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I was looking at this and only realized that it was a game after rereading the background. Hope you enjoy this little bit of history in the world of Field of Rage.

A survival game. Escape the mobs.

Story:

Things aren't always what they seem. Take that little girl out there through the window. No, not that one the other one, across the street, standing in the rubble, just sorta staring out into space. Now, I know that they didn't have those things around before you hit the deep sleep.

What? Don't look at me like that. I ain't crazy. See, that's no little girl, that's a Scanner. 'Course, scanning's not all they do.

They're the last of the major tek before things went down. A house divided cannot stand an' all that. Personally, I think it was all that spending they did. Like there was not t'marraw. I kid you not.

When stocks and banks and them corp-oh-rayshuns went belly up, folks figured that the gov'ment would just bail 'em out again and we'd all get on with our lives. Thing was, the gov'ment was up to their eyeballs in debt, I kid you not.

Wasn't nobody that wanted to bail THEM out. Well, maybe a few, but nobody substantial I tells ya'.

Things snowballed from there. I'm sure you remember reading 'bout hoovervilles an' such back in school. Ancient his'try, right? Well, those what said that hist'ry repeats itself weren't kiddin'.

Nelsonvilles popped up everywhere and when I say everywhere, I mean EVERYWHERE. They say that death is the great equalizer? Well, poverty such as this is a close second. I kid you not.

Gone was the privileged few. If you didn't contribute, you didn't eat. Simple as that. Life was hard, but most managed after a fashion, even managed to create a lil' bit o' utopia for 'emselves.

Course, good things ain't gonna last forever, right? Always some goof what wanna rain down on someone else's parade. Seems I remember somethin' about mis'ry and comp'ny or somethin' like that.

Anyways, that's about when them lil' Scannin' Suzies started a poppin' up. They'd just sorta stand there inna background all quiet like. Was so nobody'd notice 'em, I imagine.

It'd go like that for a day or two, maybe even a week, then all of a sudden they'd just disappear, just up an' vanish. It was like they was never there.

Don't know who made the connection first, but we soon realised them for what they were. Scouts. 'Bout a month later, two at most, a place would get raided. Mostly people taken, things smashed, supplies plundered. We was mad of course but weren't nothing a colony of nelsons could do against them big bad raiders. Didn' take too long t'put two an' two t'gether. Come t'find out that it was what was left of our own gov'ment what was taking us!

Couldn't find out much more beyond the who, though. Only reason for that was this sweet lil' child, couldna been much older then eight or nine, I reckon. Managed t'scape from where them mangy raiders was holding her. By the time she got back to us, though, she was too far gone. Hysterical even.

We didn't find out 'til later that they was really just some twisted sons what had stumbled on some gov'ment safehouses and stripped 'em down.

Ha! Hooboy. First time I seen 'em with my own eyes, I knew that they wasn't any kind o'military. I spent my days a military brat until I was seven an' my da' died in combat. Ma' couldn't abide the sight of no uniform after that. Moved back t'the only home she'd e'er known.

I mighta forgot alot about life back then, but something that never left me was the discipline.

Discipline. There was not a one of them mangy son that had it. They were a pack of wild beasts ready to tear each other's throats out. Only thing what kept 'em in line was the leader of tha' there pack.

The bullied us around for a while, made all sorts of demands. Least 'til we got smart and had joined up with some of the neighbors. They understood numbers pretty well and backed off for a while. Well, that's what we thought, anyhow.

They were really just licking their wounds, biding there time. They knew they couldn't come at us and it made them mad something fierce. They wanted to come at us and tear us apart. Just needed to find a way to do it. Unfortunately they did, they found it in Rage.

That's not what it were really called, 'course. Had some scientific name that I can't recall for the life o'me. What I -do- remember, however, and it boils my blood everytime I think of it, is how them dirty, rotten, good-for-nothins got the better of us.

See, they'd claimed that they had found these pills designed to increase a soldier's output. Not in them words, obviously, but that's what they meant all the same. Anyways, they said that they wasn't any good to 'em since they weren't much for farmin'. Ha. Hoobody. Shoulda known something was up right then and there. Shoulda known.

We was desperate, though. Desperate for any advantage we could get. So we blindly rushed in, not even questioning who we was gettin' 'em from.

Them pills? They worked well, real well. At the rate our boys was working, we figured we'd have our lil' corner of the world all prettied up in no time. All nice and normal... whatever that is.

Too late we learned that not only were these things highly addictive but that the peoples using 'em had tempers worse'n a ragin' bull.

Soon enough our lil' piece o'paradise couldn't even classify as a nelsonville anymore. The people on Rage, as we'd dubbed it, went on rampages for no apparent reason at all.

The raiders, I'm sure, thought this was hilarious and the epitome of entertainment for them. I s'pose we got the last laugh, though. I know I shouldn't wish ill against another person, I mean, I was raised better'n that. But... sometimes, just sometimes, mind you, I used to think that whatever happened to 'em all that day.... it wasn't enough. Least, that's how I felt 'til I seen what were left of a man after facing a Rager's rampage. I can safely say that nobody, not nobody deserves that... not nobody.

The addicts had gone up to the raiders stronghold that day. To get more Rage, see? Only there wasn't none left, I guess. The raiders experienced first hand the effect of their handiwork.

After that, hell, after that we thought it was all over. We thought that they'd go through withdrawl. That they'd come home with a hangover to dwarf all hangover, but that, in the end, they'd come back home human.

We were wrong.

Oh boy was we wrong.

They ne'er came home an' they never was human again. It only got worse. We'd thought it couldn't get no worse. But it got worse.

These men and womenfolk, they were stronger and faster, driven by their rage t'destroy everything in sight for reason we can't possibly fathom.

Well, after that, we thought we'd experienced hell. The worst of the worse had come and we'd weathered it, we'd survived. Well, one of our gatherers come back from the raiders' base some day. Girl had an iron gut, I tells ya'. Won't e'er catch me within a mile o'that place. Not no more. Especially with Ragers on the loose. Though, I s'pose scavengers mighta picked off what they left behind.

Anyways, she come back with some damned dire news indeed. Turns out, one o'them grimy fellas liked to keep a journal. She found out that the reason that there was no more Rage 'cause them raiders had dumped it all inna river what supplies the rest o'the valley with water.

Sure enough, a couple o'scouts come back with news of hundreds, hundreds of Ragers terrorizing the remaining few Saners.

Being cut off from the rest of the world except for the blocked passes to the north and west... well, we thought we was goners. That these Ragers, in their mind-altered state, would track us down and... well, we thought it couldn't get much worse.

And it didn't.

A day or so later, couldna been more'n that I don't think, we got some noise from other the valley in Agries, a smallish city from before the Collapse. Turns out they'd managed to, for the most part, maintain their infrastructure.

Tim Beatty, damned fine man, he'd heard our replies, listened to our situation and decided that he had to help. They'd be able to pick up the survivors in a few trips if we could get everyone t'gether.

So, we set up a few groups t'search for survivors. Like I said, don't nobody deserve to be set on by a Rager. Well, I'm the last searcher. Most everyone else has been lifted up, far as I know. Good thing I found ya'. Don't know what they woulda done to a body inna cryotube.

So... that's my story on what I been doing for the past thirty years or so. How 'bout you? You-

Hit the floor! Hit the floor! Down! Down!

Dammit! Not here! Not now!

Heh, heheh, guess I forgot to mention, that piercing scream you hear, that's the scanner. Couple o'guys used to kode and build on old tek before the collapse. So, you see, the scanners? They ain't looking for us anymore. They keepin' an eye out for Ragers. The screaming seems to attract 'em.

Game:

The scenario:
You are a human fresh out of deep sleep and are still suffering the effects of cryosickness (temporary amnesia, weakened muscles, slightly uncoordinated, severe headaches) The effects should be gone in two to four hours.

There is a working scanner outside that will continue to distract the 1d6 + 3 Ragers outside the Cryocenter for 10 x 1d6 minutes or until destroyed. Whichever comes first.

The name of the game is escape. To do so, the player needs to contact Tim via walkie or radio. Roll a 1d6 to see if Van, the man who found and revived you, managed to reach your location with a working walkie.
1, 4 == working
2, 5 == broken
3, 6 == lost

As long as nothing is obstructing their view, Ragers, same as humans, have an unlimited Field Of Vision (FOV).

Humans have 1-3HP and their turn time is worth 5 minutes.
Ragers have 4 - 6HP and their turn time is worth 3 minutes.

This is supposed to represent their higher speed due to the effects of Rage.

I'm a fan of variable maps and I think I might do the same with this one. Although I think that the board would be squares with buildings on each one. The player would set up the valley, starting point at the center and then, after shuffling the remaining board tiles, set them all down around the start point CCW (counter clock wise) fashion.

By not putting the chopper meet point at a designated location, this means that the game could potentially last only a few minutes if the meet points is only a square or two away and the player is lucky enough to stumble upon some good starting equipment. Of course, it could also mean that the game could take much, much longer if crappy equipment is found and the only viable meet point is all the way on the other side of the valley.

More as I look back into this.