Ewing Bay

“This place; it's a proper hell-hole. Only thing keeping anybody here anymore is the bloody bar, fish and hordes of nasties in the swamp.”— Allan Scott

Ewing Bay

General Information
Establishment:	June 1st, 1866
Status:	Active
Location Information
Location:	Louisiana
Societal Information
Population:	20,670+ (Pre-War) 5,050+ (Post-War)
Notable Individuals:	Former Current
Factions:	Fishermen
Notable Events:	October 23rd, 2077 (Great War)

Ewing Bay is a large town on the very coastal edge of Louisiana now serving as a fishing hub, and smugglers den, for the relatively impoverished surrounding areas, largely awash with roaming bands of Raiders, killer wildlife and treacherous swamps, hills and beaches. Originally founded in the late 1860s by the returning defeated forces of the Confederate States of America, the town had originally been little more than an unimportant fishing town in the United States of America, where the only tourists were middle-aged fishermen looking to enjoy a weekend of sobering angling, ankle-deep in muddy water clad in their stereotypical waders all the way up to the 2050s, whereupon the town soon became a point of focus for attempted industrialization, namely in the form of a RobCo Industries foundry on the outskirts of the town and a Berriman Biomechanics laboratory near the town also. Following the Great War in 2077, Ewing Bay, relatively untouched by the initial nuclear blasts and only mildly bathed in the following radioactive fallout, became a hub of survivors gathering together to form a surviving community of fishermen, hunters and other men and women whose professions were best suited to the harsh way of life the town found itself adopting, with the town itself considered to be a bastion of trade in the sea of chaos that is present-day Louisiana.

History[]

With the end of the American Civil War and the return of many Confederate soldiers to the defeated lands of the Confederacy, many of the soldiers in this defeated army began to settle in the war-ravaged South. One particularly large group, mostly poorer citizens from the states of Louisiana and Virginia, settled in a large group in the area of Vermillion Bay; eventually, this relatively ramshackle settlement became known as Ewing Bay, after one of it's more prominent founders, Colonel Ewing Loughton, growing steadily throughout the latter half of the 19th century, with the once informal fishing industry in the town becoming a heavily invested-in industry, with the large majority of the town's populace employed by the fishing companies now formally set up throughout the town. With the town growing quickly, it quickly became a hotbed of migration from neighbouring States, including migrants of freed-slave heritage, leading to what Loughton referred to as a "grand American cohesion", though somewhat begrudgingly; indeed, a sense of patriotic pride had well and truly set in by the end of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th, with Loughton's death a signal to many of the changing times as industrialisation set in further; many took these changes to be a good thing, though others feared for the future; rightfully so, with the beginning of the First World War beginning practically from the start of the 20th century and America's involvement in the war costing the town many of it's younger men followed by the deadly outbreaks of influenza in the immediate aftermath of America's entering of the war. This tragic time led to many falling to either the mercy of their respective god's or local barman, with alcohol dependency especially high in the case of bereaved fathers and, even more shockingly for the local residents, mothers; more often than not mothers who's sons had never returned from the bloody battlefields of Europe.

With the end of WW1, the town became famed as a hive of smugglers, bringing in illegal liquor to quench the masses thirst for alcohol. The town's sheriff department, a relatively small and dilapidated force, quickly became known for it's "relaxed" control on the tide of booze smuggled into the country; especially in cases where the smugglers filled the pockets of the Deputies and Sheriffs that were supposedly meant to prevent this seemingly never-ending tide of smuggling. Even with the repealment of the Eighteenth Amendment in 1933, smuggling in to the town continued, with smugglers having realised the value of this new route into the US. With illicit firearms, tobacco and narcotics flooding into the town, it was perhaps only inevitable that it became an open secret that the town was very much saturated with smugglers and illegal activities; federal inspectors and investigators often left without a scrap of evidence, oddly with a surprisingly higher amount of money than they had entered the town with to aid in their investigations into illegal activities. Newspapers that printed any exposé of the town's dealings more often that not suffered arson attacks and investigative journalists more often than not were founded dead at the mouth of the harbour, floating upside down in the water with the usual bruising on the back of their cracked skull. In comparison to it's closest neighbouring town, the relatively successful resort-town of Laramie Point, Ewing Bay was a rough-and-tumble place of thieves and thugs; this criminality was all but ingrained into the town's society, and wasn't going anywhere any time. This afforementioned criminal control of the town continued throughout the 1930s right up to the beginning of the Second World War, where rationing brought an even bigger demand for smuggled in items; not to mention items smuggled to the other Allied nations, enduring their own stringent rationing. Many smugglers, even when caught, justified their actions by claiming that they were doing their bit for the war-effort; in a way, this was partly true, as many GIs often ended up with illicit but much needed alcohol and tobacco in their hands on the front lines from the small town of Ewing Bay.

The defeat of the Axis Powers and thus the end of the Second World War brought about the nationwide, and indeed worldwide, concentration on atomic goods that soon became a mainstay product throughout the 20th century; from the 1950s onwards, rampant industrialisation became the norm for much of America. Ewing Bay, for the most part, was immune to this trend; the only thing to buck said trend was the odd improvement to fisheries via the introduction of Terminals and fusion powered generators to boost productivity. In the homes of many residents, Televisions were still a rarity, even by the end of the 20th century and the beginning of the 21st; most families eschewed televisual entertainment for a good old fashioned board game, whilst most of the single bachelors in town favoured magazines of an erotic nature to the rather dull and dreary news reports on television, occasionally interspersed with a children's hour. Though change was slow in the large town, still very much an aged icon of the former powerhouse of the American South, it did come; Nuka Cola vending machines began to spring up in shops and cafes, rare though they were; Terminals of increasingly advanced variety came into service in the homestead, Holodisks became more and more frequently used and televisions were soon to be found in nearly every modernised house. Corporations like RobCo and later, by 2070, Berriman Biomechanics set up locations near the town, offering small opportunities for employment for the less and more educated locals in the towns respectively; the majority of townspeople, traditionally used to manual labour jobs, all but too happy to become involved with working on assembly lines in the RobCo foundry, albeit with a small amount of resentment for their robotic co-workers, and the minority populace of educated citizens seeking employment in Berriman's prestigious facility as scientists, administration staff and secretaries, though with an oddly high number of non-disclosure agreements being forcibly signed in order to acquire a job in said facility. The town even enjoyed some tourism, though it's seedy reputation for smuggling had left a foul taste in the mouth of many who visited it. The dependency on atomic power for much of the rest of the country, viewed once as a great highlight for the nation, soon became a burden once the depleting stocks of oil and uranium became apparent. By the mid-to-late 2050s, the Middle East had been plunged into chaos, with the European Commonwealth squabbling amongst itself over the last few resources they could get their hands on. The citizens of Ewing Bay paid little attention to these events, even when the forces of China invaded Alaska in 2066, then only giving a fleeting glance and a half-hearted shrug to the news, some of the more patriotic amongst them going off to fight alongside the majority of their fellow countrymen in the US Armed Forces. This initial disinterest seemed to have been well-placed at first, with Chinese defeat after Chinese defeat becoming commonplace after the foothold in Alaska was lost; many of Ewing Bay's citizens felt that the war would soon be over with a Chinese defeat and a victorious US.

On October 23rd, 2077, these thoughts were dispelled with the start of the Great War; initially thought to be earthquakes by those indoors, feeling the first shockwaves, these first curious thoughts turned to horrific realisation with the great glowing flashes being seen for miles inland, towering mushroom clouds billowing upwards into the sky. The initial alarm only grew with the arrival first of those not caught in the blasts and merely escaping from the blast radiuses, and those arriving with festering sores and charred skin, having felt the full might of nuclear blasts first-hand. The few good samaritans in town did what they could for these unfortunate souls, though for many of these wounded it was obviously too late. After the first dozen or so arrivals, grimly scarred and burned, arrived, many others were turned away; at first through sad pleas of being unable to help, then grim-faced growls reinforced with firearms, clubs and other weapons and tools of the smugglers' trade, many of whom had returned to the town to seek shelter. As the months ground on and 2078 came about, the town had suffered a massive hit in terms of citizenship; many of it's residents had died painful deaths from radiation poisoning or the bitter infighting within the battered town. The post-war collapse occured almost immediately after the last of the refugees had fled to other communites or died in the town; however, that same collapse was stunted by the presence of brutal smugglers and thugs and a determined local community unwilling to simply flee into the newly formed wastes. Fishing still took place, though with the heavily radioactive waters and slowly mutating fish, these sailing excursions were, for the first ten years of the town's post-war "reconstruction", limited. These afforementioned ten years led to the creation of a system that would last largely up to the 2220s thanks to it's usefulness in the circumstances; the creation of a ruling and, supposedly, elected smuggler's "board" all with joint-control over the town, with the majority of the townsfolk there a part of a rudimentary democracy; a voting bloc dedicated to voting in candidates who had first been chosen by popular demand, popular demand that could well be accrued through any means. This interestingly basic, and hardly fair, process was particularly popular, surprisingly, with the townsfolk, growing increasingly crude en masse as the years carried on; they expected their favors to be earned, be it through prostitutes, booze or money, now increasingly shifting from the paper dollars to Caps.

By early 2100 the majority of the dilapidated town's populace worked either as smugglers, increasingly trafficking in both slaves, escaped and newly captured, narcotics and, in a way harkening back to the town's early forays into smuggling, alcohol, most notably moonshine. By this time mutated wildlife and other creatures had become a common sight; indeed, some of the smugglers themselves could sigh wistfully and chat about the once common unmutated wildlife thanks to said mutations, with a good number of Ewing Bay's citizens being Ghouls, battered and weathered by the years of radiation that had hampered the town's otherwise profitable smuggling business. Increasingly, newer residents arrived to work for the town's burgeoning post-war fishing industry on the aged sloops and fishing boats sailing increasingly further from the coast,

though admittedly this was nowhere near as far as fishing excursions had prior to the war, most of these new residents had arrived from other parts of Louisiana, namely the largely abandoned ruins of Laramie Point, and some as far as Mississippi, either escaping the rampaging Klansmen Confederacy or seeking out a better way of life in the relatively famed city of smugglers on the coast of Louisiana, increasingly pressed into practical servitude and packed, rather ironically, like sardines into once abandoned apartments now turned into tenements for these cash-strapped workers. Meanwhile, the more prominent citizens of Ewing Bay enjoyed the high-life; albeit the form of high-life that could be achieved in the post-war world in the midst of a hive of amoral citizens. Mirelurk fillets and the finest sweet tea in all of Louisiana and, as this pseudo-aristocracy liked to say, all of Dixie. Naturally, this rich minority consisted of mostly white, unmutated humans. At the beck and call of this pseudo-aristocracy were their various right-hand and left-hand men and women; retainers held on a steady paycheck who could be relied on both for their discretion and their brutality. This pseudo-aristocracy, as they came to be commonly known, came to be despised quite heavily by the townspeople, but relied upon by most of the Vermillion Bay area, and elsewhere, as their increasingly tight control of the town's burgeoning fishing industry and smuggling industry left them with the most reliable source of waterborne vehicles capable of carrying goods across the bay without fear of attack by Water Tribals, now increasingly attacking land-based travellers and caravans trying to go the shortest, coastal route along the bay itself; nevertheless, most locals despised their apparent rulers passionately; especially those of the mutant variety, viewing these rich citizens with contempt and bitterness reserved by some since the pre-war days of the US; despite all of this, many of the Ghoul residents saw these snide and arrogant leaders as preferable alternatives to the rather demented likes of the Klansmen Confederacy, now increasingly well-known in Mississippi; many of these down-trodden Ghouls also began increasingly to turn to a rapidly encroaching faith, dating far before the war, brought with many of the migrant workers from Mississippi and other parts of the savage lands of Louisiana that would later go onto cause so many problems for the pseudo-aristocracy; Christianity. These citizens found employment largely in the town's booming post-war fishing trade; be it ramshackle vessles akin to those used by the Rafters, usually found in the hands of the most impoverished residents, or pre-war fishing boats restored to varying degrees of usefulness, usually being in the hands of pseudo-aristocracy as per their monopoly on the fishing industry and smuggling rings.

The 2100s came and went, with barely a noteworthy occurrence in the area to be seen; though the destruction of Laramie Point as an organised settlement served as a rather worrying event in the minds of many of the town's pseudo-aristocracy. The 2200s, however, became a period of great upheaval within the town, as the vast majority of citizens in the city found themselves increasingly in the employ of the more morally palatable fishing industry; the smugglers, whose influence had been waning over the town with arrival of increasingly religious migrants, mostly of the post-war Protestant church, with the largest influx of these highly religious migrants arriving in the 2250s fleeing the persecution they faced from the mutated ranks of the newly prevalent Brethren of the Shroud, demanding more democratic changes to the town's increasingly oligarchic system of government, with the majority of "elected" board-members being members of the pseudo-aristocracy. Unable to both stem the tide of these new arrivals and silence those already present, the pseudo-aristocratic rich instead resorted to killing the most vocal of those in opposition to their operations; whilst this worked for the first twenty or so years, with many of these would-be antagonisers instead becoming corpses dumped into the harbour in full view of their other supposed conspirators, the children of these butchered victims more often than not got their revenge on these families; usually by killing their murderous retainers. Another twenty years followed, with all but outright massive violence spilling onto the streets taking place. Murder, bombings and even violent sexual assault were common practices utilised by both sides in the subtle civil war that took place in Ewing Bay; not only this, but increasingly prevalent attacks on fishermen and smugglers sailing up and down the riverways and coasts of Vermillion Bay by Water Tribals, rumoured to be from the ancient Berriman Biomechanics laboratories, put increasing pressure on the town's pseudo-aristocracy to make amends with the population as a whole for fear of the attacks bearing down on Ewing Bay. In the end, by 2241, the smugglers and, by guilt of association, the pseudo-aristocracy were increasingly backed into a corner by rampant, fervently aggressive public opinion and action against them. These leading citizens finally acquiesced, at least in some way, by disbanding the elected council and instead adopting a laissez-faire approach to the town's politics; letting the citizens assign their own "Union" leaders; this current political practice has carried on all the way up to 2287, with the current "leader" of the large majority of the working community being Allan Scott, a plucky Ewing Bay resident and life-long fisherman. Unbeknownst to his fellow citizens, however, Allan was and is largely at the beck-and-call of the current pseudo-aristocracy and thus required to turn a blind eye to smuggler operations, now more covert than their previously overt nature prior to this sweeping political change, with compensation arriving in the form of generous payouts to both Scott himself and the fishing industry that the pseudo-aristocracy had taken to investing in so as to legitimise their own positions within the town's increasingly judgemental society, attempting more and more to cultivate an air of refined, moral taste, with the likes of Martin Long courting favour by appearing amongst his workers in an almost jovial manner, sharing with them biblical passages largely memorized from recent services and childhood experiences. From 2264 to 2267, this increasingly more appealing public image won back many citizens' support, especially in regards to where certain figures claimed to be "re-born" Christians, appealing largely to the religious majority now stringently devoted to Biblical teachings. This did not stop these from holier-than-thou men and women practicing their "illegal" and immoral activities; in 2275, after years of eyeing the long, seemingly, abandoned location, the pseudo-aristocracy deployed numerous smugglers and mercenaries to seize control of the town from the two Water Tribal tribes there, the River Men and the Silver Fins; this escapade was an open secret and a disastrous gamble, which cost the pseudo-aristocracy dearly with the loss of so many smugglers and paid mercenaries serving as a reminder that their power was only absolute in the confines of Ewing Bay. Nevertheless, the influence they held had grown throughout the 2200s; trade with places like the theocratic town of Pentecoastal as far as Mississippi and even aging coastal towns in North Carolina had given the pseudo-aristocracy yet another source of income, with all manner of illegal and immoral products pouring out of the town and to the waiting South as a whole.

The town itself, since this forced conversion to a democracy, of sorts, has since become one of the largest in the Vermillion Bay area, with hunters, fishermen, traders, preachers and men and women of morally questionable natures congregating in what, nestled in amongst the madness of the swamps filled to the brim with killer wildlife and the increasingly mad Brethren of the Shroud's influence, not to mention the further encroachment of increasingly violent Water Tribals, has become one of the few towns in the entirety of Louisiana to be recognised as a, relatively, fair and, somewhat, just place to find one's self in; provided one is careful with their caps and avoids the darkened alleyways where the smugglers walk, as is often advised during the later hours of drinking in The Sailor's Shanty, the town's most successful bar, one can almost assuredly find one way or another to make money, be it "legally" or "illegally"; for what the law is worth in this otherwise lawless part of Louisiana.

Relations with other Factions[]

The Klansmen Confederacy: With many of the citizens of Ewing Bay having fled to the town from their infamous and reviled actions in Mississippi, it is perhaps inevitable that many in the town view the Klansmen Confederacy as little more than a cult, many of the parishioners taking a sense of pride in their, supposedly, more moral and fair way of life; however, many of the pseudo-aristocracy, being largely white and unumutated themselves, take a certain sense of pride in subtly associating themselves with the group, viewing them as a gathering of misunderstood "southern gentlemen", with visiting travellers and traders from the Klan's territories being invited to wine and dine with the rich of the town in lavish displays of the apparent prosperity of the town and it's more well-to-do citizens.
The Brethren of the Shroud: Maniacal and increasingly unhinged, at least from the view of many of the settlers and established townspeople, having themselves witnessed both in and out of the town ragged Ghoul clerics cackling madly about the superiority of mutants, the Brethren of the Shroud has become synonymous with what many perceive as an arrogance akin to that of the Klansmen; whilst many people, mutated and unmutated alike, fear the Shroud, many of the smugglers in town take great pains in smuggling in fine wares to demanding customers in the Shroud's territories through the town, whilst many of the town's religious folk try to maintain a civil relationship with their neighbours, living in hope that conversion to Christianity is inevitable on the behalf of these cultists.
The Royaume: The group that many of the pseudo-aristocracy attempt to emulate the most, and perhaps envy the most, is the ever-famed Royaume, with many of the richest citizens in the town taking great pains to copy the mannerisms and even names of this esteemed group of land owner's lead members, leading to many an impersonator giving himself false airs in the process; many of the smugglers of Ewing Bay, usually during the ever-prevalent drinking sessions, boast of slipping pre-war luxuries to very well-paying customers in the group's territory, taking great pains to detail both the opulence of the dwellings and locales they find themselves in and, perhaps most specifically, their paycheck's size.
The Pentecoastal: A town in Mississippi on the coast that is quite similar in terms of religious fervour, though with the citizens of Ewing Bay having adopted a far less all-encompassing reverence of their faith, Pentecoastal and it's inhabitants is one of the many places that smugglers from the Ewing Bay frequently interact with; albeit with a certain amount of distrust and contempt on both sides, with the inhabitants of Pentecoastal looking down on the smugglers for the stereotype of a hedonistic ne'er-do-well and the smugglers sneering at the hypocritically self-righteous citizens of the town.

Robots[]

Protectron: Once the workhorse of the RobCo Foundry on the edge of Ewing Bay, Protectrons are a common sight within and without the old town of Ewing Bay; more often than not, these robots are hostile to travellers, vagabonds, hunters and just about anyone, or anything, else. However, some Protectrons are utilized by the town as harbour workers, though many detest these robots for their efficiency and supposed dangerousness.
Mister Handy: General Atomics and RobCo's claim to homely fame is that of the Mister Handy, arguably the most well-known and well-loved robotic butler on the market. However, owing to Ewing Bay's previous resentment of these reliable man-servants, these hovering robots are often a rare sight, with the odd Mister Handy becoming quite the prize for scavengers and scrap merchants.

Creatures[]

Angler: Once the small fish of the same name, the now more vicious, and newly tetrapodal, Angler strikes from the swamps and the beaches of Ewing Bay with terrifying speed, slashing claws and gnashing teeth; luckily, this threat can be ameliorated with heavy caliber rifle rounds.
Gulper: Gulpers, once the humble Salamander, are now one of the most common threats in the swamps of Ewing Bay; attacking from heavy mists, they can more often than not overwhelm an unprepared group of fishermen on even the largest of sloops.
Red Eyes: Red Eyes are perhaps one of the most well-known, and dangerous, threats to the average citizen in Ewing Bay; fishermen more often than not have discovered all too late the dangerous speed of these deceptively benign creatures; mighty musculature can smash through most pieces of armour, whilst rows of powerful teeth can tear through even the toughest of hides.
Green Hide: Though usually hidden from the view of the citizens of Ewing Bay and the rest of the wildlife near the town, Green Hides can be commonly found striking from the misty waters of swamps, more often than not attacking unsuspecting prey, be it a Mirelurk or a careless fisherman.
Mirelurk: Common and easy to find, the territorial and relatively dangerous Mirelurk has become a mainstay of Ewing Bay life; especially on the plates of Ewing Bay's citizens, the majority of special recipes served amongst families at the dinner table containing at least some of Mirelurk meat.
Feral Ghouls: Previous residents, tourists and even citizens from other towns, Feral Ghouls are a commonly seen sight throughout the area in and around Ewing Bay; whilst most can be found shuffling around abandoned residencies, more often than not trapped inside said abandoned residencies since the early days following the Great War, some can be found in the swamps on the outskirts of the town.
Bloodbug: Monstrously enlarged and disgusting to behold, the loud and dangerous Bloodbug is a common threat in and around Ewing Bay; more often than not this winged menace is found near stagnant water bodies, quite common in the many swamps and marshes found in Louisiana, waiting for their prey to emerge.
Bloatfly: Another insect enlarged by the mutational properties of copious amounts of radiation, the Bloatfly is yet another of the many common threats facing the citizens of Ewing Bay; the maggot projectiles fired from these horrific creatures usually leave many a hapless hunter or clueless fisherman screaming in agony when removed from the many wounds they leave.

Citizens of Note[]

Allan Scott: Allan Scott is a long-time fisherman and resident of the town, recognised unofficially as the town's leader. Through Scott's dealings both in and out of the town largely consist of above-board deals with reputable characters up and down the Louisiana coastline, some of the more profitable and lucrative deals undertaken by Scott are of moral disrepute, specifically in regards to slave trafficking and narcotics smuggling, justifying this by arguing that it defends both his and the town's interests, usually with himself pocketing the larger part of the many favours and rewards one can accrue in the service of the pseudo-aristocracy.
Mortimer Kersey: The town's one and only priest, and heavily religious citizen of the town, Mortimer Kersey's history is that of the son of a runaway from the Klansmen Confederacy's rampages across Mississippi; he attributes his survival to that of the interference of a benevolent god and his own religious fervour. His congregation, largely comprised of a veritable mixed bag of Catholics and Protestants, Human, white and black, and Ghouls and his general acceptance, with open arms and promises of salvation, has made him a popular figure, alongside his own rejection of the same brands of discrimination he had faced back in his home-state of Mississippi, this alone having made him stand out from the other preachers of both the Brethren of the Shroud and the Klansmen Confederacy, making him one of the more popularly loved townsfolk, at least by those on the lower rungs of society.
Martin Long: One of the lead pseudo-aristocracy, and one of the few pseudo-aristocracy to actually value Christian tenets that others among the pseudo-aristocracy preach, Martin Long has been arguably one of the most prominent business leaders in the modern Ewing Bay for the better part of a decade; his family ties and business acumen, not to mention his somewhat ethically questionable practices in both his fishing and smuggling operations, have made him particularly popular amongst his peers, but despised by most below him. Nevertheless, his power is undeniable, with only the brave or foolish challenging his grip on the town's burgeoning fishing industry and smuggling industry.
Larry Johnson: A smooth-talking, silver-tongued employee of the town's pseudo-aristocracy and one of the more refined one's at that, Larry Johnson has made a name for himself in both his cunning and his charisma; running smuggling and trade runs up-and-down the coast and reaping the lucrative rewards of these jobs for both himself and his ever-watchful and greed-ridden employers.

Significant Locales[]

Ewing Bay Harbour: The aged and weather-beaten harbour, skirting almost the entirety of the coast the town lies on, began almost as soon as the settlement began, with the various fish hauled from the bay being sold to a hungry pre-war market. Following the Great War, the harbour still remained in operation, with a large majority of Ewing Bay's settlers working on the harbour as either fishermen, sailors, dockhands and administrative staff on the aged and relatively decrepit harbour.
The Sailor's Shanty Bar: A bar almost as old as the town itself, with a storied past to boot, the Sailor's Shanty Bar has become one of the most notable locales in Ewing Bay, being visited frequently and in large numbers by returning workers from the harbour and hunters from the swamps, the average nightly brew being a mix of ice cold Nuka Cola and straight Whiskey.
Ewing Bay Proper: Ewing Bay Proper serves as both the town's hub and where the majority of the town's residents reside; flophouses, tenements and homesteads used by the inhabitants as residencies, with the usual rich-poor divide very prevalent in the battered town; indeed, the only time many of the poor and rich meet is during church congregations.
Pompadour Inn: Once one of the town's only modern structures, namely a large motel, now one of the more socially enclosed locales in town; the rich and the influential can often be found here, showing off their style and flair and demonstrating their wealth. The inn's new claim to fame is being one of the few locales in town to have it's own robotic bartender, alongside it's prohibitively expensive, though apparently delicious, foodstuffs and liquors.
St. Peter's Church: A large church jointly operated by both Catholic and Protestant masses, the majority religious denominations in town, by the town's only Priest, Mortimer Kersey, St. Peter's Church serves largely as one of the town's social hotspots, as opposed to the largely prohibitively expensive and socially enclosed Sailor's Shanty Bar and Pompadour Inn; it is also considered to be a more socially acceptable locale to find one's self in.
RobCo Industries Foundry: Built by RobCo Industries in 2051 as a way of increasing it's sales range and production, the RobCo Industries Foundry was eschewed by the local population of Ewing Bay out of an apparent phobia of Robots both prior to the Great War and after, with the abandoned foundry's workforce of automatons still mindlessly manning broken assembly lines, with the odd Mister Handy and Protectron shambling out of the foundry into the swamps to randomly attack any and all perceived hostiles in the area.
Berriman Biomechanics Laboratory: Built by Berriman Biomechanics as one of it's more clandestine research facilities, namely into genetic experimentation and attempted bio-engineering of Humans for the United States' war effort against China, this abandoned facility lies largely untouched by either smugglers, fishermen or scavengers; notably for fears of what may still reside in the age-old labs that, according to files, spawned the reviled Water Tribals that now plague Ewing Bay and it's fishing industry.

Holotapes of Note[]

Holotape 01; "Industrialisation, in this neck of the woods?"[]

<Click of Recorder.> 
Joseph, Hi, it's Catherine; I got here the other day, booked into the hotel and then took a long walk
around town: you know what I found? Leering, lecherous old coots and shit-hole slums! Just what 
RobCo wants, right; local yokels piecing together high-value robotics, right? Jesus, who thought this 
one out; industrialisation, in this neck of the woods? Please. Joseph, I want a transfer out of here, 
please; if I've gotta put up with another wolf-whistling wack-job from the harbour, I swear to god 
I'm gonna pull out and run; you can send someone else out. Me? I'm done.
<Click of Recorder.>

Holotape 02; "Southern Gentleman."[]

<Click of Recorder.>
Miss Bouvier, we have not been properly introduced, so I shall attempt to provide a brief introduction
here, so as not to alienate someone of your breed and social standing acquainted to formal proceedings
of business; I am Martin Long of the Ewing Bay Long Haul Fisheries Co., one of the chief suppliers of
the finest canned post-war sea-life in the South; I understand that your father, a true Southern
Gentleman of the finest caliber in the Klansmen Confederacy, has developed a taste both for our
freshly-gutted fish and...
<Sound of clearing of throat>
... our "special produce" . I send you this Holotape with our next shipment and sale, with the small
collection of gift-wrapped Snack Cakes I know that your younger sister, Marie, so adores, in the
hopes of arranging more, shall we say, "personal" dealings in the future; I am pleased to inform both
you and your father that our supply of "produce" is far from finite, but is rather hard to acquire,
neccesitating something of a high price. If we might arrange more one-on-one dealings, I am certain
that the price could be lowered owing to the extra time afforded. I thank you for you time, Miss
Dubois, and wish you a pleasant day. Although,I am told that, in Mississippi, the weather is
exceedingly fine; perhaps you would like us to provide you with some fine liquor to soothe the
fatigue brought on from such extreme temperatures.
Yours ever truly, Madame, Martin Long of Long Haul Fisheries Co.
<Click of Recorder>