WorldsTerra Apocalypse
About this world
In 2038, a catastrophic containment breach at a subterranean research complex unleashed a weaponized pathogen into the world, forever altering the course of human civilization. The genetically engineered virus ravaged populations with terrifying speed, transforming infected humans and primates into grotesque, mindless abominations driven by primal hunger and aggression. Within months, the infrastructure of modern society crumbled as governments collapsed and institutions fell into chaos, leaving behind only skeletal remnants of humanity's former glory. Now five years later, nature has reclaimed the shattered remnants of urban centers, with sprawling metropolises now consumed by vegetation and decay, their towering structures standing as monuments to a lost era. Crumbling highways snake through overgrown wastelands where mutated horrors prowl among abandoned vehicles and forgotten settlements, creating a nightmarish landscape of danger at every turn. The few survivors who endured the initial outbreak have banded together in desperate communities or roving companies, struggling to maintain their humanity while navigating a world where the line between civilization and savagery has been irrevocably erased. In this forsaken Earth, hope seems lost and survival fleeting.
Places in this world
Featured locations
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Gencorp Office Level
The Gencorp Office Level exists deep beneath the Coleville Office Center, a sprawling underground complex dedicated to genetic research and data management. Five years have elapsed since the catastrophic accident that resulted in the uncontrolled release of the T-virus throughout the facility, an event that forced the immediate and permanent abandonment of this subterranean workspace. The level remains a haunting tableau of sudden desertion and catastrophy, with rows of computer workstations and cubicles standing empty, their monitors long since powered down and gathering dust alongside scattered paperwork and office supplies that litter the floors in chaotic disarray. False walls of monitors still depict a peaceful view of Coleville that is now lays in ruins. Glass-walled offices line the perimeter, once housing senior researchers and administrators, now serving as silent monuments to the lives and work abruptly interrupted. Dark stains of dried blood mark several walls and surfaces throughout the complex, grim reminders of the panic and violence that accompanied the initial outbreak. Overhead, flickering fluorescent lights struggle against the encroaching darkness, their irregular pulses casting dancing shadows across the desolate workspace. The air itself feels heavy and stale, broken only by the occasional mechanical whir of ventilation systems and air filters that continue their tireless work, maintaining a sterile atmosphere despite the absence of any living inhabitants. An eerie, oppressive silence dominates the level, interrupted only by these sporadic sounds of machinery—a stark contrast to the vibrant energy that once characterized this hub of scientific innovation and administrative activity.
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Cole Flats Air Base
Cole Flats Air Base sprawls across the barren expanse between the crumbling ruins of Coleville and the vast desert scrublands that stretch toward the horizon. Once a thriving military installation, the base now stands as a monument to catastrophe, its infrastructure ravaged by fire, time, and the infected. The barracks and air control tower are nothing but charred skeletal remains, their blackened walls a grim reminder of the chaos that unfolded here. The main command center, still partially operational, has been fortified behind layers of rusted barbed wire and hastily stacked debris, creating a fortress-like appearance against the desolate landscape. Powerful spotlights emanate from the command center each night, sweeping across the cracked tarmac and abandoned hangars in a constant, restless vigilance. The base earned its tragic distinction as ground zero when a catastrophic breach at the underground research facility beneath Coleville released a genetically engineered pathogen into the world, transforming the installation into the epicenter of an ongoing crisis. The surviving military personnel who remain are hardened by their harrowing experiences, conducting endless patrols through the base's deteriorating corridors and across its empty runways. Paranoia runs deep among these soldiers, whose constant suspicion of intruders and external threats has become as much a part of the base's atmosphere as the dust storms that roll across the flats. The combination of natural desolation and human-made ruin creates an unsettling environment where danger seems to lurk in every shadow and abandoned structure.
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City Of Coleville
Once a growing metropolitan hub in the southeast border of California with a population exceeding one hundred thousand residents, Coleville now stands as a haunting testament to catastrophic ruin. The city's skyline is dominated by imposing steel structures—massive office towers that rise like tombstones, their facades austere and marked by broken windows, built during an era of architectural austerity in the mid-twentieth century. Surrounding these monoliths are the charred remains of brick and stone commercial buildings, their facades blackened by the fires that swept through the downtown district, leaving only skeletal frameworks and crumbling facades. The residential sprawl that once housed the city's working class is being consumed by nature, with some suburban neighborhoods now barely visible beneath cascading vines, wildflowers, and opportunistic vegetation reclaiming what humanity abandoned. Coleville's proximity to the sprawling military air base to the east was once its greatest economic asset, drawing defense contractors and supporting industries that fueled decades of prosperity. The base itself remains partially operational by mercenary survivors of the Viral Apocalypse though its runways are cracked and its hangars stand open. Nature has transformed Coleville into an overgrown labyrinth, where weeds push through concrete and trees grow from rooftops, slowly dismantling the urban infrastructure brick by brick. The city is ground zero when the genetically altered T-virus escaped into the world. Mutant monsters which were once human have made the city their home.
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