Everything was going so well.
I had pretty much raided a town to the bones and gotten stupid lucky at dodging the zombie hoards. Deciding to move on to somewhere with actual water, I packed up my good stuff, including the ONE GUN in the whole damn city, and hit the road.
The road, obviously, disagreed with this idea, and hit back. Wolves, giant bees, wolves, cougars, wolves, a few zombified farmers, and did I mention the wolves? My journey was tough. I spent the first night in my tent, but the second saw me get lucky with a random cabin. Didn’t even know those existed until now.
So, I’m running low on food when I stumble across three things very close to each other. One; a military base. The turret-armed kind with not much worth it inside. I exercised discretion. Two? A military bunker. The kind that needs ID cards.
It is worth noting that I, as a person, cannot avoid temptation. Especially when that temptation leads to stupid ideas, like assaulting an automated deathtrap with a single rifle. So I try, and I fail. Not dead, but hurt and low on ammo, and deciding to just cut my losses and move on. But then, THEN, a short distance down the road, a sewage treatment plant! Yeah! Salvation! Salvation in the form of a corpse-and-motorcycle-strewn parking lot! Oh, man! Military corpses! I don’t have the raid the base now! I can… I… huh. None of these guys have IDs. What, did they all run into ballsy pickpockets the day before the apocalypses? Dammit. Well, at least they’ve got some food, some bullets that don’t match their guns, some grenade launchers, some armor, some…
Turrets are weak to grenade launchers, right?
Trick question. Everything is weak to grenade launchers.
What followed was, in my head, this scene from Commando, followed by what I imagine the next scene in the movie to logically be (I haven’t actually scene Commando.) Announce my presence with a grenade, shoot and rifle-butt a zombie soldier back to the grave, peak around that corner (of course there are more turrets), lob another grenade down there. It doesn’t matter that I’m missing, the explosions are clearing me a path, and all I want are their security badges. I am the least precise raider in the history of this post-doomsday world (only took me a couple weeks to earn that title, too!)
When the smoke clears, half the base is rubble, the other half is currently being looted by me, and I have enough cumulative security clearance to order Area 51 nuked. Twice.
Feeling good, I stow my gear, hop back on my motorbike, throw on some sunglasses for flavor, and speed down the highway to the bunker that promises me food, a secure place to sleep, and quite possibly a forehead-implanted plasma rifle. The way things are going, I wouldn’t be surprised. Everything is coming up aces.
I screech into the end of the road, kill the bike, and practically sprint to the scanner. It feels like Christmas morning! It feels like every holiday I’ve ever experienced, except minus the traffic problems around shopping malls because everyone is dead, and that’s just fine, because I’m about to be so irrationally well armed that nothing will matter anymore! The card swipes, the doors swoosh, I’m imagining that scene in Raiders of the Lost Arc, at the end, with the warehouse? Except instead of crates, it’s just filled with guns and properly stored ammunition and maybe also some steaks. I waltz in, hit the stairs…
And the game crashes.
Quick, activate emergency mental countermeasures!
Yeah, that character was screwed anyway. The next guy will do so much better. Maybe I’ll put points into launchers from the start and level the first military bunker I see. Yeeeeah. That’ll make me feel better.