There was a clunking sound as Miria inserted the mag into her battle rifle, she slid it back into it’s harness. She drew the shotgun next, checking it was fully loaded before sliding it back into it’s harness. The tense silence between the two was broken as Portia spoke up “I could com…” Miria cut her off with a flat stare “You are staying here” she pulled a face “This stinks off Special Ops or something.” The side arm was next, drawn, checked and reholstered. “But you might need help!” her young companion said worriedly. The holdout pistol was next, a Beretta M9 that had served her faithfully since the escape from the locked down lab, " What I need is someone waiting up here with the first aid supplies close to hand" she said firmly, turning to glare in the direction of a small inconspicuous building currently hidden from view by the panneling of their van turned mobile home. “You don’t need turrets defending a shed” she growled, wondering if perhaps this was another of the God forsaken places that had brought such ruin to humanity. Miria checked her reloads, slotting a few more shells into her bandolier and checking the mags strapped to her thighs, she thumbed the edge of her hunting knife before resheathing it. Finally she picked up her beloved Cx4 Storm, the sword bayonet gleaming in the lit confided of the van. “Keep close watch, use the turret if you have to. If you don’t hear from me within the next two days get the hell out of here. Understood?” Portia bit her lip and gave a nod, Miria nodded in return. She opened the hatch of the van and jumped out, time to see what those fools had been up to…
It had been a little over a week since our intrepid adventurer left the fortress, bringing with her only the best five of those who wished to follow her. As they returned to the shelter, the survivors shared their stories.
The flaxen-haired Mindy Wheatley was a soldier in this world’s army, skilled at using the strange thunder-weapons they called “guns”, as well as in the use of their “computers”, arcane devices that could supposedly hold all the knowledge in the world. When the end came, she watched her entire platoon die, turning on one another like savage animals in a frantic bid to survive. She fled for her life, bereft of supplies and gear, only to turn up at the “a-part-mens” where Pandora found her wearing nothing but a silvery suit decorated with colorful patches. She did not wish to talk about where she got her clothes or why she wore them, but refused to part with the suit. When questioned why, she simply responded in a dreadful monotone, “Because life is a party. Honk honk.”
Ali Haines, a well-built Germanic man, was a mechanic before. He used to fix the horseless carriages with which Dora had made ingress to the fortress. He was the one to point out the vehicle that the party used to return to the shelter, a quiet machine that supposedly consumed none of the “gas” that the rest fed upon. Gregarious and cheerful, he regaled the companions with funny stories and crude jokes as they headed for their new home.
A dark-haired Mediterranian woman of swarthy complexion, Verona Shelby used to be a “schoolteacher”, one who specialized in the care and instruction of children. She didn’t want to talk about much of her past, but explained that she was an avid hunter and that those skills had kept her alive when everything went to hell.
The last two were Moors, black of hair and skin, but seemed friendly and trustworthy enough despite that. Jackelyn Waddell was a “nurse”, a kind of wise woman who knew the ins-and-outs of the cure-alls of this advanced age. She had been doing her work, helping the suffering, when the dead began to rise. “My mamma din’t raise no fool. I grabbed me a gun and got me out of there quick as I could. Can’t very well fix people if I get ate. Ended up here with y’all.” Kind and motherly, she tended to Pandora’s scratches before setting off.
The last was a morose young man named Michael Jones. Everyone spoke highly of him, but he affected gloominess, talking so often about how it was “just a matter of time before I die horribly” that the rest had nicknamed him as such. The moniker of “Dies Horribly” did not seem to anger him, however, and his skill in fighting endeared him to Pandora quickly enough.
Piling in to the magic carriage, Dora took the helm with Ali guiding her, and the group set off to build a new life on the ruins of the old world.
AN: Got a week’s worth of notes to write out. I seem to have fallen in love with this style of play, going slowly day-by-day and making notes of the interesting or important things that happen. Might make for a slower game, but I think it will ultimately prove to be a fulfilling one.
Miria staggered out of what she now knew was some sort of Special Op bunker dragging a heavy duffel bag packed full of CBMs, technological wonders, a treasure indeed in these terrible times. Pain and… other affects muddled her thoughts, dimly she wonder how much time would pass, if ever, before humanity would be able to reproduce such mavels. She staggered through the sham gas station, now clearly a front for the bunker hidden beneath, towards the vehicle that over the months she’d come to think of as “home”. She slumped heavily against the side of the van, her breath coming in gasps as she fought against the writhing feeling that twisted her body and perhaps even more so at the turmoil that raged in her mind. What she’d seen had shaken her to the core. Looking up she noticed Portia, rifle in hand, staring at her in shock. “Oh my God, what happened” she cried out in shock, stepping forward to help. “Stay back” Miria barely recognised the voice as her own, there was no way of knowing if the effect could spread in this state. “Remember that box I told you not to open? There are some flasks in there, get me one. Don’t touch anything else” The girl gave her a frightened look but quickly moved to obey, Miria allowed herself to slid to her knees, the twisting in her body growing worse. Her thoughts flashed back to the scene she’d discovered, to find some of what were perhaps the finest soldiers in the world reduced to shambling abominations had been horrifying. Worse was finding out that even in its ruined state their armour had been enough to protect these monsters from even the heaviest of her weapons, it was only their clumsiness that had saved her. She jerked her head up as she saw Portia returning, flask in hand. “Leave it there, on the ground, then back up” Miria groaned forcing herself back to her and hauling herself over as the girl followed her instructions, reaching down she picked up the flask and without hesitation downed the strange liquid. Fresh pain tried to drowned her, it seemed like her blood was set a light but she rejoiced in it as it was a cleansing flame. The pain subsided and with it the twisting feeling, Miria was sore and wounded but she was herself again. Portia still looked afraid but she spoke up “What’s going on, what was that?”, Miria stared at her, almost like she was looking through her but she finally answered “They called it a purifier, I’m sure you have more questions and I’ll answer them”. She stepped past her partner and reached into the van and pulled out a heavy sledgehammer “but first there is something I’ve got to take care of”. Portia looked fit to burst with questions but settled on “Your going back down? what’s so important?”, Miria nodded, shouldering the hammer “There are some poor, foolish souls that need laying to rest” she replied as she walked back towards the bunker.
Went poking around a gas station and found a secret entrance, went exploring, popped through a locked door with my probability CBM to find a small room full of armoured zombies and scientists! and between the scientists and the environment managed very quickly to get irradiated enough to start mutating! First time that’s ever happened to me, the only other time I’ve seen the second type of irradiated wanderers was in a far more dangerous place though so I guess I should count myself lucky
This is basically high school of the dead but the guy is an furrie
New version means new character attempting the Lab Challenge!
Conditions: Standard points, freeform allocation, even split of scenario points between stats and skills, with no skill higher than 2 to start. 250% monster HP. Unwilling Mutant scenario.
11 game-days later, I have escaped!
I came close to starving or having to eat mutant or human flesh to survive. Two or three more days and I’d have had no other option. (I did have to eat a whole jar of mayo by itself. Yuck.)
I got fortunate early on and found the computer textbooks to get me to Computers 6. Despite only 9 Intelligence, caffeine got me smart enough for 6 skill and 9 int to get me through the computers defending barracks magazine storage rooms. Despite poor fighting skills, I stayed one step ahead of the Zs and lured the soldier zombies into turrets and locked bio-operators into steel-door rooms. This got me a rifle and some ammunition eventually.
By this point I’d long since found the exit stairs and the bottom of the lab - which contained a Science ID card guarded by a flock of manhacks. I comfortably outranged the turret with my rifle and took it down. Next I made it to the bottom of the lab and dashed to the ID card. I took a couple of hits but nothing life-threatening and slammed the door behind me to stop the 'haks.
Back to the surface… land of food!
I threw up in my mouth a little when I read that. LOL… bravo!
Maddy had doubted her ability to lead for a long time ever since she lost 5 of her 8 companions. The reoccurring nightmares of that day with the acidic ants plagued her mind each and every night. She was on the brink of giving up and going it alone. Then. Something happened. Out of nowhere they came. Cold and hungry. Not just for food but for hope. Maddy always was a sucker. Times are better now.
Yeah, I had extra points, so for my lab start I took cannibal w/robust genetics and had a grand ol time of breaking vats open to eat the delectables inside…
Mutant C.H.U.D in the making?
Got a lot of bits to kitbash together there. Going to be a heck of a lot of work. Make sure to post whatever type of death monster you make.
After my previous Broken Battle Cyborg, (I really need to figure out a name for the class and it’s fully functional counterpart) Had a bath in spitter slime and having your one good arm and both legs broken is a bit crippling. Top off acidic discharge and no torso health… ya. Decided to start in a Gunstore hoping for both a dangerous but equipped start. Ended up in a gun mod store with no guns and nothing but shell casings at the very edge of a city. Somehow with the help of my npc ally managed to mostly secure the area by the power of two by four. Used a sling to secure at least a quarter of the city under a hail of hundreds of pebbles. Even managed to clear a super hoard with a burning building by standing on one end with line of sight through the shattered walls to the hoard, they all burned nice n crispy of their own violation which was nice.
Drove a tank into another gun store, armed and dangerous now! A mosquito for .22 and a glock for 9mm.
Now to work out food without a wilderness, been awhile since I did that and my character definitely isn’t well protected enough to be a roving scavenger. Might have to actually learn to farm since hunting isn’t an option atm due to lack of anything not urban.
Will do (20 characters)
On the fourteenth day, Michael “Dies Horribly” Jones died horribly. It had been but a few scratches from a couple of zombified soldiers, but they had festered. When Pandora noticed, the party had just finished clearing a hotel of the dead and looting anything worthwhile. Over the course of two hours, she sprinted back to base, alone, in the middle of the night to retrieve their sole first aid kit and bring it back to Mike. It was too late, however. The infection had set in and the only thing they could do was return to base in the morning and hope the Keflex would be able to work.
They collected poppies together, that thirteenth day of Spring. He died in his sleep.
For me, the world never truly ended, until I ate my last cookie.
Miria and Portia grinned at each other as the bottle of champagne smashed against the armour, it had been long months but the Dauntless was finally ready.
Dear god. That thing is intimidating. That thing is like the Cataclysm equivalent to a Baneblade Supertank. I think it’s safe to say you’ll have nothing to fear and have one hell of a hearty rampage. Hurl that at a city and you can probably drive a straight line through.
OHHHH LAAAAWWWWD JAAAAYYYZUUUS!!! What did you do?
They told me someone had ended the world, I told them to hold my spiced mead…
Said, “Where are all the zombies?” out loud, immediately got hit by electricity from a shocker brute nearly in melee range.
OMG I love this game so real!
I was clearing the ordinary house in a small almost lifeless village. I opened the door and there was zombie brute behind it. I just sliced him once in all out panic attack with my kukri.
He hurled me. I flew through the room, hit the window on the opposite wall, broke through that window midflight and smashed my back against humvee I parked outside. My partner Grant clinched with him, wielding a barbed wire baseball bat.
I stood up, limped to the window frame, took my Mossberg 500 with slugs loaded and ended that brute fucker with one precisely landed headshot.
Then I lit my tobacco pipe and smoked (with tremor in my hands, probably).
A truly Left 4 Dead type of experience.
Can’t think of another game delivering that hard!