The Breakwater Confederacy is not a nation, a gang, or a unified ideology—it is an agreement enforced by water, guns, and necessity. Comprised of dock crews, ship captains, smugglers, warehouse bosses, and maritime survivors, the Confederacy controls the Docklands through absolute dominance of the bay and everything that moves across it.
They do not see themselves as criminals or tyrants. In their eyes, they are logisticians, lifelines, and realists. When roads collapsed, infected overran districts, and factions burned themselves out fighting over streets, the water remained passable. The Breakwater survived because they understood that survival doesn’t come from holding ground—it comes from controlling flow.
To the rest of New Hope City, the Confederacy represents an uncomfortable truth: without them, the city starves. Food, fuel, weapons, medicine, people—almost all of it passes through the bay at some point. The Breakwater doesn’t rule the city, but it decides which parts of it get to keep breathing.
The Breakwater Confederacy formed gradually in the decade following the Fall, when it became clear that land-based supply chains were dead. Survivors who knew ships—dockhands, sailors, coast guards, mechanics—turned to the water as the last reliable route of movement.
Early on, violence nearly destroyed them. Crews fought over docks. Captains sabotaged rivals. Fires spread too easily across fuel-soaked piers. It took only a few disasters for the survivors to realize that open warfare would sink everyone.
From that realization came the Confederacy—not as a government, but as a code. Harbor Lords emerged not through charisma, but through ships that worked, crews that held together, and the firepower to enforce order. The bay demanded cooperation or death.
Thirty years later, most Confederacy members were born into dock life. They don’t remember a city without rusted hulls and tide charts scratched into concrete.
The Breakwater Confederacy’s power is anchored to the water, but its influence reaches far beyond it.
They control container yards stacked into labyrinths, shoreline warehouses converted into fortified depots, working docks and piers, and floating platforms lashed together from scavenged hulls. Most boat traffic in and out of New Hope City passes through Confederacy hands, whether openly or through bribes.
Their control is practical rather than symbolic. They don’t decorate territory or post banners. Instead, access is regulated through schedules, escorts, tariffs, and threat. If a ship docks unapproved, it doesn’t stay afloat long.
To move something by sea without Breakwater consent is to gamble with your life. Most don’t.
The Breakwater Confederacy is a coalition, not a hierarchy.
At its highest level are the Harbor Lords—veteran captains and dock bosses who control major piers, yard clusters, or warehouse networks. Each Harbor Lord commands loyalty through ships, crews, and firepower, not speeches. They meet rarely, always on neutral water, and never without armed escorts.
Beneath them are the Crews: independent units sworn to the Confederacy’s code. Dockhands turned fighters, former sailors, smugglers, mechanics, and scavengers. Crews compete fiercely for contracts and profit, but open warfare is forbidden—it disrupts trade.
Disputes are settled through arbitration, fines, or sanctioned violence approved by the Harbor Lords. Anyone who ignores this structure doesn’t last long.
The Confederacy enforces a strict, brutal code born from hard experience.
No killing on active docks—blood attracts chaos and infected.
Cargo disputes are settled by Harbor Lords, not guns.
Sabotage of cranes, ships, or water routes is unforgivable.
Anyone who threatens bay access dies.
The code is enforced without hesitation. Punishments are swift, public, and final. Bodies dumped into the bay are warnings as much as disposal.
The Breakwater believes the bay is sacred—not spiritually, but practically. Without it, everything ends.
The Confederacy controls the lifeblood of New Hope City.
They dominate maritime trade, smuggling routes, fuel distribution, ship parts, heavy cargo salvage, and passenger transport—legal or otherwise. Tariffs, docking fees, escort fees, storage fees, and “insurance” fund their operations.
Nothing moves for free. Everything is counted. Everything is logged.
Even factions that hate the Breakwater pay their fees, because alternatives don’t exist. The Confederacy’s greatest strength is not force—it is indispensability.
Confederacy members favor layered waterproof armor, heavy boots, rope gear, and practical protection against rust, salt, and impact. Scarves, masks, and insignia marked with knots, anchors, waves, or ship sigils identify crews subtly.
Across New Hope City, people say:
“If the water’s open, the Breakwater allows it.”
“They don’t own the city—they own what feeds it.”
“Cross them on land, maybe you live. Cross them on the bay, you sink.”
The Breakwater Confederacy doesn’t conquer New Hope City.
It keeps it alive—on its terms.