Skorponk: Great industrialing gloryness of Zoblovnia

Skorponk. The pride of the Most Glorious Socialist Republic of Zoblovnia. It had not always been that way. For years, the country had festered in obscurity, looking on enviously as its bigger neighbours made their mark on the world. They boasted extensive industrial and manufacturing capability. They fielded powerful armies and absurdly ostentatious military parades. They housed vibrant cultures, attracting thousands of tourists to their shores every year. Most humiliating of all, their vodka could be drunk without significant risk of blindness.
Zoblovnia had none of these things. Most foreigners could not even point out the country on the map. The politburo decided this had to change. People would come to know the name Zoblovnia, they declared, and they would know it well. The big question was how?
The party chairman, Vladimir Pridurok, had always exhibited a fondness for the automobile. He had taken an interest in how great marques such as Lada, Yugo and Trabant had established themselves on the world stage. How they had put their countries on the map. That, he decided, was the way Zoblovnia would make its name. The country would design and build its very first production car.
The politburo called upon the talents of one Mikhail Vzorvatsya, a rising star within the party with a background in engineering. Vzorvatsya soon put his skills to good use, cannibalising parts from an old sewing machine to develop the engine that would power car. The design for the body proved much more difficult. Several times, Vzorvatsya’s designs were rejected by the politburo for not being boxy enough and therefore “too bourgeois.” Nevertheless, he persisted, and soon the “Skorponk,” named in honour of a Zoblovnian general with a disturbing penchant for sewing machines, made its debut.






The ‘Proletarian’ model, held a 1.2L engine, and came in only one colour, Victory Beige. Vzorvatsya proudly proclaimed the vehicle could travel from 0-60mph in less than a minute, and with such a large boot space, it was possible to store several jerry cans-worth of fuel for when the car invariably ran out going any further than the local corner shop.
The politburo was delighted by Vzorvatsya’s new car and immediately outlawed every other make and model in the country. “Proles” quickly flooded the roads of Zoblovnia and began to trickle beyond the borders. The car became a symbol of affection in the country and internationally it became affectionately known as the “Happy Car” due to its tendency to leave black clouds behind.
However, Vzorvatsya refused to rest on his laurels.

Comrade, you have done well. Congratulations from the committee, delivered through Romanov Avtomobili. The sewing machine on wheels is glorious and its happy clouds tell about its arrival already minutes before it can be seen.

Glory to Zoblovnia!

Vzorvatsya’s dreams for the company were forced to take a back seat in the midst of growing diplomatic tensions with the Soviet Union. Moscow had been angered by Zoblovnia’s decision to ban all foreign vehicles from the country and were putting pressure on the government to reverse their decision. Chairman Pridurok remained defiant, even going as far as to publically criticise the quality of Russian-built sewing machines. For the Soviets, this was the final straw and in the spring of 1963, tanks rolled over the Zoblovnian border. In less than an hour, the Zoblovnian army surrendered, Soviet troops quickly occupied all government buildings, and Pridurok was taken into custody.
The Kremlin declared that Zoblovnia would be annexed by the Soviet Union. Given Zoblovnia’s relatively unknown status on the world stage, there was little public outcry from the UN, most of whom assumed it was already part of the USSR as the name sounded “kinda Russian.” The Soviet premier embarked on a visit to Zoblovnia to celebrate the Red Army’s triumph, but after only two days became extremely disillusioned with the place, and upon returning to Moscow announced the immediate cancellation of the country’s annexation. All Soviet troops were withdrawn, taking nothing but a few barrels of Zoblovnian vodka for their chemical weapons division. Pridurok was released, though as part of the terms of the withdrawal, Pridurok was forced to sign a peace treaty that included the revocation of the ban on foreign vehicles. Pridurok travelled to Moscow to sign the document, in a Skorponk of course, and upon arrival was roundly ridiculed for his choice of transport.
The Zoblovnian premier realised he needed something more respectable to get around in, and so Vzorvatsya was called upon again to design such a vehicle. Returning to the Skorponk Automotive and Sewing Machine Company Factory, Vzorvatsya got to work.






The vehicle boasted a luxurious interior; seats of the finest polyester coupled with panelling made from genuine driftwood. The body was finished in Gulag Black, and lined with genuine chrome-effect trim. Pridurok was pleased with the new car, and it seemed as though life in Zoblovnia was slowly returning to normal.
But a looming oil crisis was just around the corner…