L
Laggy Lagiacrus
Guest
Original poster
Southside City – a bustling metropolis, built on fishing, mining, and shipping off unique delicacies that never tasted the same anywhere else. At least, it was – but nothing lasts forever.
The waters had become polluted. Divers struggled to find any sunken treasures or trinkets in the sickly murk of the rivers and lakes outside the city, if they even agreed to go in in the first place – the water was polluted enough to be carcinogenic, by some people's reckoning. Certainly, the pokémon that came up out of the water didn't look too healthy. That was excluding the numerous pieces of litter, which injured and killed those unfortunate enough to be affected by it.
On land, it wasn't much better. The mines had been picked clean of coal, and people had to dig in deeper than was safe for any metals or gems to be unearthed. Good men – family men, most of the time – had died in there, whether down to gas poisoning, tunnel collapses, or any of the other hundred and one things that could go wrong in the poorly-funded mining project.
The stench of pollution hung about the air, and though it permeated into every place imaginable, the residents were so used to it, that they didn't even seem to notice. Or care. It wasn't bad enough to warrant smog, but it was still unpleasant. Then, there was the matter of the lack of green, the park now neglected and debilitated beyond repair. All manners of scum roamed the streets at night, while all manners of hate-filled humans wandered the streets in the day.
The buildings, uniform in their size and shape, all seemed to be rectangular boxes filled with people whose lives were as dull as one could imagine. Even the criminals were run-of-the-mill – from the thieves to the people who exploited pokémon for more than just cheap labour, everyone was just going about their lives. The city was stagnant, and the politicians seemed to have given up on it, allowing the place to fester in its own squalor.
It was, quite simply, a place hit by the harsh reality of life – more specifically, what time, neglect and overworking did to a place.
The waters had become polluted. Divers struggled to find any sunken treasures or trinkets in the sickly murk of the rivers and lakes outside the city, if they even agreed to go in in the first place – the water was polluted enough to be carcinogenic, by some people's reckoning. Certainly, the pokémon that came up out of the water didn't look too healthy. That was excluding the numerous pieces of litter, which injured and killed those unfortunate enough to be affected by it.
On land, it wasn't much better. The mines had been picked clean of coal, and people had to dig in deeper than was safe for any metals or gems to be unearthed. Good men – family men, most of the time – had died in there, whether down to gas poisoning, tunnel collapses, or any of the other hundred and one things that could go wrong in the poorly-funded mining project.
The stench of pollution hung about the air, and though it permeated into every place imaginable, the residents were so used to it, that they didn't even seem to notice. Or care. It wasn't bad enough to warrant smog, but it was still unpleasant. Then, there was the matter of the lack of green, the park now neglected and debilitated beyond repair. All manners of scum roamed the streets at night, while all manners of hate-filled humans wandered the streets in the day.
The buildings, uniform in their size and shape, all seemed to be rectangular boxes filled with people whose lives were as dull as one could imagine. Even the criminals were run-of-the-mill – from the thieves to the people who exploited pokémon for more than just cheap labour, everyone was just going about their lives. The city was stagnant, and the politicians seemed to have given up on it, allowing the place to fester in its own squalor.
It was, quite simply, a place hit by the harsh reality of life – more specifically, what time, neglect and overworking did to a place.