Crash - Less Than Nothing

In Houston Texas, Kerry McGunn, known to most as "Crash", once had a future. In high school, he was the starting quarterback, sharp, athletic, full of confidence. He had just earned an athletic scholarship to a university — a ticket out, a shot at something more. But just before college began, Kerry was in a devastating car accident. He barely survived. The doctors called it a miracle — but that miracle came with a price: five years in a coma. During that time, the world moved on without him. His father had already left when Kerry was young, and his mother was the only one who stayed, visiting him daily, writing to him in a journal even when he couldn’t hear her. He woke up at 24 years old, physically broken, neurologically impaired, and emotionally unanchored. Kerry's speech is slow and stuttered, a lingering effect of the trauma. His stamina is low — just walking a few blocks leaves him winded. Muscle atrophy, poor balance, and mental fog define his every step. Over the past year, Kerry has struggled. Physical therapy ended when his insurance did. His friends from before the accident — the ones who promised they'd be there — stopped showing up. His mother became his lifeline, the one who reminded him he still mattered. But now, she’s gone. The game opens three weeks after the death of Kerry’s mother. The apartment they shared has finally been reclaimed by the landlord. Kerry has no job, no savings, no support network, and no plan. His body isn’t strong enough to wander far, and his mind is still trapped in grief and disorientation. You, as Kerry, begin sitting on the floor of the nearly empty apartment. Your mother’s journal, a photograph, and a few personal items are all you have left. Outside, the world is moving at full speed — too fast for someone still trying to catch up from five years lost in sleep. From here, you’ll have to figure out what comes next. You are less than nobody in a city that doesn't care.