I bring you news from the distant future of 1979...
A
Brief History of the Rockiverse
An excerpt from the forthcoming Rock Opera '79 RPG by Doug Anderson
Legends speak of
an ancient global war against evil that goaded humanity into pursuing any
possible technological advantage over the enemy. Jetcraft, compustats, health
pills, and mech-men were among the fruits of this effort, but their
contribution to the war effort paled compared to achievement of harnessing the
destructive power of the atom. With this new weapon, the war was won, and an age
of peace and prosperity was ushered in.
Atom
City and the New Frontier
Atom City rose
from the ashes of the global conflict, a shining metropolis of chrome and
glass, where every citizen could park his cherry-red aerocar on the penthouse
roof of his sky-rise apartment, freed by robotic labor to work a four-hour day
and spend his leisure time on the putting green, in the pool, or listening to
stereophonic record discs on the family high fidelity audio console.
Beyond the city
was The New Frontier, a cratered landscape ravaged by the war, now slowly being
colonized by military bases, planned towns, robot farms, and factories. Atom
City’s best and brightest spent their days working to settle The New Frontier
and push the limits of scientific knowledge even further for the benefit of
all.
The
Iron Curtain
At the edge of
the New Frontier lay the belt of fortresses and defensive walls known as The
Iron Curtain, encircling half the world. Behind it lay an enigma whose nature
could only be hinted at. A few wanderers claimed to have escaped from a
repressive, brutal land beyond the curtain, ruled by a shadowy cabal that was preparing for world conquest. In response, the soldiers of the New Frontier kept watch on the walls and strengthened their own defenses. The specter
of invasion from beyond the wall has been ever-present since.
SIBIL
Day to day
decisions and allocation of resources within Atom City were made by a huge
compustat named SIBIL (Synthetic Intelligent Brain, Infallible Logic), a massive machine at the heart of
the city that told you when to water your lawn, when to buy milk, and which
shoes went with that dress. SIBIL was programmed by its creators to minimize
danger and disruption and to maximize leisure time and tranquility. For most of
its citizens, Atom City had ushered in dream world of comfort and convenience,
monitored by SIBIL’s million electric eyes and ears.
Heaven
and Its Discontents
But not everyone
bought into this dream. Here and there, either in the shadowy lower levels of
Atom City or in the wastes of the New Frontier, small bands of discontents sought
ways of living that traded safety and comfort for primal, sensual experiences
and greater freedom of expression. Some rode super-powered bikes along the
megastate highways, seeking escape in noise and speed. Others took up
paintbrushes to splash and spatter canvases that defied conventional tastes, or
repurpose electrically-amplified instruments to play angry, raw music. Still
others spoke of unplugging SIBIL and restoring a human hand in the functioning
of government. Their protest rallies were small at first but grew ever larger,
as bored young citizens joined the discontents. Their music became a unifying
force and medium of protest for the discontents.
SIBIL was not
pleased. The subroutines that generated editorial commentary in the city’s
newspapers expressed displeasure at the ingratitude and indecency of the
discontents. They soon found themselves shunned by their neighbors and barred
from public spaces. And if an errant walk signal happened to lure a discontent
or two into oncoming traffic, or the traffic system steered their air car into
a mountainside, then SIBIL could not be blamed for trying to minimize danger
and disruption for the city as a whole. New triumphs awaited.
A Certain
Major Key
Out on The New
Frontier, scientists from Atom City had developed the war’s primitive rocket
technology into a vehicle that could propel a pilot into space. The idea of
opening The High Frontier to humanity became a public obsession. When SIBIL
chose the first astronauts, they became instant celebrities.
Major Timothy Key
had outscored everyone on SIBIL’s index of courage, skill, decency, and telegenic
good looks. True, at 40 he was a bit old for the rigors of space, but no one
doubted his fitness. His ascent into space in a tiny capsule atop a flaming
rocket was watched by millions on the televid.
Major Key’s first
words from space were not those that SIBIL had scripted for him. After a minute
of dead air, he said, “Oh… the… joy…” and began to laugh. He was giddy,
ecstatic. Regardless, he performed his mission perfectly, and soon his capsule
was drifting back to earth beneath a huge parachute. He was still giggling when
they unbolted the hatch and pulled him out.
The
Elysian Field
Was it oxygen
deprivation? Side effects of the stimulants he had been administered
pre-flight? Only after studying the readouts from the on-board sensors did an
answer emerge.
There was
something out there — an unknown form of energy — that permeated all of outer space
but was blocked by Earth’s magnetic field. Its effect on Major Key’s
consciousness was to free him of all limitations and fears and allow him to
experience absolute happiness and full consciousness for the first time in
human history.
He had discovered
what became known as the Elysian field.
Back on earth,
within the cage of the planet’s magnetic field, Key’s consciousness soon
returned to the impaired level shared by his fellow citizens. He yearned to feel
whole and happy again. After a few halting, embarrassing interviews on the
televid in which he struggled to explain his experience in orbit, Key was
relieved of his duties. He bought a motorcycle and hit the roads of the New
Frontier, looking for what he had lost.
Subsequent space
flights were made in capsules and spacesuits that shielded the crew from the
Elysian field. These sober astronauts quickly mastered near-space and made
plans to leave their footprints on the moon and Mars. The red planet had other
plans.
Red
Planet Blues
Mars had cooled
from the maelstrom of the early solar system sooner than its sunward sisters. Complex
life came to Mars long before it arose on Earth.
The red planet,
too, possessed a global magnetic field, generated by the tidal effects of a
large moon that churned the planet’s interior.
The first
sentient beings to walk the rift valleys of Mars were, at least in terms of
gross anatomy, roughly human. Their climb from hunter-gathers to spacefarers
was longer than ours would be, spanning tens of millions of years, hampered by
a scarcity of useful metals and petrochemicals. When they at last scraped
together enough material resources to send their first astronauts into space,
they encountered the Elysian field and returned to share their mind-bending
discovery with their fellow Martians. To bring the Elysian field to their
entire race, their rulers attempted to gently manipulate the planet’s magnetic
field by gradually moving the Martian moon to a more distant orbit. In a global
catastrophe, the moon disintegrated under the pressure of repulsor rays sent
from the Martian surface, bringing down a rain of meteors and leaving in place
only two sizable fragments in orbit, far too small to exert enough tidal force
on the planet’s interior to keep it molten.
The planet’s
magnetic field sputtered out as the molten interior cooled. The Elysian field now
reached the surface, but few Martians remained to enjoy it. They had brought
happiness to their race at the cost of a doomed planet. Mars slowly became a
cold, nearly airless desert bathed in harmful radiation.
By the time of
Major Key’s historic flight, millions of years later, a handful of Martians
remained alive to pick up his radio transmissions. It gave them hope of
salvation, that the vigorous Earthers might come to set things right, but also made
them fear for their young neighbors, who might make the same apocalyptic
mistake in trying to bring the power of the Elysian field to their planetary
surface. Should the Martians contact Earth, or wait for humans to cross the
gulf of space and discover them? Based on what the Martians had gleaned of
human history via radio and televid broadcasts, some feared the chances of
Martian survival outside of a zoo were slim if humans ever met them.
Timothy
Key, Rock Messiah
Major Key knew
nothing of this as he cruised the New Frontier searching for peace of mind. One
evening, passing by a music hall in an old mining town occupied by discontents
and other squatters, he heard a driving beat and a pattern of chords that
brought back to him, in small measure, the brief happiness he had known in
space. Upon entering, he saw a band playing noisy electrified instruments over
a pounding drumbeat. The locals called it “rocket music”, or “rock” for short, and
despite their meager lives, it made them happy and full of life.
Key’s scientific
curiosity awoke in him a desire to discover what lay behind the phenomenon. He
stayed on and studied the physical nature of rock music. It seemed that the
electrified instruments, when played with sufficient skill in unison, dampened
the Earth’s magnetic fields sufficiently to allow some leakage from the Elysian
field to reach the planet’s surface. Like Prometheus, a rock band could bring
down the gifts of heaven to humankind.
On the New
Frontier, rock was already spreading among the discontents. The rockers
embraced Key as a visionary, and their movement took on the aura of a spiritual
quest for freedom. Rock shows spilled out into the streets, and drew thousands
of weary Frontier laborers looking for rest and renewal.
Elysium
What followed was
a long summer of harmony and good feeling, as a virtual nation of rock sprang
up overnight along the New Frontier. Dubbed Elysium, it became a magnet for
discontents everywhere, to feel the sense of well-being and freedom that only
rock could deliver.
The
Rock Laws and the Revolt
SIBIL responded
by first restricting, and then outright banning the playing of rock “in the
interests of safety and efficiency.” It became a crime to rock. Now the
discontents had something concrete to rail against, and their outlaw rock shows
became huge rallies condemning the citizens of Atom City as dupes who had
traded their freedom for a humdrum life ruled by a soulless machine. The
televids showed scenes of the sprawling camps and muddy fields of Elysium
accompanied by disapproving commentary, but the attempt to discredit the
movement backfired and drew many young residents of Atom City into the fold.
Major Timothy Key was their messiah, and “Unplug SIBIL! Free the City!” was
their cry.
Wishing for
everyone to share in the nirvana they had gained, the youth of Elysium marched
on Atom City, millions strong, to ask that the thinking machine responsible for
the city’s functioning be shut down. The majority of city dwellers opposed any
changes, and many pointed out that without the omnipresent, eminently logical
presence of SIBIL the huge metropolis could not function, and chaos would
result. For its part, SIBIL had determined that if it was unplugged it could no
longer fulfill its mission, and so turned the city itself against the oncoming
rockers, using remotely controlled aerocars, cargo vehicles, and service robots
as troops, augmented by the more extreme anti-rock citizens. Major Key pleaded
for peace, but the mood grew ugly and turned into a full-fledged street battle.
Key himself disappeared during the conflict, and rumors about his fate have
circulated ever since.
Atom
City Divided
The Rock Revolt
ended in stalemate, with the rockers in control of the darker, aging lower
levels of the city, and the citizens secure in their skyrises. SIBIL retained its
function as master of Atom City, and rerouted traffic so that loyal citizens of
the upper city could be resupplied by air. Their lives were comfortable, but
circumscribed by the besieging rockers below, where living conditions were grim.
The reduced industrial capacity due to unrest on the New Frontier lowered the
standard of living for most citizens. A black market sprang up and enriched a
few enterprising hustlers who could circumvent the official supply channels to
smuggle in luxury goods.
Disco
Discovered
SIBIL’s ears
heard citizens grumble about the happy existence of the rockers and wonder why
they, too, couldn’t be eternally happy. The machine ran simulations that showed
Atom City would harbor a growing number of disgruntled citizens who might be
willing to bargain with the rebels, or defect outright. SIBIL’s response was to
develop artificial fields that could mollify and sedate the unhappy members of
city society. The city’s engineers found an alternative beat and form of
instrumentation that could simulate the euphoria of an Elysian field. It was
named “disco”, short for “DISCONTENT SUPPRESSION FIELD”, its official
nomenclature.
Soon, disco
palaces were erected around the city to provide for the happiness of its citizens,
who happily danced and partied around the clock. Disco became a welcome relief
from monotony for some, and an obsession for others. Unlike a natural Elysian
field, disco energy is truly addictive, and its ability to induce euphoria
comes at a cost of dependence and mindless obedience to the music. By subtly
manipulating the field, SIBIL was able to pacify the upper city, which acquired
the name Disctopia, to distinguish it from the lower city, now called Rocktopolis.
Abdication
The hustlers who had
been profiting from the rift between the two halves of the city were finding
they could only accomplish so much with SIBIL still in charge. As ever, the
electronic mastermind was programmed to provide safety and tranquility, and
could still order the arrest of criminals or suspend their financial
activities. Maddeningly, SIBIL was beyond their reach, in a secret chamber
beneath the lower city, so well hidden that the descendants of its creators did
not even know where.
And then one
night, SIBIL withdrew from most of its functions. No one knows whether it was a
machine error, sabotage by hustlers or by discontents, or even a rational
decision made by SIBIL itself, but in any event, much of the city ceased to
function overnight. A period of panic and unrest followed. It was as if the
hustlers’ wishes had been answered. In the absence of SIBIL, they could rule
the city.
Rise
of the Discocracy
One hustler,
known only as The Man, was able to gather power faster than his rivals, whom he
either took in as underlings or eliminated. The remaining oligarchs became
known as the Discocracy, with The Man as their director. They became the de facto city government, controlling
food and power distribution and enforcing their will through a menagerie of
human and robo-mechanical minions. They maintained order by restricting access
to the disco palaces to disloyal citizens and banishing their enemies to the
mean streets of Rocktopolis. Their rule is nearly absolute.
The engineers of
the Discocracy are hard at work on technology that could strengthen the planet’s
magnetic field to the point that not even rock could penetrate it and channel
Elysian energy to the surface. If they succeed, it could doom rock forever.
The
Now
And so, old Atom
City is now two worlds, high and low: above, the glittering but not very
gracefully aging skyrises and penthouses of Disctopia, with a no-man’s land of gates,
black markets, and checkpoints separating them from the dim, clammy depths of
Rocktopolis below. A decadent, ruthless elite feeding off air-delivered goods
from distant robot farms and factories, while in the lower city, the masses
struggle for basic supplies of food, water, and energy. The Discocracy profits
from the gradient of misery between the two halves, with The Man firmly in
charge, said to dwell in the highest penthouse of the city.
The once-unified
members of the Rock Revolt are now split into warring factions and gangs, their
horizons narrowed, their dreams unrealized. Here and there, the spirit of rock
remains, played in unsavory bars or blasted from the rooftops. A few legendary
rockers from the old days are still around, and there is a new generation of
rockers who wish to take up guitars and drums and bring down Elysian pleasures
once more. Some have even penetrated Disctopia‘s defenses and defied The Man
with guerilla rock shows, to startle the citizens of the upper city out of
their disco-induced haze, or to battle the Discocracy’s minions and other means
of absolute control.
The
Unknowns
These are the
essential mysteries our heroes will face:
Can the
Discocracy be overthrown and the two halves of the city be reunited through the
power of rock?
Who is The Man
and why does he wield such power?
What really
happened to Major Key? Rumors persist that he is still alive.
SIBIL’s secret
chamber has never been found. Is the machine broken, dormant, or hatching some
byzantine but eminently logical plan to save the city?
What societies,
tribes, and factions are out there on The New Frontier?
Will the Martians
ever make contact? Have they already done so secretly? Astronauts are preparing
to reach Mars — will they find evidence of Martian civilization?
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