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Locations mockup
Main Street
Disregarding the lingering effects of panic and the occasional corpse sprawled on a bench or collapsed in a doorway, St. Roch’s town square (and the larger town centre it feeds into) remains, post-apocalypse, quite pretty. Quaint and definitively small town coastal, brightened by oversized pots of warm, luminous purple Alpine asters and soft pink peonies, the abandoned market stalls and boarded up shops speak to a once thriving community, as small and isolated as it might have been.
If there’s a building you want to see that didn’t make it onto this list please let us know and we’ll see what we can do! For now, the blurbs below make up what can be found on Main Street. Any images can be clicked to embiggen.
⁍ The Municipal Building is home to city government as well as fire department and sheriff’s station, the Municipal Building clusters together most aspects of public service. One of the oldest structures in town, recent renovations bolstered the original building with sturdy red brick, and had the world not ended and everything, probably would have remained in fine condition for many years to come.
The sheriff’s station houses what remains of law enforcement in St. Roch, which is. Literally one guy, who has no time for any of your shit. Beaufort Bornpang may not have much, aside from a heavy, heavy heart, but what he does have he’ll dedicate to the preservation of this small slice of post-apocalyptic heaven, just as he has aLWAYS DONE, thank you. You ungrateful whippersnappers.
...aside from that, this would be a good place to consider setting up government, should the community survive long enough.
⁍ The Post Office is... just a small town post office, nothing atypical about it. I mean, there do seem to be more than the average number of missing persons posters up behind the front desk? And more than the usual number of packages marked dangerous or fragile? Huh. That’s kind of weird. Though potentially not as weird as how if you’re back there looking at the packages you had to step across the remains of what seems to be the entire staff; apparently an actual none of them took seriously the pleas to stay home with a nice cuppa. The mail must go through, donchaknow.
⁍St. Roch’s oldest standing structure, the Riverlook Hotel, was already under construction before the town’s 1830s founding, and through near-obsessive maintenance retains much of its original integrity today. Founded by mining magnate Obidiah Josephus McGee, many of the first residents found lodging in its luxurious, yet broadly affordable walls; present guests can observe that today, as then, a decor strangely insistent on a Western theme holds sway, with zero effort expended toward fitting in coastal Maine. An open secret turned local legend held that McGee himself was born and bred in Big Sky Country, only leaving when run out of town on a virtual rail, and remained devoted to the aesthetic of his upbringing ever since.
As surely all places open to the public do, the Riverlook has seen its share of catastrophe over the years. Most notably, less than five years after its grand opening saw a fire of devastating proportions, and only McGee’s dedication kept the business up and going until it could be rebuilt. More than a few unfortunates have chosen the opulent rooms there to end their lives, and one abused wife pushed her husband off a fourth story balcony when visiting for their anniversary. She later remarried and lived what is to all accounts a happy life, before dying peacefully in bed at 96 years old. Because this is fiction and I do what I fucking want.
The most rabid of ghost hunters do occasionally visit, and report the occasional plummeting image past their windows; honestly, if she’s haunting the fucking place, hopefully she’s having a good time.
Colorful history aside, the Riverlook figures most prominently into our purposes for being the spot that will temporarily house the passengers of inconveniently grounded Delta 5353 New York to Derry, at least until all this can be sorted out. … I mean actually the world is going to end before that can happen, but for the sake of Bornpang’s heavy, heavy heart, until such time arrives let’s just pretend there’s a chance of anything normal, ever again.
Still, if one must survive the apocalypse, at least one can do it in comfort: despite the weird inclusion of a lot of buffalo art, the Riverlook does have comfortable rooms and pretty views of - what a surprise - the river. Other amenities include a stone courtyard around which the building loops (I KNOW, I know, grammar is a bastard), and plane passengers won’t be charged for their definitely not at all permanent stay. Though it must be said the proprietors would like it known exploding blood hallways and creepy child chants require an upgrade.
Or they would if they weren’t like, all dead. Some of them in the hallways and slumped over the front desk! Good luck with that.
Not-Quite-Main Street
Off of the main street, Saint Roch is a more eclectic blend of residential areas dotted with local businesses. Save in the cliff district, where the homes mostly belong to the moneyed Summer People, most of the buildings are modest, even quaint. Businesses are largely the same -- small, oriented at serving the locals. Of these, a few locations are particularly notable:
⁍ Christine’s Garage and Towing is the primary source of automotive servicing in Saint Roch, conveniently located just alongside the town’s gas station. The office is a plain, white building, smelling as all automotive shops seem to do of new carpet. Of more interest to the town’s new residents is the attached garage, which contains everything one might need to service at least a non-specialized vehicle -- providing one can get the power back on. Christine’s is also home to the town’s sole tow truck, which had best stay in good nick if the roads are ever going to be cleared.
⁍ Maggie’s Salon was once the seat of Saint Roch’s most eccentric -- and therefore most popular -- hairdresser. Now it’s the primary source of the region’s steadily dwindling supply of haircare products. Best get your hair gel while you can. The leftover cans of hairspray might also make a serviceable flamethrower in a pinch.
⁍ Back when there was time and reason to celebrate, the Different Seasons Party Supply Store was the best -- and only -- place to go for all manner of party-related accoutrements. Now it’s little more than a good source of paper for kindling, or maybe a nice thank-you card for whoever helped clear the corpses out of your new house.
⁍ The Saint Roch Municipal Library may be your best source of entertainment now that television isn’t a thing… providing you’ve got time for entertainment, anyway. It’s very much a small town library -- much of the collection is old and worn, and the selection is dated, but those willing to brave the eerie stillness and darkness of the interior can still come away with something of value. On the up side, there’s no one left to chide you for going over the rental limit, or to charge late fees. Just make sure to bring a flashlight.
⁍ Needful Things Pawn Shop is a small building with an unassuming edifice, but the interior is stocked wall to wall with all manner of minor treasures. The detritus of so many lives grace its shelves and display cases. So many items of such sentimental value in one place might once have attracted unwanted attention, but now the only person likely to find much worth in the sundries collected there is one who is themselves sentimental.
⁍ The Play Misty for Me pub is one of the nicer of Saint Roch’s bars. Once its interior was gently lit, stocked sparsely with tables and booths. At one end, a small stage hosted local bands and open mic nights. It might still make a pleasant meeting place, after a bit of cleaning and with the help of lanterns and candles.
⁍ The Smoke ‘n Such carries both smokes and, as the name suggests, such. While the apocalypse is a good time to kick your habit, those who want to keep dragging on a little longer would be well-advised to get in and stock up while they can. The selection of lighters and fluid might also be of interest to… well, anyone who needs to light things on fire.
⁍ It’s hard to imagine what items of use an interloper into the Saint Roch K-8 School might find, but maybe there’s something there somewhere in one of the empty classrooms or in the lockers hung on the plain, institutional walls of the hallways. Those who want to find out will have to brave the atmosphere -- like any other place once full of life, this is no comfortable place to be now that the light’s gone out. On the up side, the school did just recently receive a fresh selection of t-shirts with featuring the school’s mascot, a friendly-looking St. Bernard.
⁍ Merrill’s Hardware is probably one of the more interesting shops in this part of town. Power tools probably aren’t going to be a viable option for a while, but if something can be done by hand, Merrill’s stocked tools that will help you to do it. Their supply of pre-cut lumber will also save Saint Roch’s new residents from having to learn how to cut and mill their own… for a while.
⁍ The Derry Queen probably isn’t fooling anyone with a name like that, but since their franchise lapsed they’ve had to be creative -- though apparently not too creative. Luckily for the owners, they’re not likely to face a lawsuit anytime soon, and they’re beyond caring anyway. Unless someone manages to bring the power grid back up, there’s not much to do here but sit and reminisce about the lost art of Iced Cream.
⁍ The Clothing Tree is Saint Roch’s primary source of everyday wear. Most of its offerings are on the less expensive end, and also about what you’d expect from a small town. Who will be the first to claim the coveted three wolf moon hoodie?
⁍ If style is a concern, maybe you’ll have better luck at Sloper's Splendid Seconds, the local thrift shop… or maybe not. Or maybe you’ve come here to find some furniture that is merely secondhand, rather than ‘got dead person all over it’.
⁍ Up above the southern edge of town, nearer the larger houses occupied seasonally by the Summer People, the Lighthouse sits perched atop a sheer cliff overlooking the ocean below. The exterior is well-maintained, the paint job kept fresh. The interior is largely taken up by the staircase winding its way to the top, and the attached keeper’s dwelling is small but cozy and well-insulated against the sharp winds that come in from offshore. Keeping the light on will be no small task, but it might be well worth doing, just in case there’s anyone still out there to need it.
Waterfront
Saint Roch is bordered to the south and east by ocean. The northeastern edge of town dips down towards the water, and the homes and businesses clustered together towards its center give way to warehouses and small-scale fisheries. The waterfront itself is dotted with short, utilitarian piers. A few notable establishments can be found here:
⁍ Dufresne & Son Marine Supplies offers, aside from its startlingly vast array of lobster traps, a wide variety of goods a survivor might find of use. From fishing supplies to weights to heavy-gauge rope, there’s a lot on offer for the creative or desperate. You just might have to wade through a lot of shit to find the good stuff.
⁍ Of the smattering of tourist shops and restaurants that also grace the waterfront district, Cappy’s Chowder House is perhaps the most popular by sheer virtue of being utterly and irrepressibly Maine. While it’s not of much immediate use now that the owners are gone and the power grid is down, there might still be a modest supply of nonperishables somewhere in the stocks, and the walls are adorned with all manner of photographs of historical value, for whatever that’s now worth.
Outskirts & Elsewheres
At the northern edges of town, wilderness begins to take over. Out here buildings become increasingly sparse, giving way to pine forest dotted with a smattering of cleared land, small farms cut into the land with their humble farmhouses and weary, run-down outbuildings. Where Saint Roch proper juts into this wilderness, a number of businesses can be found:
⁍ The Chroner & Kids Feed Store is a large store with an integrated warehouse which stocks all manner of farm supplies, including feed for livestock, fertilizers, and pesticides, as well as gear and tack for horses and a modest collection of hunting supplies. The attached lot offers an array of large farming equipment. The store itself is a modest building, with plain green steel siding, unadorned except for the signage above the door. Inside, the once-neat stacks and rows of goods have been strewn about haphazardly by looters looking for God only knows what. Nonetheless, many of the store’s wares remain, though it’s only a matter of time before animals start finding their way into the door’s drafty old shell.
⁍ Gerald’s Game & Fish (and Fish & Game) is an outdoor sporting goods store particularly oriented, as the name suggests, at providing supplies for hunters and sport fishermen. They are also, very conveniently, adjacent to a station where aspiring outdoorsmen could apply for hunting and fishing licenses -- before everyone died, rendering the very concept of wildlife management pretty moot. Among what remains of the shop’s stock, an interloper might find a serviceable array of survival gear, including tarps, sleeping bags, and tents, as well as individual-scale water filtration kits, outdoor clothing, and the aforementioned hunting and fishing gear.
⁍ The Tommy Knockers bar is a rowdier establishment than the small handful of bars and pubs that grace Saint Roch proper. Its location made it particularly appealing to motorcycle tourists and local bikers, as well as the local farmers and farmhands. Aside from the unlooted remnants of its once impressive array of bottom-shelf liquor, it also offers some worn-down pool tables, discolored with wear and with chalk from the cues lined up against the wall or scattered haphazardly on the floor. Before all the power went out, it was appropriately neon-lit and dingy. Now that it has gone, though, it’s mostly just forebodingly dark.
⁍ The New Jerusalem Cemetery is the newer of Saint Roch’s two cemeteries, and as such features a sparser population of neatly-ordered headstones and tomb markers. Where once it was neatly-maintained, the grass trimmed close to the earth, unless someone steps in to do the job, nature will quickly take over once more.
⁍ You might think due to loosely inspired canon, handwavey gestures, a resting place exclusively for pets automatically translates to a horrifying swampy mass where the undead come staggering back each and every night, but somehow the Rainbow Bridge Cemetery is quite possibly the most tranquil place in town. Attached to the New Jerusalem people Cemetery and beautifully maintained for its entire existence and only now starting to show signs of neglect, the small grounds resemble a park more than a sepulchre, with wrought iron benches to sit in contemplation and paths weaving everywhere amongst colorful grave markers bearing messages that seem predominantly hopeful, despite the inherent tragedy of loss. Visiting the Rainbow Bridge instills a sense of peace and calm for anyone who comes there respectfully, which of course no one won’t be, because I mean. You don’t want to be severely mauled to death, right?
--oh shit, mauled?? Are there undead animals?
No. Undead animal mauling is completely unnecessary, because Bornpang will already be there. Mauling.
⁍ Several miles from town, adjacent to what passes for a major highway, The Dolphin Motel sits nestled between the highway itself and the woods just behind. A modest, one-story sprawl with an unassuming, off-white cement exterior, it tended to host more people passing through than those looking to explore Saint Roch itself. Following the first wave of the pandemic, the plain, sparse rooms hosted only the corpses of those too unfortunate to have anywhere better to die.
⁍ A modest jaunt of a few hundred yards down the access road from the Dolphin Motel, the only Dollar Store for a not insignificant number of miles menaces the roadside. Unsurprisingly, most of the fairly abysmal junk food and canned fare that once graced its shelves is now gone, and what remains of the frozen meals aren’t likely to be suitable for consumption, but rejoice! The full array of cheap plastic tchotchkes is still intact.
⁍ Another brief jaunt down the access road, the local Meloncee’s plies its trade. Being the town’s one franchised restaurant once guaranteed it fairly steady business, but it has since rotted away -- along with the owners of the franchise and most of Saint Roch’s former population. While the main part of the restaurant doesn’t have much to offer beyond a selection of sticky tables and the worn plastic of the benches in the booths, the kitchen could perhaps be made serviceable in some distant future with the assistance of a generator, some propane, and a very deep clean.
⁍ Away from the highway and back towards town, a series of smaller roads leading into the woods, past a set of isolated houses and wooded lots for sale, the intrepid wanderer might find a service road leading deeper still into the wilderness, rusted signage indicating that this is the way to the long-defunct Entragian Mines. The area of the mine itself is hazardous -- over the years the brush has crept back in, obscuring a landscape dotted with old mineshafts, some partially filled-in or covered over, some not. Some have since filled in with water, and are absolutely not safe to swim in, though you’re welcome to try. The oldest of these was sunk in 1829, following the discovery of lead deposits in the region. Lead was mined here for fifty years until increasing sparsity of ore-bearing rocks and a decrease in demand for lead following the end of the Civil War slowly leached away the mine’s viability. In the 1950s, traces of uranium were discovered in scrap rock from the old mining activities, and the Entragian mine gained new life -- for a time. The last mining activities ended in 1980 in response to health and environmental concerns, and the newer mine shafts were capped over with concrete. Nonetheless, the mines have remained a focus of local legend and rumour, as well as a reasonably popular location for local teens to go parking.
Also, here's a ridiculous map. It's completely to scale and there actually are giant arrows in the ocean. No skinny dipping.
