Dortmund and Gelsenkirchen were, for generations, the heart of Germany's coal and steel production - and are separated by roughly 20 miles in the Ruhr region.
The fan bases of both local clubs share a working-class background, but are undoubtably fixated with football and getting the better of their sworn arch enemies regardless of any historical similarities they may share.
A host of supporters are even known to refuse to say the name of their rivals, and instead simply refer to them by their location from nearby towns. Schalke are called 'Herne-West', and Dortmund are mockingly labelled 'Ludenscheid-Nord' (Northern Ludenscheid).
However, fans will be unable to trade insults in a ground typically packed to the rafters in the latest episode of the Revierderby, due to the confusion and uncertainty around COVID-19 that has gripped football presently.
The Bundesliga will finally resume this weekend, having been brought to a halt in the midst of the coronavirus pandemic - but spectators are banned, and players must renew hostilities behind closed doors and in the stifling vacuum of an eerily silent atmosphere.
The history of this derby stretches back to the 1920s, when Schalke were the undisputed kings of the region. Die Königsblauen, or the Royal Blues, claimed a 4-2 victory in their first competitive clash with Dortmund in 1924-25. That landmark more than set the tone for almost two whole decades of dominance.
Dortmund, formed in 1909, were forced to wait until 1947 to break Schalke's grip on the coveted championship of Westphalia. Their sworn rivals held the title for 21 consecutive campaigns, rendering Dortmund the lesser of the two factions in their own city.
However, one rainswept afternoon in May 1947 changed the complexion of the derby for both clubs.
Dortmund edged to a 3-2 win in that fateful encounter, having twice fought back from behind to steal the show five minutes before time.
The newfound bitterness then morphed into an intensive hatred during the 1970s.
The Ruhr region, which depended on coal and steel, fell into an economic meltdown during the latter half of the decade. Both Dortmund and Schalke were affected, and found themselves falling behind other clubs across Germany.
A mounting frustration from both halves of the area resulted in two hooligan groups being formed. 1979 saw a band of Schalke fans create the 'Gelsenszene', a notoriously violent movement, and Dortmund supporters countered three years later by founding 'Borussenfront'.
Although the tension between both clubs has now mercifully moved away from fascism, the rivalry that remains these days is built on a similar vein of hatred.
Uli Hesse even recalled Dortmund fans chanting, 'he who doesn't leap is a Schalke fan' in a 2015 derby meeting, before men, women and children united to declare 'death and hate to Schalke' in the direction of the away contingent.
But perhaps the most memorable flashpoint between the two clubs took place in 1969.
Those interested in visiting the Signal Iduna Park, or Westfalenstadion, will also be able to see the 'red soil', the old venue that used to host Dortmund's home games.
Schalke travelled to the venue in September, and a reported 50,000 crowd filled up every available inch to take part in the typically electric Revierderby atmosphere.
Many of them ticketless, spectators were forced to stand on the grass running along the sidelines, and the two coaches had to settle for watching on from the athletics track due to their usual dugout view being blocked.
Hans Pirkner fired Schalke ahead, and chaos predictably ensued. The hustle and bustle of fans, all packed tightly together, resulted in dozens of them spilling on to the field to celebrate.
Stewards attempted to stem the tide with German Shepherds, but the dogs were unmuzzled. Two Schalke players, Gerd Neuser and Friedel Rausch, were bitten on the thigh.
The unsavoury scenes gave away to the introduction of fences in German stadia, with home and away support kept apart and closely marshalled. The rivalry between both clubs had continued to sour, changing the face of football in the country as a result.
Both teams met again in January 1970, with Schalke desperate to exact revenge.
When Dortmund's players strode on to the field, they were faced with four lions - who had been rented from a nearby safari park.
But while the modern day derby clashes may not feature predators on the pitch, fury between both sets of fans continues to simmer.
An infamous incident in October 2013 saw both teams hauled back into their dressing room until order was restored in the stands, after masked Dortmund fans had thrown rockets onto the field.
Parts of the ground, where families happened to be sitting, were also targeted - and Dortmund stopper Roman Weidenfeller was almost struck by a smoke bomb.
The gargantuan, iconic open terrace at the Westfalenstadion is named the 'Yellow Wall', with a capacity of 25,000. That section of the stadium is famed for its choreography and sizzling atmosphere on matchdays. The affectionate moniker for the stand dates back to May 2005, when a group of Dortmund ultras unveiled a large banner and declared it the 'Gelbe Wand Sudtribune Dortmund'.
However, a group of wily Schalke fans notoriously broke into the ground in November 2006 and stole the banner. It was attached roughly 160 feet above the ground, meaning the daredevils potentially risked serious injury to humiliate their rivals on their home turf.
To the anger of Dortmund supporters, Schalke fans tore the banner to shreds at a derby in February 2009 and mockingly proclaimed, 'The yellow wall in Schalke's hands.'
But it has also been proved, surprisingly, that both clubs have been able to set aside their differences on occasion. Their rivalry has, at times, been usurped by pride for the successes of their region. Schalke won the UEFA Cup in 1997, and just a week later Dortmund lifted the Champions League - signifying the two sides' transformation from relegation battlers to champions of the continent.
A section of Dortmund supporters at the Champions League final were unable to contain their excitement, and loudly proclaimed that their team's success was 'a class above' that of their rivals. They were subjected to disagreement from the rest of the club's faithful, who chanted 'Ruhr, Ruhr' to celebrate the region's newfound stardom.
Both clubs will draw their swords and enter battle again this weekend, but will not be spurred on by the usual voracious fans that create the atmosphere at the Revierderby. An eerie backdrop for a strange and uncertain time, fittingly.
But the players will surge into every tackle with just as much venom, and the will to win will perhaps be stronger than ever as the curtain raises on the Bundesliga once again. Regardless of the lack of supporters, it is certain to be a spectacle. Strap in.