So some government said one insult too many. Armaggedon. Nuclear war. You manage to get yourself into an old cold war shelter along with some of your survivalist friends. 10 years pass and one day Chuck, the fat one with an apparant flannel fetish, just plain ole loses it. Your other friends get killed before chuck wastes himself in the supply room with a frag. Now you have about enough food for a week, a 9mm Berretta, nothing flashy but it can kill, and a decent hunting rifle with a decent scope; about 50 rounds for each. No choice friend, time to hit the apoloclyptic dunes and find some way to survive against the fallout, nature, and the poor (and occassionally pissed off) denizens who've survived out there this long.