Squatter Towns


 * Bosing
 * Derova

One of the most terrible facts of life in 21st century is that, for all the splendor and luxury afforded the wealthy and powerful, the percentage of the population which is destitute and homeless is higher than ever before. In every country of the world, from the sunbelt of the North American continent to the desert wastes of the middle east, these poor and hopeless stragglers eke out their meager existence, squabbling over scraps of food and refuse discarded by their more affluent neighbors. The homeless are, for the most part, kept out of the glittering corporate business centers and suburbs by patrol squads, and shun the wastelands for lack of foraging opportunities. Most of them reside (if that term can be used) in the unincorporated Squatter Towns, where they scavenge, beg, borrow or steal whatever they can in order to obtain their next meal — these are the “Urban Homeless”, and their numbers are legion. For some, this way of life is a mere “stroke of bad luck” — technicians and blue collar workers laid off due to shortages and factory automation scratch out a living by doing odd repair jobs or selling their kludged goods on the black market. For others, it is the only life they know.

Within the city, the utterly dismal areas are the dark grey zones on the map: the Squatter Towns. They look more like shantytowns or mildly futuristic homeless camps. These unincorporated areas and derelict zones have been largely ignored by progress, and now exist in various states of disrepair. Empty lots, sinkholes, subterranean tunnels, graffiti, half-collapsed structures and towers full of broken windows are all around.

These areas are inhabited mostly by migrants, fugitives, Scrumblies, refugees, day laborers and other unregistered or “disconnected” persons. Individual squatter camps within the zone are sometimes culturally segregated due to language barriers or ethnic tensions. When you’re in a Squatter Town, it’s best to stay close by the people you know.

These zones are densely packed and wildly unpredictable, and people here tend to have a strong sense of who's an outsider and who's a local. Small social groups or clans live together and back each other up; internecine squabbles over minor offenses are frequent. There's an unspoken honor code between disparate camps and clans, but it's highly capricious and largely inscrutible to outsiders. Most of these people are Discons. A not-insignificant number of them are fucking crazy.

Whole families, sometimes several generations living together, are often seen on the streets of the Squats. These people live in automobiles or self-styled “trash houses” on the outskirts of industrial zones, occasionally finding an abandoned tenement or condemned factory to store their wretched belongings in. Some of them seem to prefer this lifestyle — the lack of responsibility, the sense of autonomy it affords them, the self-righteous ability to sit in judgment of the corporate bosses who turned the world into the black nightmare that it is — these are the hardcore homeless, the Blanks, the Eta. Most of them support themselves by a mixture of theft and barter, gathering in enclaves in the sewers of the Sprawls or forming small gangs to harass and waylay unsuspecting passers-by.

These are the zones of the Urban Homeless. Encounters with these folk run the gamut of possible interaction; from pitiable children looking for handouts, to violent gangs of nihilist youths hell-bent on destruction.