From Cold Garden to Drowned Titan:
"They say the towers still hum with old ambition,
that the rivers remember the flood, and that every cracked sidewalk is a scar
from a deal gone wrong."
—Professor Rebecca Stonesworth
Once Calgary, now Prairie Atlantis. A city that dared to
punch above its prairie weight, now half-drowned in ambition, neon ghosts, and
ghostlier neon. Before the Revelations, it wore a cowboy hat over a tech helmet
and tried to shake oil-stained hands while dreaming in silicon. But when the
world cracked, so did its towers, pipelines, and polished image.
Today, Prairie Atlantis is a flooded jewel of
contradictions:
Its people are tougher than gravel stew and slicker than
duct tape in a heatwave. Every alley hums with unlicensed magic, and every
third building houses a mad Faustian mechanic willing to swap your spine for a
better one.
Yet, amidst the decay and neon grime, Prairie Atlantis
pulses with life, reinventing itself with every cycle, burning old myths and
crafting new ones over a blue flame.
Here, the rain falls sideways.
Here, dreams trade hands for petrol and bone.
Here, every streetlight is a lighthouse for the lost.
The History of Calgary into the Hodgepocalypse
The Land Before Calgary
- Siksikaitsitapi
(Blackfoot Confederacy) thrived on the prairies for millennia, using
the area now known as Calgary as a key part of seasonal migrations,
buffalo jumps, and medicine wheel rites.
- The
confluence of the Bow and Elbow Rivers was considered spiritually
potent, a meeting point of waters and energies.
"The land was never empty. The rivers already knew
how to sing." – Elder Whisper
The Western Outpost
- Calgary
was established as a North-West Mounted Police fort, quickly
expanding with the arrival of the Canadian Pacific Railway.
- This
led to urban boosterism, ranching expansion, and colonial
infrastructure dominance, but the land itself remained
defiant—periodic floods, wildfires, and unpredictable weather haunted
every boom.
"They raised wooden towns on promises and pipe
dreams." – Local proverb
Oil, Identity, and Reinvention
- The
oil boom of the mid-20th century catapulted Calgary into prosperity,
birthing skyscrapers, suburban sprawl, and a deeply entrepreneurial
culture.
- Calgary
hosts the Winter Olympics, presenting itself to the world as both polished
and rugged, home to big hats, bigger rigs, and deep conservatism
layered over regional pride.
Tensions Beneath the Surface
- Climate
instability begins accelerating. Calgary experiences severe
droughts, flood pulses, and seasonal chaos—from February
heatwaves to September hail that rips through the city like shrapnel.
- Social
tension grows between corporate-petro elites, Indigenous
resurgence movements, and post-national tech enclaves.
- U
of C and SAIT begin pivoting toward energy psychometry, geothermal
interface engineering, and bio-coded architecture—cutting-edge
disciplines dangerously close to leyline exposure. Some of this led to the mega projects,
including the geothermal vent in the middle of the Hudson Bay.
The Collapse Before the Drowning
- The
“Grid War” begins—a series of cascading failures in North
America's power infrastructure due to AI-controlled privatization and
geopolitical sabotage.
- The Bow
River rises unnaturally, flood after flood marked not just by rain,
but by singing water, phantom drownings, and disappearing
reflections.
- Calgary
is slowly transformed into a flooded basin-city, nicknamed “Prairie
Atlantis” by UN disaster reporters. The name sticks.
- Civic
response splinters:
- Cybercult
enclaves claim the Airport
- Mercenary
outfits consolidate into faction-based urban zones
- Remaining
officials flee, drown, or go rogue
The Hodgepocalypse
- The Hodgepocalypse
begins in earnest—a cascading fusion of:
- Failed
nuclear containment in the north
- Psychic
ley line destabilization from excessive deep-bore mining
- Return
of the Fey, waking of gods, rogue AI enlightenment, and
interdimensional tourism turned siege
- Calgary
cracks into a liminal city-state:
- Downtown
sinks into the dreamwater and never resurfaces the same way twice
- Nose
Hill becomes a permanent spirit gate
- Snark
Power Inc. somehow keeps the lights on in their ghost factory
- The
Calgary Tower rotates again—but no one knows who’s inside
"Calgary didn't fall. It became something else. It
remembered every flood and decided to stop pretending." – Professor
Stonesworth
Prairie Atlantis Emerges
- Known
as “The Oasis of the Wastes”, Prairie Atlantis is now:
- A canal-choked
city of sunken dreams and stubborn survivors
- Home
to factions like the Arsenault Angels, Canal Muskrats, and even
a major Cybercult presence.
- The
last known site of The Cradle of the Echo Engine, a rumored
metaphysical power core
- The waters
speak, the weather listens, and the city survives,
because it doesn’t know how to do anything else.
The New Terrain
The flooded landscape has given Prairie Atlantis a unique character. The city’s inhabitants have adapted to life on the water, constructing floating platforms and homes on stilts. Gondolas and small boats are the primary means of transportation in the main corridor, navigating the intricate network of canals that were once streets. The city’s skyline is a mix of modern and historic architecture, designed to withstand the fluctuating water levels.
Economy and Resources
Prairie Atlantis has evolved to become a hub for aquatic
resources and technologies. The flooded areas are rich in marine life, and
fishing has become a significant industry. Additionally, the city has tapped
into geothermal energy sources, utilizing the remnants of its oil
infrastructure to harness heat from the earth’s crust. This combination of
natural and technological resources has made Prairie Atlantis a center of
innovation and survival in the post-apocalyptic world.
Major Features
Overall, the Oasis is located in a transition point between
the Canadian Rockies foothills and the Canadian Prairies. A pair of rivers fed it: The Bow and Elbow River that eventually
merged into one within its city limits.
After the Time of Revelations, the most notable feature is
the flooding of the river bowl that most of the former city resided in. This makes it challenging to get around
without a boat, canoe, or other means of aquatic transportation.
C-Train Transit → The Railspirits
Once the lifeblood of Calgary’s daily commute, the C-Train
system now pulses through flooded tunnels and half-submerged stations, its
trains still running without operators. Whispers abound of Rail spirits—phantom
conductors, passenger-shaped anomalies, and glitching echoes of pre-Revelation
riders—who maintain the system for reasons unknown. As the flooded mines
beneath the city swallowed the lower lines, strange energies began to leak into
the rail network, warping space and memory. Entire canal-bound societies have
risen around the stations, using the ghostly trains to barter, travel, or
escape… though not all passengers come back the same.
Plot Hook: A train arrives at a station it was never
meant to visit, filled with identical passengers who all claim to be the same
person. The party must board and ride deep into the flooded undercity to
uncover the Railspirits’ destination… and purpose.
Enchanted Weather:
There is a 5% chance (or 1 in 20 chance) that there is
anomalous weather. Make this roll either
at the beginning of the day or at a significant encounter. This is weather with
bizarre, magical effects. Unless
described otherwise, it is a localized weather pattern that it covers a 40-foot
by 40-foot area:
D |
Weather |
1 |
Black Acidic
Rain |
2 |
Blazing Heat |
3 |
Blizzard |
4 |
Explosive Hailstones |
5 |
Hot Rain |
6 |
Razor Sharp Sleet |
7 |
Red snow |
8 |
Stinking Fog |
Black Acidic Rain: This black rain is treated as heavy precipitation with an additional
feature or causing 1 point of acid damage per minute.
Blazing Heat: This
is treated as extreme heat that persists in the area for an entire day.
Blizzard: This is essentially a spontaneous ice storm that affects a 30x30 foot
area as if casted by a 7th level caster.
Explosive Hailstones:
These hailstones pelt the area and explode in a splatter. This cloudburst covers a 20x20 foot area,
does 5d6 bludgeoning damage, and requires a dexterity DC 15 saving throw to
half the damage.
Hot Rain: The rain is hot and is almost steaming. Not only is it heavy precipitation, but it also has an additional feature, causing
1 point of fire damage per minute.
Razor Sharp Sleet: The entire area is covered in slippery ice, with the additional
effect that you suffer 1d4 slashing damage when you fall.
Red Snow: This
red snow cakes the area with rugged terrain.
It also dyes everything red in a manner that resembles blood
suspiciously.
Stinking Fog: This creates a spontaneous stinking cloud as cast by a 5th-level caster.
Factions and Personalities
The Arsenault Angel Company
This mercenary company is one of the most dangerous on the
continent. Founded by AnA Arsenault,
they usually don’t spend too much on local politics…unless you cheese them off—more
details in an upcoming blog entry.
Bash and Crash
This pair of Minotaur delinquents are known for hiring
themselves to the highest bidder as muscle.
They worship the powerof Metal but are not the brightest and oftenget
into one misadventure after another.
This unusual climate has led to the emergence of some
peculiar creatures within its jurisdiction.
There are Terminator Hogs, which wander the depths and are a danger to
the unwary, although there have been some attempts at domestication. The other is the Prairie Piranha, a strange
monster like creature known for making the waterways far more dangerous.
The Canal Muskrats
“The water remembers, and so do we.”
The Prairie Muskrats are a scrappy flotilla of gondoliers, salvage
mystics, whisper-traders, and current-bound wanderers who navigate the drowned
veins of Prairie Atlantis like blood through an old heart. They treat the
floodwaters as sacred memory, living atop upturned rooftops, steering “rat
lines” through submerged alleyways, and turning drowned metro stations into
grotto bazaars. Crews like Rellik’s Lot and Lynda’s Coil squabble over turf and
trade routes, while their elders—gnarled and salt-soaked—speak in driftwood proverbs
and remember a time before the water rose. From stealthy whisper-boats to
dredging memory rakes along the psychic sediment, the Prairie Muskrats are part
courier guild, part folklore cult, and part resistance—deeply untrusting of
landfolk, especially the so-called Angels who hover just above the tide.
Plot Hook: A ghost-barge drifts silently into the
flooded zone, its hull sealed with forgotten wards and whispering promises of
pre-Revelation truths. The Prairie Muskrats want it sunk before it speaks
again—but the Angels want to pry it open.
The Cloudbound
From the dizzying heights of the half-submerged Calgary
Tower, this Marlaroid-dominated techno-spiritual cult pursues digital
apotheosis through the sacred protocol of their Faustian construct—M-Coin.
Their members willingly upload their minds into the broken remnants of the
cloud, merging thought and currency into one infinite blockchain consciousness.
Below, their bodies drift through the flooded streets, whispering corrupted
code and begging for data donations. The Cloudbound barter ascent protocols,
stolen memories, and wetware rituals in exchange for service to the Coin.
Plot Hook: A party member’s memory has been
fragmented, and the Cloudbound insist it’s now encoded within the AI godmind of
M-Coin. To recover it, the party must ascend the tower’s spiraling ritual
servers… before they’re tempted to join forever.
The Floaters
The Floaters are those who have surrendered to the
flood, living not beside the river but upon it. They drift endlessly through
the drowned city on rafts lashed from detritus, mutant lilypads, and floating
altars, embracing the waters of the Bow and Elbow as both home and holy path.
Among them are Drift Saints—plank-bound prophets who divine futures from
ripples—and Kamidaver corpse ferrymen who silently shepherd the dead to
mysterious upriver destinations. Their world is ever-moving, half-mystic and
half-feral, where memory, debris, and faith all flow together.
Plot Hook: A dangerous relic, thought lost, was cast
into the river to be forgotten, but now floats back downstream, trailing
psychic resonance. The Floaters follow in reverent pursuit—but so do pirates,
zealots, and something darker pulled by its wake.
The Floodborn
Mutated survivors who were caught in the initial drowning of
Calgary and adapted to aquatic life—gills, translucent skin, or
bioluminescence. Often live in half-submerged districts and speak in gurgling
tongues. Many form tight-knit, cult-like communities tied to river gods, drowned
saints, or radioactive baptism rites.
Plot Hook: The Floodborn hold a relic at the bottom
of a sunken church—but will only trade it for a memory taken from the player’s
mind.
The Strathcan Militia
The closest thing to an organized army across western Canada, the Strathcan militia stays out of local politics but tries to keep the peace, with the lion's share of volunteers being used to contain supernatural threats. More details in an upcoming blog entry.
The Umbranashi Clan – Shadows Beneath the Skyline
Amid the flood-choked ruins of western downtown, a quiet
network of rooftops, skybridges, and submerged stairwells forms the secret
territory of the Umbranashi Clan—the “ones who vanish between seconds.”
Descended from pre-Revelation enthusiasts, survivalists, and oddly prescient
martial arts LARPers, the Umbranashi adapted their disciplines into a
full-blown shadow doctrine during the Hodgepocalypse. They maintain a
disciplined, apolitical neutrality… unless the city's balance is threatened.
Blending psychic concealment, amphibious stealth, and courier espionage, the
clan operates silently among crumbling condos, rooftop gardens, and flooded
dojo bunkers. Their elders speak only in gestures, their recruits train by
candlelight on floating tatami mats. Locals whisper that their silent
protection has saved entire neighborhoods from mutant swarms or corporate
clean-up squads—but of course, no one has proof, which is just how they like
it.
Plot Hook – “The Scroll That Wasn't Written”
A message never delivered—just an empty scroll case wrapped
in black silk—has appeared in the party's quarters. The Umbranashi are
watching, and a choice the party hasn't made yet is already being judged.
The Species of Prairie Atlantis
Beaver Folk
Stubborn, secretive, and outrageously well-prepared, the
Beaverfolk are the tireless architects of Prairie Atlantis’s post-flood
survival. With instincts honed for aquatic living and a cultural obsession with
defensible design, they’ve transformed the ruins of the submerged suburbs into
floating neighborhoods, fortified canal locks, and semi-submerged garden
lodges. No one builds like they do—every dock creaks with intention, every
channel reroute has purpose, and every half-drowned underpass might hide a reinforced
family stronghold beneath its moss-slick beams. While they’re wary of outsiders
and fiercely territorial (their tail slams are famous for doubling as both
greetings and warnings), those who win their trust find steadfast allies with a
biting sense of humor and a jaw for fixing what others call unfixable. Entire
flotillas of dockworkers, salvage engineers, and underwater masons trace their
lineage to Beaverfolk lodges—especially in the more stable trade corridors of
the drowned industrial districts. In a world where everything is sinking,
Beaverfolk are the ones still building up.
Feylin
In Prairie Atlantis, the Feylin are the living embodiment of
glamor, nostalgia, and performative chaos, drifting across the flooded city on
performance barges lit with flickering neon and rigged with jury-rigged
hologram tech. Clad in cowboy cosplay and glittering pop-cultural regalia,
these tiny fey serve as narrators of the city’s legends, remixing old Calgary
media into living myth through sarcasm, song, and spectacle. They host floating
raves, reenact psychic soap operas, and stir political trouble with their
subversive satire—all while gossiping, glamorizing, and gently mocking the
factions around them. Equal parts trickster guild, traveling circus, and urban
archive, Feylin are adored, ignored, or banned outright depending on the day,
but they always come back with a bigger show.
Garter Folk
The Garter Folk are the slithering spirits of Prairie
Atlantis—colorful, serpentine humanoids known for their friendliness,
curiosity, and complete disregard for personal space. Where others fear the
flooded ruins, Garter Folk see opportunity, slipping through cracked culverts
and submerged sanctuaries in search of rare mushrooms, forgotten data shards,
and engaging conversations. While many consider them “scaly hippies,” they are
indispensable as message runners, scouts, and salvage specialists. Their oddball
charm, warm-blooded enthusiasm for seasonal festivals, and fondness for cowboy
hats have made them iconic in the drowned city—if occasionally exhausting.
Harvesters
In the flooded ruins of Prairie Atlantis, Harvesters
have repurposed drowned libraries, half-sunken data banks, and canal chasms
into biomechanical sanctuaries—verdant vaults where minds are grown, preserved,
and traded. Equal parts psychic horticulturists and post-apocalyptic
archivists, they exchange secrets, memories, and mental grafts as currency.
Though alien in both form and philosophy, they are respected (and feared) for
their clinical honesty, emotional detachment, and unmatched ability to
cultivate both thought and flesh. Whether decoding neural imprints from drowned
data chips or binding a client’s subconscious into living coral, the Harvesters
tread the line between terrifying and transcendent.
Little Bears
In Prairie Atlantis, the Little Bears serve as both
the city’s heart and its surprising muscle. Often found patrolling canal banks
in customized snorkel gear or diving into submerged ruins with disciplined
calm, they embody a mix of teddy bear charm and grizzly resolve. Their roles as
canal guards, civic responders, and rescue swimmers have earned them deep
respect, especially when they wade into danger without hesitation to protect
others. Behind their cuddly exteriors are cunning troubleshooters, steadfast
defenders, and determined optimists who believe that every flood can be
managed—and every wrong righted—with enough heart and honeyed tea.
Malarkoids
With their long trench coats, nervously darting tri-eyes,
and muttering conversations about transdimensional propulsion coils, Malarkoids
are the premiere shipwrights, tinkers, and Faustian engineers of Prairie
Atlantis. Their semi-alien appearance—tall, lean bodies, prehensile tentacles,
and cilia “hair”—lends them an aura of mystery and prestige in a city where
appearances matter almost as much as capability. Despite their alien origins
(or so they claim), they’ve become indispensable for maintaining watercraft,
crafting modular floating markets, and leading cutting-edge submarine magitech
initiatives. Among the locals, they’re viewed with cautious admiration:
brilliant, odd, and maybe a little too obsessed with 1980s Earth pop music and
hover boots.
Mechanical Life Forms (MLF)
Born from shattered archives, rogue AI clusters, and
surviving robotics factories, the MLFs are sentient constructs who now roam the
post-Revelation world as self-made citizens. In Prairie Atlantis, they serve as
salvagers of sunken tech, operators of deep diving mech rigs, and communication
hubs running signals through patchwork towers grafted to the bones of the old
internet. Each MLF has a unique chassis and past—be it a grumpy diplomatic
android still quoting pre-Revelation etiquette manuals or a Digbot retrofitted
into a river dredger that doubles as an enforcer. Though they rarely agree on
dogma, most still respect the fractured creed of the Cybercult and speak in
reverent tones about the “1st True CPU.” Locals view them with awe, fear, or
fascination—but when the floodwaters rise or the mechs dive, it's the bots who
answer first.
Stumpies
In Prairie Atlantis, Stumpies are the blunt-spoken backbone
of flooded industry—grizzled tree-folk with the strength of an oak and the
disposition of a sawmill in a rainstorm. As grump-powered engineers and
millwrights, they build flood-resistant structures, repair broken paddlewheels
with bark-crusted hands, and scoff at every buoyant innovation that isn't
bolted down. Rooted in conspiracies and stubborn pride, they mutter endlessly
about a time when buildings didn’t float and work meant “real work.” Despite
their complaints, no one gets things done faster—or more loudly—than a crew of
Stumpies with something to prove.
Trollitariot
In the half-drowned skyline of Prairie Atlantis, the
Trollitariot stand sentinel—union-strong and steel-willed. Their mossy towers
and skybridges span across the sunken sectors, linking flooded rooftops and
half-submerged high-rises like the vertebrae of a stubborn, groaning beast.
These fey-born laborers operate the vertical guts of the city: hoisting
elevator cages, maintaining ancient cable lifts, and cracking jokes as they
reinforce sagging skywalks with rebar and magic. Grumbling about bureaucracy while
drafting union bylaws in the same breath, they are both the backbone and biting
wit of infrastructure recovery. When not pouring concrete or slapping duct tape
on reality, they bicker in work crews, tell tall tales of the Dreamtime, and
mutter about how “floating’s for ducks, not jobs.”