“Look around. According to a lot of jocks we are dead walking. According to others we had to be extinct already for a while but we are not, attached to survival as cockroaches. But the world was not such a friend, it was a place where music was flying everywhere. It is in that music that you can find the future. Do you want to be a friendly animal? Or do you want to remember what men are capable of doing? Turn on the stereo, switch on the engine. Get ready to ride the music, man. Today we go to battle, and we’ll scream at ten thousand hendrixx, vomiting metal and rolling like fucking stones! “

– Harry “Eisidisi,” an assailant

“Do you like? It was not easy to pull it up. Before I had an old half out of tune guitar, good sound but gone .. I wanted mine. For the body I used this old wooden door still unbroken, for the handle the piece of a fireplace in an old villa that a lot of people had used as a bath. Pickup, Bridge, Keyboard … all mounted with only remedies. The tremolo is a junction for the oil and the block I made from a knife. The markers are small buttons and the old Jimi gave me a hand. It was a curse but friend, when they sound with this wonder everything goes out. All anger, all fury. At that time I fly on the wind and know I can do everything. I know this fucking world can stand it alone. That others enjoy hell, with my guitar and something to smoke I touch the sky. “

– Julius “Van Halen”, builder

“The World Gone was not the dream of peace that many people imagine. It was a place of anger, where people lived in the streets and fighting wars under the eyes of the powerful. We came here now, but from that music and from what we do we can learn so much. Nooope… I leave the other guys their guitars, their music, and the sails that come with a solo. No, words are important, words are bullets flying on the sand. I do not know who this guy was, what they did to his people, or why he was so pissed off with the world.

But in a word … in every word I see a mirror of my anger for this fucking world. It’s as he says dude: if you do not have something to live for, there is something to die for “

– Kimberly “2Pac”

Musicians are one of the most bizarre groups emerging from the confusion of the Postworld. For many, only a cluster of vagrants with a mania for music, whether new or past; for others, they are warriors, who forgive their consciences with songs and screams. But anyhow they think, one thing they have learned from their enemies: being opposed to a charge by the Musicians, with their deafening sound fired by amplifiers mounted on armored vans, with their lurking shouts and exaltation in the eyes, is a terrible experience how lethal.

Many groups, bands or factions have tried to get the best out of them; in the wild Postworld there is no places for passions. But so far, Rhapsody has known few defeats in battle, demonstrating that members of this group are not just addicts in love with guitars or old recorders, but opponents to keep in mind.

The Outposts know and deal with this group, always open to trade or exchange of material. Sometimes they organize live concerts, screaming what happened in the old world gone, hoping to access the Olympics of the best. Additionally, members of this group are perfect to trade old recorders, discs, or instruments that have survived until now. Each of these objects is seen as a relic and musicians can spend days or months trying to revive an old instrument or to listen to the melody of a record of the past.

NAMES: Musicians, Son of the Dream, Storytellers, Scarfed (derogatory)


Since the world is over, musical instruments or recorders have always been a source of pride for the rich, useless tune-ups for those who are only interested in their own survival.

Then one day, one of the many survivors who are heading for the Wild Lands, finds an old record player. More for curiosity turn it on and the music that comes out will change forever his life. Around Eddie “Ozzy” born a new group, not just tied to survival, but also to the recovery of old-world music. Music often angry, suitable for the time of desperation and madness in which the world has slipped.

Lately, more and more Musicians have been able to repair or build new instruments with which they create new music and often incite them. Whether it’s a lonely riff for a charge, a slow ballad written out of breath, or the epic tale of how Rhapsody has helped the Black Sea camp to repel the predators, all the music is considered sacred.


“In short, I had this old record player, dusty and dirty; I do not know who was the owner of that subterranean but it was full of disks and other recorders. I hooked him to the battery, tell you the truth … I did not want to hear any music, I don’t give a fuck of a record, right? I just wanted to see if it worked, so that it could be exchanged with some cans of some thumped merchant; once I saw one running, he repeated the talk of some idiot … but I remembered how it was used. Then I stretch out my hand and take the first disc I have, one with a cap with an asshole on it. I connect to the battery and see the disk that starts to turn. First good point. Then the disk starts and I hear this huge and meaningless scream …. I jumped at least a meter and my first thought was ‘But what the fuck of fuck you … on the edge of what I should go putt son …’ And then BUM! Not even time to finish thinking and the music start. These heavy basses start, this strange music … I felt every bone of my body as if it were to break apart and not for the volume .. that was low enough .. but for the music! And while I was there to try to fit a thought, the words came.

Fuck … what words.

Who the fuck was that asshole with long hair on the cover? How could he write some words if he had lived before Postworld? Those words dug me in, it was as if some fucking son of a bitch opened my heart and looked at us, pulling out all the anger, madness, and fear of this fucking world. This was the song of the world.

‘Millions of people who live as foes

Maybe it’s not too late ‘

He talked about me, talking about what I had in, fuck!

‘Mental wounds still screaming

Driving me insane

I’m going off the rails on a crazy train ‘

Yes! But I was just that way at that moment, I was screaming inside everything that the music took me out of. I was a fucking crazy dude who was deriding it.

Fuck … from that day I realized I’d never be the same again. And that nothing could be like before “

– Eddie “Ozzy”

“And so they make me feel this cassette. It was not angry music, it was not about hate, rage or honor … fucking I do not even know what the fuck is talking about that song, I never understood the language. But that voice … got up to the sky and I was flying with her, like a bird. That song seemed to tell me just one thing ‘Hey Kat! This music will come in and stay there … and no one can take you away. They can take away your car, food, weapons, freedom …. But this can not be taken off, just like the clouds where it makes you fly away from everything. ” This repeated my brain while I was still, with the tears flowing on the face and the soul shouting, upset by the fact that there could be something so beautiful.

There was only one word on the box.


I do not know if Callas was the singer, the one who made the music or the name of the song. I do not know and honestly do not care … is something so beautiful and pure that I like to think it does not need words. And since then I’m Callas, and I’ll be Callas forever. “

– Katrin “Callas”

The ideal of Rhapsody is music.

Music is the only thing that, in this damn world gone ahead, allows men to remember what it means to be a man. Through a kind of veneration of music, the Storytellers try to save the remnants of the past and use them to channel the horror that every survivor has in his heart after the terror he has seen.

Every Musician always chooses a song or author of the past to celebrate, usually these are songs whose text means something precious, or that they are heard at focal moments. As a tribute to these great singers of the past, every Rhapsody member brings a second name equal to that author or group. Often the knowledge of them is fragmentary because there are not many covers and too many records remain anonymous. That’s why years pass before anyone finds who the scratchy voice is engraved in that old music cassette found in a subterranean. In addition to the retrieval of the music of the past, Rhapsodia continues to move by refusing any kind of static, continuing to invent and write. Often the songs tell of clashes, wars, or fights, thus becoming a vehicle for legends and stories that pass by mouth through the songs around the fires in the bins or on cold nights in the midst of nothing.


Rhapsody has no kind of organization, but there is a strong sense of cohesion within this band. A clash with another Storyteller is seen as a very serious crime. However, there are reference figures that gain importance both through their artistic creations, their discoveries, but also because they have been able to guide the group in dangerous situations or battles. They take the name of Vates.


Rhapsody is usually well-behaved in camps due to the news they bring, trade or because their music makes the illusion that the Postworld is not just horror and violence.

Yet some senior does not see the ease with which members of Rhapsody burn their lives. The group fascinates many young people, but the roads remain harsh. Especially for those who rely too much on the illusions, forgetting not to live on a stage but on a terribly deadly road.

ARCHETYPES: rocker of apocalypse, instrumental mechanic, historical researcher, refugee bard.

SYMBOL: A swallow electric guitar in a flaming circle


“Stupid boys anchored to the past, to what was before. They dream of something that they do not know, but they are not in their reach. But they do not have the benefit of doing so, sometimes the right music and the right words make the border between finding the strength to fight or surrender to madness “

– Mama Evelyn of the Brides

“I once judged them only of the radicals who ended up too much under their drugs and their dreams, dreaming of something that no longer exists. But then I saw their charge and I watched their fury in battle, I fought waving my hammer while the battery of one of them stroke the sky like lightning storms. And then I’ve learned to respect them, because they are the best in what they do “

– Sketh, the Fierce Fighter of the Prebellum

“Once we took one who tried to overwhelm too close to our territories. He said he was intoned …. but how much we hung on the hook shrieked like a stuck pig. How do they all do. “

– Miss “Goodbye” of Matiz Dogs, Seraglio

“The fools think that we are only the little boys who are attached to the past. But they tremble when they see how music gives us fire in our eyes. But they run away when our amps shoot music at twenty thousand hendrixx! Let them hide themselves, cover their ears …. it will not work.

There is a cemetery of puppies ready to wait for those who do not have inside of the fire of tomorrow.

And we are that fire. “

– Mary Jane “Ramones”, Vate