Lotka Volterra: Acheron

• Atropos Studios

System: LARP

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Atropos

Af

Foromtale

Analyze. Wait. Drink substitute coffee.

Task Force KERES, a group of volunteer veterans of Haven's best SURFOPS teams, are embarking on a secretive and highly dangerous mission on the alien controlled surface, far beyond the relative safety of the last known human settlement on Earth. A surface where the mysterious alien invader known only as The Enemy is now the apex predator.

They are the very best that humanity has left, veterans of hundreds of battles with the enigmatic machines and xenoforms of The Enemy, but they are horribly outnumbered and outgunned, relying only on their experience, wits and dirty tricks against an unstoppable and incomprehensible superior force.

THEY ARE NOT YOU.

You are the nervous coffee drinkers, the pixel pushers, the data analysts and noise-listeners in a tiny underground bunker far away, moving them around like chess pieces on a board. You are the ones ordering them, possibly, to their deaths or worse; the ones staring at glitched video streams or soil sample data they provide in order to maybe, just maybe, add a piece of the strange puzzle Earth has become and maybe find some kind of edge that lets you survive another year. You are the crew of the Listening Post Acheron, and their lives are in your hands.

Over the course of a day, you will live the life of regular people at a small listening outpost in the Lotka-Volterra world, hours that might or might not turn out to be pivotal or just another tragedy. The point is not whether you are the saviours of the world in these trembling hours, but that you are doing what you can, you are doing something. You will be a cog in a small and rusty but functional machine that runs MISCON for this expedition, or a college professor-turned-expert in the attached Science Team supporting it, but you are not even fully aware of what your mission is or what it ultimately could mean for the survival of humanity. You don’t expect grand victories; you are more prepared for weeks upon weeks of gruelling routine, filled with extended periods of staring at screens, listening to static on the radio and butting your head against complex xeno ciphers to try to gain some insight into what the machines are up to. There is no privacy here, you live, breathe, shit and sleep shoulder to shoulder with the other ghosts of this cramped little bunker.

This is Lotka-Volterra: Acheron.

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