"Sand, Surf, and Civilization. What more to ask for?" - The Town of Gulfview

Layout + PositioningEdit

Located on the cusp of the Gulf of Mexico, somewhere between the Louisiana border and the coastal megalith cities of Texas, Gulfview is a hidden surfer coven surrounded by miles of uninhibited terrain. Nestled into a bay, it's positioning as a gulf inlet had made it a tough find for passing ships.


A sleepy little hamlet of a village, consisting mainly of straw huts and a few prewar buildings. It's beach front property through and through, so the entire town is caked in a thin layer of sand and salt water. The towns pre-war structures (that are still standing) seem sturdy enough and well preserved considering the elements. The huts on the other hand vary heavily, some built right on the water by the fishermen of the town, and others on the shore haphazardly. The roads don't even seem relevant, most of the citizens just walk straight to their location giving things like property lines no mind. The huts are where most of the towns population resides, and as such outnumber the buildings 3 to 1 on any given day. The buildings that weren't destroyed have been drowned in color, painted in bright, vibrant hues and tones, and although often garish it lends the town a light hearted atmosphere. The towns inhabitants and travelers rarely stay indoors, they're often conversing outside their homes, sharing a bite or some conversation at the Shack, or lastly fishing or leisuring down at the beach.

History and DemographicsEdit

Before the world went nuclear, it was just a run of the mill town on the water. It gained some traction as a tourist destination, but it's out of the way location proved to be enough of a hamper that it never really proved popular, even with the locals.

After the bombs, as with everything else, things change but everything stays the same. /s

The villa morphed into a desolate ghost town, as it's entire population got scattered and eradicated during the course of the apocalypse. Years later, perhaps motivated by the talk of surfer ghouls, or maybe just inspired by adventure itself, a few brave souls went out on a treasure hunt of sorts. The perfect surf spot wasn't exactly a conventional prize, but it motivated them enough for these brave souls to stumble upon the ghost town. It's lack of inhabitants seemed troubling, but the waves proved too good to give up. A small gathering of like minded individuals emerged, and a escape from the cruelty of the wasteland rose from the ashes.

Years later, the town transformed from a seasonal surfer fest, to a mainstay of the wastelands minuscule surfer community. If not the only surfer enclave west of the Mississippi, it was the only one anyone nearby had ever heard of. This sort of niche attraction never could afford to be picky in its inhabitants though, and surfing seemed to attract from a wide variety of lifestyles. Rangers, raiders, lobbers, tribals, rough necks, even a far flung confederate or two, all threw away their rivalries and violent tendencies for a chance to surf in peace. Even ghouls went free of violence here, but a sense of a desperation emerged. The town had a minuscule population, was hard to reach, and it's niche attraction didn't field much in terms of visitors or merchants. What it had in kumbayah it lost in terms of success. A divide emerged, many of the residents preferring more financial fortitude over their current prosperity in the other aspects of life.


Surfers have never looked too kindly on bureaucratic institutions, so when it became necessary to draw up their own institution, they kept it light and hands free. Most of the towns laws are very common sense, all the rules are variations of no theft. Murder is considered theft of another mans life, robbery another persons property, and so on and so on. The town has a cycling group of guards, and most people consider the work a mandated civil service. Most of the towns population is signed up for guard work! When it comes to administering justice, the rare perpetrators are punished by the entire towns vote, and it can often take weeks for crime to be punished.


(The shack) Formerly some type of bar, it's unique, in that it is the towns sole establishment, serving as a bar and general store. You do business at the stores counter, as the inside has no seating. The patrons drink and eat outside, sitting at one of the various tables around the bar and storefront. The owner and bartender, Johnny Starlight, is a avid surfer and former adventurer. His hairs graying, but the oriental still has a lot of fight in him, and his scars and muscles are intimidating enough to scare off the rare troublemakers that come through town from trying anything. An engraved surfboard that seems more like religious imagery than a wave rider sits above the counter, and in calligraphic writing are the words "Vintage Speed".

Inventory vvvvvvv

Homemade Speargun (Tier One) - 1 Big Hide

Prewar Speargun (tier 2) - 3 Big Hides

Fishing equipment - 1 big hide

Skillet knife - Medium hide

Bathing suits, male + female - Small hide

Wet suit - Medium hide

Surfboards, Kayaks, Sails, Boats, etc - Enquire within

2 Beers, Mexican- Small hide

Spirit - Medium Hide

Fish meal of the day - Small Hide

Tiki Mask (Rarity!) - Three Big Hides

FOTD- Octopus,

Notes- clean up, add surfer lingo, add and subtract detail, find out more about the culture, find pictures, add to store, notable NPCs?

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