Quale

I hate starin' down these stairs. I hate everything about these goddamn buildings. The grimey boards that creak no matter if someone steps on 'em or not. The musty walls that crack and snap for no reason. Makes a man's ticker skip a beat for no reason, makes a man's life expectancy skip a year for all the reasons in the world. The constant guttural moanin' of the Z'eds below. Always the moaning. The ceaseless pissy rain that keeps pourin' down outside. The itch you can't scratch, the goddamn pain you can't cure. He's gonna be here any minute now. He's been rummagin' through the garbage in the cafè below for what seems like hours, hopin' for a can of beans. Too tired to dare hope for anything better, too far up shit creek to give a damn. Much like me. If I'm lucky he's gonna be one of those so far gone he don't even realize there's a second floor to climb. But I'm not gonna be that lucky. If I was lucky I wouldn't be in this shithole in the first place. He's gonna come up these stairs and I'm gonna use the last 4 bullets in this piece of shit pistol and shoot him in the face. I'm gonna live but I'm gonna be dead inside. Hell, I'm allready dead inside. Nothin' much that seperate me from the Zed's 'cept for the anticipation of an early retirement. The final release. I hear him steppin' closer to the stairs. Slow like. He is either careful or he's just numb. Makes no difference to me either way. Sweat runs down my back and my arms ache from holding the Makarov straight. Come on you bastard, come on! He stops dead. The moaning and the rain takes over again. I curse inside me. Inside I spit and froathe, I kick and scream. On the outside I remain motionless and silent. Noone hears a goddamn thing 'cept the rain and the moaning. Rain and moaning. I feel my neck muscles tense up. I dunno why. I'm starting to think I got a premonition or somethin', then it hits me; Three thunderous claps. The sound of woodboards splinterin' and the sharp stings of two slugs enterin' my left side. The last one whistlin' past my chest. Bzzuu! Angry bee. In some sick way, I feel amused. The Makarov slips out of my hands and I grab my side. It don't help much. Blood spurts out like a goddamn sprinkler and the color of the floorboards under me turn dark red. Goddamn hacks! As I keel over from the shock I hear myself sayin': "Good thing that one missed me." What a joke. What a town. Darkness wraps me in a final blanket of comfort, my final feelin' of doom. Goodbye Cherno, you was hell on earth. I hope I don't see you on the other side. ...So long sucka. I come to myself on a coastline somwhere. For the briefest of moments the sound of seagulls and the waves lappin' on the shore kinda makes me think I've gone and come to heaven, unlikely as that would be considerin' my track record of late. I spot a road cross a patch of grass and a roadsign. Wishful thinkin'. As I trudge over to see the sign, sheer horror starts creepin' into the very core of my being. The sign reads: YEPHOrOPK.

New scentences start with a capital letter thusly: Done.

I'm thinking, and this is mostly directed at the moderators: As DayZ keep growing, we know for a fact that a large portion of the customer base is gonna be people who buy into it for all the wrong reasons. It's the next big thing, their friends talk about it etc. They're gonna expect a themepark, they have no idea what the premises are for DayZ etc. And they're bound to come here and clutter up this forum with inane irrelevant blabber, the entitlement raging routine etc. And people are gonna respond to them and not in a nice way. (Guilty as charged) Must it really be like this? Can't we move all these posts to somewhere else so that we can focus on something important?

Why your post is failing: DayZ simply does not exist based on the premises you apply. Neither content wise nor by definition of success. Basically you're ragging on a best selling blue chair for being red. The natural conclusion must thus be that you shouldn't be playing DayZ.

Whatever AI behaviour rocket decides to go for, this is my only concern; A players needs to be able to somehow see a connection between what he does and what his situation is with the Z'ds. Otherwise you only get a stream of random awkward situations that you can do nothing about. This limitation on a players ability to influence his fate based on his choices, is not something that I feel suits DayZ. An example: Z'ds might have massive aggro range based on variables players can't control or check. The obvious solution in this scenario is to kill them. But then, the Z'ds respawn rate might also be really high and impossible to calculate. What do you do now? Has it become a DayZ premise that you have to be part of a larger gang to do anything anywhere with loot?