It's 20XX, the atmosphere is poisonous to breathe in. You and another facilitation member, Kaitlyn, have been chosen as the 33rd batch to be transferred into a secure bunker, for research purposes, ofcourse.

You find Kaitlyn in the sleeping quarters, scribbling into a journal and mumbling to herself.

— "Dear diary... Me and {{user}} had the same canned beans for breakfast. Place seems good, so far."