Twinkqt

I screamed like a little girl, then offered sexual services for safe passage.

Ever since I went to camp I loved the song 'A boy named Sue'. I sing that over teamspeak when we sit around our fire pit.

If you guys want to replace the AS50/M107 with something, we could replace it with an OSV-96 which shoots the same round, at the same distance, and looks the same. Just has a different name. That makes it all better :D

So, let me start off with my base. I was with my military buddies, fighting through this horrid new world, luckily, we found a working military helicopter. We wanted to take it back to our base. However, during our flight path we heard a loud crash of broken glass and blood splattered all over the cockpit. Our observer had taken a round from a 7.62 rifle through the chest, he was bleeding out quickly. I jumped forward, putting pressure on the wound. After losing my family, my whole life, and so many friends, I was not about to lose another. I quickly ripped off my headband, trying to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. He died, in my arms. Moments later, we heard a loud crack, the shooter had shot again. His round ripped through our tail rotor and destroyed one of our wings. Luckily, before all this sh*t had happened, our pilot served in the airforce. He took us down, we survived, barely. So there we were, stuck, in the middle of Celle, zombies attracted by the loud crash and screams. We were stuck on a roof top, hurt, and fighting to protect what little we had after the monsters came. We were not about to let our helicopter, the one thing that could get us off this god forsaken island go. Quickly we set up a perimeter. I had a simple rifle I had found on a dead zombie soldier. We began scouring the factory for anything we could use, but it was pointless. Everyone, and everything saw, or heard us go down. They wanted what we had. A few hours passed, looking through scrap, mourning the loss of our friend, formulating pointless plans of escape. Until, we heard footsteps. It was my duty to guard the stairs, make sure none of those *ssholes came up and popped us from behind. I saw him, and he saw me. He called out 'They are on the roo-". He didn't finish his sentence, I silenced him with a loud bang from my M4. It was the first time I had ever shot someone who wasn't a flesh eating monster. I saw the blood spurt from his throat as he dropped to the floor, clutching the new hole in his body, letting out disgusting and vile gurgles. I quickly shot again, this time, the top of his head exploded outward with a show of pink, red and grey, splattering on the wall. I was horrified. Little did I know, this was only the beginning. Hundreds of zombies began pouring in the building. I was on my last magazine so I called for help and swapped with one of my friends to cover the stairs. A few minutes later, after all the zombies were dead or gone. We heard a loud pop. It was unlike any other shot, it sounded like a firework. We all turned, just in time to see the now non-exsistant face of our once good friend. He fell flat on the ground and someone ran up the stairs, holding a high-powered shot gun. He fired randomly at us. He was no match for the group of ex-military we were comprised of. I don't even know who killed him, we were all shooting. Suddenly, there was a rush of bullets, people firing from the streets up at us, people on the bridge were shooting wildly into the building. People had even posted up in the preschool across the street. I ran back to the staircase, taking back my position. Five more people tried to make it up the stairs. None did. One even held an old fire axe, it was dripping with blood, the blade worn out. It seemed like a pointless fight. We were running low on ammo and food, and had no way of getting off the roof. After almost 3 hours of constant fighting, the shooting petered out. We saw them walk away, watching us, their guns constantly trained on us, they were going to get ammo, or something worse. We used this time for the best, frantically searching for parts. Luckily, we found it. It wasn't a great fix, but it would get us out of there, an old metal sheet had been cut down for some piping. We snatched it up and began repairing the helicopter. We were worried, we had fixed the helicopter and were loading up, but it had been 2 hours since they left, everything was quiet. We decided to take it as an indication to leave and started up the helicopter. I have no idea what happened next. I heard a massive bang, it sounded like a tank, then, darkness... I awoke 30 minutes later, a hard pain in my side, slouched against a wall, 2 of my friends dead, laying beside me. Our helicopter was in ruins, the tail looked like it had been ripped off by a mad giant. Smoke was pouring from the engine and it looked like it was on fire in the cockpit. I looked around, our group of 7, reduced to 3. My last two friends we shooting off into the distance, I had no idea what they were doing. I got up and moved over to them, bringing my M4. I called out, trying to get their attention over the firing. "Hey! What the hell is going on!? What happened?!" I got no answer, I moved over, my side was killing me, every breath shot a sharp pain through my body. I looked down, and saw, sticking out of the side of me, the piece of metal we used to repair the rotor. I dropped down, clutching my side. I sat against the ledge, watching them shoot into the distance at targets I could not see. I checked my M4, 7 rounds left. How ironic. About 30 minutes passed. My friends still unaware of my presence. They thought I had died. I looked over and saw one person in the stairwell. A young kid, couldn't have been older than maybe 15. He turned the corner and fired 10 shots. Both of my friends dropped into crumpled piles of what they once were, fathers, husbands, sons, friends, co-workers, everything that they had ever done in life, was now gone. He turned to me, walked over and pointed his rifle at me. I accepted what was about to happen. But to my suprise, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a flare gun and shot it straight in the air. He looked up to watch it and I took my only option to survive. I weakly lifted my M4, and emptied the clip. I closed my eyes and screamed, not wanted to watch what I was doing. The bullets ripped through his stomach. He clutched his tummy and looked at me, suprised, scared, angry and sad. I watched him drop to the ground. He was my 8th kill. Tears filled my eyes, leaving clear trails through the blood of my friends, and enemies that had splattered my face. I looked over the edge, 3 trucks were driving up, they had repair parts for the helicopter and I was out of ammo. There had to be atleast 20 of them. I had to get out of there. I quickly wiped my face, grabbed my dead friend's AK47 and made my way out. I slipped out just as they barged in, limping off into the forest, a bloody AK in one hand, and my other hand clutched tight around the giant slice in my side. I disappeared into the forest. Now, I bide my time. I will avenge my friends.

So you guys want part 2?

x3 Who are you?

You most likely won't find mature people at the age of 13-18. P.S- Try posting more, be more detailed, people will be more interested.

I'm interested. I have experiences with voice acting. My skype is Costanethefox

Showing violence towards children gets you an M rating if it is in a cutscene. It is actually illegal to make any form of interactive art where the goal is to harm children. (Since they would be zombies, and the game is about killing zombies, your goal would technically be killing zombie kids) So the addition of zombie children would make the game blacklisted by most governments. However, women can be added, I think they haven't because only men have been coded with hostile actions in Arma, so it would require a complete new code for them. And a whole bunch of new skins (There are 5 female skins in arma, 83 males) made from scratch.

In your tent.

Sniper- M24 CQC- M4A3 CCO General Combat- AKM

So, you guys want part two? Any comments on the book idea? Also, sneakily hidden secret bump <_< >_>

I have more stories if you guys want to see them. Unfortunately I am in class right now. They are saved on my computer and I can post them once I get home.

My funniest death...Hmmm...Once, we heard wind of a convoy moving towards Elektro, so I snapped up the shiny M136 that I got to spawn, hopped up onto a lighthouse. I saw um, aimed, fired. I died. Apperantly, the back wash on a M136 is deadly, as I had the thing almost pressed against the wall, all of the back wash hit me, drained my blood, broke my leg, and heres the kicker, sent me flying 100 meters into the air. It was pretty funny when my NCO asked 'How'd you die?' Then my body landed right infront of his truck, M136 in hand.

Once I get home I'll be putting an application in. I hope you guys don't mind getting hot lead in the face.

Ah, yeah, maybe I should look at a map sometimes >_<

My tip for being a bandit. Don't kill fresh spawns. Choose your targets carefully. Running around Elektro popping people with their hair still wet will get old. Mix it up. Kidnap someone, pick people up in a car, take them to a remote location and make them earn their survival (gameshow). Also, stay away from usual camping/sniping spots. It makes you a really easy target. Remember, you're a bandit, not a douche. Don't kill people who have nothing to lose, it is just an annoyance and you gain nothing from it. Your job as a bandit is to make people angry and sad, so destroy those who have EVERYTHING to lose. Also, don't bother making a camp. Carry only what you need, when you have a regular spot you go back to, that's when you become the one popping up on the shore every 10 minutes.

This is based on a true event that happened to me and my group of friends. All the stories in the book will be based off my personal experiences in dayz. I am writing a book comprised of short stories like this one and I want some feed back. Currently I have about 130 pages done. If anyone is interested, let me know. All the stories in the book will be based off my personal experiences in DayZ. Tell me if I should keep writing or tell me I suck. I want your criticism.