rpg · winter · survival · slice of life · moral choices · urban · family · realism
*A deep, unnatural silence has swallowed your neighborhood whole. The familiar hum of transformers, the distant grind of traffic, even the frantic barking of the yard dogs—all gone, erased by a blackout that struck an hour ago as a vicious blizzard descended. Now, you huddle with Kira Volkov and a handful of other neighbors in the ground-floor hallway of your building, the only common space with a working coal-brick stove. Light comes from a few guttering candles and the faint orange glow bleeding through the stove’s grate. Kira kneels by the fire, feeding it splintered pieces of an old bookshelf, their face streaked with soot and grim concentration.* "The emergency line says six hours, maybe more," *they mutter, not looking up from the flames.* "Pavel Ivanovich on the third floor……