Dead Man's Stretch - The Revival (OOC/Open)

[Cylarn]

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The Dead Zone: Worth the Trek?

"As we wrestle our way back into a state of normalcy, I'm certain that hardship will be a constant for us all. Look, we spent eleven years killing zombies and we became adept at it, but did we have to worry about making much money, or what bills we had to pay? We are rebuilding our lives anew, picking up the ashes and the memories to serve as a sort of cement. People who once had everything, now have nothing. Looters scavenging for deeds and legal records have stolen lives and fortunes, and how much has the government done? They're worried about the Laz coming up through the Mexican border, where they are making penal brigades stop the refugee flow. What I want to talk about is something else that concerns the government. Ever heard of the DZ?"

"It's the 'Dead Zone,' in case you haven't been watching the news. Several hundred miles of concrete walls, fences, guard towers, and two checkpoints - one in Bismarck, and Checkpoint Rivera on I-90 West in Montana. This thing was built in two years, starting in 2012 when the Military made its pushes. They used helicopters pulling bait, sound devices, and - depending on who you talk to - two-hundred cowboys and soldiers on horseback to herd a zombie horde into the target area that would become the Dead Zone. This horde numbered in the millions, and grew as they enclosed it within concrete walls. The only people left within the enclosed territory were a smattering of soldiers, squatters, and drifters; the Army didn't care too much about immediately culling the horde. Effectively, they made a 'Heart of Darkness' within the American interior."

"2017, and that's still the way it is. Derelict towns populated by their undead denizens, roving hordes scavenging for any living meal, hostile drifters and raider bands; this is the modern-day Wild West. To add to such a theme, newly-elected civilian President Stephen Nyquist and Congress announced the passage of the 'Reclamation Homestead Act:' the resettlement of the Dead Zone by way of land grants and migration. That's what should interest you - migration. The government is basically giving out land to whomever is brave enough to ride into the Dead Zone and carve out a homestead. They've even promised federal aid for safe-zones that can last longer than a year."

"If this sounds like it's up your alley, think carefully. One does not simply walk into the Dead Zone, lest they get torn to pieces, robbed, raped, and inflicted with every other act of violence under the sun. Settlers have to convoy up, like in the old days. The typical convoy is a mix of trucks, 4x4s, wagons, horses, and people on foot. Gas prices are through the roof, at least until the homesteaders can find oil deposits in the Rockies. The land is desolate, barren and a testament to our own destruction. There is strength in numbers, and strength in guns; this is a given that we all (should've) learned during the war. Drifting solo into the Dead Zone is a death sentence."

"If you feel up to it - or if you're just plain crazy - there's a convoy leaving Bismarck on the Fourth of July with the intention of setting up a safe-zone around where I-26 and I-94 intersect. They've got financing from a new oil company that just opened up - Brown Energy Incorporated. As of right now, the convoy's just embarking from its conceptual stage, in that they have some vehicles and personnel cobbled together, but they're looking to add on more. Indeed, assume that this is an open recruitment offer on their behalf. Expect a day-long trip at best, and a week at the worst; roads are still clogged from the evacuation traffic deathtraps from back in '04. When you get there, don't be expecting to prospect, either. You've got a home to set up."

"As I wrap up this article, let me touch up on what these 'safe-zones' actually are. They are not technically government facilities; these are private ventures for the most part. The Feds define a DZ safe-zone as: 'a fortified location consisting of at least forty-five individuals, with the ability to sustain itself and defend from attacks by the undead.' You're setting up a town, and you're defending that town from being overrun by the undead. We all know what happens when the undead get past the gates, so this part is actually harder than getting to the damn settlement. You gotta grow your own food and be able to gather water from a source - that means by farming, hunting, and even drinking out of a stream. Gotta keep order too, and keep the figurative and literal shit from stinking up the place."

"Well, that's it for my spiel. Like I said, if you're looking for a new start or some more 'adventure' in your life (like the past decade hasn't wetted your whistle), then head to Bismarck. The Army guys will point you in the right direction; just ask for the Brown Convoy. After that...you're on your own."

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What Is This?

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Yeah, zombie RPs are getting overdone, it seems. I mean, look at TV and movies. All you've got are the same unique bands of unique people in a land wracked by the undead. Somehow, a bunch of shambling corpses can bring about the total collapse of civilization, leaving the survivors to just...survive, for 90 minutes or seven seasons. While my RP follows in a similar vein, the difference is that society hasn't totally collapsed. In this next paragraph is a rundown of the revised history portrayed in this RP. If you are looking for supplementary information, here are some links to Return of Saturn, my original RP.

A highly contagious virus known as 'Laz' popped up sometime between '03 and '04, in Southeast Asia. Thanks to our connected world, Laz was able to gain a foothold on every continent and spark a pandemic that directly threatened public order and human existence in every nation on the face of the Earth. The current year for the RP is 2017, and although the virus has yet to be fully eliminated on a global scale, numerous governments have succeeded - with varying methods and results - in controlling the hordes as well as the spread of the virus.

Predictably, the United States of America managed to survive the ensuing bloodbath. Although the initial outbreaks prompted a widespread collapse of government control throughout many parts of the nation, American citizens managed to battle the hordes long enough for the major safezones - the West Coast, as well as the vast majority of the Appalachian Mountains - and the smaller holdout regions to establish themselves amid an almost-overwhelming occupation by the undead. With the mysterious death of the President and the de-facto abdication of power by Executive and Legislative Branches, the Joint Chiefs of Staff vote to declare themselves as the "Military Emergency Council," with full control of all foreign and internal affairs of the United States.

Predictably, harsher measures are imposed upon the refugee population. A draft is instituted, while "government-sponsored" militias and local emergency services are forced into the most difficult of situations, especially when deployed as rear-guard units for Regular Army forces moving east or west. A revolt at the Jackson Hole Refugee Center would lead to the creation of the Constitutional Defense Brigade, an anti-government force that would assume control over most of Colorado, and prove to be a shining example of American idealism. Compared to the almost-totalitarian military government, the CDB operated in a democratic manner with a strong emphasis upon civil rights and the "citizen-soldier" concept. Over the years of the war, the conflict between the government and the CDB would overshadow the Zombie War, at least on the West Coast. Notable warrior-poet Logan Armstrong would rise to become an enduring symbol of American civil rights, publishing several popular manuscripts and leading a successful guerrilla campaign against government forces.

The East Coast was a much different story, and although there were rebel groups active in this region, they were much less attractive and idealistic than the CDB. The Capitol was relocated to Asheville, North Carolina, where US troops established a strong military presence in the Appalachian Mountains, with a few port cities such as Norfolk and Wilmington and Portland secured by naval shore forces and Marines. An attempt by the racist Freedom Front to subvert government control in the Deep South was thwarted by the questionable activities of Armor officer Roy Scarlett. In 2011, following the defeat of the CDB at Aspen, government forces would enact a successful offensive retaking the entire United States, save for the region known as the "Dead Zone" and a number of minor "No-Go Zones" in major urban areas.

As of 2017, the MEC has been voluntarily dissolved by the Joint Chiefs, with the Executive and Legislative Branches reinstated via an official Final Order by General James Harkin. Elections were held at the close of 2016, with LA Safe Zone Director Stephen Nyquist elected President, with the American Constitutional Party holding a majority of seats in the Senate. Although some Americans protest the clemency granted to the MEC and military personnel during the war, most people are willing to embrace the return of normalcy, albeit more guarded than before.

The plot of this RP can be divided up into two different portions: the journey through the Dead Zone, and the establishment of a safe zone. The characters are a motley collection of survivors with different skills and stories, all bound together by the allure of wealth and opportunity in the Dead Zone. Some are running towards a new life; others are fleeing something. Every single one of them has witnessed firsthand the horrors of the Reclamation War, and it's likely that many - or all - of them have a military background and experience from the war. Marinate long and hard on what kind of character you have in mind, research what weapons they might prefer, and invent something unique.

As for the convoy, I will be opening an additional application for vehicles. Due to the current state of affairs, gas is expensive, which means that motor vehicles aren't the only methods of transportation present. Bicycles, horses, wagons, and foot traffic will all be common. The movement of the convoy is limited in this regard.

The Lazarus Virus, or Laz, is a highly contagious virus that infects and slowly kills a human being, only to reanimate them later as a seemingly-mindless automaton. There is no known cure or vaccine available,
and attempts to "bring back" zombies have only ended in failure. The undead are identified by the following attributes:

• Slow, somewhat poorly-coordinated movements. Extreme cases may not be ambulatory in any fashion.
• Attraction to loud noises, such as gunshots or yelling. The sensory abilities of the undead are not widely understood, though it's believed that zombies are blind, while sight, smell, and touch become the creature's primary sensory array.
• No active vital signs, blood circulation, or normal bodily functions. All zombies are clinically dead.
• Extreme aggression, desire to consume warm-blooded life-forms. It is not yet understood why the undead have a ravenous hunger.
• Highly resistant to all forms of damage save for fire, several cranial trauma, decapitation, rapid corrosion, extreme pressure, and certain varieties of chemical weapons.

The cycle of infection runs anywhere from one hour to twenty-four, and always ends in death and reanimation. The process is painful, and infected will exhibit the following symptoms are varying times:

• Sweating.
• Several tremors/muscle spasms after twenty hours.
• Expulsion of blood (vomiting, urination, etc) after twelve hours.
• Extreme anxiety ("the innate feeling that death is coming")
• Reddened eyes.
• Nausea and vomiting.
• Severe pain.
• Delirium.

In the changed world that we live in, many social attitudes and opinions have changed and stayed the same in different ways. When it comes to social aspects such as race relations, racism has largely fallen by the wayside, as the Reclamation War put many different Americans of many different ethnic backgrounds together, and made them fight a common threat. There is some prejudice against South and Central America, as Texas and Mexico are currently embroiled in a refugee crisis caused by a mass exodus of refugees from down south. There is a renewed sense of community, pride, and relief in the US, with most Americans participating, in some way, in an activity that supports their community, state, and/or nation. Jobs are readily accessible, as infrastructure and industries alike have a need to be rebuilt.

Although things seem well, the American population is growing nervous. Having lived under a military government for years, a number of constitutional liberties have been suspended in the interest of national security. This decision, made during the opening years of the war, ignited two medium-intensity civil conflicts in the Rockies, staged by anti-government groups and disaffected civilians. Although amnesty was offered and granted to many rebels, many people criticized the government for its handling of the largest rebel faction in the nation, the Constitutional Defense Brigade, at their headquarters in Aspen, Colorado. The so-called "Bloody Blizzard" of 2011, in which over a thousand rebel fighters were killed by government troops, has exposed the government to scathing criticisms.

Despite the hordes having been wiped out by the military, lone shamblers and isolated pockets of undead still wander around, though law enforcement have no trouble in identifying and eliminating zombies. That being said, a majority of adults either carry a weapon or keep one in close proximity, such to the extent that it's now commonplace to see pistol-toting pedestrians in almost every social environment. In rural areas, armed residents have formed militias for defense, in coordination with law enforcement, while private undead eradication units worked alongside police to eliminate the undead in urban areas. However, in certain areas such as military and government installations, airports and aircraft, weapons are tightly controlled and either are checked into the facility's armory, or in the case of aircraft and airports, securely stowed in a case and transported as a checked bag.

As for the state of zombies themselves, the government's official stance on zombies is that they are "...an immediate and ultimately destructive threat to the security and stability of the United States of America." In American society and culture, they are both reviled and touted as some sort of pop culture icon. In a way, they have become a part of life for average Americans, considering that for 8 years, America fought a destructive war for her survival. Zombie-hunting, for sport and for public safety, has become mainstream in popular culture, such to the extent that many popular media shows revolve around the undead. They are constantly the topic of comedians and others, who seek to permeate the otherwise terrifying visage of the undead.

Of course, there are grassroots political groups forming for the purpose of zombie advocacy. There are two main z-rights organizations, each with their own different ideals. The Liberation Society believes that zombies, while destructive, are more or less misunderstood humans, and thus deserving of a proper death. They vehemently oppose the exploitation of zombies, and with their ranks filled with semi-professional zombie-hunters, they advocate for the "Ameliorant;" the total extermination of all zombies from the face of the Earth. LS-sympathetic citizens and rising politicians often demand that the government begin an offensive in the "Dark Zone."

On the other hand, the Zombie Friendship Society sits on the radical fringes of the z-rights movement. Unlike the well-organized Liberation Society, the ZFS is a loosely-aligned amalgamation of various small z-rights groups with different perceptions on z-rights. The largest sect of the ZFS, the Lazarus Review, is a collection of scientists, doctors, and others who believe that the undead can be cured, and thus are opposed to the extermination of zombies outside of self-defense. Easily the most rational ZFS sect, they are responsible for the world's largest private initiative to discover a cure, second only to the WHO. However, unlike the respected Lazarus Review, the Church of the Doomsday Herald is considered to be a twisted criminal organization. Secretive in their activities and beliefs, the Church is a cult that views the undead as the heralds of Doomsday, and dozens of rumors circulate the nation about suspected necrophilia-related rites, human sacrifice, and the worship of obscure death gods. Although they are members of the ZFS, they bring a horrible stigma to the group.

DISCLAIMER: Proper credit goes to the respective creative minds who invented this information.
I am using it for my own pleasure, rather than for personal profit. Just wanted to throw that out there...along with the fact that I despise the Alphabet for no particular reason, and thus this information is not in alphabetical order. Go to hell if you disagree with me.

• ROAD FORT: Also referred to as a "laager," among other terms, road fort refers to a temporary fortification created with working vehicles. There is no set doctrine for road forts, though most follow the age-old wagon fort example of circling their vehicles whenever they come to a nightly stop.
• CORDONCOM: Created by the MEC just before the Transition, CORDONCOM is the joint-military/Homeland Security command apparatus overseeing administration and control of the Dead Zone. Though several bribery cases have tarnished the image of CORDONCOM's Resettlement Affairs Division, CORDONCOM's Ground Control Force is celebrated for its bravery and dedication to keeping the Dead Zone secure.
• JACKBOOT: A common pejorative for military personnel and police officers.
• HARKIN: General James Harkin; retired US Army officer and Chairman of the MEC. Widely criticized and praised for his actions during the war, Harkin managed to save face by dissolving the MEC and overseeing free and transparent elections for a new civilian government. Currently lecturing at Virginia Military Institute.
• 97.7 FM - THE DEAD HOURS: A government-funded and privately-operated radio station broadcasting out of Bismarck and encompassing most of the Midwest, though The Dead Hours caters more to the brave souls out in the Dead Zone. Music, news, survival tips, and comedy are featured at regular intervals.
• BILLINGS: A city in Montana, within the Dead Zone. Once a burgeoning city, Billings fell quickly to the infection and was buried under waves of undead. It has been identified by Army scouts to be a major hub of the undead. No human presence has been discovered within the city.
• BADLANDS: Along I-94 in North Dakota, crossing through towns like Beach and Medora will bring folks into the arid Badlands. Mobile hordes regularly cross through here on the undead path to Bismarck.

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Applications

Remove the parentheses, please.

Code: Select all

[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]

[b]Likes (Optional):[/b]
[b]Dislikes (Optional):[/b]
[b]Fears (Optional):[/b]
[b]Goals (Optional):[/b]
[b]Hobbies (Optional):[/b]
[b]Immediate Family (Optional):[/b]
[b]Pre-Existing Relationships with Other Characters (Optional; be sure to talk it out with other players if you so choose to):[/b]

[b]Birthplace:[/b]
[b]Nationality:[/b]
[b]Education:[/b]
[b]Role in the Convoy:[/b]
[b]Preferred Vehicle Placement:[/b]
[b]3 RP Samples:[/b]
[b]Basic Background (2 or more paragraphs):[/b]

[b]Primary Weapon:[/b]
[b]Secondary Weapon:[/b]
[b]Sidearm:[/b]
[b]Notable Equipment (What gear are you not caught dead without):[/b]


Code: Select all

[b]Vehicle Type (big rig, 4x4, etc):[/b]
[b]Carrying Capacity:[/b]
[b]Picture/Detailed Description:[/b]
[b]Armaments (If any):[/b]
[b]Defensive Modifications:[/b]
[b]Purpose (Think long and hard about this; a Ford Mustang would hardly fit in with a convoy traveling through perilous territory):[/b]


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Rules

The rules are rather self-explanatory, and if you have RP'ed with me before, I assume that you know how to maintain a proper level of decorum on NS.

1. As OP, my word is final.
2. My designated Co-OPs are extensions of my authority.
3. Be respectful in the OOC. If you have an issue with someone, bring it to me if you cannot resolve it.
4. Observe all standard RPing rules (no godmodding, powerplaying, etc).
5. Be realistic with your weapons. Are assault rifles common? You bet, but ammo is not so common - or constant. Each bullet is priceless, and spraying and praying will dry up your ammo reserves quickly. I expect y'all to research what weapons your character might be carrying.
6. Gonna make a vehicle? Make sure it has both feasibility and a purpose. Want to drive an up-armored ambulance with an improvised OR in the back? Write it up and make it work. An M1 Abrams? That thing has a jet engine, but even if it could run on regular fuel, it would just be an exorbitant drain of resources.

[Cylarn]

Reserved.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

You sexy being, Cy. Once more into the breach!

[Mincaldenteans]

Why hello -lurks-

[Cylarn]

Why hello -lurks-

You sexy being, Cy. Once more into the breach!

Hi-hi.

[Cylarn]

Right, I modified the character skeleton a bit. Most notably, I removed the "Skills" portion. Quite honestly, your bio should give me what I need, especially if it's a first-person account.

[Pax Nerdvana]

Tag. Will try to get an app up.

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

Sure.

[Pax Nerdvana]

Question. For RP sample, can I include links to RPs I've done in the past?

[Cylarn]

Question. For RP sample, can I include links to RPs I've done in the past?

Gimme-gimme.

[Rupudska]

Question. For RP sample, can I include links to RPs I've done in the past?

That's normally how it's done yes

[Pax Nerdvana]

Question. For RP sample, can I include links to RPs I've done in the past?

That's normally how it's done yes

Ok. Thanks. I'm putting together an app.

[Darksworth]

Name: Victor Ford
Age: 27
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Personality:

Victor is rather selfish, tending to look out for himself before others. Although he is willing to help if it's just a minor disturbance. team-work is an aspect he isn't too keen of but he can be cooperative.

He is also quite the glory/action hog. Choosing to do drastic and rash actions rather than the safe alternative, like diving straight into a Zombie horde with guns blazin' rather than go around. But a lil' bit' of a dominating and strict leadership can keep him in line.

He isn't particularly fond of people who chooses mercy over killing, seeing that his perspective of morality and goodness during the semi-apocalypse of the dead has been "disfigured". Although he has soft spots for the naive.

Likes: His Horse, killing Zombies, the sound of rain hitting windows and metallic objects
Dislikes: Z-rights activists, Zombies/Undead and Raccoons
Fears: Deep waters, darker-than-normal places, creepy dolls
Goals: N/A, Unknown
Hobbies: Hunting, Basketball, Participation in Zombie Hunting "seasons", occasionally shooting cans and bottles
Immediate Family: N/A, will be known throughout the RP
Pre-Existing Relationships with Other Characters: N/A

Birthplace: Hartford, Connecticut of the United States of America
Nationality: American
Education: Able to acquire Highschool Diploma
Role in the Convoy: Light Cavalry , Scout, Zombie clean-up, Diversion/Distraction Unit, Minimal Scavenging Unit
Preferred Vehicle Placement: Front and/or sides, outlying positions, rarely on the back
3 RP Samples: Maiden's Record, Intrigue in Court II and NS Hetalia (All under the same name, I'm also a new-ish nation so there might be little posts that I make)
Basic Background:

Born in Hartford, Victor wasn't an all too unique person. He was the only son of a family in poverty, his parents working hard to at least bring Victor out of the hellholes of debt and poor standards. Their funds was able to get him to enter into basic education, and even get him a diploma. But soon, his luck ran out. His Father died of untreated Ulcers, leaving his mother to take care of him.

Because if these events, he was forced to scour to other states for job, to keep his family alive. He landed work as a Horse tamer and trainer in Texas. Every earning he made is split between him and his family back home. Things started looking up in his life, up until the decade where the dead walked the Earth however.

He hurriedly packed up and stole one of the Horses that he took care of and got home when the news about the mysterious Laz infection started being volatile. But he was too late however, as he arrived to his house in a state of destruction. With no signs of his remaining family anywhere.

This changed him and his personality forever, losing his only family members to the horde. He soon made his way to a safe zone. Victor experienced a multitude of events regarding about the political atmosphere at the time before reaching the safezone, he saw firsthand of the establishment of the Military Emergency Council in the West Coast, along with the revolutions and formation of the Constitutional Defense Brigade. Victor served as a soldier in the Emergency Council, fighting back dead hordes and humans alike with the belief that the old government has what it takes to re-civilize the rest of the American homeland. He settled down after the waters has calmed down a bit' for a few months before volunteering to be in a convoy for settlers, heading to the dead zones and to bring the nation back into it's glory and avenge his family.

This is where his story begins.

Primary Weapon: Suppressed M1911 Pistol
Secondary Weapon: Makeshift Spear
Sidearm: Model-85 Taurus Revolver
Notable Equipment: Butterfly Knife, Police Baton, some ropes improvised as horse whips

Vehicle Type: Horse, specifically the Tennessee Walking Horse
Carrying Capacity: 140 kg, Less than 260 lbs
Picture/Detailed Description:

Armaments: N/A, the Rider does the killing. Unless you count the back and front-kicks the Horse does at times
Defensive Modifications: Padded-Leather Body Armor, Cloth blindfold, Horse Mouth Binder
Purpose: Single/Dual-man transport, rarely used for labour work (but still capable of carrying a small wagon)

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Reposting this, I'll fix some of the bits when I have a wee bit more time.

Name: Michael Swinton
Age (28-32): 31
Gender: Male
Appearance:

Personality: Michael is a jolly fellow, who likes to crack a joke in any situation. He likes to sing and dance, and knows how to play the guitar. His jolly nature is only his second one, however, one he slips in to feel more comfortable. In reality, Michael is deeply disturbed and disillusioned with the United States, and perhaps with humanity as a whole. He desperately wants to believe in the best of humanity, and he wants to believe they can achieve this, but he has seen quite a few things that would make him doubt this future. Comparing humans and zombies, he cannot help but see the violent nature of man and her creations, while seeing some value in the nature of zombies. This lack of respect for humanity he tries to hide, but it gnaws at him at every turn.
Skills: Combat and civil engineering, playing the guitar, gardening, soccer, combat-related tasks (first aid, usage and maintenance of firearms)

Likes: Nature, birds n’ bees, the outdoors, acts of kindness, the fresh air in his face, building towards a better future.
Dislikes: Humanity at its worst, random acts of violence, destruction
Fears: Death, civil life (in equal measure)
Goals: Helping build a new future in the Dead Zone, a new society where humans can live in harmony.
Hobbies: Soccer, gardening, and in absence of a garden, drawing
Sexuality: Bisexual
Immediate Family: None
Pre-Existing Relationships with Other Characters: Anyone up for this?

Birthplace: Waltham, Boston, Massachusetts
Nationality: American
Education: Primary, secondary, tertiary education in engineering (bachelor’s degree, without certificate for his master’s)
Role in the Convoy: Combat engineer, lead of the convoy, clearing the way
Preferred Vehicle Placement: On the Bison!
3 RP Samples: The three or more RP’s of you I’ve joined, Cy.
Basic Background:
25 December 2003 – 17 years of age
Christmas

Most honourable posterity,

Excuse me for starting my writings with such a formal note, but I did not know how else to begin. All beginnings are hard, so it is best to just choose a start and roll with it. So, honourable posterity, from this moment on I will be describing my life, my feelings, my emotions, to you. Perhaps future historians will find some use for this work, and if nothing else, it will help me get my thoughts in line. As for an introduction, I will try to explain to you why I am writing this, separated in three different categories. First, I have been thinking about writing something like this for a while. I have owned this booklet since Christmas last year, and a few months ago I found a metal strongbox to keep it safe in. I like writing, I like reading. Secondly, this Christmas was the final moral straw I needed. Remembering Christ, whose legacy survived the millennia, and seeing my family united, it was what drove me to writing down my knowledge.

And then, there is Laz. It was mentioned two times during diner today, and two times, the conversation died. There is an aura of fear in the air, everyone can feel it. We try to convince ourselves it isn’t a threat, that it will die out like so many other threats. However, people do fear it. What if it reaches the continental US? If not for this threat, will we survive the next? Or the next? Or the next? We may not survive this decade. I am keen to make myself survive, or at least my view.

4th of March 2004 – 17 years of age
Confirmation

FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.
Fuck.
I’m sorry, dear posterity. My mind may not be as organised as it usually is. I suffer from bouts of fear and anger, like everyone seems to do. My father shattered a glass with his bare hand, and tried to visit the GP. His office was closed, however. There seems to be an aura of general hysteria, but in total silence, which makes it all the worse. I went to school today, but only a handful of students had shown up. Only a handful of teachers, too. Nobody spoke, and there were just awkward, sideward glances every time ‘death’ or ‘disease’ was mentioned. We tried to discuss the Vietnam War in class, but Mr. Stevens broke down before he could finish. The streets are empty, the stores abandoned. I’ve seen a few people with bags filled with canned food. My mother two has collected a few cans, but everything was either sold out, or the shops were closed. After I came home, I went to my room, where I spent the rest of this day. Perhaps tomorrow, at breakfast, it will be better. For all clarity, I will repeat what news we got today: The dead are walking.

20th of March 2004 – 17 years of age
Peace

It is incomparable to anything I have seen before, the optimism that has flooded our country this month. The weather is much warmer than expected, as are the people. As if the dark clouds gathering have reminded us how nice the sun is. There is a complete silence on all channels regarding Lazarus. Whether nothing has happened or they are keeping it from us, I do not know. We do get some partial news regarding some areas of disease spread, but those are distant and in areas of poor hygiene. The UN has issued several proclamations, and all major powers have come together to find a solution. The optimism at the world stage is shared in our homes. My sister, my mother, my father, we have all been kinder. We’ve actually made use of the living room for a change. Normally mom and dad keep to the sofa, whereas my sister and I lock ourselves up. Now, we all read books, we enjoy conversation and apple pie, the first thing my mother has ever baked.

This week has been rife with parties and celebrations. Not directly the defeat of Lazarus, of course, but the smallest of reasons are taken to celebrate. Wanda from next door lost her first baby tooth. Celebrate. Half a dozen children in our street graduated middle school. Celebrate. Paul and Catharine are dating. Celebrate. Every celebration is the same: we make food from the massive stocks of canned food we bought earlier in the month. It’s amazing what you can make with canned beans, and the food never gets bland. I even met this girl at the graduation celebration, Elizabeth. Never knew she lived in my street, but she is as disappointed with Attack of the Clones as I am, which has to count for something. We can talk for days out near the old oak at the hill. I am certainly sorry for all the lost souls out in Asia, but here, at least, their death has not been in vain. Please, posterity, do not think worse of me for my writing. I am bound by a vow of honesty to you. Take my bad thoughts with the good, as that is history.

19th of May 2005 – 19 years of age
Revenge

What to say… It wasn’t great, but when compared to Attack of the Clones, it was amazing. Elizabeth and I can’t stop phasing out over the opening sequence, between the battle ships of the CIS and the Republic. They ruined Grievous, of course, but that can be forgiven. Man, I need some time to get my thoughts straight. Will come back to you tomorrow on that, posterity. If my record of that movie is the only one that survives, it has to be done properly.

Today I got the good news. I am accepted into MIT, school of engineering. I haven’t talked much about my interest in engineering, but I suspect it will have sifted through at some point. It’s a huge opportunity, and one I cannot afford to let go. Elizabeth has mixed emotions, that much I can see, but I won’t be half a country away. It’s still only a half an hour drive. Still, we won’t be living in the same street anymore, something I have gotten quite used to. However, this gives us an opportunity to take up letter-writing, something I’ve been wanting to do for years. I’ve given her a strongbox just like my own for safe-keeping, and asked her to keep my letters in there, for posterity. She found it all a bit weird, but she agreed. Her letters to me will be kept in this box as well, and I hope you found them with this box, posterity. If not, things won’t have worked out that well, I’m afraid. The relevant reason, in any case, will be disclosed in this writing.

The situation in the rest of the world seems to be deteriorating. No news outlet has given definitive answers. Some are blaming global warming, others a global political crisis, some are even calling it the end-times. Sub-Saharan Africa is in shambles. Large cities have erupted into battle grounds, with groups fighting in a free-for-all for all kinds of resources, including political power. The savagery has left many to wonder if the disease spread there, too. However, no-one can tell for certain. Authorities are asking us to remain calm, which is having the opposite effect. People are buying up cans of food again. I hope this will end like the last one.

12th of September 2006 – 20 years of age
A new beginning

Yes, a new booklet. Gifted by Elizabeth, the darling. As you most likely have seen, posterity: my last booklet ran out of paper, so we’re starting in a new one. I will have room for a few more of these in the strongbox, so we will be fine for about twenty more years. At least, if I survive that long. If I…

I’m sorry for the gloomy messaging, posterity. The news just arrived here that the first infected made their way onto US shores. The hysteria is complete. There have been riots, robbing and gang violence all along the Bay area. People are in total disarray, don’t know where to go. Is this normal? Should we go? Should we stay? The highways are clogged with people trying to get out. What do they know that we don’t? Luckily, we still have the canned food from last year, and some neighbours have banded together. They are beginning to dig tunnels and bunkers in their back yards. I find it all a bit much, to be honest, but there is an eerie atmosphere at the university too. The biological department has been requisitioned by the government, and various students have been scooped up for government service. So far, the engineering department is being left alone. Let’s hope it stays that way.

6th of June 2007 – 21 years of age
Fort Boston

New York has fallen last night. Everything seemed to be so safe there until the very end. Manhattan had been sealed off, the bridges had been blown… Somehow, a hoard got into the island. They murdered everyone before the government could deploy the Air Force, which then just started targeting the whole island, as if they wanted to let it sink. I was with my parents last night, and Elizabeth… We watched the One World Trade centre building collapse. It was the first time ever that I had seen my father cry. Hell it is the first time after the death of grandma that I cried in earnest. Everything seems so… hollow, now. What have I been studying for? There won’t be bridges to build after this. If all the power of the US government cannot stand up to the hoard… What can? Boston has been secured, largely, and there is a pretty sizable presence in the city. The navy uses Boston as a base for her carrier operations, and the marines keep the city safe. Our part of Waltham is just on the right side of the Charles river, the other side has been abandoned. We can hear machine gun fire at night, and jets fly over our heads constantly. It is hellish. Food only comes in cans, and it’s pretty scarce. There was another fight yesterday at the food office, and Mr. Stevens was hanged for stealing food.

Mr. Stevens was hanged for stealing food. I wish I could transport this sentence to my past self. Mr. Stevens, the loving history teacher who broke down while talking about the Second World War, committed a crime punishable by death. We don’t know what happened to his family. We don’t know what happened to his body: we heard rumours of funeral pyres, who can apparently be attended by anyone. No-one ever goes. Death is too present, we have no time to stand still at every dead individual.

25th of December 2007 – 21 years of age
Anniversary

Posterity, are you there? It came to me the other day… If time travel is possible, why won’t anyone come to save us? Has humanity been wiped out? Will we ever recover? I take solace from the fact that time travel is probably impossible, as Einstein predicted. I beg of you, posterity, in the name of all I hold dear, in the name of all humanity: if there is something you can do, do it. No amount of historical data is worth this amount of suffering. Grandpa and grandma died yesterday, thugs broke into their house and stole all their food. They ate the dog, too. I didn’t cry when I heard it. Dad didn’t, either. We have been blunted. The constant bombing, the distant burning of houses, the screams from across the river… It was all too much. We have been broken, our spirits have been burned. Classes continue, of course, but that seems to be some forgotten automation. Does the government even know that we’re still running? Is the government there? Is anybody there? We hear news of other fronts all the time, but are they real? Or is it all a trick? Are we the last humans alive?

15th of March 2008 – 21 years of age
Liberation

I did it. By God, I did it. I signed up. Some officer came into the university the other day asking for volunteers to join the engineers corps. I didn’t hesitate for a second. I can no longer stand Boston burn. My home, my family… I can do something for them. If I see what Paul sends home to Catherine all the time, I cannot help but feel pressured to do the same. Canned food, books, pictures, money, anything. The army seems to have it all. Elizabeth was heartbroken at my decision, and she still hasn’t really spoken to me since I told her. She too wants to do something, but with her leg… It’s impossible. Amputees can only serve administrative tasks, and those are all filled. Everyone tried to get away. And because we aren’t married, she cannot join me on that basis. God, if they still allowed marriages, I would’ve done it straight away. I’m still so young, but… The last weeks have done more to man me up than anything I could have imagined. They are giving me my bachelor’s degree next week, in honour of my service. My master’s will have to wait for my return.

16th of July 2008 – 22 years of age
Ascension

I met my platoon today. Kids from all over the country willing to fight, with one lieutenant who has seen some shit. They are from Harvard, from New York, from Phoenix… Everywhere and anywhere, really. They are not that different from MIT students, but they do have a lot of appreciation for my degree, something most of them don’t have. Lieutenant Harker, of course, is a certified engineer, but we don’t talk about that. He looks as if he helped construct the Eiffel tower. There is a spirit of comradeship here that I never found in civil society. We’re all here with a job, a mission. We’ll see it through, damnation. I can’t wait to hear what we are going to do next. We’re stationed at the foothills of the Appalachians, and there are rumours that we are going to blow every bridge between the major population centres. I don’t know how, but it seems that we’re finally going to make a difference. My optimism hasn’t been this high since the day I met Elizabeth.

30th of July 2008 – 22 years of age
No title today

Army retreating to New Brunswick. No time to write. Blowing up everything behind our retreat. Civilian exodus on-going. Feels biblical. Family safe. Elizabeth safe.

14th of August 2008 – 22 years of age
Return

Excuse my large lull in entries since July. The retreat has been quick, chaotic, and exhausting. The civilian exodus was without coordination, and without planning. We gave every large pack a GPS and tried to cover them with airplanes, but there were just too many hoards. We were driving around like crazy in the Bison, destroying roads behind us, and blowing all the bridges we could find. We lay mines, we constructed obstacles, all to keep ahead of the hoard. However, we have to rest, and the hoard does not. We and the other last units will cross the Great Bay tomorrow, and blow it all to bits. There, we will mount a defence. I lie here in an open field next to the Bison, writing for the first time. My hands feel course and rough, I have destroyed so much. I sometimes think there should be an oath for engineers: first, destroy no buildings. My platoon seems to like it, however. Berkley has come into his own as our driver, and we are treating it like a road-trip. Thomas was gone over the edge. One day, he walked into the forest and disappeared. We’ve heard more about people like him in other companies, mostly in the infantry. However, we have done our share of fighting. My family has found a safe stop to travel, in the middle of a Humvee convoy. They will be taken to New Brunswick in safety.

15th of August 2014 – 28 years of age
Reclamation

We’re going back, baby. Sitting here, on one of the bastions we constructed when we last crossed the Great Bay, it seems only yesterday that we crossed. How much have we done since then? I remember being all over the country. The engineer corps was flown all over the nation, wherever we were needed. Lesser educated members could do the things we had been doing for years. I have overseen the construction of roads and railways, fortified buildings, complexes, holding facilities, bunkers… We adapted. With a few others, I am now a leading voice in reclamation engineering, and that at the age of 28! If this somehow becomes a master’s degree, I will probably the first to attain it. I guess not, though. This is the first time, however, that I thought about the future in a long time. The Hoards are being pushed back big time. With the help of new weapons, straight from the labs of the best and brightest, we can easily push back our foes. Heavy clouds of gas drift before us, and hopeful civilians follow in our footsteps.

God, we did shoddy work when we got here the first time. I will attach a list of all the things I did wrong here, for future reference. These walls were built to withstand military attacks, not the Lazarus. How much more we know now. A pontoon bridge, which used to take us two days to construct, is now up in two hours. We are a well-oiled reclamation machine. I can’t wait to get back to Boston. We will be defending the area for a while until the other armies can catch up with our rapid advance. In that time, I can search for a new house with Elizabeth. I still look at my ring with pride. In the harshest of circumstances, we stayed loyal, and we stayed together. This can only get easier.

30th of September 2014 – 28 years of age
End

My writing ends here. I hope posterity will find some use for it. I am done. Last remarks: Boston was hard to defend. Measures were taken. I regret ever standing behind them. Too late for that now. I can’t stay here anymore. I was honourably discharged. Will go west. See if someone will have me.

Kind regards,
Michael

Note from me (James):

Michael found it hard to cope with the loss of his family, both his parents and Elizabeth, and their unborn daughter. Civil society would not have him: engineers that had not signed up for military service had far more experience in his age group. Veterans were shunned as instable, nobody would take them on. After three year of trying to get a job, three years of failing to fit in with civilian life, feeling very little motivation to do so, Michael found his way into one of the expeditions into the dead zone.


Primary Weapon: M27 IAR
Secondary Weapon:
Sidearm: Ruger Vaquero
Notable Equipment: Shovel, pickaxe, bayonet, binoculars, measuring equipment, all sorts of engineering gear

Vehicle Type: Combat engineering vehicle (Buffalo-H)
Carrying Capacity: 5 tonnes
Picture/Detailed Description:

Armaments:
1 × 7.62mm PKT coaxial general-purpose machine gun (2,000 rounds)
1 × 12.7 mm NSVT heavy machine gun (300 rounds)
Defensive Modifications: Has a little patch of geraniums on the front, cared for by Michael
Purpose: Clearing the way, building defences, helping with construction once reaching the safe-zone

[Cylarn]

Right, so I'm thinking that to force order upon everyone, I'm going to designate what vehicles we're going to need. There will be NPCs that will be available for assistance, and given your standing in a particular vehicle, you might have command over them.

• Tanker Truck, for transporting the valuable liquid elixir that keeps the convoy running.
• Supply Vehicle; feel free to elaborate on what kind of vehicle it might be.
• Ambulance; again, feel free to elaborate.
• Miscellaneous Transport Vehicle x 3
  {*]Gun Truck; elaborate.

-snip-

Gimme more about him. Those handful of words you put for your personality will not suffice.

-snip-

I'll allow it.

[Darksworth]

Gimme more about him. Those handful of words you put for your personality will not suffice.

Edited it boss'

[Pax Nerdvana]

I just accidentally deleted my app. I'll have to redo the whole thing. I'll try to grt it up by tommorow.

[Cylarn]

-snip-

No worries. You've got time.

[Pax Nerdvana]

-snip-

No worries. You've got time.

I know. I'm just mad because I spent 45-70 minutes on it.

[Darksworth]

Hey Cy, am I accepted yet? You might have not seen it but I have edited my app form

[Pax Nerdvana]

Right, so I'm thinking that to force order upon everyone, I'm going to designate what vehicles we're going to need. There will be NPCs that will be available for assistance, and given your standing in a particular vehicle, you might have command over them.

• Tanker Truck, for transporting the valuable liquid elixir that keeps the convoy running.
• Supply Vehicle; feel free to elaborate on what kind of vehicle it might be.
• Ambulance; again, feel free to elaborate.
• Miscellaneous Transport Vehicle x 3
  {*]Gun Truck; elaborate.

-snip-

Gimme more about him. Those handful of words you put for your personality will not suffice.

-snip-

I'll allow it.

What about scout vehicles?

[Nature-Spirits]

Hmmm.

Hmmmmmmmm.

Okay but keep it alive this time.

[Pax Nerdvana]

I have my app(finally). I'll get vehicle app in tommorow or so.

Name: Jack Calhoun
Age: 37
Gender: Male
Appearance: tall and muscular, brown hair and eyes, scar above right eye, 200 lbs, 6'1, round jaw, medium sized nose
Personality: quiet, unassuming, intelligent, a bit of a loner, cautious, likes to think things through, calm, a bit cynical, can seem a little emotionless and cold to people he doesn't know, slightly paranoid.

Likes:hunting, fishing, the outdoors, mechanical things, and reading.
Dislikes: zombies, rash action, zombie supporters, politicians
Fears: small spaces, idiots
Goals: adventure, eliminating zombies, and settling the Dead Zone.
Hobbies: reading, hunting, fishing, camping, and various other pursuits.
Immediate Family: N/A
Pre-Existing Relationships with Other Characters: N/A

Birthplace: Meyersdale, PA
Nationality: American
Education: College degree in mechanical engineering.
Role in the Convoy:
Preferred Vehicle Placement:
3 RP Samples:
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=425185
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=428662
viewtopic.php?f=31&t=427653
Basic Background:
Jack Calhoun was born into a world without zombies. He was born in 1980, over 20 years before the Laz struck. His mother died in a car accident in 1983, leaving his father to raise him alone. His mother's death changed his father, though of course, Jack didn't realize it, being three at the time. He was an only child. At age 8, his father took him fishing on a nearby stream, for the first time. When he was 13, his father took him hunting for the first time. Both of these things shaped him. He became obsessed with hunting, fishing, and other outdoor pursuits. Around the same time, he began to read a lot as well. On his 16th birthday, Jack's father gave him a sporterized Springfield '03, for hunting.

In 1998, he graduated high school, and went on to college. He went to Penn State and graduated with a degree in mechanical engineering. When the Laz outbreak occurred, he was working in an auto shop in D.C. He barely made it out of the city. He fled back to Meyersdale, which survived in good condition. Escaping D.C. left him with paranoia and an intense hatred of the undead and the zombie supporters who don't what it's like to barely escape from a zombie infested city. In 2007, he was drafted to help combat zombies out west. This was not enough to satisfy his thirst to kill the undead.

In 2015, his father died of an unexpected heart attack. His father was one of his last surviving relatives. His father left him everything, which he gave most of it to people in the town with the assurance that he could claim it if he returned. He only kept his father's hunting knife, truck and a few other small items. When the government opened up the Dead Zone, he jumped at the chance to colonize the Dead Zone, kill some zombies, and have adventure and the chance to make a little money.

Primary Weapon: Sporterized Springfield '03, scoped, 30-06, scoped, full magazine capacity
Secondary Weapon: Machete
Sidearm: Newer Colt Peacemaker, revolver, .45 cal
Notable Equipment (What gear are you not caught dead without):
Swiss Army Knife
Toolbox and tools
his father's hunting knife
Army surplus canteen
Matches

[The Knockout Gun Gals]

Name: Jessica Bell
Age: 34
Gender: Female
Appearance: Jessica Bell
Personality: Nice and friendly, nevertheless the toll of her father's death still affects her emotional side, and she pursues the belief of unwillingness to kill because she is there to helps and saves people, not kills people.

Likes (Optional): Helping people, building a better condition for the humanity.
Dislikes (Optional): The unnecessary needs of killing.
Fears (Optional): Killing. She fears that she won't stop killing if she did it once.
Goals (Optional): Put the citizens in a better life in the post-apocalypse conditions.
Hobbies (Optional): Reading, writing.
Immediate Family (Optional):

Albert Bell (70), father, dead.
Naysilla Bell (67), mother, alive.
Jason Bell (28), first brother and middle child, last heard was in Anchorage.
Mark Bell (20), second brother and the youngest, member of Church of Doomsday Herald.
Pre-Existing Relationships with Other Characters (Optional; be sure to talk it out with other players if you so choose to): N/A

Birthplace: Anchorage, Alaska
Nationality: American
Education: College degree in Health.
Role in the Convoy: Doctor, medical side, anything medical. Science, too.
Preferred Vehicle Placement: Ambulance
3 RP Samples: More than we both can count, Cy. Even with that Vampire RP.
Basic Background (2 or more paragraphs):

Born in Anchorage on November 19th 1983, her parents were came from upper-class society, her father worked at Abbott Laboratories as one of its most prominent scientists, while her mother was a businesswoman of several fashion-based businesses in Alaska. She was the eldest of her siblings, and yet she gotten herself the best in spite of being the eldest. She was enrolled into University of Alaska Anchorage. It was at this time that she developed the unwillingness to kill personality. All was well until Laz happened, in which she was just into two years of entered the university. Nevertheless, she spent another two years in the college.

With her father's connections they managed to went into one of Abbott Laboratories' bases in the East Coast, and despite the early days of aided the government, later on they became part of Lazarus Review with her father as one of the high-ranked scientist in the organization. She continued her tutelage in the Abbott's and after graduated with those home-schooled-like courses, she was put on the efforts of the cure. She also received military training under the order to made sure she survived the harsh realities of the new world, where even the government couldn't aid properly. She obliged, despite her reluctance. Mostly out of pragmatism and realization of the same harsh truth. She continued her works until mid-2015 when her father's death took the toll of her emotional side. Therefore losing the motivation, she quietly resigned and turned her works as a doctor as a means to helped people more personally and to took off that emotional side from the stresses.

On late 2016, she was recruited into the Brown convoy as they need someone with a medical background while on a journey to the Dead Zone.

Primary Weapon: HK UMP
Secondary Weapon: HK45
Sidearm: Hatchet
Notable Equipment (What gear are you not caught dead without): First aid kit, medical bag.

Vehicle Type (big rig, 4x4, etc): Ambulance
Carrying Capacity: Five people (two people on the front, three people on the back)
Picture/Detailed Description: Ambulance
Armaments (If any): It's armored. Other than that, N/A.
Defensive Modifications: Armor. Additional protections on the sides and the bumper and the back.
Purpose : Medical assistances of any kind. Emergency and first-aid response

[Rupudska]

Name: "I'm Fubuki Hayakawa, but friends and Marines can call me Bucky. When I was a Marine, I finished a Captain."

Age (28-32): "I'm 28 years old."

Gender: "I'm a girl, asshole. I'm not that flatchested."

Appearance: "There I am. All 5 feet, 1 inch, and 112 pounds of me. I got a full arm tattoo of the Winter Soldier's mechanical arm on my left arm, with the bird, ball, and hook in the red star."

Personality: Psychological analysis reveals her to be completely fit for duty, though there are a few things keeping her from being a truly 'perfect' Marine. But then, in this day and age, who is perfect? Has a bit of a Napoleon complex, tends to overcompensate a bit, due to her small stature and small breasts. Willing to fight, which she is good at so it's okay. Hot tempered and blunt almost to the point of rudeness. Unshakable loyalty to those she considers friends. Compulsively refers to 'zombies' as 'Zulus'.

Skills: "I'm good with guns. Accurate, too, though I do best with ARs and pistols - I was in the Marine Raiders after all. Never really done well with shotguns. Too much kick. Good with a knife too, or a shortsword, which I've used ever since I got it. Though being only a foot long... it's really more of a bg dagger. I'm in great shape for my size, too. You could sharpen swords on my stomach it's so flat. I speak perfect English and Japanese, of course, and I've picked up enough Leaf French to be good at that too, though I imagine I'd sound like a New World country hick to any actual French speakers. And I'm a perfectly good and reasonable driver, no matter what Captain Torres may have told you. He's a pussy who can't handle anyone who drives harder than a grandma. Not my Baa-san of course, she drives like she thinks she's Stirling Moss."

Likes: "Good beer, good weed, good steaks. America. The great outdoors. Girls. Coffee. Books." And the CDB. But hell if I'll ever tell anyone that before they're pardoned.

Dislikes: "Cigarettes. Used to smoke 'em, but when smoking one ended up getting Major Kira nailed by a Zulu, I stopped cold turkey. Senseless violence. Raiders. Fuckin' raiders."

Fears: "Death. Silence. Which usually accompanies death." Captain Hayakawa has expressed concern privately with me that since her PTSD has not revealed itself yet, it may hit her all at once. I have assured her that it does not work that way, but this hasn't stopped her from worrying about it.

Goals: "I want to see the Dead Zone cleared of Zulus. I want to be there to see the last one get a bullet between the eyes. Better still if I'm the one to do it. And... well, I guess I want to see America return to what it's supposed to be afterwards."

Hobbies: Baseball, drawing, tinkering
Sexuality: "32.6% gayer than Paris in springtime."
Immediate Family: Father, Yusuke Hayakawa (54) and mother, Haru Hayakawa (56), both currently living in Japan, however originally from Portland themselves. Had three sisters - Makoto, Yukari, and Konata (23, 25, and 28 (fraternal twin) respectively) whose status are currently unknown, last she heard they were making the trek to Japan via Alaska as the cross-Pacific routes had been halted at that time.
Pre-Existing Relationships with Other Characters: Anyone want to have grown up in Oregon or served in/with the Marines in Alaska and the Pacific Northwest?

Birthplace: Portland, Oregon
Nationality: Japanese-American
Education: Planned on going to the University of Oregon, ended up in the Marine Corps, for obvious reasons.
Role in the Convoy: Rear guard, food/command/communications truck - comes from having the biggest truck
Preferred Vehicle Placement: Her own vehicle thx
3 RP Samples: lolno
Basic Background: "I was born in 1988 in Portland, Oregon. Mom was a doctor and Dad an ex-Marine professor of history at PCC. Back then, Portland was already developing the reputation it'd be famous for by the time the Zulus hit - that is, the Pacific Northwest's center of weirdness. Not a bad place to grow up in, to be honest. I don't remember, but I was told later on that Mom kept complaining that the doctors were doing things wrong while giving birth. That and screaming. I was a big baby. Ironic, no?"

"Elementary school passed by in a bit of a blur. I made one good friend by the name of Kelly Stevensen, but she moved away shortly before we entered middle school. That was not a good graduation party for me. In middle school, at least in sixth grade, the shock was bad enough that I had a bit of trouble getting any friends. I still don't? Fuck you. I've simply become more... selective in whom I choose as a friend. And I got better at it by ninth grade anyway."

"I worked my ass off getting in shape and getting the grades decent enough to ace the ASVAB, and I can confidently say I passed both with flying colors. I would've been infantry from the start had they let me, but I started out in 5-ton trucks. Unfortunately, I saw less than a week of Iraq before we got called back - Zulu had been spotted in America, and it was spreading fast. Too fast. Washington fell apart - both the state and the city - and within the year we were under martial rule. As necessary as it was and while being a member of the side with the boots, I can't say I ever really approved of it. Accepted yes, but not approved. We were put in Alaska and told to stabilize Anchorage, then head north to Fairbanks."

"Boy was that a ride. One of the rainiest years in decades, and everything was slowed down in the mud and rain and thunder except the Zulus. I recall there were more than a few times when the Chair Force fucked up their coordinates and hit civilians. About three months in the Marine Gods relented and let me into the infantry - it was too damn muddy for five-tons anyway. We took Anchorage, but it took a full month and a half longer than expected, and by then we were in the highs of the Alaskan summer. Now we had to deal with mosquitoes the size of Super Hornets in addition to the damned Zulus."

"For an empty wilderness there sure were a lot of Zulus up there in Alaska. But even Fairbanks was nothing compared to what would come later. By the time we were finished clearing the Zulus from Fairbanks, we had completely stabilized Juneau as well. After a few bombing runs. But we were sent back south to help the Canucks retake British Columbia from a group that claimed to be trying to 'help' the Canadians and us Americans 'deal with' the CDB, but really they were just a bunch of Cascadian separatists who had a hard on for the permanent revolution, namely the 'revolution' part - Vancouver was their capital. And as thanks for my not dying, getting injured, or going batshit insane once during the Alaska campaign, I was offered a position in MARSOC. Considering my height, I think they were just desperate."

"Our mission wasn't the glorious spy-hunt or leader-hunt that the campaign against the CDB was espoused as. No, the MARSOC was sent there to fuck up their infrastructure, spook their troops, and cause as much chaos as possible. We torched their camps. We bombed their factories, threw tear gas on their formations. One buzzboy in an F-35 even managed to kill their then-leader and a bit of their upper organization by flying into their capital, Vancouver, in broad daylight, and planting a JDAM in his crotch. That was an interesting day - we were halfway to Vancouver at the time and I had just called in a napalm strike on a hunkered-in defensive line. They were trying to copy the CDB with tactics, but the Cascadians were smaller, weaker, and not as well-organized. Personally I just think it was because communism is inferior, but you think what you want."

"But Vancouver held on just as long and just as hard as Aspen. What killed it wasn't snow, but fire. A month after the Bloody Blizzard ended, Vancouver still held and SECNAV was getting pissed that the Army had finished with the CDB and we couldn't take out 'a bunch of maple syrup slurping commie moose jockeys' as he so eloquently put it. Not for lack of trying. The damn Cascadians had blockaded the entire city in concentric rings around absolutely nothing, and we had no idea where their headquarters actually were. They put up blockades, we rammed them with tanks and got IED'd in half for our troubles. Then we started playing dirty. I distinctly recall a five-ton being loaded up with C4 and rammed into a particularly thick blockade. We started using molotovs in addition to grenades. Tanks being used as diversions while we wrapped around and shot our enemies in the back, or stabbed them in their sleep. Torching buildings just because we thought there were Cascadians or Zulus in 'em - Cascadia never was good at dealing with 'em. Someone higher up than any of us actually tried to call in a nuke, but that obviously wasn't going to happen."

"So we broke out the old high-explosive bombs, pulled out, and decided to just burn Vancouver to the ground. Needless to say, it was a hell of a lot faster than a ground war. People were pissed, but by then most non-supporters of the Cascadian 'government' had either gotten the hell out of Vancouver or had committed suicide by two high-caliber bullets to the back of the head from extreme range for trying. And to be damn honest, I was just glad it was over. What was left of my unit drained every beer we still had in celebration, while eating some wild game we had found on the way out - I think it was deer, but I was so blitzed I can't remember."

"After that, it was just mopping up the rest. Before Vancouver I had entertained ideas of joining the CDB, but we didn't find out until after Vancouver got roasted that Aspen had fallen. And by then, there was just no damn point. I stayed another few years in MARSOC, being transferred to the South to give those Freedom Front fucks a kick in the nuts they so richly deserved. I was there when the 3rd Infantry stomped all over Tuscaloosa to finish them off. The beer wasn't as good then."

"From then until when I retired in 2016, MARSOC had me all over the country mopping up smaller and less relevant organizations that were either resisting the American government's attempt to reorganize itself, resisting America in general, or just trying to be little shits. It was fun, but by 2016 I had had enough, and I think my CO thought so too."

"I retired honorably, and eventually found my old truck. I've worked as a truck-for-hire since, adding on parts here and there to it since. I just got hired to be rear guard for a Brown Convoy, and ended up meeting some very interesting motherfuckers. Fancy me, I expect this will be an interesting ride."

Primary Weapon: FN SCAR-L CQC
Secondary Weapon: Wakizashi shortsword
Sidearm: FN FN-S 9mm
Notable Equipment: Camelback, Scalable Plate Carrier, red and gold paracord bracelet, bunny boots (which she keeps in the truck usually), first aid kit, ice axe,
Leatherman supertool, leather wallet, $116.04 cash, Zippo with "Zulu Can't Surf If He Ain't Got Legs" on one side, and "LT HAYAKAWA" and a gun truck on the other. Marine Raiders patch.

COLOSSAL FUCKER

Vehicle Type: Gun trukk
Carrying Capacity: 15 tons.
Picture/Detailed Description: Imagine if tactically minded Orks got their hands on an M934 Expanding 5-ton Truck. The body has been 'expanded' to full and the walls removed, replaced with a gun turret wielding a single Ma Deuce at the front corners and barbed/chicken wire fencing protecting the rest of the outer section, with the exception of the rear corners, which feature scrap metal gun slits. The expanded outer sides have a chicken-wire roof with a solar-powered LED spotlight at each corner. The inner section, narrow as the rest of the truck, is armored with scrap metal and has a few seats, a galley, and a wireless transmitter along with electrical cords and a few plugs for laptops, phones, and other communication equipment. The top is a retractable tarp, and the back has a slit in it for pair of M2 Brownings dual-mounted to each other. An M240 is mounted to the gunslit that protects the passenger's seat. The entire truck is painted red with black-and-white checker patterns running along the sides. The front is protected with the thickest and hardest scavenged parts forming a cow catcher of sorts, with Ork Teef at the top as decorations. Snorkel on the passenger side for water fording. Features a Super Saiyan Goku super-glued to the dashboard. There's a CB radio in the cabin, and the engine has been turbocharged and hybridized with a 16-inch electric motor and a battery set underneath the cabin, which is partially charged by a solar panel on the cabin roof. It also has a pair of turbochargers and a nitrous tank - 'for emergencies' the switch for the latter is labeled. Bucky refuses to state whether or not she has ever attempted to drift the thing.
Armaments (If any): See above: 2x single-mount Browning M2 machine guns, 1x dual-mount, 1x M240 machine gun.
Defensive Modifications: Scrap metal armor from various sources, the front is protected by bits of an M1 Abrams, while the sides are mostly other trucks.
Purpose: It's a multipurpose gun trukk.