What can a Shaggi do when the world collapses in unto itself? Zombies, robots, interdimensional monsters, oh my!
G'day, Hive!
It's been a while since I've entered writing contests and especially lore writing ones. The last lore writing I did was for Splinterlands way back when for the encyclopedia! Well, I figured, I need to try complete my "collection" and start getting my lore writing fingers into the rest of Hive's games.
This is thus my entry to the lore contest hosted by the Scholar & Scribe community, which you should definitely join. I had a lot of fun writing this up, exploring a post-apocalyptic world with a weed economy with all sorts of sci-fi horror elements! Definitely a first for me.
Life, as they knew it, had come to its end.
Humanity and all its creations teetered on the brink of extinction. They were dying a slow and confusing death. Sentient artificial forms, monsters the likes of which only the most deranged of minds could have imagined, and certainly the most horrifying to the extent that it plagued civilisation before they dreamed it a reality: the undead. All under a shifting reality that phased between parallel universes.
The multiverse was collapsing. And in this unstable state, it claimed two humans: Shaggi and Maggi, in all their iterations across every universe. They were trapped in their own pocket world, stable and cut off. But the damage had been done. The apocalypse had followed them to this reality. And the Shaggi's and Maggi's fought to survive.
What was left of the human race in this world suddenly found they had to compete for a whole new resource. Competing, not for any rock or crystal, but for something more valuable and sustainable in this new reality. A commodity so precious that all warring sentient factions sought after it.
It goes by many names, from the sweet serenade of a beautiful woman upon the balcony answering to Mary Jane, to the local spitting of slang and euphemisms. To many countries, a technical weed. Universally, and multiversally, it was affectionately named Marijuana.
In this brave new world, the BUDS were what mattered. It took a mere 420 days before a whole new type of green made the world turn 'round. Weed farms popped up and engulfed the lands. Using local knowledge and pulling from ancestral stubbornness, the trapped iterations of the multiverse made the dreary brown of the semi-deserts and coastlines into a lush green.
And that was when the problems began. It wasn't a native plant to many once-countries. The hordes of zombies and horrors scattered across the plains and in the streets of abandoned cities couldn't forage for the weed they craved. So they turned to the farmlands and sought out any human presence.
Raiding and pillaging had, once more, become a part of everyday life. Again, farmers had to gather arms to fight for what was theirs. Gigantic insectoid and robotic fiends attacked with ruthless abandon, hyper-focused on the flowering buds calling to them. The undead, once family and friends, stormed fences and overran the crops, devastating a plot in their wake.
If these raids weren't enough to make anyone question the point of fighting, the Shaggi's and Maggi's eventually discovered the effect the BUDS had on their foes. Increased strength and intelligence. One joint was all it took to turn a zombie into a supersoldier. Again, what was left of humanity was plunged deeper into the endangered zone.
On the other hand, this new reality gifted a similar boon upon the humans as well. It granted them a fighting chance, an advantage over their enemies. Robots were captured and convinced to join the humans, and zombies were re-conditioned with dedication to assist the farmers.
A whole new system for BUDS came to be. Basic necessities and frivolous commodities gained improved production and circulation in this new economy. But of most import was the effect. Now joints could be used to sell labour, to sell service, and to sell ideas. One Shaggi's blunt was another Maggi's breakthrough.
All this lead to forging the ideal circumstances that had one such parallel person, you, succeeding in the farmer life. You'd inherited a humble plot of land from a distant aunt before the apocalypse. Turns out that you were the only remaining family.
Deed in hand, joint in the other, you took to the cultivatory arts with vigour and vapour. Your 4th great cousin, undead, even helped you out a few times. Remember the days you spent at the river flinging mud balls at each other? Steve never had any aim. Still didn't. But he did have connections.
Who knew that zombies networked? It shouldn't have come as a surprise, given this world. Steve had hooked you up with several versions of yourself. Each a specialist in a different skill. Skills that could be used to protect and upgrade your farm. One was even a magician. Magic had phased into this universe along with the parallel persons. Sadly, you couldn't use it directly.
Magical Shaggi argued, however, that your green thumb was a magic unto itself. Your BUDS were in great demand. And you were left with no choice but to branch out, to go international. Your journey has only just begun. Who knows what the future will have in store?
