Zombie Apocalypse - Game thread

[Bernard Black]

The sterile corridors rang with the hurried footfalls of Bernard Black and Max the Homeless Man. They had been charging around the hospital for half an hour, waging a guerilla war against the undead. Sadly, Bernard's earlier bingo-playing strategy seemed less effective now. It's all Motorhead's fault, he griped to his inner agony aunt. Them and their bloody Ace of Spades. Since that song had crept into his mind earlier, Bernard had been unable to stop thinking of combat as poker rather than bingo. And he was terrible at poker.

Bernard stopped in his tracks as he heard shuffling movements in a ward to his left. Probably his left. He had slept off the worst of his drunkenness, but he was still suffering a few effects, and his sense of direction hadn't yet fully recovered.

Whichever side it was coming from, Bernard lurched towards the sound, Max right behind him. With much vague cursing and shouting of unlikely threats, the two burst into Ward Seven. Bernard levelled the revolver at the clumsy figure before him and pulled the trigger. The shot missed by what could only be called 'a country mile'.

Max darted foward and grabbed Bernard's arm. "Easy, Mr Black! Easy... Relax... This poor fella's no zombie."

Upon closer examination, Bernard realised the stinking old man was quite right. The figure ahead was no zombie. A mummy, perhaps, but not a zombie.

The patient was swathed almost head to toe in bandages and assorted dressings, and leaning heavily on a drip stand. In its right hand was what Bernard's civilian eye considered an assault rifle. No sooner had the patient made eye contact with Bernard and tried to force out a few words from behind its bandages, than a horde of undead erupted through the flimsy interior wall partitioning the ward from the staff room. Alright, now I'm feeling slightly less in favour of skimping on healthcare. A decent brick wall is all I ask. He took aim and opened fire, but hit only the pool table and standard lamps in the neighbouring staff room. Oh for pity's sake!

The mummified patient was far closer than Bernard or Max to the advancing undead, and the throng was upon him in moments. Or her. He-she raised the rifle, but it was swatted out of the bandaged fingers by a zombie - a male one, Bernard realised with a shudder - wearing what appeared to be leopard-print spandex.

Bernard abruptly became aware that Max was hopping up and down beside him, frantic with panic. "Help him! Or her! Help it!" the old man yelled, between hops. Alright, alright, Bernard snarled inwardly, finding he had no breath to speak. Again he raised the revolver, and again he fired. The person-shaped bundle of bandages went down with a gaping gunshot wound in the back of its head.

Oh arse.

Without stopping to see if Max was following, Bernard turned and ran.

[Erkirithi-Sha]

As the squad car slowed down and stopped, Joe heard the engine kick back with a death rattle. The solinoid squeeled with all the intensity of a mewling infant, and died.

"It may be a tight squeeze but I think we can all fit." Jove looked down at the lawnmower. "What do you do with that?"

A lady cop. If this were a ship, that'd be bad luck. Then again, my luck couldn't have gotten much worse on my last voyage.

The mechanic forced a smile. There was so little left to smile about, but that was no reason to be rude. "Well," he said, "found it way back near the stadium somewhere I think. I never was much into gardens - more of a sea man, myself - so I figured I could use it against all those shambling dead," he shrugged. The mower had been completely useless so far. Tapping the fat man in shorts and a panama hat on the back, Joe smiled again. "Where are my manners? This is Harry . . . I think . . . uhh, I found 'im in a boarding house back that way".

Joe turned his attention to the car. "Looks like the old girl's had it. I'm a mechanic, so I can her get her back up t' snuff, but you'll have to keep any dead that come my way well off me".[/quote]

[Mistress Cathy]

The squad car belched and died just as Jove pulled up beside Joe and his friend. Shit! Alex gave her a look that indicated he did not know what was wrong with the car. Well, at least they were in an area without zombies. Otherwise, they would be in deep trouble.

Joe turned his attention to the car. "Looks like the old girl's had it. I'm a mechanic, so I can her get her back up t' snuff, but you'll have to keep any dead that come my way well off me".

[/quote]

A mechanic. Very good. Jove looked over at Alex and he nodded. The mechanic would come in handy. She could certainly keep any dead off of him while he worked. Maybe the lawnmower would come in handy after all.

"So far, we haven't seen any zombies in this area but I think I can manage to keep them off of you while you fix the car."

[Erkirithi-Sha]

"Right. Well, better safe than lunch, I say".

Joe looked at the engine. Poor shape. Weren't they supposed to service these pork taxis?!?

"I'll fix 'er up, fast as I can. I saw a message scrawled on to a wall back in the army base. Said there'd be another survivor waiting in the hospital. I say we should swing by there after I patch the old girl up, just to make sure. Whatd'ya think?"

[Mistress Cathy]

Jove looked over at Alex.

"We have been to the hospital and didn't find anything much of interest."

[Bernard Black]

A pattering of feet rang out from a corridor to the right. A surge of hope rose in Bernard; right now, with zombies hot on his heels, even that nutcase Jove would be a welcome sight. He darted for the corner of the passage, rounded it, and was immediately sent reeling backward by an almost solid lump of smell.

"Argh! Gah! What the-- Stop! Get it off me!" he choked, swatting at his face in an attempt to cleanse it of the greasy sensation that accompanied the stench. Through watering eyes, he peered desperately around for the source of the smell. Anticipating a pile of rotting haddock, a clump of untended chemical toilets or a tax collector, he was both relieved and mortified to discover that Max, the freeloading bum, was standing directly ahead and apparently radiating this foul odour.

"Sorry, Mr Black," Max grinned. "Nearly bumped into you there. I was running away from those things so fast I didn't see you. Worked up quite a sweat, too."

Still gagging from the by-products of Max's unaccustomed exercise, Bernard almost failed to notice a distant clattering sound, as of someone accidentally nudging a stool bucket while exploring the North Wing. When the sound managed to penetrate Bernard's beleagured senses, his head whipped round to the north, and with a cry of "Hey! Hey! Over here!" he sprinted away. He was well aware that the sound might have been merely a zombie, but it might also have been a human. Either way, it had to be better than the invisible cloud of noxious putrescence now surrounding Max. To his dismay, however, he immediately heard Max following at full speed.

Bernard pushed his muscles to still greater exertion.

"HEEEEEY! For the love of God, get me an AIR-FRESHENER!"

[Father Stoobins]

Frost chuckles softly to himself, and ducks back behind his dumpster/hidout. He had been running around an taking out whatever zombie he could find, to keep the place clean untill Bravo and Mace got back from the clan business. At least he had found Stevenson. Actually, he WAS fairly usefull. So far. At least he was a good mark with stones.

Stevenson lobbed another fist sized chunk of broken concrete at another of the wallstreet zombies. About the only thing that could distract them from walking around....well....like a zombie, was a good clunk to the head.

We need a name. Hmmm... what about the Sandwiches. Yeah, the CBD Sandwiches. I like it. Mabye the ham sandwiches. Or tuna. Yeah, the CBD Tuna Sandwiches.

He rolled quickly to the left and gave the wallstreet suited zombie a good spit of old Toasty to the face. The chared body gave a fairly nice aroma, almost like Mickey D's. He missed scrounging their garabge cans, they always had the best left-over.

I wonder if we can get sick offa' eating these guys......

Nah. Better not finish that thought.

GAH!

Stevenson lobbed another rock, and Frost rolled again putting Toasty to work.

[Iblis]

Shaking his head at the inept, if entertaining, politician running full tilt through the corridors of the hospital, Mace stepped around a corner right in front of him.

"Shut up damnit," he growled. "You wanna bring them down on top of us?"

"Listen...Listen I said! I've got a proposition for you. But think quick."

He bent forward, whispering in his ear...

"Me and the big guy have got something else to take care of right now...if you're in, you know what you have to do. If you're not...good luck."

Mace and his companion faded across the emergency light-splashed corridor on their mission.

[Warmark]

He stood at the junction where several hospital corridors converged, on the look out for the shambling horde that had overrun this district.

Slightly further away, Mace was trying to convice the Politician, he hoped he would agree.

Come on! We got stuff do do Mace!

[Bernard Black]

When he'd finished taking a few deep lungfuls of air to calm himself after the shock of an armed man appearing from the shadows - and, he had to admit to himself, to quell his rising nausea - Bernard took a few moments to consider.

Alright, what are the options? One: Listen to this creepy, dangerous-looking man. Two: Keep charging around with that stinky hobo. Three: Give up and die.

He was too stubborn for option three, and option two was already starting to wear thin. That settled it. Getting into the swing of this clandestine malarkey, he leaned forward and murmured into the shadows.

But the mysterious man was already gone. In an unprecedented moment of charity, Bernard added "...and good luck."

[Loredoctor]

Turn Eleven

Special Events:Sleuths. Perhaps due to the excellent weather, or maybe just by chance the survivors are lucky this day, all investigation rolls receive a higher chance to succeed.

The Creeping Abomination moves into the Stadium. Something appears to be drawing its attention there or a zone near. It is also growing more limbs, and it appears to be moving faster.

Turn Eleven Summary:
Jarek Mace moves into the Docks from the Hospital. He finds a dvd player connected to a televsion - still working, surprisingly enough - and plays one of the Porno dvds. Captain Miles appears to be the intended audience, as the soldier walks around the corner and sees the screen. It captures his attention this turn so that he cannot act at all. Mace is attacked by undead, and he loses a hit point.

Captain Miles is prevented from taking any actions due to the Porno dvds. The undead fail to find him.

Bernard Black joins a clan, though he could have sworn they referred to themselves as Tories. He leaves the Hospital and reaches the CBD by the end of the day, hoping to find the central government building. He finds instead a Torch. The undead fail to find him.

Joe Marlowe repairs the police car, though he is more used to repairing ships at sea. Once the job is done, he investigates. He finds some Narcotics. However, he is overburdened, so he cannot hold on to them unless he drops an item. One zombie attacks him but his expensive suit absorbs the damage. He can thus now take the narcotics.

Jove Jones' car is repaired and she leaves the Bay for the Docks. She investigates the zone and she finds a Chainsaw. The police officer is assaulted by a swarm of undead, and she loses a hit point.

Alex Western remains behind in the Bay and investigates. The occultist finds a crowbar. The single undead spends more time attacking the mechanic and thus fails to find Western.

Johnny Bravo stealthly moves into the Docks from the Hospital. He investigates the rusting zone while keeping to the shadows to avoid the shambling undead. However, he doesn't find anything of use. He heals Jarek Mace using the first aid kit. The undead cannot find him.

Jack Frost attacks the undead with Toasty. However, he fails to kill a single one. However, no undead harm him.

Special Rewards:All characters receive xp for excellent roleplaying.

[Erkirithi-Sha]

"Quick as a jiff, and she's o-"

The squad car pulled away, while Marlowe watched in slack-jawed shock. "Bloody 'ell! Mixed communications there".

Marlowe shrugged his shoulders and looked over at Western. He seems a strange sort. Quiet. Looks like he might know a thing or two about what's going on. Strange, though. Looking down at the lawnmower he was pushing, Marlowe wondered twice about who was the stranger of the two.

After fossiking around some more, the mechanic found another expensive suit. "These are fine duds," he said, slipping on the Armani, pin-striped three piece. "Not like we had on the ship, that's for sure".

Seemingly overcome with the look and feel of the expensive suit, Marlowe hardly noticed the shambling dead man, wearing tailor's tape about his neck, lunge at him. The thing was easily thrown off, though there was no time to get the mower started, and Marlowe dashed quickly to safety. Pausing when he was back near Western, the mechanic stared down in horror at the sight of his new Armani suit ruined - again.

"Piss".

[I'm Murrin]

It was a strange sight: A trolley in the centre of the road. Wires trailing across the sidewalk and into a nearby building. On it, a TV set and DVD player.
It appeared to be playing a porn film.
What the hell?
He wondered who would have gone to the trouble to set up a TV set out in the street and just leave it there. Moving over to the set, he checked the time on the player: 00:03:46.
Is this some kind of joke?
Whoever did this, they hadn't stopped to watch. And they couldn't have gotten far...
Unlikely as it seemed, the only explanation: this was meant for him. Why? Was this supposed to be some kind of message, a taunt?
More important than that: Who?
The mechanic? But why would he...? He couldn't see him doing this. (He couldn't see anyone going out of their way to do this.)
Another survivor, then. Miles reached out, hit the power--the images vanished. Laying aside his march toward the hospital for the time being, he began his search for the one who had left this for him to see.

[Father Stoobins]

Frost watched as his favorite politician stumbled into the Tuna Sandwiches headquaters. Or, at least, the middle of the street.

Close enough.

I wonder if the downfall of civilization makes him our president. Or king. Or something, I mean, now that the Gov't has fallen, and he's the last politician I know of, that means he wins by default, right?

"Hey Black! I know you, man! I voted for you! Or...erm...I tried. I, uhh, don't EXACTALLY have a home, you know! But I voted for my dead grandmother for you!"


Black jumped at the voice, and then leaned back a bit further to escape the smell of the hobo yelling at him while standing in a garbage can. "Why do they always end up in the garbage?"

"Anyway, uhh...so..... you're here to join the Tuna Sandwiches? 'Cause we could use all the help we can ge...."

Frost noticed for the first time the hobo standing behind the senator. He pursed his lips in concentration. He looks REALLY familiar......

"MAX!? Hey man! Glad to see ya alive! How's Aunt Jean?"

Frost thought he looked familiar. Max was his cousin, or....erm...he thought he was. See, Max wasn't always the sharpest hatchet in the shed, truth was, he couldn't even really clean himself. Frost always looked out for him, and perpetuated the belief that they were related. Max had never commented, so the comraderie grew.

It's good he's found someone to latch on to. The Senator'll be good for old maxy'boy.

Frost picked up his bottle of new (well, almost) cologne and promptly dumped it on Max's head.

That's better.

"So. Mr. Senator. We're going to be setting this place up for long-term. See what I mean? I see you're carrying around the military grade Defense-Kit. Yeah, they were top secret untill I hacked into their databases, and they had no choice but to release the patents for civilian use. Now I'm glad I served that month in Chino. Sort of a pre-payment for today, huh? Let's get to work. You're a Tuna Sandwich now!"

[Bernard Black]

Oh, hell. Do I just attract people with substandard personal hygiene?

"Nice to...er...meet you."

Black wrinkled his nose at the smell of fresh - slightly too fresh - cologne now emanating from Max.

"So I'm a tuna sandwich now? Well, I've been called worse things. I assume you're Jack? Some shady-looking guy sent me. Are you and he...allied?"

What a bizarre combination.

A familiar churning sensation chose that moment to begin in earnest, deep in Black's internal organs.

"A quick word of advice for you, Jack: never, ever, ever drink half a flask of strawberry liquor in one go. Have you finished with that bin? Only I think...er..."

[Mistress Cathy]

Jove leaned against the police car, holding her side. She had been in a scuffle with some zombies and one of them got hold of her. Dammit! She hated those things! Why had she left Alex behind?

Lawnmower Man had fixed the car for which she was very grateful but in her hurry to move on, she had left them behind in the bay to investigate the docks a little closer. Hopefully, they would catch up quickly.

Actually, the chainsaw she found had come in handy. It was a quick and efficient way to chop through zombies, if that was what you wanted to do. The gun had served her better, though. She much preferred keeping her distance from those things. However, if she was going to survive, Jove knew she would have to battle more.

Jove climbed into the car and locked herself in. She planned to go out and exterminate as many zombies as she possibly could. But for now, she needed to shut down and reboot. She placed her M-16 on her lap and tried her best to rest while she waited for Alex and Joe.

[Father Stoobins]

Ugh. Who new that strawberry and stomach acid could smells so bad? Well, it's not the worst thing I've had thrown on my shoes. Or what's left of them anyways.

Frost climbed out of the can and patted the bent over Black as he finished hurling whatever was left in his stomache.

"S'okay. That cologne wasn't EXACTALLY new. But i've got a plan. A nice cheap way for a good shower."

Frost positioned Max and himself in front one of the fire hydrants near to the street. With a chunk of concrete he knocked the cap off, releasing a spray of water. He grabbed max by the back of the shirt and pulled him under. Scrubbing all this gore out would be a tough job but, It's STILL not the worst I've had thrown on me

A quick dousing later and good shake to try and dry off, he and Max were much better. Now they only smelled like a live camel. Instead of a dead one. Quite an improvement in Frosts book.

He swpet back some wet strands of hair.
"Yeah, Mace and Bravo are with me. Or I'm with them. Either way, we're toegether. We figure they're's saftey in numbers. Especially when your enemies outnumber you by a few million."

He peered at Black.

"So. What's your theroy? Why's all this going down? Me? I blame a combination of bad luck and worse politicians."

Frost smiled and slapped Black on the back.

"But I always did like you, mate."

He bent and started to clear away some of the rubble and move it towards the Central H.Q. of the CBD.

[Bernard Black]

"So. What's your theroy? Why's all this going down? Me? I blame a combination of bad luck and worse politicians."

Frost smiled and slapped Black on the back.

"But I always did like you, mate."

"Er...thanks," Bernard mumbled, trying to ignore the acid taste of gastric strawberry on his tongue. "I haven't really given a lot of thought to the how or why of this whole business. I've been kind of busy. You know, being beaten by the police, running from zombies, accidentally killing heavily armed in-patients, accumulating hobos..." On a sudden impulse, he sniffed his suit and considered trying the hydrant trick himself.

Nah, maybe not. Water isn't what I need right now.

Max chose that moment to chip in. "Aliens!" he exclaimed. "It's gotta be aliens!"

Bernard stared for a moment, then: "Riiight..." Best to humour him. He might be dangerous. "Well, I have a couple of questions for Jack, so if you could just go and...I don't know...stand over there," he gestured at the opposite side of the street, "I'll come and get you when we've finished."

Max wandered off, seemingly quite content to let the sun dry his dripping apparel.

"So, Jack - I have two main questions. One: Do you have any alcohol? Er...One-A, I guess: If so, can I have it? Two: Got any food? Two-A: See One-A. Erm... I feel like there's something else I should ask... Oh yeah, do you know anything about this uber-zombie Max keeps muttering about. Sounds to me like he went to the hospital to hide from it. He won't tell me much though. I'm inclined to think he's some kind of nutter--" Bernard abruptly realised he was talking to another hobo, who might not necessarily be much more rational than Max. In fact, being apparently related to Max in some way, it was entirely plausible that this Jack was unhinged.

Oh, and you're a paragon of lucidity yourself, Bernie my boy?

Shut up. And don't call me Bernie. I hate it.

I know...

"...anyway, the point is: if there really is some giant zombie bugger out there, I want to know. Maybe I can persuade Jove to try and kill it. She'd like that, I reckon. So...have you seen the thing?"

[Father Stoobins]

"So, Jack - I have two main questions. One: Do you have any alcohol? Er...One-A, I guess: If so, can I have it? Two: Got any food? Two-A: See One-A. Erm... I feel like there's something else I should ask... Oh yeah, do you know anything about this uber-zombie Max keeps muttering about. Sounds to me like he went to the hospital to hide from it. He won't tell me much though. I'm inclined to think he's some kind of nutter-- ...anyway, the point is: if there really is some giant zombie bugger out there, I want to know. Maybe I can persuade Jove to try and kill it. She'd like that, I reckon. So...have you seen the thing?"

Hmm... he bables more than I remember. Then again, I was being thrown out of the rally while I was listening, so mabye he really does ramble on.... Aren't I rambling on? Then again, he seems to have done failry well for himself considering. And he isn't pretending like I'm invidible and.....

Black simply waited for an answer as the hobo looked balnkly off into space. And waited. And waited. He sighed, not really expecting this one to be any more coherent than Max.

Frost snapped out of his own little press conference of one.

"Huh? Oh yeah. Heh. Sorry Mr. Black. .....Er.... Mr. Senator. Sir." Frost took a deep breathe.

After all, I'm wasn't exactally used to talking to people. In fact the last time I had a coherent conversation was about three years ago when he called that telemarketer on a payphone. He was a nice guy...Here I go again.

"Sorry. Well, I had a bit of food, but most of it is covered in what USED to be strawberry liquor. So...... no. But Mace does, and he'll be back promptly anyway, right after he and Bravo finish......uhhh......our BUISINESS." Frost winks and elbows Black in the ribs expectantly. "As to the second part. No. We also don't have any alchohol. But if we can find some orange rinds and a toilet, I can show you a trick I learned in priso.......no?"

"The third part is lucky. Lucky number three, right?! Yeah! Heh. But the Mother of All Blobs came by here not too long ago. It was making it's way over towards the Stadium last time I saw it go. Actually, the last time I saw it I was dodging the little **** and cursing at Toasty. Soaked, it was and wasn't doing much to the bugger. Anyways, I got a feeling that the Blob Mother is the REAL reason why all this is going down. It just devours bodies, plants, anything organic I think. Which is why this place is perfect."

"It took all the bodies, see? Last time it went through. So now all we have to do is keep this place quaratined, and we're good!"

Frost smiled. He really did appreciate having someone who wasn't crazy talk to him. And for more than a few words too! This is going to be a good day. I can feel it.

"Mabye I'll find some good used underpants. I could use a new pai....did I say that outloud?"

Frost tugged on his beard, and waited for the inevitable sneer of disgust and possibly a good whack for measure.

[Bernard Black]

Black gaped for several long moments, then decided to let the underpants slide. So to speak.

No booze. That means pretty soon I'll be back to Hangover Land, and we all know what that means. Well...I do, and Jack soon will. Resurrected strawberry will be the least of it.

No food either. Damnation. I could really use a kebab right now. I haven't eaten since... Hmm...since the Neighbourhood Watch buffet, just before this whole thing started. Wow. I really am alcohol-fuelled.

"The thing is real. Great. You know, I met a man not so long ago who looked like he knew something about all this. I wouldn't be at all surprised if he's behind this Blob creature."

Bernard sighed quietly as his mouth began to dry to a Saharan extent and his head started to contract, squashing his brain.

"Here it comes. No, no, not the Blob. My hangover." His mouth twitched slightly with a touch of wry mirth. "Before tomorrow dawns, I might find myself in need of your...er...prison recipe. You have no idea how low I can sink. Nor do I, for that matter."

Bernard dragged his revolver from a jacket pocket, and stood eerily motionless for a few protracted seconds, just staring at the gun.

"You know..." he murmured, barely loud enough for Jack to hear. "I never saw this coming. The apocalypse. It just happened so suddenly, and...I...I never got the chance to tell my wife one more time how much I hate her and only married her for her money.
"The weird thing is...I probably could have seen it coming. There were things...unmarked, high-budget things...things I only ever caught the tiniest whiff of while I was trying to force my way into government. Maybe it's nothing to do with all this. Maybe it was something else. New nuclear deterrent. Germ warfare. Plans for a new super-McDonalds capable of actually killing people in one bite. But whatever it really was, it was something...and I can't help wondering..."

He stopped, shook his head as though to dismiss unwanted thoughts. Returning the gun to his pocket, he glanced at Jack.

"Looks like Max has wandered off. I think I'll go and look for him. I won't be far away. If you need anything, just shout; I'll come running. Or at least, I'll come stumbling and clutching my head, telling you to pipe the hell down."

One more wry twitch of the mouth, then he trudged off, shoulders hunched slightly against the weight of the end of the world.