“I remember my first time seeing what was left of the world when the bunker doors opened. I mean, I had read the books and seen the pictures, but the destruction and devastation were just so complete, so absolute. We were warned, but even that didn’t prepare us. But what are you going to do, lay down and cry? We did the only sensible thing: picked up our things and struck out.”

People who survived did so by any means necessary. One hundred some odd years later, the descendants of the most cunning, ruthless, ingenious, and stubborn are all that remains. It is survival of the fittest taken to a global extreme. The people that remain have done so by scraping the barest means of survival from the landscape, integrating with small communities and making themselves invaluable, or taking it from others with good old-fashioned violence.

You are Survivors; you are the descendants of these people, and you grew up facing hardships the modern mind can scarcely imagine. You’ve felt the slow burn of hunger. You’ve slept on cardboard pallets when you’re lucky. You’ve eaten canned dog food and considered it a delicacy. You’ve known the feeling of getting into a fight over something you need to live — and losing. You’ve picked yourself up out of the dirt hundreds of times and kept on living despite the worst.

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