Hat Trick

I've never been particularly fond of hats. They tend to mess up my hair and aren't particularly fashionable in any context other than sporting events or funerals.

The day before yesterday though I managed to pull a little trick out of one. It began in Mitchem Mall in Vinetown. I'd considered doing a little scouting around to see what I could find in the suburb when I stumbled upon Droopliss sleeping peacefully in the north west corner. I left him a little note thanking him for sparing my life back in that junkyard in Pimbank when he found me as a zombie and wandered off looking for...well do I need to say it?

Whatever it was, I found it in Caunt Street PD. Two zombies had shambled in from the warming streets and had started to feast. I sat down and watched for a while, taking reading a magazine article about the Columbine Kids. At last I saw a decent opportunity.

DeathLemur, a scared pureblood zombie had been cruelly revived and in his confusion, ran into the PD. The poor thing was nearly dead.



And so, I sent him back to his zetheren.



The zombies had been working hard on their meals, but it would seem their eyes were bigger than their stomachs and they gave up on eating Darth Ozy 4th.

I decided to try and help him out. I grabbed my trusty rubber gloves and began to operate.



Unfortunately he died on the table, right after I'd performed a ketchupectomy.



A bit dejected I wandered northwards. I considered going back to the mall to hang with Droopliss but I'm not fond of backtracking, besides I had new and unfinished business in Pitneybank.

Ah but I simply could not resist this before wandering off:


And so I slept quite soundly in one of the buildings in northern Vinetown, pleased with my Hat Trick and wondering what tomorrow would bring.

I awoke ready to travel and restock. On my way to the police station, I ran into a friend of a friend.

DeadHead17 knew Chrisman. In fact, I believe the two are related. I thought it was only polite to drop in and pay him a visit.





He even got a lovely photograph out of it. However, it would seem he wasn't too pleased with my dropping in unannounced. I think I'll keep all these delicious muffins and send him a canned vegetables hamper instead.

Down the Beckoning Streets of Opportunity

Those of you who have been following this log will have noticed all the signs of itchy feet. I am easily enticed to seek out new places and to find new faces to shoot.

I began this mission with strict purpose to deter individuals from killing at revive points. I've still done quite a bit of that. But along the way, there have been quite a few chances I've been simply unable to pass up.

Yesterday one of those landed in my lap. I was sitting in an auto-repair shop in West Grayside, bored out of my mind and considering moving north again to see what fun could be found in Roftwood. After an eager and youthful scout popped in and informed us all that there was a "small horde" two blocks north eastish, I knew I couldn't stand to spend the night in this place, knowing that the young ones around would run away at the hint of danger or stay locked away, ignorant of the RRF and their brutal "no prisoners" methods. I decided to make a move north eastward when I stumbled upon an Auto repair shop that was barely barricaded. After little deliberation I decided that I would hang out for a while and watch the 'cades. See if they would come down at all. Hey, action is action.

So I nodded off. When I awoke, I found a zombie had broken in and infected me.



As I had expected, Bobnik was an RRF zombie. If you'll remember correctly, I offered my services to them over in Roftwood only to be taken to near death later on by the same organization. If this is an indication of how they treat their allies, one can only assume they dispatch with those that would oppose them with doubled hostility.

So, with little trepidation I killed Bobnik.



I felt worse for dumping him, knowing that he'd have to work through the barricades again to get a meal. On the bright side, he didn't get a headshot. So better me than that Unintelligent fellow. Although, that single action earned me a valuable new skill:



Poor Dr Occult didn't stand much of a chance faced against the RRF. His survival rate was less than zero now though.


I see it as a mercy killing. He copped a bullet before he could be shredded to pieces by the hungry hordes ready outside. I don't think he'll thank me for it though. Bob knows Samuel 034 didn't. Nor did Chrisman17. Come to think of it, no one has thanked me. What a bunch of ungrateful bastards. Someone should really teach them some manners...Oh wait...

So, I added two more individuals to the "ungrateful dead" list. Still nursing my infection and bleeding all over the place, I wandered off into the darkened streets in search of first aid.

I'm thinking Pimbank might be more fun the second...er...third? Time around. Especially now that I can diagnose the extent of an injury at a glance.

Banana Republican

I've been in West Grayside for a couple days now. It seems like a pleasant suburb. I stopped by Pole Mall the day before yesterday and stayed the night. When I awoke I noticed a friend had left his calling card. Fancy running into Mister LeGrande again! I am loving South Central Malton!

Anyhow, after a little picking through the mall and finding nada, I decided to take a bite out of yet another friend through secretive channels, The Dancing Banana. He tasted a little funny though.



But you see, like cows, bananas can be spooked. All it takes is the wrong sort of music and BAM! You've got yourself a sour banana. I followed a faint tinny sound to a sleeping young man by the name of Cobra13.



Obnoxious technology. Ipods are becoming much like cellphones and those horrid ring tones.

So I shot him.



And promptly dispatched with the horrible din.

Alas I have no bananas today. But I did manage to find a foe.

Ming the Merciless was begging me to take him on. Unfortunately for him, his bark was worse than his bite.



Alas, we have no Ming The Merciless today.



And so another villain falls upon the heap of decomposing biomatter to seek out the flesh of the living or perchance to join the queues forming in the streets that seek life once more.

This could be a whole new career move for him though.

Scenes from a Mall

It was Valentine's Day and I was feeling flirty. I'd been hanging around this mall for a few days, checking out the local stock of young, burley looking men and even finding a kindred spirit or two.

Saint Valentine was decapitated for refusing to deny christ. And what sort of god would christ be if he didn't enjoy a little head every now and then? So fittingly I've dubbed Valentine's day "Dead Priest Day," or "Give head for Jesus Day." I won't go into details, but head was had by all.

Oh fuck it. You are a sordid lot, let's turn the heat up in here.

Early on in the day I skipped over to the south western corner of Stickling Mall and bumped into Jim Braddock who you'll remember from my previous blog as the guy who seemed ignorant of revivification points. He seemed to be buying flowers or katanas or something. There were a lot of stalls open in the walk-way due to the holiday. Malls are fun places. I really enjoy watching people and going into the lanes less travelled. I watched Jim from a balcony as he sat on a bench eating a hotdog. Such a goofy looking guy. He got ketchup all over his face and down his shirt. Fitting since the colour of the day was red. And no one noticed the blood shooting out of his face when I shot him. The best lessons are memorable ones. I'm willing to bet that he won't forget me for a long time.

I turned my attention towards a young member of the Malton Civil Defense Unit by the name of Samuel 034, or at least, that's what his name tag said. A sweet looking man. I simply could not resist kissing him before wishing him a Happy Valentines Day and sending him off in a lovely flash of red. It was beautiful and he deserved it. After all, he and the rest of the "authorities" are why I do what I do. Unfortunately, my camera's batteries were flat. But you can rest assured that the lead and flesh met in glorious union in the spirit of the day.

And I with that I wandered off into the night. I passed Goopy on my way but I was too tired to tango with the troublesome sim.

Later that night I sipped a glass of Rum in the Duke Hotel. Hmm...That reminds me, I must seek out this D'oeuvre fellow. I'm told he exists and that his first name is Horatio.

I am disappointed though that I didn't get a photograph. I imagine Samual will have one, though whether he is the "kiss and tell" type is yet to be seen. Either way, I'm watching the Department of Emergency Management website for a report.

God is Dead

Ironic that a Deus Ex Machina led me to this small collective of "cyborgs" of the same name.

I had been wandering around Pimbank and Peppardville for a while, at a bit of a loss as to what to do next since the person I'd been tracking back in Roftwood had slipped out of my grasp yet again while I was sleeping in Tynte Mall. After a brief encounter with the zombie Drooplis, I headed north to find a Necrotech building. After a brief nap, I woke up to find that I'd been murdered in my sleep by someone who went by the name of hurricaine635. He had dumped my body out on the street. Baffled by this new found deathiness and even more baffled by the unannounced and seemingly random murder, I wandered over to the revive point and stood there for a few hours. Again I witnessed hurricaine kill two patients waiting for a revive.

In the back of my mind a theory had been weaving together autonomously. I suspected that I'd been executed by one of the members of Creedy Defence Force or one of their affiliates for killing one of their guys. It matters not. The fellow I murdered is still a zombie.

I wasn't having much luck at the revive point. In fact, I ended up wandering northwards to find a revive point in Millen Hills. This journey had left me still quite alert, even still, I decided to kick back and chill. Unfortunately, my rest was disturbed by a rather large axe in my back. A young fellow by the name of Jim Braddock decided to test out his strength on my spine. While this was irritating, he didn't do too much damage and I managed to scare him off with a rather threatening growl.

I decided to rest a while longer to recover. This time, a fellow with a gas mask with some straws popping out of it decided to come over for a bit of target practice. Since I had passed out I was easy prey. I caught a glimpse of him as he wandered off towards a church. He was a member, nay, the leader of a group known as Deus Ex Machina.

This annoyed me. I decided to move further north since the revive point was not well marked in spite of how clear it was on my map. Again, shot and killed by a member of Deus Ex Machina. Rob Rapacki this time. He seemed fairly naive so I was more ready to let it slide.

Again I headed north-west in search of that blue fluid. I exhausted myself wandering around the south of East Boundwood only to be told to go east for a quicker revive. Eventually I found what appeared to be a revive point in the north eastern part of Millen Hills on Dawes Street. After 2 days of waiting around for a revive and several attempts on my life, 3 of which were successful, I slept in the street hoping that the needle would restore the senses I'd lost with the axe and bullet wounds. If I'd known getting a revive in this suburb was so hard I'd have stayed and taken my chances with the incompetant army men in Peppardville.

I awakened gradually to cool flecks of snow on my cheeks. I felt cold. I was alive...barely. Quickly I rushed for a nearby building to find it heavily barricaded. The next was only strongly barricaded so I climbed in and ran through the halls of the abandoned school climbing through the window into a Police station next door. Here I recovered for a short time, the cold still tingling on my lips, nose, cheeks and ears. My hands were pumping with blood again. Soon my legs weren't so stiff. I moved south to the church.

Here I sat and waited in a confessional. There were a few people sleeping in pews and around the alter. I recognised mage57 there. I studied them for a couple hours. They didn't seem to be doing much of anything except sleeping.

I raised my shotgun, stepped out of the booth and into the hall.

Shot mage full of holes. He bled all over the lovely red carpet. As the gas mask filled with blood and he spluttered and reeled at what was happening I declared:





And shot him:



After dumping his body outside, I decided to take an eye for an eye. Since Rob Rapacki was no where to be found, I disposed of the group's "bouncer" who was in need of a little Nietzschean re-education.





That's gonna hurt tomorrow.

I feel sorry for them really. Playing dress ups in the middle of a quarantine zone seems to be a little...well, childish. Perhaps they went mad. Maybe they looked older than they really were. Who knows? Who cares? They'll have fun finding out about revive points in their little suburb.

Since this little issue has been resolved, I'm going to get back on task. Not sure where to begin again really. This change of clothes is nice though and I'm learning fast about first aid.