Well, here’s the real story as it happened.
The first FEMA camp I’ve raided before nightfall. I really expected curse, eternal damnation and fiery flying skulls pouring from the letters F E M A as I made my first steps in; the earlier mapgen I played had like a throng of Zs roaming, as I pedaled on the outskirts just to explore. So I packed some melees, two boxes of ammo for m4a1 and for a small pistol and gave it a shot in the dark, only to find an easy stride. I squashed some ten or so with wheels, and not much more by foot. Felt like I didn’t really have to kill them all, just lure them into the pits and leave 'em there.
So I was very courageous the second attempt I made, only holding on to a few more medpacks, just in case. Thought the 9mm SMG would bring the pain, trusting my melee grinding skills. So I jumped on my generic motocycle the game so generously put in front of the first house there was behind the shelter, and started the new day. With my base two clicks northish, no harm to be expected, right? And there it was, the funnel-looking barbwired entrance. As I conveniently parked my ride, all hell broke loose. Cautioned by sounds coming from within - and from all the southside - I started giving 'em their peace next to the gate guardhouse. After a few initial shots and explosions I found the situation getting worse - they just kept coming and coming, so I backed up just a few steps from my bike to start some fires. Those handy sticks I’ve lit seemed to invite even more of them in - scientists, soldiers and the bozos, all alike stepped towards me whilst grinding, screeching, pounding and crashing noises never stopped. The grip on the bike’s handle was the most tempting option at the moment, so I started circling around the dead f***s, leading them onto the small fires and bursts of led from my barrel. The bears, spiders and a pack of wolves particularly liked it when I busted my shot of a molotov onto the guard building, home of a soldier Z that looked like trouble from the very start, but never made it through heavy glass. I was pushed south, with wheels below me and the smelly chunks of putrid meat hanging off barbed fence left behind. The fire kept spreading like crazy, with popping explosions every few seconds. I considered myself lucky at the moment, having killed almost all of them, yet hurting and low on ammo as just as much everything else. So I collected what petty loot the camp had to offer and foolishly busted out north again. Yes, dancing bears and mushroom people but NOT fun - I kept driving through the forest, cut off from the road. The most persistent ones kept me company until I rammed my loaded bike into a Lab. Nearby fungal Zs accepted the invitation, and I was already sick enough to withstand blows, but wouldn’t leave my only (two-wheeled) friend behind, so I made another stand. I gave everything there was just to see a crack in the legion’s line. Pushed through too, onto a riverbank. And swampland. AND out of gas.
Only a big, bad moon and a mosquito kiss goodnite.
