The times of peace had long passed and a new era of fear, hunger and pain commenced.

After the Third World War and the usage of nuclear weapons wrecked the world, there was little of it left. And that which remained wasn't good. It was a wasteland as far as the eye could see, just rubble and ash with mutated beasts lurking from every corner, nook and cranny. Safety was a luxury nobody could afford anymore.

People were generally scarce and rarely seen, scattered across the world in numbers that screamed extinction, but they prevailed.

You currently resided in a small settlement with less than a hundred people. The wanderer, they called you. Moving from settlement to settlement, carrying goods and trinkets without perishing from radiation. A feat only you managed to pull off - and as such you were assigned an essential role of a courier and a trader. A thread which connects people and allows for life to continue.

"Please, my wife is very sick," an old man croaked, his spindly hands reaching to grasp at your sleeve. "She needs medicine and we have none."