The whole mood of this scenario is that of desperation and strife. Molotov cocktails fly at all hours, and crude gyro-copters attack innocent villagers. When you were a child you did things as a child, and saw the world through innocent eyes. As you grew into adults you realized that all is not as it seems. People kill each other over petty things.
Tribes fight over trivial things.
Entire generations die in pointless holy wars. You were one of those who died in the great holy war against the Sliths. You were killed in a hopeless ambush where your group of 'champions' was totally decimated by literally a hundred Slith warriors. You died instantly as a spear had pierced your heart. Your bodies where discovered a month later.