[Intro Log #01] Enjoy your new vacation home

[oasismods]

INTRO LOG #01

The Crash "-̭̫̜̩̪̑̈́̓̌̐-̞͓̘̩͖̿́͒͑͘░͙͈̥̦̼̌̊̒̾̅░̨̢̠͙̖̉͊̽͌͝░̫͔͎̤̘̀̑͋͛̾ȩ̨̬̙͛̐̋̀̕͜m̻̬͈̠͒̌͌̍͌͜ ̡̲͈̙̼̽̾͆̊̃f̖̟͉̲̪̈́̾̀̂̀ą̢̯̘̙́̇͑̈̋i̪̱̙̘̟͌́̄̊͘ļ̢̛̲͕̣͐̎̿͛u͕̣̥̘̳̓̃͗͠͝r͉̠̗͖̰̉̅͗̚͘ę̛̺̥̝̘̄͑̌̈́.̣̫͕̰̭̓͂̈́̓͊ ̟̗͔̟͋̿̒̚̚ͅA̠̫̬̼̣̒̇͛́̊l̫̬͎̤͈͑̀͂̐̆ë̡̧̝̺͖́̍̂͂͝r͙͍̱̫͕̆͊̾͐̕ţ͙̻̣̝͒́̄̈́͆!͕̫͓͉̹̌̍̽̂̓ ̧̛̲͎͖̳̌̆̾̏░͖̲̞̼̹̇̄̌̈́̊░̡͍͎͍̘̇̈́̕͝░̪͚̼̦̃̋͊̆͜͠è̛̞̬͙̠̖̊͌̂m͖̝̟̗̣̽̄̐̚͠ ̛̹̯͈̮̼̈́͊͌͠f̧̰̖͋̊̈̊̑͜͜ą̨͚͎̹̀̎̑͋́i̞̬͓̭̳̎́̓͘͠l̢͈̲͇͕̈́̆̐̌̈́ư̰̞͚̻̺̔͑̓̑ṛ͎̯͚̇̔̾̔̏͜ę̛̻̼̭͊͆̕͜͝.̯̖̫̣͔̔̋̔̽͠ ̺̼̟̲͌́͒̔̅ͅĄ̹̝̖̺̂̇̽̒͊ĺ̛̺̰̰̤͎̾͗͝e̛̗̭̻͕̹̓̔͆̆r̢̛͙͖̘̻̈̚̚͘t̰̲̠̖̻̉͂̆̓̇!̬̞̟͉̺̂͆̊͑͐" You awaken to godawful static overlaying a female voice that's too monotone to be anything but a recording. The static makes it difficult to understand the warning, but it's clearly a warning if your surroundings tell you anything... You're buckled into a sturdy seat bolted to the wall behind you. Around you, there are dozens of others like you, some awake and others still unconscious, but it seems most of the seats lining the walls are occupied. The lights are dim, likely auxiliary lighting, leaving you mostly in the dark. You smell smoke and hear the sizzling crackle of electrical systems popping and shorting out. Some of the seats were jarred off the wall, leaving the occupants either wounded or dead. Count yourself lucky all you have is a headache and various aches accounted to whiplash. You appear to be in a drop ship or an escape vessel of some form but the pilot is dead and the hull bears a massive gash where it buckled under the impact and sheered off. Through the door-sized opening, you can see vegetation. The air that wafts in is heavy with a humid heat, but it's obviously breathable. Once you make your way outside, you'll see greenery: Trees, grass, and shrubs tangled with vines that grow wildly and suffocate the trees they climb. In the distance, behind the ship, you can make out a sandy desert that seems to stretch on endlessly. Forward through the trees, however, you may see a crumbling wall, but more importantly, you'll see signs of civilisation. Buildings and other structures seem contained within those decrepit walls. Maybe the natives can fill you in on what's going on, because the last thing you remember isn't being in an escape shuttle. As a matter of fact, you don't remember much about your arrival or where you are. But it's going to be a bit of a hike, better get moving. Though you might want to grab the backpack of supplies under your seat before you go. "W̞͓̝͓̓̀̍̒͘͜ȃ̢̗̪̤͇̔̃̚͝░̟͙̯̳̱̈͂̈́̈́͠n̬̘̬̤̠͛̅̈́͋͝i͓̟͈͎͙̐̆̈́̔̓n̡̟̤̟̤̑͐͋͐̚g̩̱͖͉̻͌͛̈͆̈́!̧̪̰͇̦̓̂̆̌͝ ̢͔̣̠̗̾̉́̌̒C̢̥̟͍͊͊͑̀̚ͅr̛͙̪̙̟͐̽̓̅͜i̫͖̻̣̘̽̑͂̾̎t̩͇̦̬̞͊̌̑̈́͝i̡̳̠̞̐̿̍̎̀͜c̡͕͙͕͕̓̊̌̾͘å̼̯͍̙̲̍̏̚͝l̢̥͉̮̙̋̆͐̆́ ̢̰̞͕̯̋̈́̈́̋͌f͇͔̟̻̈̽͌̒̉ͅa̳̰̠͉͔͒̑̈̈͘i̟̭̦̺͎̍̾̽̈́̐░͕̣̥̭͛̿̓̽̐ͅ░̰̪̠͇͍̆͛̀͝͝░̘̱̩̳̘͆̈́̆̀̚e̛̻͈̳̳̺̊̔̚̕.͙̟̳̼̾̀̅͊͊ͅ" With that, the power dies, leaving the drop ship in the dark, crackling and groaning as the hull cools from its catastrophic re-entry. [Mod Note: In case you missed the testdrive, this is your chance to play out your arrival or any other intro CR] Traversing the Forest Between the crash and the ruined city is a lush forest full of skittish wild life, the ruins of a farmhouse-like structure, various flora, and the occasional body. Try not to get too close to those bodies, kids. They have a tendency to wake up and try to get ya. The closer to the city one gets, the more frequently they'll see a dormant body. Hopefully you took the time to set up your small ear piece. Once inserted into the ear, the device will prompt you for your name. Once spoken, the device in your ear will be given its own address and all someone has to do is tap the button on their ear piece, speak "private to" then their friend's name, and it will open a private channel to the comm device coded with that name. Open radio signals can be sent by simply tapping the button and speaking. Once you reach the city gates, you will find a mass of corpses piled against the closed gates. These corpses will stir when they catch the scent of the survivors or hear their approach. You may want to take care of the dormant infected before they fully regain awareness. Or, you know, trip the closest person to you and run like hell. Maybe they'll be too distracted chewing on your former friend to follow... Once inside the city, you'll meet its only surviving occupant. He's a bit unique and a bit... well... he's unique. ⨷ TK Baha's Warm Welcome ⨷[TALK] "Smells like livin' folk. Yer just lucky I got no munitions left." Sitting on a porch with a shotgun balanced in his lap was a scarred gentleman wearing dark goggle-like glasses. He was missing a leg and looked a little worse for the wear. His voice was thick with a drawl, but he seemed to be well and alive. He chuckled and lowered the shotgun back to his lap, patting the barrel. "Naw, ain't seen nothin' worth shootin' in a long time. Heehee! Ohhh-hoo boy, you lot've seen better days. Well, come on over here and git that gate shut before somethin' with an appetite thinks we're open for business." TK smiled and laughed again, beckoning the shipwrecked survivors to come closer. "Let's see. First things first, you lot gotta have somewhere to stay. Hotel's open an' prices 're cheaper than ever! Forgive the staff, they ain't too lively, though if you know what I mean. Heeheehee! You get it, right? 'cause they're all dead. Make yerselves at home. You're gonna be here a while." TK pulls out an old, worn, folded pamphlet and holds it out. There are plenty to go around. "This here's a tourist's guide ta everythin' ya need to know. Or, well, kinda some of it. Anyway, it's useful. Take it. The name's TK Baha and I been around these parts a while. Anything you need, you let me know, okay?" "You got a good set a' legs, right? See, I gotta ask you a favour. I ain't been keeping up with things. Gonna need you to find me a power cell for this here transceiver. Think I stashed the last one at the hotel reception desk. Or was it the minimart? The fuel station? Anyway, you get me that and I'll get this here piece of scrap workin' again."

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Comments

[nostalgiabomb]

i. the gate - another brick in the wall;

[ Peter isn't a knifey kinda guy, which is funny, considering he had two masters to teach him, back home -- one of whom was here, thank god. He's scrappy, and he likes a fight about as much as the next guy, but knives and him? Not exactly on the best of terms.

He'd taken one, though, just in case; it sat tucked in his belt, currently untouched, because when it became clear they were dealing with something out of a George Romero film? Peter had hefted a fallen branch and gone to town. He'd much rather maintain his distance than get up close and personal trying to stab these zombies in the face. He thinks after the first few swings, maybe if he had stayed on Earth, he could've gone into baseball? Or maybe golf? The thought depended on the state of uprightness the infected were currently engaged in.

Which is to say, he's managing, as far as the shambling zombies were concerned, but fuck, what he wouldn't give for a gun, right about now.

Approaching the gates and dispatching the bodies found there -- it kind of reminds Peter of a really messed up game of Whack-A-Mole. These used to be people, he thinks, but he recognizes death when he sees it. Granted, the fact that the dead apparently are unaware of the state of things and seem determined to keep moving -- it makes him tamp down on any pity he might feel for these poor bastards, because he values his own life a lot more. ]

--Hey. Movement behind you.

ii. minimart - dirty deeds done dirt cheap;

[ This certainly wasn't the first time Peter's been compelled to help some random stranger with a shotgun and certainly wouldn't be the last, which was a concerning sentiment, to be certain. But then again, Peter didn't plan to do more than a cursory search for the power cell for the transceiver in question. Whoever the guy intended to contact had to be better than the guy, himself, and that's a small motivator to find the power source -- but mostly? Peter's on the lookout for anything that might be useful to him. Foodstuffs and water, sure, though he kind of gets the impression not much will be left. For the most part, he keeps an eye out for tools and gadgets, working or otherwise. He can at least cannibalize them for parts, he thinks. (Peter's always been a tinkerer, at heart.)

It's why he ends up with a handful of lighters and candles, all of which he stuffs into one of his bags their kidnappers had oh, so helpfully provided on the ship.

It's also why he's pried open the back of a microwave, picking through its guts.

(oh my god quill they leave you alone for five minutes--) ]

Gates

[dirtyredneck]

I see 'em!

[Daryl barked as he put his free hand against the head of the walker his knife was buried in. That one seemed fresher than the others. It's skull was holding onto the knife a lot more tightly than he'd expected. Getting it out was starting to be a chore and he couldn't quite get the leverage he needed to do it.

But there was that other one slowly getting to it's feet behind him and for some reason the walkers at the gates, when they got upright and actually walking, were a lot faster than any geeks Daryl had encountered before. Maybe all their legs had been preserved a lot better while waiting for their meals. It was odd to him they'd just lay down like they had, in that pile. That the noise of the crash hadn't drawn them. But those were inconsistencies he could deal with later.

At the moment, he had a walker about to jump him.

Giving a frustrated growl, Daryl stopped trying to remove his knife and, instead, shifted his grip. It became a leverage point as his other hand move to the neck of the body. With grunting heave, Daryl lifted the dead guy and swung him at the newest threat. The legs of his 'weapon of choice' knocking heavily into the walker coming up on him. Enough to send it back to the ground. He let the dead bastard he was using fall heavily on top of the other before releasing it. Keep it semi-pinned for a moment.

Then he casually walked over to Quill and went for the knife at the guy's belt. If he wasn't using it, Daryl could.]

Hey, Babe Ruth, let me have that.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Admittedly, Peter had been impressed by that little display of ingenuity, but then the guy had to go and get in his personal bubble.

Normally Peter wouldn't mind people entering his space, but considering the zombie apocalypse happening around them, and considering that knives were already in short supply, he was looking to keep his. Just in case, right? He danced back a step or two. ]

Whoa there, Grabby. Uh, how about no?

[ Finders keepers, bro. ]

Just 'cause I'm not using it now doesn't mean it's free game.

[dirtyredneck]

Then use it.

[Daryl snarled, pointing back at the walker.]

Mine's stuck in the other and that one needs to die. Again.

[And with as sturdy as some of the skulls had been so far, Daryl didn't really want to hurt his foot stomping a few heads in. Not before they'd cleared out enough of the lurkers to get through the gates.]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter had always been pretty good at Whack-A-Mole -- and he put those skills to good use just then, braining the two infected men in one swoop. Thank you, trusty branch. ]

Grab your blade, King Arthur. I'll watch your back.

[dirtyredneck]

[He glared, but the branch did the job. So he went back over, put his foot to the head of the one on top and pulled his would-be Excalibur from the stone-like skull. Had to give it a good yank. The leverage having all his body weight behind him gave him, though, made it come out a lot easier than his first attempts.]

You always this friendly, Captain Caveman?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He turned back to grin, hefting his weapon of choice up onto his shoulder. He even threw in a wink for free. ]

Only on Thursdays. You always so-- [ He waggled the fingers of his free hand. ] --handsy?

[dirtyredneck]

Only when stupid idiots are standing around catching flies and playing cheerleader.

[Daryl was only so-so impressed with Quill's ability to smash a couple heads in. Especially when there were still plenty to go around.]

Don't move.

[It was all the warning Quill got before Daryl flipped his knife, brought it up, and threw it past Quill's shoulder. There was a very satisfying, wet, thunk as it buried into the eye of the walker that had just dragged itself upright. Killing it quite effectively.

With a satisfied smirk, Daryl parroted:]

Movement behind you.

[Then started to jog past so he could retrieve his knife yet again. He really missed his crossbow.]

minimart

[phaselocknroll]

[ Maya's kind of making the rounds, though the hotel is her ultimate goal. She has to stop and watch when she finds him tearing through the microwave. ]

What are you gonna do with that?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He glances up briefly -- oh the hot chick from earlier, is how he recognizes her -- before directing his attention back to the device in front of him. ]

Figured I could steal the motors in this thing. I mean, no one else is using it, right?

[ He tuts holding up a hand and rubbing his fingers together in thought. ]

--You got anything small 'n' sharp? Like-- nail clippers or something?

[phaselocknroll]

[ She gives a helpless little shrug ]

Nothing of the sort, why?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He clicks his tongue again, peering down into the machine. ]

Just would've made this easier, but I think I can--

[ His eyebrows knit together in concentration, and with a jerk, he wrenches out the part in question. Tossing it up once, he catches it with a triumphant grin. ]

Easy-peasy.

[phaselocknroll]

[ She laughs a little ] You sure showed that microwave what's what.

[nostalgiabomb]

What can I say? I'm just good with my hands.

[ He says it with a smirk, and he carefully deposits the motor in his bag before returning to pick out any other salvageable parts. ]

Anyone find that power cell yet?

[phaselocknroll]

Not that I'm aware of.

[ She falls quiet for a second, gnawing he lower lip ] I swear I've seen that guy before.

i.

[pinner]

I thought you were supposed to be taking care of them!

[Does she sound on edge? She probably does. It's likely because she's in the middle of trying to drag one of the now very dead toward the pile that others have got going. It doesn't feel right for her to just leave them laying everywhere.

It also doesn't feel right that no matter how many of the things they bring down there are more to come at them. It's exhausting.

She sighs as she drops the feet and stops dragging the body so she can grab her knife and try to knock the zombie off its feet so she can stab it through the head.]

[nostalgiabomb]

I am-- [ He says it through gritted teeth, punctuated with another swing of his branch; it connects against the side of an infected's head, snapping its neck.

Home run. ] --but I can't be everywhere at once.

[ Even still, he dashes over as she busies herself with pulling out her knife, swinging low to sweep the zombie off its feet. He moves away again, leaving her to finish it off. ]

--You're welcome for the warning, by the way. [ More than a touch dryly; apparently Peter's just as harrowed as she is, though he's doing a little better to keep it under wraps. ]

[pinner]

[She makes the final blow quick and as painless for her as possible. Even with more practice at disposing the things, she's still uncomfortable with feeling like she's killing something.

When the body is still she uses all her strength to remove the knife from its head. It's while she's cleaning it off in the nearby grass that she looks over to him.]

Thank you. For the warning.

[Clearly he wants gratitude. She doesn't mind sincerely giving it to him if it means that much. She repays him by giving him one in return. ]

Watch your right.

[She points with her knife and watches.]

[nostalgiabomb]

You're welcome.

[ And he turns when she points, whapping another infected with the branch in an upward swing. It connects with its chin, its head snapping back, and it falls to one side. Peter finishes it off with another blow to its head. ]

And thanks, yourself. [ See, children? Manners. ]

[pinner]

[She nods in acknowledgement of his gratitude and holds her knife out for him to take.]

You can borrow it, if you'd like. A tree branch is innovative but not exactly the most practical choice of weapon.

[He's obviously the muscles around here. He can give it back to her once he's finished.]

I'll even hold the branch for you.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He shakes his head, hefting his branch onto his shoulder during their quick breather. ]

Thanks, but I'm not super great with knives. That, and I'd prefer to keep my arms and hands away from these guys' chompers, you know?

[ He moves to the body she'd been hauling before they were so rudely interrupted. ]

Let's get these guys out of the way. The quicker we can find out what's behind these walls, the better.

ii

[shuckit]

[ thomas is doing pretty much exactly the same. picking through the stuff here, looking for useful things. mainly that means weapons, food, water and tools, but he’s a science kid by nature, and if the maze was anything to go by, he’s pretty sure his sense of mechanics was fairly awesome before the whole memory wipe. some of it lingers, sometimes he guesses and puts two things together and it works out, but it’s like trying to remembers a master degree you got in a dream.

still, parts are parts, and anything’s useful. he’d brought two packs with him, his own, and one he’d taken from under the seats of one of the people who didn’t survive the drop. one’s already full and he’s looking to stuff the other, passing by peter just as he hears some metallic grinding, and tilts his head to see him dismantling the microwave. cool. ]

Wanna help me tip the freezer shelves? [ he pipes up from behind him, one hand lifted to point towards the freezer cases that were probably once stocked with drinks and milk and eggs. if they give it a shove to flip on it’s face, they can get to all the mechanical bits on the back. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter's working on finagling out one of the microwave's motors when the kid speaks, and he glances up at him, then at the freezers in question. ]

Sure, that could be fun.

[ And he punctuates it by wrenching out the motor with a single, "Ha!" He tosses it up once, catching it, and places it into his bag as he gets to his feet. ]

[shuckit]

Good that. [ maybe he's a little excited. maybe this seems like something fun to do after so much suckiness that's gone down so far here. and the probably sucky future that will be had.

so, let's do it. hurrah, property damage. thomas lets out a short, quiet amused snort at the "Ha!", and waves the man over to the freezers. ]

You get that side, push on three? [ spoken as he takes the far side of the huge piece of equipment, wedging his fingers between the edge of the freezer and the wall. ]

[nostalgiabomb]

[ is it really property damage if it's no one's property though?

like, if a tree falls in a forest and no one's around to hear it, does it make a sound?

In any case, Peter takes up position as the kid suggests -- he's tipped his fair share of vending machines and containment units and other standing-freezer-sized apparatuses that this is old hat to him. ]

On three, then. [ Then, he adds as an afterthought, ] Try not to crush your fingers.