The following is a first crack at some grabby text for the back cover of The Rustbelt:
Life here is nasty, brutish, and short. The Rust is slowly eating everything away—the abandoned machines, the ghost towns, civilization itself. The hardship, the desperation, the looming spectre of violence—well, it wears a man down. Corrodes him. Changes him. Makes him do things he wouldn’t think himself capable of.
In this brief, unforgiving existence, you have to look for meaning somewhere. You gotta find something that makes it worth it. You need something to fill the yawning void it leaves inside you, or go on hungering forever. You’ll have to fight for it, work for it, risk for it. You must risk something that matters.
But sometimes the opportunity is so hideous that it makes you think twice. But, then again, second chances are a precious rarity in the ‘Belt. So, what’s it gonna be? What price are you willing to pay? What are you willing to do? What are you willing to become?
They say a man can get used to anything. If you had to, wouldn’t you? The Rust whispers in your ear, “C’mon, do the math.” If you listen closer you can hear its slow, implacable demand: “Be corrupted or be killed.” Do you have what it takes to stand up against that? In the face of doom, can you remain whole?
You gotta go a long way in the ‘Belt to find a good man.