The year is 23PS (Post Singularity) and the town of [Nice town] is booming as a seaside resort and convention center. Of course trouble is on its way or there would be no story to tell, only bland descriptions of peaceful daily events, and you can get enough of that by locking yourself in the bathroom ... you don't need the internet.
Two conventions are in town and it's a recipe for trouble!
Ronin of Fate the Serial Killer convention.
Adult Survivors of Spontaneously Combusted Parents the Splodey convention.
Plus ... it's the anniversary of the wreck of the HMS Erect and THE CAPTAIN is expected to return soon to raise an army of the dead to retrieve his treasure from the time cave where Tom Sawyer hid it.
There's a Typhoon heading toward the island, that crazed quatumvulcanologist who lives up on the volcano has been coming into town more often for new tweezers, and recently some flyers have been posted around town by the V.L.F. (virus liberation front) saying something about the bio-weapon lab downtown ... but I wouldn't worry too much about it, the new sheriff is that guy who beat up a shark to save the last endangered Rabid Rabbit Fish on that reality tv show last summer so I'm sure everything will be okay.

At least everything seems peaceful with the Cylons these days.