Hey all. Sorry to have been away so long. Life has been getting in the way, but back with something hopefully worth the wait. I've been working on this diorama for a while now, and not only have I finally finished and shot it, but I also want to post along with it the 1st official chapter of "Rise of the Radio Kings." I'm going to try to keep this going and write the 1st story arc along with a series of accompanying photoshoots. Buckle up, because this is a pretty long one. Hoping you all enjoy the ride.
The needle hit the wax, and the opening chords of T-Rex’s 20st Century Boy rang out, echoed through the rubble and wreckage that remained of city streets, and blew out into the wastelands. It was the howl of a sonic resurrection, rock and roll archaeology, back from the grave of a world that no longer was.
St Crow felt around what had once been the radio station’s DJ booth, and found the near-finished bourbon bottle he had been working on when he had finally passed out. He momentarily checked for the cracked coffee mug he had been drinking out of, before remembering he had hurled it out into the night at some point during that Stooges marathon. It had seemed the thing to do at the time, and he was pretty sure he had been channeling Iggy Pop in that moment. But in the harshness of the morning light, he might have just been drunk.
He uncorked the bottle, and rolled his chair over to the gaping hole in the wall that overlooked the city below. Or what was left of it. He wasn’t ready to stand up yet. The city had created a sort of makeshift barrier around itself, made of half-collapsed buildings, and scavenged construction materials. In the early morning light, he got a sense of the size of the settlement, fairly large, but small enough to defend with a reasonable population. The wall was cleverly constructed, and whoever designed it was smart to make good use of the toppled buildings and crumbling overpass that were already there. He had made his way in here in the dead of night, and he could now see a bit more of the city layout. The radio station looked like it was in a part of the city that had been abandoned some time ago, while the areas that looked more maintained and lived in sat further inside the fortification.
This place had been a legend for years. The last rock and roll radio station, somehow still broadcasting. A hoard of pre-collapse music, much still on perfectly preserved vinyl, the rest tapes, cds, and a digital library compiled from years of scavenged computers and portable music players. Someone had dedicated a lifetime to creating this archive. It was always a good day when he could pick up the signal, and Crow would often hole up and listen for hours. The DJ simply went by "The Stranger," and his music knowledge was unparalleled. His tastes were eclectic, yet somehow each session flowed seamlessly. Songs written 50 years apart juxtaposed like they had always belonged together, creating sweeping convergences that defied musical genres. Most of what Crow knew about rock and roll, he had learned from The Stranger. And then a few weeks back, the broadcasts had stopped. And St Crow had set out to find out why.
He wheeled himself back to the console, grabbing an ashtray off the floor with a half-finished cigarette. His last one. He queued up the next song, Joe Strummer's "Techno D-Day," before relighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. Time to figure out what to do next.
He hadn't expected to find the radio station itself last night, the lights on the tower still glowing, the power still on. There was an overwhelming reverence for this place as he pushed through the front doors, a feeling of holiness, even abandoned. He'd done a quick sweep of the place, satisfied that it was completely empty when he found it. The damage to the outer wall looked fairly recent, but the DJ booth was mostly intact. Tapes, records, and cds were scattered around, and a computer was still on. Someone had painted "I still believe" over the giant window out onto the hallway. He moved the mouse to wake it up, and audibly gasped as he scrolled through the massive digital music library. This was it.
The controls seemed fairly straight forward. How to switch between audio sources, volume controls, the microphone. Sure, there was probably a lot more to it, but he was pretty sure he could at least make it work. He flipped through the records that had piled up next to the table. He'd seen records before, had even heard a few, but they rarely survived the harsh conditions of the wastelands. But these were pristine, perfectly protected for all this time. He slid one out of its sleeve, so careful in handling this rare relic, and onto the platter. So slowly, he eased the stylus over, gingerly lowering it onto the outer groove. Through the speakers, the first warm pops and hisses teased out, before the vocals exploded in the small room. "Cramp Stomp." Lux Interior's voice tore through time, Poison Ivy's guitar crashing in right after. And for the first time, Crow felt like he had come home.
He'd let the record play in full while he searched the room, piling up things he wanted to hear next. And then he'd found the bourbon bottle, mostly full and hidden in the back of a cabinet. Sure, he knew the dangers of even being here. If the station really was broadcasting, this was definitely announcing to the world he was here. Good, he thought. He came for answers, and this should save him the trouble of going looking for them. Let them come to him.
And now, as the morning sun spilled in, he was reevaluating his plan. No one had come, even as he got drunker and more reckless as night gave way to day. He was starting to worry, tired and a bit hungover, that he'd have to head out again.
Over the music's din, his ears picked up the sound of the approaching truck’s engine before it abruptly cut out. Finally. They were being cautious, and would make the rest of their approach on foot. Good, he thought, they weren't completely stupid. Dealing with professionals was preferable to some nervous locals. And if this did get ugly, at least this might keep it interesting. He drained the last of the bottle, and tossed it out the hole in the wall, before queuing up the perfect song for this meeting.
For anyone unfamiliar with the songs mentioned:
And if this is your first dive into the world of the Radio Kings, and want to start with a bit of background and read in the order the characters were introduced:
Saint Crow: 1st of the Radio Kings - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t149-saint-crow-1st-of-the-radio-kings-post-apocalyptic-warlord-king-s-currency-wasteland-salvaged-records-turntable-and-speakers-megapost
Marrow: The Deathblessed - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t545-marrow-the-deathblessed-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
Kit and her garage workshop - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t1296-kit-and-garage-workshop-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
Wren - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t1913-wren-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
And previous photo series, which all take place a little later in the story:
Wasteland Bike Chase
https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t1808-wasteland-bike-chase-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
New Gasmask Part 1
https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t2189-new-gas-mask-part-1-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
New Gasmask Part 2
https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t2229-new-gas-mask-part-2-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
The needle hit the wax, and the opening chords of T-Rex’s 20st Century Boy rang out, echoed through the rubble and wreckage that remained of city streets, and blew out into the wastelands. It was the howl of a sonic resurrection, rock and roll archaeology, back from the grave of a world that no longer was.
St Crow felt around what had once been the radio station’s DJ booth, and found the near-finished bourbon bottle he had been working on when he had finally passed out. He momentarily checked for the cracked coffee mug he had been drinking out of, before remembering he had hurled it out into the night at some point during that Stooges marathon. It had seemed the thing to do at the time, and he was pretty sure he had been channeling Iggy Pop in that moment. But in the harshness of the morning light, he might have just been drunk.
He uncorked the bottle, and rolled his chair over to the gaping hole in the wall that overlooked the city below. Or what was left of it. He wasn’t ready to stand up yet. The city had created a sort of makeshift barrier around itself, made of half-collapsed buildings, and scavenged construction materials. In the early morning light, he got a sense of the size of the settlement, fairly large, but small enough to defend with a reasonable population. The wall was cleverly constructed, and whoever designed it was smart to make good use of the toppled buildings and crumbling overpass that were already there. He had made his way in here in the dead of night, and he could now see a bit more of the city layout. The radio station looked like it was in a part of the city that had been abandoned some time ago, while the areas that looked more maintained and lived in sat further inside the fortification.
This place had been a legend for years. The last rock and roll radio station, somehow still broadcasting. A hoard of pre-collapse music, much still on perfectly preserved vinyl, the rest tapes, cds, and a digital library compiled from years of scavenged computers and portable music players. Someone had dedicated a lifetime to creating this archive. It was always a good day when he could pick up the signal, and Crow would often hole up and listen for hours. The DJ simply went by "The Stranger," and his music knowledge was unparalleled. His tastes were eclectic, yet somehow each session flowed seamlessly. Songs written 50 years apart juxtaposed like they had always belonged together, creating sweeping convergences that defied musical genres. Most of what Crow knew about rock and roll, he had learned from The Stranger. And then a few weeks back, the broadcasts had stopped. And St Crow had set out to find out why.
He wheeled himself back to the console, grabbing an ashtray off the floor with a half-finished cigarette. His last one. He queued up the next song, Joe Strummer's "Techno D-Day," before relighting the cigarette and taking a long drag. Time to figure out what to do next.
He hadn't expected to find the radio station itself last night, the lights on the tower still glowing, the power still on. There was an overwhelming reverence for this place as he pushed through the front doors, a feeling of holiness, even abandoned. He'd done a quick sweep of the place, satisfied that it was completely empty when he found it. The damage to the outer wall looked fairly recent, but the DJ booth was mostly intact. Tapes, records, and cds were scattered around, and a computer was still on. Someone had painted "I still believe" over the giant window out onto the hallway. He moved the mouse to wake it up, and audibly gasped as he scrolled through the massive digital music library. This was it.
The controls seemed fairly straight forward. How to switch between audio sources, volume controls, the microphone. Sure, there was probably a lot more to it, but he was pretty sure he could at least make it work. He flipped through the records that had piled up next to the table. He'd seen records before, had even heard a few, but they rarely survived the harsh conditions of the wastelands. But these were pristine, perfectly protected for all this time. He slid one out of its sleeve, so careful in handling this rare relic, and onto the platter. So slowly, he eased the stylus over, gingerly lowering it onto the outer groove. Through the speakers, the first warm pops and hisses teased out, before the vocals exploded in the small room. "Cramp Stomp." Lux Interior's voice tore through time, Poison Ivy's guitar crashing in right after. And for the first time, Crow felt like he had come home.
He'd let the record play in full while he searched the room, piling up things he wanted to hear next. And then he'd found the bourbon bottle, mostly full and hidden in the back of a cabinet. Sure, he knew the dangers of even being here. If the station really was broadcasting, this was definitely announcing to the world he was here. Good, he thought. He came for answers, and this should save him the trouble of going looking for them. Let them come to him.
And now, as the morning sun spilled in, he was reevaluating his plan. No one had come, even as he got drunker and more reckless as night gave way to day. He was starting to worry, tired and a bit hungover, that he'd have to head out again.
Over the music's din, his ears picked up the sound of the approaching truck’s engine before it abruptly cut out. Finally. They were being cautious, and would make the rest of their approach on foot. Good, he thought, they weren't completely stupid. Dealing with professionals was preferable to some nervous locals. And if this did get ugly, at least this might keep it interesting. He drained the last of the bottle, and tossed it out the hole in the wall, before queuing up the perfect song for this meeting.
For anyone unfamiliar with the songs mentioned:
And if this is your first dive into the world of the Radio Kings, and want to start with a bit of background and read in the order the characters were introduced:
Saint Crow: 1st of the Radio Kings - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t149-saint-crow-1st-of-the-radio-kings-post-apocalyptic-warlord-king-s-currency-wasteland-salvaged-records-turntable-and-speakers-megapost
Marrow: The Deathblessed - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t545-marrow-the-deathblessed-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
Kit and her garage workshop - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t1296-kit-and-garage-workshop-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
Wren - https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t1913-wren-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
And previous photo series, which all take place a little later in the story:
Wasteland Bike Chase
https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t1808-wasteland-bike-chase-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
New Gasmask Part 1
https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t2189-new-gas-mask-part-1-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
New Gasmask Part 2
https://onesixthfigures.forumotion.com/t2229-new-gas-mask-part-2-from-the-world-of-the-radio-kings
But seriously, you had me gripped straightaway at the start with the T-Rex song!!! These are absolutely gorgeous photos -- the dio itself, the poses, the angles, the composition, the details on the desk and walls, and that great use of a backdrop behind the broken brick wall. Your accompanying text gives the whole thing such an added layer of mystery and suspense. Because of course now we want to see what comes next. 
Hosted on Fotki
And the way you had the text worked fine for me, probably because my computer is slow and when words are interspersed with text I sometimes miss some of it cause the images take so long to load and show up. 
While as a lover of illustrated works I can of course appreciate the beauty of intermingled text and images, in this case it was interesting to see if I could understand what was being conveyed just by the photos, and *then* read the story to see how it matched up. Both the photo-story and written words had a cinematic quality to them, so it flowed pretty well I thought. 
I could listen to his husky raspy voice for eternity and never get tired. 
