Wasteland round up, News & Blues #21 | Wasteland Music

Описание: “I ain’t sayin’ the wasteland’s haunted… I’m just sayin’ ghosts keep requestin’ jazz and none of ’em tip.” -- Tod Wyoming

Well good evening, good morning, and good luck, you beautiful irradiated miracles. This is Tod Wyoming, coming to you live from a tower that still stands, with a mug that still steams, and a microphone that legally should not exist.

Let’s get into it before something starts knocking again.

The News (such as it is)

First up: Stratwell-adjacent activity continues across the high ridges. Lights on, lights off, lights spelling words that aren’t words. If you worked there pre-war, congratulations—you are now officially part of a mystery and a liability.

The Anti-Mutant Coalition says it’s sabotage.
Mutant Liberation says it’s destiny.
The Underground says nothing, which is very rude and very loud.

Channel 9 insists everything is “within acceptable parameters.”
Channel 9 also hasn’t blinked in days.

Make of that what you will.


Weather report... because apparently the sky still cares:

Acid snow drifting in from the west. Yes, it sticks.

Yes, it eats through coats.

No, umbrellas do nothing except give the rain confidence.

If the clouds start humming? That’s not thunder.
That’s a warning.


Rumor says Eldritch Watchers have been heard arguing with each other near old relay towers. Different languages. Same tone. Like technicians fighting over a manual written in screams.

Another rumor says someone stole something from them.

If that’s true... hypothetically, theoretically, absolutely not me, then I’d just like to say:
good luck catching whoever that was.

Also hearing whispers about vault activity. Doors opening. Doors closing. Doors pretending they never existed. If you’re heading underground right now, bring snacks and say goodbye like you mean it.


This next track goes out to anyone who woke up today and realized the world didn’t end, it just got weirder. That’s called survival, sweetheart. Pace yourself.


Who keeps touching my mug.

I don’t mean stealing it... I mean moving it.
It hums when it’s annoyed.
It has opinions about jazz.

Leave. It. Alone.


To whoever keeps trying to “clean up” the airwaves:
Stop.

Static is history. Feedback is memory. Dead channels are just shy.

If a voice comes through asking questions it already knows the answer to... do not engage. That’s not curiosity. That’s inventory.


Be kind to each other.
Don’t trust the sky when it whispers.
And if a pre-war signal thanks you by name?

Smile. Nod. Turn the dial just a hair lower.

This has been Tod Wyoming: News & Blues, reminding you that as long as you can hear the music, you’re still part of the broadcast.

And to whoever’s listening a little too closely out there…

You still owe me a coffee mug.