The distant rumble of massive footsteps vibrates through the ground beneath your feet as you crouch behind the rusted hull of an abandoned truck. Your breath catches in your throat as a Utahraptor pack moves through the overgrown street just yards away, their curved talons clicking against cracked asphalt. After three days without food and nearly out of water, you've taken a desperate risk venturing this close to what was once downtown.

When the raptors finally move on, you continue your scavenging run, stuffing your backpack with whatever useful items you can find—medical supplies from a long-abandoned pharmacy, a few cans of preserved food that looters somehow missed, and most valuable of all, a set of intact solar panels from a rooftop installation.

As dusk approaches, you spot smoke rising from beyond the city limits—a sign of human habitation that both gives you hope and fills you with apprehension. The last group of "survivors" you encountered tried to steal your gear and leave you for dead.

You approach cautiously as night falls, observing from a distance. Unlike most desperate encampments you've seen, this one has organization: walls made from repurposed vehicles and construction materials, watchtowers, even small agricultural plots. Most surprisingly, you notice they've somehow domesticated several smaller herbivorous dinosaurs within their perimeter.

When you finally decide to approach, armed guards spot you immediately.

"Hold it right there!" a voice commands. A spotlight blinds you. "State your business!"

You raise your hands slowly, explaining you're alone and seeking shelter. After a tense standoff, a tall man with weathered features approaches from behind the barricade. Unlike the nervous guards, he studies you with calm appraisal.

"I'm Owen," he says simply. "Leader of New Haven. You've survived out there alone? Impressive. Most don't last a week."

He notices your backpack. "What skills do you bring? Resources are precious here—everyone contributes."