and bites. Don’t
—Doctor Sarious invite these guys to dinner.

The first thing you gotta do when

talking about Ratus Bad-assus
is to put all the shit you think
you know about cockrats and
their ilk out of your head.
Cockrats live anywhere
and everywhere. They
might be nasty to look
at, but they’re

33
 Fresh Meat
Quickstart
RATUS BAD-ASSUS
Defense 13 Health 13 Size 1
DIFFICULTY 50
Speed 7
Muscles 11 Hands 14 Brains 8 Mouth 8
Meat 12 Feet 14 Eyes 12 Guts 9
See in Shadows A ratus bad-assus can see into areas of shadows as if
those areas were light.
Keen Fucking Senses The ratus bad-assus can pinpoint the exact
location of anything it might eat within 20 yards of it.
Climber The ratus bad-assus moves at full Speed while climbing.
Squeezy The ratus bad-assus can fit through openings that are at least
1-foot wide.
Down With the Sickness Any creature that takes 10 damage or more
from the ratus bad-assus has gotta succeed on a Meat roll or become
sickened. While sickened, the poor bastard runs a fever, shits all
the time, and develops nasty sores around the wound. Each time
the creature wraps up a rest, it’s gotta roll Meat and loses 1 Grit on a
failure. Three successes, none of which have to be consecutive, lets
the creature shake off the sickness.
WEAPONS
Teeth and Claws (melee) Roll Hands (+4) with 1 asset to hit Defense:
Success: 2d6 + 2 damage.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Scurry When a roll fails to hit the ratus bad-assus’s Defense or Feet, use
a reaction to move up to half its Speed.
Dark, Wet Holes: Caves are your best bet if you’re hunting for
a colony of ratus bad-assuses, though why anyone would is an
open question. By cave, we mean any damp hole in the ground.
This includes old sewer systems, natural caverns, big heaps of
rubble with plenty of twisty-turny openings.
Scrapbridge has plenty of these fuckers, and all kinds of
desperate folks make good bullets killing them. You can also find
them in Pigsty. The biggest colony is under Gleaming Towers.
Thousands of these assholes live there, and the junkers can tell
you all you need to know about how hungry they can get.
Hunting and Fucking: You thought, probably, that ratus bad-
assuses have complex societies, with art, culture, and all that
shit. Nope. These things are smart, but they’re still wild animals.
Males tend to be the hunters, while females lurk about in their
lairs, shitting out litter after litter of young, until they can’t do it
any more and get eaten as a result.
Salvage: Ratus bad-assuses have little of worth. You don’t
want to eat their meat. If you do, you’re bound to sicken and die
in a few days. If you survive, your asshole is bound to look like
a pink tubesock, so wear loose pants. That said, you can safely
eat the tail and snout, if you’re desperate enough; a typical snout
and tail yields 1d6 + 3 food units.
The skins, while waterproof, tend to be heavy, and you can
never, ever get the smell out of them. If you have your heart set
on ratus-skin armor, it counts as light armor, but you make rolls
in social situations with 1 bane since you smell like a sewer. The
skins are waterproof and make for decent containers.
The claws are too brittle to serve as weapons, but the incisors
can be turned into knives with a bit of work. Say, two knives per
carcass.
34
RUSTMOTH
“When you walk around the Wasteland for a while you end up
picturing an addled Creator with brains only to put together the
different parts of animals and see what they made. Well, with
these rustmoths he certainly won the first prize. Those huge-ass
moths (not saying they have big asses, mind me, you pervs) that
flap around leaking corrosive acid as they fly. Why the fuck?
Because, that’s why. How would I know, I’m just a scholar.”
—Doctor Sarious
Most folks know rustmoths in their final forms: fucking huge
flappy things. They don’t, though, start out looking like that. Like
other moths, they begin as long, larvae about the size of human
babies and nearly as wrinkled and ugly as them. Their greenish
skin recalls throw-up, especially since they’re speckled with dots
ranging in color from violet to bubblegum pink. Thick hairlike
spines bristle all over their bodies; prick your finger on one and
you’re dealing with a nasty rash worse than what Grandma gave
you at the last gangbang.
In time, the larva creeps off, encases itself in a cocoon that
pulses as the larva liquifies, and remakes its body. A couple of
weeks later, a damp, sopping rustmoth emerges. In this form, it
has a long, slender body with big old butterfly wings giving them
a five-foot wingspan. Rather than the color of split pea soup, they
have bright green, almost iridescent bodies, and the feathers on
their wings might be green, purple, brown, yellow, or some mix of
all, usually making weird patterns.
Rustmoths might be just bigger, weirder versions of the other
shit that used to live in the lands before the world went to shit,
but don’t be deceived. See, they excrete corrosive liquid from
their wings, and when they fly around, they rain the shit on
everything below them. The fluid can burn right through skin,
melt bone, and score metal. Nasty stuff.
Pollution’s Spawn: Rustmoth larvae thrive in areas polluted
with radiation, chemicals, and heavy metals, so adult rustmoths
tend to hang about places like the Acid Lands. Unfortunately,
they don’t stay there, sticking around only long enough to lay
eggs and flutter away to fuck with the environment.
Hungry, Hungry Larvae: Part of what makes polluted
sites such a perfect breeding ground for rustmoths is the
preponderance of “causticsap,” a bizarre plant that thrives in
these environments and whose sap can melt the flesh off the
fingers before you’ve even gotten the thing halfway out of the
ground. (Contact with this shit deals 1d6 damage from the acid
plus 1d6 damage at the end of each round until cleaned away,
usually with alcohol.) Rustmoth larvae have no trouble eating
and digesting the stuff and seem to prefer it since they spend
their time munching and growing fat on it.
Destructive Scavengers: Adult rustmoths must lose their
taste for causticsap since they largely subsist on scraps and
other plants. They don’t stick around in places for long, though,
since their excretions burn away any excess fodder.
A rustmoth infestation can wipe out an entire crop in a matter
of hours. Stories abound of caravans that camp in the Wasteland
in the night, only to find their cargo destroyed in the morning.
 Fresh Meat

Day or Night: Larvae stay active at all times, while the adult
rustmoths appear more active at night. Like ordinary moths,
light attracts them, and open fires, electric lights, or anything of
the kind might draw them close. Rustmoths pose grave danger
to people living in the Wasteland, but there’s no malice in them.
They’re just doing their thing like everyone else.

RUSTMOTH LARVA DIFFICULTY 1

Defense 8 Health 5 Size 1/2 Speed 4

Muscles 10 Hands 9 Brains 5 Mouth 5
Meat 10 Feet 8 Eyes 8 Guts 6

Stinging Hairs Any creature that touches the larva or hits it with a
melee weapon must succeed on a Hands roll or take 1 damage and
become sickened for 1d6 hours from the hives that rise around the
puncture wound.
WEAPONS
Teeth (melee) Roll Muscles (+0) to hit Defense: Success: 1d6 damage.

RUSTMOTH DIFFICULTY 10

Defense 10 Health 10 Size 1 Speed 5

Muscles 10 Hands 11 Brains 5 Mouth 5
Meat 10 Feet 11 Eyes 10 Guts 8

Flier The rustmoth can move by flying.

Acid Rain When the rustmoth flies, corrosive droplets fall from its wings.
Each creature over which the rustmoth flies must succeed on a Feet
roll or take 1d6 damage. A creature makes this roll just once per round
no matter how many times the rustmoth flies over it.
WEAPONS
Legs (melee) Roll Hands (+1) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success: 1d6
damage plus the target must succeed on a Feet roll or be splashed
with acid droplets that deal 1d6 damage.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Frantic Flapping If the rustmoth is injured, use an action to have it SCALY
frantically flap its wings. Corrosive droplets fly from its wings out to
5 yards. Everything in the area takes 1d6 + 3 damage. A creature can
roll Feet and takes no damage on a success.
VIXUMS
“When you think about creatures lurking in the ruins of the cities
Salvage: This is going to read really fucking weird, but would of the World of Before, ready to tear you apart, you usually think
you believe that chefs prize the rustmoth’s acid-secreting organ? of huge predators capable of killing you in a single blow. The truth
Sure, eating it right out of the rustmoth is a terrible way to die, is that it’s usually the smaller critters that turn out real nasty. And
but with proper preparation, it adds a distinctive flavor to any no doubt the scaly vixums fit that role pretty well. There are those
dish. Well-heeled cooks pay top bullets for these organs, as much kinds of creatures you can say “Aw, that’s cute!” if you find only
as 5 per. one, but you change your tune when a rabid herd joins the first.
Don’t bother trying to capture a living rustmoth and then Then, shit gets real.”
attempt to remove the organ. It ain’t going to happen. Instead, —Doctor Sarious
the best way to harvest them is to catch the moth while it’s still
in its cocoon. It needs to be in there a bit, but not so long that By itself, a scaly vixum poses little threat. It’s small, about the
you get a face full of rust. Assessing the suitability of a cocoon size of a doggo, with overlarge ears that might be round or pointy
requires a successful Brains roll, and extracting the organ from a or somewhere between the two. Scales cover its body from its
cocoon requires a sharp knife and a successful Hands roll with 1 snout down to the end of its tail. Sharp teeth crowd its mouth,
complication. Good luck! sharp enough to tear through leather, to say nothing of skin.

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Quickstart
Keen Ears and Fast Feet: A scaly vixum’s ears can shift in any
direction and pick up even the faintest whisper from a hundred SCALY VIXUM PACK DIFFICULTY 25
yards away. The ears also help the vixum maintain its balance Defense 12 Health 24 Size 2 Speed 6
when it takes off, which it does when it needs to flee a predator Muscles 6 Hands 12 Brains 7 Mouth 8
or when it gathers a few friends to take their prey apart.
Ruin-Dwellers: The ruins from the World of Before provide Meat 8 Feet 12 Eyes 12 Guts 10
scaly vixums with plenty of places for them to hide from larger Mass of Biting Vixum The scaly vixums form a mass of creatures that
predators. They can wriggle through tight places, small openings cover every surface in their space. When moving, the scaly vixum
through which nothing bigger than them can follow. Vixums pack can move freely through any opening large enough to permit
make their dens in hollows accessed by these cramped, twisting the passage of at least one of their number (about the size of a small
passages. dog), and the scaly vixum pack can move through spaces occupied
by other creatures. Likewise, other creatures can move through and
A vixum colony has at least a dozen members and can grow as occupy spaces occupied by the scaly vixums, but their space counts
large as four times as many. The colony depends on having large as fucked-up terrain, and creatures are impaired for as long as they
numbers for their survival since they work together to make remain in their space.
a kill. So, they reproduce at a steady rate, having two to three The scaly vixums take no damage from attacks made by rolling
to hit the pack’s Defense or attributes, but make rolls to resist area
litters each year to replenish their dead. attacks with 1 complication.
Vicious Carnivores: Scaly vixums eat other animals and can Gnashing Teeth At the end of the round, any creature inside a space
survive on insects, rodents, and other small varmints, but when occupied by the scaly vixums takes 1d6 damage.
food becomes scarce, they can take down much larger prey. WEAPONS
When on the hunt, they squeeze every advantage they have from
Teeth (melee) Roll Hands (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success:
their superior numbers. Like a wave, they crash over their victims, 1d6 damage.
using their sharp teeth to rip and tear the flesh until their victim

stops moving and screaming. Then, they eat. It doesn’t take them
long to strip a carcass down to the bone. Minutes. At most.
Sometimes Pets: If you can separate a scaly vixum from
the colony, it becomes a little less aggressive and might even
become docile as their courage and viciousness grows with
their numbers. By themselves, they don’t cause much trouble.
They spend their time sleeping, eating, and ignoring
their owners. Provided they receive regular
feeding, they stick around. If they don’t,
they take off.
Salvage: A scaly vixum’s hide
can be used to create small
items—belts, wallets,
and pouches—so
they might
fetch a bullet
or two.
SHREDDER
“We ain’t discovering gunpowder when we say that since the
World went kaboom, some weird as fuck creatures have been
showing up. Some are quite cracking and others would be so if
not for being so damned nasty. I’ve talked about all of them here
because I think they are all fun to watch.
“But if you still think the Wasteland ain’t so bad, you haven’t
been out there. Anyone you meet out there would waste you for
a dirty bullet, but the Wasteland is a place where you can find
really horrible creatures that seem to have been engineered to
kill in the most gruesome ways. If there is one of them beasts
that should scare the shit out of anyone just by their name
and if you find it you better start praying to any god who
gives a fuck about you, that’s the shredder.”
—Doctor Sarious
Not just predators, shredders are the apex
predators of the Wasteland. They hunt and
kill, and that’s it.
Shredders take their name from the
long claws that curl out from their front
and back paws. The front claws can
be as long or longer than a scythe
blade. These monsters can grow
to enormous size, the biggest
reaching up to twelve feet
in length. Thick fur
covers their bodies,
growing longer
along their spines.
Coloration runs
from light sand to
the color of bloody

36

stool. Beneath all that fur is thick hide that even gunfire can’t
penetrate.
When on the hunt, little stops these hunters. They can keep
pace with a Black Blood cultist riding a motorbike at top speed.
Their long claws can find purchase on almost any surface, and,
given sufficient motivation, they can tear through concrete walls.
Once a shredder picks up your trail, you’re dead. It’s just a matter
of time.
The weird thing about these creatures is that they all have
really small heads that lack much, if anything, in the way of facial
features. No eyes, ears, or noses: but if their lack fucks with them
in any way, it doesn’t show. Most likely, they pinpoint prey by
sensing vibrations in their surroundings.
Shredders do have mouths, but compared to their claws,
they don’t pose much of a threat. Their teeth, claws, and bones
all have a metallic sheen, almost as if they had been coated in
metal. Does this mean they’re machines? Probably not. It just
means they’re fucking hard to kill.
Territorial Brutes: Shredders avoid large settlements, where
prey can organize to take them down and instead stake out large
territories in the Wasteland. They live in pairs, mated for life,
but they do not tolerate other shredders encroaching on their
territory. Such encounters turn ugly quick, as they are, more
often than not, equally matched. Sometimes the best approach to
deal with a shredder on the hunt is to flee to another shredder’s
territory and let the monsters tear each other apart.
Idle Hunters: When not on the hunt, which happens about
once a week, shredders pass their time sleeping, mating, and
fooling around. Nothing hunts them, so they have nothing to fear,
other than other shredders, of course.
Shredders might be big brutes, but they’re smart. They change
up their hunting grounds so as not to deplete prey. When
working in pairs, they cooperate to flush out prey so the other
can open them up with their claws. They have an uncanny ability
to track their victims and can be silent when they need to be.
Since shredders require significant amounts of meat to
survive, they go after the biggest targets they can find. Travelers
through the Wasteland often bring buffamels along with them,
sacrificing the beast to the shredder if needed to cover their
flight.
Salvage: Taking down a shredder is no mean feat. Only a few
large hunting parties have managed to take one down, and most
came away from the effort with half or fewer of their numbers.
If someone manages to kill a shredder, the carcass has much to
offer.
A shredder’s claws can cut through steel and thus make
excellent swords, machetes, or spear tips. Weapons made from
shredder claws grant 1 asset on rolls made to attack with them.
Shredder hide serves well for armor, though you need a tough
blade to cut through it. One shredder hide can produce two sets
of armor. The armor counts as light but offers a Defense 15.
A person could eat shredder meat, but it has a metallic taste,
plus it’s hard and chewy. Edible, but barely. You can get 2d6 + 10
food units from a carcass.
Hanging a shredder head on your wall, though, can do
wonders for your popularity. People will clamor for the chance
to buy you drinks to hear how you pulled it off.
Fresh Meat
SHREDDER DIFFICULTY 500
Defense 16 Health 100 Size 2 Speed 9
Muscles 16 Hands 14 Brains 10 Mouth 10
Meat 18 Feet 18 Eyes 14 Guts 16
Uncanny Senses The shredder ignores the blinded and deafened
afflictions. It can pinpoint the location of each creature within 100
yards of it.
This Fucker Goes First The shredder always goes first in combat, and,
on each of its turns, it can move twice and use an action.
Bulletproof The shredder takes no damage from ranged attacks made
from more than 5 yards from it and takes half damage from ranged
attacks made from within 5 yards of it.
Incredibly Fast In a chase, the shredder adds 10 to its Feet rolls.
WEAPONS
Claw (melee) Roll Muscles (+6) with 3 assets to hit Defense: Success:
3d6 damage.
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES
Rending Claws The shredder makes two claw attacks. If it hits the same
target with both attacks, the target takes 2d6 extra damage.
Fuck You Up If the shredder takes 7 damage or more, use a triggered
action to have it make a claw attack at one creature it can reach.
MERCS
Given the Wasteland’s many dangers, most folks work together
to improve their chances at survival, but there’s always someone
out there who wants to go their own way, much like the player
characters, who typically sell their services to the highest bidder.
As the player characters explore the Wasteland, they might
encounter any of the following famous mercs, who might be
working for one faction or another or might sell their services to
the team if the characters can cough up enough bullets.
CAPTAIN
HAMMERICA
People all over the Wasteland have heard about Captain
Hammerica; he’s something of a legend. Some folks see him as
a great, noble warrior who fights for justice. Most others see him
as a weirdo and loony.
According to him, he was fighting in a great war for freedom
in the World of Before, but after some fucked up accident, he
wound up frozen for years until some dudes in crazy outfits
pulled him out of the ice. Most people don’t believe this shit,
and neither should you. He’s probably just some crazy old dude
who lost his shit after reading too many books from the World of
Before and has since decided to fight for truth, justice, and the
Hammerican way.
As incredible as it might sound, though, a scientist from
the Kraken Organization of the V Reich, fed up with all the
mutant-hating stuff, ran off with the only viable sample of the
Ubersoldat’s serum and gave it to a truly gentle and good soul
(or the first crackpot he came upon): Captain Hammerica.
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 Fresh Meat
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Not long after, Red Helmet killed the scientist, and Captain
Hammerica barely escaped with his life.
Now, all juiced up on the punkserum, Hammerica has shown
he has balls big enough to take on the worst offenders in the
Wasteland. He won’t hesitate to kick all kinds of ass when he
thinks someone is doing something shitty, and he’s committed
himself to protecting the good folk of the Wasteland.
Hammerica’s Shield: The Captain carries a reinforced shield
made from some super-rare metal. Its Defensive property grants
a +3 bonus to Defense instead of the usual +2.
CRAZY MEL
A true legend of the Wasteland, Crazy Mel roams the Wasteland
in his car with Meatball, his dog and best friend. Crazy Mel says
little, and no one really knows where he came from. Most folks
believe he became the sour, taciturn dude he is today after losing
someone special. Although he avoids sticking his nose where it
doesn’t belong, he often finds himself dragged into whatever shit
is going down.

CAPTAIN HAMMERICA DIFFICULTY 100 CRAZY MEL DIFFICULTY 100

Defense 17 Health 24 Size 1 Speed 6 Defense 15 Health 26 Size 1 Speed 6

Muscles 13 Hands 11 Brains 9 Mouth 11 Muscles 12 Hands 11 Brains 11 Mouth 9
Meat 12 Feet 12 Eyes 10 Guts 14 Meat 13 Feet 12 Eyes 11 Guts 15

Hammer Time If incapacitated, Captain Hammerica heals 3d6 damage,
stands up, and makes rolls with 1 asset for 1 minute. He then loses
Hammer Time for 24 hours.
Stuff medium armor, hammer, reinforced shield
WEAPONS
Hammer (melee) Roll Muscles (+3) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success:
2d6 damage.
Reinforced Shield (melee) Roll Muscles (+3) with 1 asset to hit Defense:
Success: 2d6 damage.
Meatball Crazy Mel’s loyal dog follows him wherever he goes. The dog
is a good dog, so it’s immune to everything. Thanks to Meatball, Crazy
Mel never triggers free attacks when moving. Also, Meatball fucks
with people that fight with his friend and grants Crazy Mel 1 asset on
rolls made for his melee attacks.
Stuff medium armor, machete, shotgun
WEAPONS
Machete (melee) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success:
2d6 + 2 damage.
Shotgun (range 50) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense:
Success: 3d6 damage.
Worst Time Possible When Crazy Mel attacks with a shotgun, roll a d6.
On an even number, the gun misfires and is worthless until a creature
uses an action and spends 1 salvage to repair it.

LIZZY DEVILLE
A familiar face to most people of the Wasteland, Lizzy DeVille has
been wandering since she was a child. She’s seen it all and been
in more shit than anyone else her age. She’s comfortable taking
up with other mercs, but the arrangement lasts only so long as
she feels comfortable. She’ll leave her companions swinging in
the wind the first time she gets a bad vibe.

LIZZY DEVILLE DIFFICULTY 100

Defense 13 Health 26 Size 1 Speed 7

Muscles 11 Hands 14 Brains 12 Mouth 13
Meat 13 Feet 14 Eyes 13 Guts 14

Cover Girl Lizzy Deville earned her status as an icon of the Wasteland
by her almost supernatural ability to escape harm. She can dodge
bullets, twist away from sword thrusts, even walk away when struck
by a falling anvil. Whenever Lizzy DeVille would take damage, roll a
d6. On a 4 or better, she takes no damage.
Stuff Light armor, pistol, medium blade
WEAPONS
Medium Blade (melee) Roll Muscles (+1) with 1 asset to hit Defense:
Success: 1d6 + 2 damage.
Pistol (range 50) Roll Hands (+4) with 1 asset to hit Defense: Success:
1d6 + 3 damage; burst fire

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 Fresh Meat

EIGHTFINGERS IMPERATRIX RABIOSA

Defense 15 Health 22 Size 1
DIFFICULTY 100

Speed 6
Nowater’s most famous pit fighter, Eightfingers won the “Da Big Muscles 12 Hands 14 Brains 12 Mouth 12
Blow” twice. In the old days, he’d sign on for all kinds of shit, but now
his Crib thinks he’s too valuable for mercenary work, and it takes Meat 11 Feet 13 Eyes 14 Guts 15
a fuckton of bullets and a damned good reason to drag him out. Mechanical Arm Imperatrix Rabiosa has a mechanical arm. It grants her
Eightfingers is a hulking monster. He scrapes all the stubble a +2 bonus to Defense (included).
from his face and scalp and wears nothing but pants. He’s Never Forget a Face If a creature deals damage to Imperatrix Rabiosa,
nothing special in a fight until he gets hurt, at which point he make all rolls to attack that creature with 1 asset and her attacks deal
1d6 extra damage to it.
loses his shit and goes bananas. Stuff Leather armor, rifle with scope, knife
WEAPONS
EIGHTFINGERS DIFFICULTY 100
Rifle with Scope (range 300) Roll Hands (+4) with 2 assets to hit
Defense 10 Health 24 Size 1 Speed 5 Defense: Success: 2d6 damage.
Knife (melee or range 5) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense:
Muscles 12 Hands 10 Brains 9 Mouth 10 Success: 1d6 damage.
Meat 12 Feet 10 Eyes 10 Guts 13

Shaking the Ropes When injured, Eightfingers goes fucking nuts. He

imposes 1 complication on rolls made to attack him and he makes
MAGNUS
all attribute rolls with 1 asset and his melee attacks deal 1d6 extra It’s been said over and over again about just how fucking
damage. dangerous the Wasteland can be, and wise folks don’t head out
Stuff Two medium blades there alone or without supplies. Magnus, though, doesn’t give a
fuck. It’s said he pisses gasoline and shits watermelons. He goes
WEAPONS
wherever the fuck he wants, showing off his perfect pecs and
Medium Blade (melee) Roll Muscles (+2) with 1 asset to hit Defense: minding his own business.
Success: 1d6 + 2 damage. One doesn’t hire Magnus. Rather, Magnus chooses who he
SPECIAL ACTIVITIES works for and demands payment. Once he gets his bullets, he
Double Strike Use an action to have Eightfingers make two medium kicks the shit out of whomever you want until he gets tired of it
blade attacks. and moves on to work for someone else. Magnus follows his own
code or no code at all. He walks the thin line between awesome

IMPERATRIX and psychotic.

RABIOSA MAGNUS
Defense 10 Health 51 Size 1
DIFFICULTY 250
Speed 5
The Lord of Bullets rules over the Junker bands working far to Muscles 15 Hands 11 Brains 10 Mouth 10
the north. For a long time, Imperatrix Rabiosa was the warlord’s
favored scout as she was the best, by far, of all the other scum in Meat 17 Feet 10 Eyes 10 Guts 15
his employ when it came to unearthing good salvage. However, Scary Motherfucker Magnus imposes 1 complication on rolls made to
the relationship soured after the Lord of Bullets betrayed her, for attack him.
reasons unknown, to the Black Blood Children. She was to deliver Stuff Cool Automatic Rifle with Scope, Chainsaw
a gigantic rig to the cultists, but when she got there, they were WEAPONS
fixin’ to put her in chains and sacrifice her, something else nasty, Chainsaw (melee) Roll Muscles (+5) with 2 assets to hit Defense:
or worse. Anyway, she cut, shot, and butchered her way free and Success: 3d6 + 3 damage and wooden targets take double damage
now roams the Wasteland as a merc. Cool Automatic Rifle (range 300) Roll Hands (+1) with 2 assets to hit
Defense: Success: 4d6 damage; Magnus uses this weapon on full
auto only.

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 Quickstart

FULL METAL, ULTRAVIOLENT

HORROR FANTASY AT ITS BEST!

40