Welcome to the world of Survival Horror. You are about to experience the nightmare that was once your peaceful town. Be wary, for there are more than just hordes of zombies hindering your path to freedom.
I am the guide that will help you through this ordeal. Some may call me a God. Some may call me a guiding spirit. Some may doubt my existence. But all will take my help whenever they can.
I will also be your clock, telling you what time of day it is. Of course your deadline isn't set until they find the President's Daughter.
Code:
You must escape this town, before it is too late.
Of course you will remember the choices I gave you.
1. Try and survive inside the city, and hope that help will arrive to save you eventually.
2. Find the President's Daughter, and hope they rescue you along with her.
3. Find a way underground and escape through the sewers.
4. ?????
Being a kind entity, I will give you some words of advice for each one.
Code:
1. You can try to hole yourself in a tall building, It may work. But if no one finds you in time, it will cost you your life. Bear in mind the only person the government is concerned for is the President's Daughter.
[code]2. The President's Daughter ..Name: Yvonne Kennedy.. She is a kind girl, who will most likely allow you aboard her helicopter should you befriend her in time. However her current whereabouts are unknown. One thing is for certain, as soon as she is safe, the entire town will be "Sanitized".
Code:
3. A good method, but perhaps the most dangerous. Due to chemicals dumped in the sewers, mutations are far more likely down here. The only way to safety through here is the quarry at the very end of the sewer lines. The barricades don't reach this far. However, it is also possible to get lost in the sewers passageways, so be wary.
Code:
4. There could be another way out, if you're smart enough to think of it. Keep in mind the barricade is made with the strongest re-enforced steel. So you can't break through. It's too tall to simply climb over. And the guards will not let you through the door. Also keep in mind your time limit.
[/code]
<color=white> Yes I'm aware how much this resembles Resident Evil
From now on all Out Of Character posts must be in spoilers!
(Please now post your opening post for your character, and carry on from there) =]
Current Time: 1:20pm
<color=red>[HEADING=3]On your marks. Get set. GO![/HEADING]
TBEO
Okay Ciarang, hope you can catch up, i wont go further than the first update, all you have to do is follow the time of day at the end of it =]
Appearance: Medium height, thin, green eyes, short black hair, white skin, clean shaven.
Occupation: College Student
Short Bio: A bit of a nerd, Eric loves videogames, and is planning on becoming a videogame developer. He is also a fairly good cook, and has a good grasp of tactics from playing strategy games. His favorite games are Left 4 Dead, Command & Conquer: Red Alert, and Halo: Combat Evolved.
James ran as fast as he could from the horror he had encountered at the barricade. He ran all the way to the plaza, where he started to plan his survival.
He had been told three of his four methods of escape, but first he needed to find help. James was a firm believer in humans only being able to survive in groups. He called out to anyone who could hear: "Help! I know what's happening, I'll explain it all, just please come with me!"
He looked ahead and saw an many mutated people stumbling toward him. He doubled back in fright and started running towards the sewer entrance, repeating his cry just in case anyone might have ears for it.
Dean's rabbit pulled up to his two story house in the quite suburbs just outside of the city limits. He looked in his rearview mirror as he parked his car. Damn, i should have washed the dazzel paint off, his CD cut off as he slid his keys out of the ignition and stepped into the blazing sun. He walked to the back of his car and pulled out his Pack, swinging it over one shoulder and started walking up his drive way. I'm going to need to get more gas tomorrow he pondered as he slipped his keys into his pocket and swung open his door.
"Hello?" He called into the eerily quite house, "Alice? Tank?" He looked around for his dogs. This was odd, usually his two bull dogs came running to the door when he got home. He swung his pack off and was about to undo his boots when he saw that some one left the T.V. on.
"A zombie movie?" He thought as he watched the shaky camera pan over a rioting crowd, blood spattered faces stumbling about, "I haven't seen this one before . . ." Then he saw something. It was his mom, she was screaming and running towards the camera "Wow, she looks an awful lot like. . ." A zombie pounced on the familiar woman and dragged her down. It was her scream that snapped Dean out of it. The name she cried "Devin!" and her screaming voice was cut off.
Shit! what's going on? He ran up stairs and grabbed his tomahawk and trench knife, slipping their sheaths onto his belt, he sprinted back down the stairs and swung his pack back over his shoulder.
"Where ever the hell you are Devin, i'm coming to get you!" He pulled his phone out and tried a few times to unsuccessfully call his dad, brother, and little Sister Devin.
He slipped behind the front seat of his Rabbit, threw the keys in, and watched as the gas needle hit red. He gunned the car down the road and made about two miles into the city before his tank ran empty and his car died. He threw open the door, swung on his pack, and started to run down the street to the center of town where he knew the riot was being taped.
Returning to his dorm room after having lunch at the on-campus Chinese restaurant, Tyler flipped on the TV as he began changing into his lounging clothes. From his bedroom, he couldn't hear the news report too well, but he heard screaming over it, which caught his interest.
"The hell? That better have been on the TV," he muttered as he walked out. Glancing at the headline under the reporter, he saw RIOTING: ZOMBIES? Moving to get a better look, he jumped back into a fighter stance when someone attacked the reporter. Sighing, he walked back to his room. "Right after I took my pants off, too."
Peeking out to see that the "rioters" were moving slowly, he sighed in relief as he put on a pair of blue carpenter jeans, black nylon belt, white t-shirt, light blue button-up shirt, and black New Balance tennis shoes. Knowing he'd be hitting a good number of people with his hands, he donned white hand wraps and rolled his sleeves up to just below his elbows.
"MacManus brothers, you guys are awesome." He put his 50ft length of black rope over his shoulder. "Alright, Doctor Freeman, make me proud." With that, he picked up his handy crowbar, ready to be used as a tool or weapon. He went to the fridge and packed a small backpack with bottled water, leftover Chinese, a fork, and two of his roommate's bottles of tequila. He then grabbed his two Zippo lighters, a pack of cigarettes, and his can of Axe bodyspray, Phoenix scented.
Exiting his dorm room, he saw several other students running through the halls. Picking a particularly cute girl, he grabbed her, kissed her for a few seconds, and walked towards the stairs to the ground floor.
I may die today, so I'll be damned if I didn't get one last kiss first.
Randolf stared in shock at the strange creatures, he ran up to the nearest news team and shouted at them for answers.
"What the hell is going on here? Who are these people?"
The male reporter glanced at him fearfully and said
"You better come with me, quick"
He quickly ducked down a small, damp alley with Randolf following.
"Now, we don't know what those... things are, but they're attacking anyone they see, they don't seem to think. Jesus, it's almost as if they're, well, zombies."
"What else do you know?" Randolf asked hurriedly.
"The military. The military has quarantined the whole area. We're trapped in here. We've got to get out or die."
Just then several of the lurching monstrosities clustered round the front of the alley.
"Quick, Run!" The reporter yelled.
Randolf, needed no further encouragement and sprinted down the alley into the next street.
Eric hummed to himself as he fried up an egg, unaware of the chaos about to unfold.
He had his game of Left 4 Dead paused on his dorms small TV set, as he made breakfast. He heard someone stumbling around in the hall, it sounded like they kept bumping into the walls. Probably someone with a hangover.
A moan.
He paused from scooting the egg around on the pan. That moan had sounded odd, not like someone with a hangover or someone...um...doing things.
He looked up to make sure his game was still paused. It was.
The door splintered, and a bloodsoaked arm thrusted through the hole. Eric screamed, as the thing smashed through what was left of the door. As it turned and shambled towards him, he realized what it was.
No, no, no! They don't exist! Zombies aren't real!
He backed up, but bumped into the fridge behind him. The zombie was coming closer. Eric gripped his frying pan.
Okay Eric, you've seen the Left 4 Dead 2 trailer, whack that zombie good! It's getting close! AHHH!
He swung the pan, smacking the zombie in the face, causing it to turn and stumble away. He noticed it was now near the stove.
"Raaaaah!"
Eric shouted, lunging forward and slamming the pan into the zombies spine, knocking it over. Its face landed on the stove, and started burning. Eric turned the temperature up as far as he could without it exploding, and he smashed the pan into the zombies head over and over.
About five hits later, the zombies skull gave, and its head was utterly crushed, throwing blood all over Eric.
Eugh!
He stepped back, and threw up, the stench of burnt flesh and blood overwhelming him. Once he was done, he tried to think about what to do next.
Okay, I need to pack some supplies, and get the hell out of here!
He grabbed his backpack, dumped out all the textbooks and school stuff, and walked over to the pantry. He first grabbed canned foods, then snacks, and water and other drinks. He also grabbed the spare frying pan, in case he needed to cook. The other one was too bloody from his encounter.
Feeling he was ready, he went to leave, but stopped. He went to the bed, and picked up a book lying on it. The books title was clearly displayed on the cover.
The Zombie Survival Guide
He put in in his backpack, and returned to the door.
Bloody frying pan at the ready, he cautiosly made his way out into the hall.
Robert loved ham and cheese. Especially ham and cheese sandwiches.
It was early afternoon still as Robert chewed slowly on his cheese sandwich, sitting on a plush red sofa with his elbows rested on his knees, leaning forward to let the crumbs fall to the white floor. He took another bite, ran his hand through his hair, and let his light eyes drift toward the open door.
Outside of the employee lounge where he sat enjoying a late lunch, a young woman dressed smartly with a pair of stylish glasses stood leaning on a white table, her eyes trained on a large Mac monitor. She seemed confused as odd images flashed across the frozen screen, which was black with a green logo no one could place. Robert studied her for a long moment, before finishing his sandwich and standing, brushing a few crumbs from his neat white shirt.
This is it, Rob. You owe it to yourself. Eliza isn't going to wait forever.
Setting his phasers on 'determined', Robert walked smartly onto the Apple main store floor, rolled his sleeves up the the elbows, and-
-and promptly turned to the right, steering away from the attractive employee and towards the counters of Macbooks as a much taller and more fit employee wandered her way.
"Here- you need help with that?" asked Mark, the very attractive and, as far as Robert thought, fairly rude prize of the shop. Figures. He would have his eyes set on Eliza, too; he'd already had sex with every other female employee in the store.
They began to talk, Rob focusing on one Macbook, running a routine cleanout of cookies and browsing history. He nearly rolled his eyes at the sight of the list. Facebook, Facebook, Google images: Johnny Depp, Twitter. Typical. Curious, Rob glanced over his shoulder and perked an ear.
"..be like this. Hang on.. What did you do?"
Eliza folded her arms across her chest crossly. "Do? I didn't do anything. Maybe some computer junkie hacked it. It might spread to the other computers. We should call the manager."
Mark's brow furrowed, and his large hand clicked harder on the mouse. "No, no.. I can fix it.."
"I'm sure you can." Eliza glared at the back of his head, causing Rob to snort slightly. The two both looked in his direction.
The first to speak was Mark. "Got something to say?"
Robert cleared his throat, glanced at Eliza, then shrugged. "Nope. No, looks like you're doing just fine." The hacked computers' monitor hadn't improved in the slightest. Mark didn't seem to catch the sarcasm, but frowned.
"Where's that accent from? Ireland?"
"Britain. I know, geography is pretty difficult. Almost failed it myself. Fifth year, tricky year. That's when they start adding multiplication to maths." Eliza smirked from behind Mark, whose expression hadn't changed. In fact, he didn't seem to notice the comment at all.
"Well.. Why don't you go back to writing poetry, Mike." Mark turned his attention back to the Mac.
"Robert."
"'Kay."
Clearly not the object of interest anymore, Robert shot Eliza a humoured look, and returned his attention to his computer quickly, as to not attract the need for help from any customer that slowly walked about the room and up the spiraling glass stairs. A moment later, the sound of echoing heels grew louder his way.
"Don't be so hard on Mark. I don't think he made it past fourth grade." Eliza leaned casually on the counter beside Robert, sliding her glasses to the top of her head. Rob smiled, seeming tired, and pushed the mouse away, having finished the cleaning. He leaned on the counter beside Eliza, watching Mark click dimly away. After a moment, she asked, "How long have you been here, anyway?"
"About... four years? Three? I can't remember. You know, I just... Love cookies." Robert grinned, jabbing a thumb toward the Macbook now left empty. Eliza smiled.
"More than writing?"
Robert blinked, a little confused.
"'Jared knew the clock was ticking- ticking away with each deep scratch the beast left on the doors that barred away his death...'"
Robert groaned. "Where did you get that?"
Eliza, seeming delighted, told him, "You left your e-mail logged in on the employee's computer. Writing and mailing the chapters to yourself on break? Seems a bit... obsessive, doesn't it?"
"Devoted," Rob replied cheekily. "But not obsessive."
"Call it what you want, English boy! Either way, I thought it was nice. Nothing like a good thriller to keep one up at night. Speaking of which... I've noticed lately... Are you alright?"
Rob waved his hand dismissively. "Yeah, yeah. Naw, just a sleep disorder I've been working on for a few... good... years..."
"...Rob? What is it?"
She followed his gaze, staring through the large glass windows of the Apple stores' front. An elderly woman, covered in ripped and blood-stained clothes staggered down the empty street at a crawls' pace. Before Eliza could respond, Robert lunged for the doors, out into the street, and slid to his knees as the woman fell before she could be caught.
"Ma'am? Ma'am! Are you alright?" Robert lay a hand on her shoulder as she rolled onto her side. Her eyes, grey and barren, stared lifelessly at nothingness. "Ma'am!" He shook her again, a little more roughly. He was lucky for his swift reflexes, as the elderly woman suddenly twitched violently, and leaned upwards to bite his arm. He pulled back, falling on his behind, and crawled a few steps back. At that moment, Eliza burst through the doors on her cell-phone, calling for an ambulance. But a loud groan made them both turn to look down the street.
More of them, like the woman, diseased and lifeless, moved down the street towards them at all paces. Limping, dragging, crawling... All manners of these contorted people moved forward, propelled by god knows what. Before he could gather his wits at this odd scene, more people- healthy, regular people- began to burst from shop entrances and over restaraunt gates, running in the opposite direction from these... Things. Standing, Rob looked around.
Eliza was gone among the crowd. The old woman was slowly rising to her feet, a hungry look in her eyes. Suddenly feeling strength in his legs again, Rob turned and ran with the crowd towards nothing.
People, everywhere, screaming, crying, yelling... Heading in every direction... Looking for somewhere to go, his eyes fell onto a sewer entrance and a man shouting. With no place else to go, Robert ran to the sewers, grabbing a shovel from a nearby sidewalk construction site as he ran.
I will be sending PM's to random players with more info, or if they find something 'interesting'
It's up to them whether they choose to share it or not ;)
Edit: ok, after re-reading them, I can't PM everyone so...
Please don't go into the sewers straight away! I'd prefer you to get into small groups, if you attempt to get in the sewer now, something bad will happen! >=[
Randolf as he sprints through the alley notices an old Kitchen knife sticking out from a pile of rubbish, not thinking twice he snatches it up, then in doing so, sees an envelope lying on the floor, taking it he stashes it in his pocket and heads out into the street.
The dessicated figures of the infected almost over-whelm him, frightened and confused he dashes into the relative safety of a nearby doorway. Inside he finds nothing but old furniture and several sinister bloodstains on the window-sill. He barricades the door and heads upstairs. Upon finding a convenient room, he settles down to examine the contests of the envelope.
Hmm, almost forgot about the knife, couldn't have had him wandering around normally with a kitchen knife like some sort of psycho.
Edit: ok, after re-reading them, I can't PM everyone so...
Please don't go into the sewers straight away! I'd prefer you to get into small groups, if you attempt to get in the sewer now, something bad will happen! >=[
Ah, okay. Well, I left my character 'running towards the sewers' and towards Shadedblade's character, so we might delay going inside? Or wait and see if more people join us for the sewers?
Edit: ok, after re-reading them, I can't PM everyone so...
Please don't go into the sewers straight away! I'd prefer you to get into small groups, if you attempt to get in the sewer now, something bad will happen! >=[
Ah, okay. Well, I left my character 'running towards the sewers' and towards Shadedblade's character, so we might delay going inside? Or wait and see if more people join us for the sewers?
Walking down the stairs, Tyler suddenly felt someone tackle him from behind. Reacting out of instinct, he grabbed their shoulders and began throwing them down in front of him. Seeing it was that girl he had kissed, he quickly adjusted his arms to slam her into him, knocking him down backwards on the stairs.
"What the hell are you doing?" he shouted over the noise. She broke free and turned to face him. She had medium-length brunette hair and deep blue eyes that he immediately fell in love with.
"Hey, if you have the balls to just kiss me like that, I think I can trust you more than any of these crazy people running around," the girl answered. "Can I please come with you?"
"On the condition that if we survive, you're having my children," he joked. Not wasting any time, she quickly planted a kiss on his lips.
"Deal. Now let's get going!" She got up and moved out of the way of the screaming, running college kids nearby.
Either I'm in some kind of movie, he thought as he stood up, or I'm the luckiest son of a ***** in the world. Grabbing her right hand with his left, he pulled the crowbar out of his belt and ran for the bike rack nearby.
You run towards a manhole, and see someone else had the same idea, but before you get the chance to speak, there is a loud beeping noise, you both see a truck heading towards you, the driver is slumped over the wheel.
You both dive out of the way into an alley. The truck crashing, blocking the manhole and your way back into the street.
You hear more screams, and weird moaning sounds. (zombies)
Options:
1. Help each other climb over the truck and back into the street where you came from.
2. Go down the alley and into the next street.
3. Something else. (something other than the 2 options)
Cargando:
You hear loud thumping and groans on the door downstairs.
Everyone else:
Continue writing your own.
[small]it's morning here now, so im going out for the day, will keep checking back, and will update again when i hear from Monkfish or Ciarang[/small]
Tracy stood over the copier, his sleeves rolled up and the front of his shirt stained with ink. His tie lay abandoned, draped over a cubicle wall just outside the door. He was suffocating enough as it was without that thing choking him to death.
He had been awake all night prepping copies. The first batch had failed due to no ink, the second due to the fucking thing breaking down. He had spent hours trying to fix it. In the end he had to give up and wait for the morning so he could phone the repair guy.
By the time it was finally fixed, half the day had gone by. Everyone was out to lunch, and he was still stuck there, trying to get the copier to do what he wanted it to and copy the damn memo so he could pass it out and go the fuck home.
Despite being such a rickity piece of crap, that damn thing had like a thousand different buttons. It was like the Hubble fucking Space Telescope. He didn't know if he was telling it to print a hundred copies or bake him a fucking muffin.
Running a disgruntled hand through his hair, he went around to the side and bent down to check if it was doing what he wanted it to.
Of course it isn't. Tracy thought to himself. No, who the fuck wants to print a boring old memo when you can print a pretty field full of flowers instead?
Muttering a curse under his breath, he took a step back and clutched the back of his head with interlocked hands before delivering a swift kick to the bottom of it's plastic frame. Causing it to promptly crash. Again.
"Oh, come on!"
Swearing profusely, he began to press buttons at random in the hopes that one of them would provoke a reaction. No such luck. He would have to wait fifteen to thirty minutes for lunch break to pass so he could get the tech guy to fix it. No way was he calling the repair guy again. The last thing he needed was some smug asshole looking down on him because he broke that raging piece of shit twice.
In the meanwhile, he might as well head outside for a smoke. He had been cooped up in that stuffy building all damn night. He needed the fresh air.
Grabbing his tie from the cubicle wall, he made his way over to the elevator and fastened it haphazardly onto his head, Rambo style. It wasn't like his boss was going to see him. Hell, even if he did, Tracy wasn't entirely sure he'd care. He was too tired to give a crap about anything.
Before he was even out the door, he had a cigarette in his mouth and was raising a lighter to the end. Stepping outside, he lit it and took a drag before blowing a puff of smoke up into the air.
Suddenly, he began to notice what sounded like female screams coming from an alleyway to the side of the building, and what sounded like the clunk of metal on wood.
Dropping the cigarette from his mouth, he ran to investigate. What he saw upon looking in was a hefty guy wielding a metal pole, standing over a woman's corpse and beating it violently as her limbs flailed out in death throes.
Without thinking, Tracy took the tie from his head and ran up behind the man, wrapping it around his neck in an attempt to choke him.
Unfortunately, it seemed he was just far to strong for him. After a small struggle, the man managed to toss Tracy off, but at the cost of his pole, which went flying off behind him.
Preparing himself for a beating, Tracy got up and readied himself to charge the man, when all of a sudden he flung his arms out in what looked like an expresson of pleading.
"She's the one that bit me!", the man cried, tears rolling down his face. "She's the one! She's the reason why I..."
Suddenly, the man's eyes widened and he fell to his knees, clutching his stomach. Howling in pain, he began to vomit blood and faeces everywhere. The smell was unbearable. Tracy had to work to stop himself from vomiting too.
With the man incapacitated, Tracy began to sidestep him in the hopes that he could get to a phone and call someone to come deal with this mess. He had just wanted a smoke, damnit. As soon as it was dealt with, he was going right home and sleeping for a fucking week.
Just as he got within reach of the man, he suddenly stopped howling and grabbed onto Tracy's leg with a vice-like grip. Resisting the urge to be sick, he glanced down to see the man looking up at him with eyes that were so filled with blood that they appeared to be entirely black.
"Uh, look, I'm, uh, gonna go find a phone and call an ambulance or something, okay? Just, uh, sit tight right here, and, uh..."
Suddenly Tracy was cut off as the man stretched open his mouth and pulled his leg towards it. Yelping in horror and disbelief, he flailed out his leg and kicked the man in the face, forcing him to loosen his grip so Tracy could escape past him.
Stumbling backwards as the man slowly rose to pursue him, Tracy spied the pole wedged between a wall and a dumpster. Grasping it, he swung it around to the front of him and held it kendo style.
"D-don't come any closer! I'm not afraid to use this! Stay..."
He was interupted as the man suddenly lurched towards him. Bracing himself, he raised the pole as high as he could and then swung it down as if to cleave the man's head.
It connected with a sickening crack, forcing the man onto the floor, where he began twitching uncontrollably. Still brandishing the pole, he backed slowly before turning to high-tail it out of the alley and towards the nearest phone.
As soon as he turned, however, he saw two others almost exactly like the man. Black blood eyes, and disgusting stains all over their faces. They both looked over and began to stumble drunkenly towards him.
"Wha... what the fuck is this?"
Raising his pole again, he charged the two and swung in the hopes that he'd knock down both of them. Thankfully, he did, and so he hopped over them and ran out onto the street as quickly as he could.
Only to see the street dotted with more of them.
Before they could take notice of him, he ran towards the front entrance of his office building. Dodging the few that were close enough to attempt to lurch at him, he reached the bulletproof glass doors and slammed them shut, slipping the pole into the handles to ensure that they stayed that way.
He took a moment to catch his breath before looking back out into the street. The... what were they? Zombies? Whatever they were were all beginning to gather about the door.
Clutching his forehead and digging his palms into his eyesockets, Tracy began to pace back and forth. What was happening? Who were those people? What the fuck was wrong with them?
"What the fuck is going on here?!"
***
BUH.
Christ, that was hard. I need sleep.
But am I going to get it? Nooooo.
Damn insomnia.
EDIT:
Ugh... Just reread all of that.
I sicken myself.
Buh. Just try to pretend it's written better, okay guys?
I'm so damn tired.
Eric entered the main campus building, dodging screaming people. He noticed two people, a big muscular guy with a rope and a crowbar, and a girl, who seemed calm.
He waved at them with his free hand as he approached.
"Hey! I'm assuming you're planning on getting out of here? If so, I should come with you."
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I've got all my creative juices flowing.
