WELCOME TO GRUESTON, TEX-ARCANA!

I swear the first session recap is coming.  Got distracted by my goofy campaign map.

Hexes are measured in metric yonders.  Not that anyone's counting.

GRUESTON, TEX-ARCANA

Welcome to Grueston, rowdiest and rootin'-tootin'est ruin in all of Tex-Arcana.  Those losers in Scam Antonio can suck it!

At the center is The Offal House, where the PC's get liquored up, carouse, and get quests from wizards.  The nearby ruins and tenements are where the locals generally make their lairs.  This region is mostly free of wandering hazards, but the lakes are full of gators...and worse.

The zombrothel (every town in Planet Motherfucker has one) is down the eastern roadway, conveniently near the haunted cemetery.  And speaking of haunted, just up a ways is the not-so-abandoned amusement abusement park.  By day, it's an overgrown, crumbling ruin; by night, it's all neon and laughter and taffy and coasters and kill-clowns and screaming.

Across from the boneyard a ways is Voodoo Village, full of mojo-men and tiki-freaks.  Beyond that is Stakewood Church ("The Oasis Of Blood"), where the vampiric, stakehandling zealots practice their ritualistic stabbenings.

And can't forget the ghoul-infested Doom Mall.  Place is full of valuables, but no one ever makes it back.  Rumor has it that there's a functional chopper on the roof....

Way south of The Offal House is the construction site for the newest Presley's Chicken Tomb franchise.  Mel Sharkles is mighty pissed it's going up, because the place'll drive him out of business.

To the west is the Devil District, full of cults and covens and black masses and crossroad soul-sellings and sacrifices and the like.  The Satanists are always surly, though, because the hardest thing to find on Planet Motherfucker is a virgin.

Trailerhenge is up a ways.  That's where The Witch Of The Double-Wide divines her prophecies.  She demands tribute, though, so best track down some moon pies and RC Cola before paying her a visit.

Along the same road is Ol' Man Gutchel's Farm, where there's all kinds of backwoods hellbilly doin's afoot.  The UFOs congregate here, too, probin' and cattle-mutilatin' and whatnot.  But it's a great place to meet comely alien babes in cut-offs and tied-in-the-front shirts that need to understand this emotion you Earthlings call "love".   Oh, yeah—those wily tripod-Martians are always stealing stashes of sinus remedies.  Probably for space-meth.

Camp Killalotta is nearby, where teens come from miles around to go through their (boozy, horny, machete-y) rites of passage to adulthood...or die in the process.  Either way, there's fewer mouths to feed, by cracky.

Almost forgot the boo-seums to the south.  The artifacts, jewels, and fossils aren't worth the hassles from all the ectoplasmic nonsense down thereabouts.