olivia (DayZ) 2 Posted August 1, 2012 I enjoy reading the stories and journals from other survivors/saviors/bandits almost more than playing the game itself. Incidentally, I feel the need to contribute my story as well. My nature won't allow me to keep a character log going for very long, so I'm going to try something creative.As we all know, life in brutal Chernarus begins on shore and ends with an inevitably violent death. I'll post nine short stories detailing nine noteworthy lives of my character. I'll reply to this thread to reserve space and post the stories in chronological order.After the first life (which ended yesterday evening), I'll use my own discretion as to which lives I’ll write about. I’m aiming for light and quick, but interesting, narratives that stay true to my actual in-game experience. For kicks, I'll use this as an opportunity to try different writing styles, colors, all that jazz.Disclamier: Usually, I write code, not prose. =)Threads that amuse me:http://dayzmod.com/f...6-dayz-stories/http://dayzmod.com/f...-you-ever-died/http://dayzmod.com/f...ce-we-can-help/ Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
olivia (DayZ) 2 Posted August 1, 2012 (edited) I'm so fucking hungry.*rummage* Great. More flares... in a deer tree stand. That makes complete sense. *punch punch punch* God, please just give me a knife and I'll feed myself!Overlooking a town (Staroye) nestled in the valley below, I prepare to abandon the safety of the high forests. As I redress my wounds, my mind wanders back to when I first awoke along the shores of Otmel with no map and very little supplies. How far have I traveled since? My gut told me then, "Head north. Stick to the forests. Less people, less problems." But soon enough, hunger compelled me to seek out villages for sustenance. Scavenging rewarded me with a nice rifle, ammo, and more cola than I could drink, but no food. I was also rewarded a few zombie bites and a bullet wound. Damn, my health is continuing to deteriorate despite fresh bandages. Guess I can't heal on an empty stomach.One painkiller left. Maybe I’ll take it now before trekking down this mountain? Nah, better to save it for when the shakes become unbearable.To be honest, optimism compels me almost as much as the threat of starvation. There has to be at least one bastion of humanity left after Hell opens up and the dead walk the Earth... right? Slow, lumbering figures of the once living are undeniable proof against hope for this place. My pace slows as I approach the city limits, but fear and hunger make me loud, careless. A rotting man in a disheveled suit grunts, then sprints away from me. I think.Did it hear me? Whew. Wait, it’s circling back. Shit, it saw me! Okay, okay. Steady. Breathe. Aim for the head. Don’t waste your ammo, for Christ's sake.A clean headshot takes care of this immediate problem, but the noise alerts more undead. I panic and run deeper into town. A few of them ignore me when I pass, but most give chase.Keep running! Am I bleeding? No, just starving. Can’t stop shaking. Can’t see… where’s my flashlight? Don’t drop your gun. (stupid clunky inventory UI) Must've lost too much blood. Or I went nuts. Stupid, stupid me. Can't believe this shit. This is suicide. Bah, I don't care. I need food or I'm dead anyway.I dash wildly ahead, leading a macabre conga-line of pissed off zombies. Through the chaos, I miraculously spot an open door with (can it be?!) canned goods piled on the floor inside. I hop the broken gate and slam the door behind me. Mouth watering, I lean down and desperately snatch up my prize. Quickly, euphoria melts away. My heart sinks.It’s empty. Fuck. *punch punch punch*I wilted to the floor, letting the empty tin fall, and lost consciousness. I awoke to the angry growls of my pursuers still outside – a stark reminder of my fate. A strange comfort washes over me after I pop my last painkiller. Body and stomach become quiet, still. Emboldened by fresh courage, I burst through the door and lay waste to anything and everything, charging down the center street that defines this town. No sense in saving ammo now.BOOM. BOOM. Click-click. Reload - Last mag. Hahaha, this is it! The end times!I make my way towards the largest structure in the area: a church. A former preacher, now undead, ran screaming towards me before my last round was buried in its face. Its body wetly slumped down before me. Despite the zombie mob swiftly closing in, time seemed to slow down. Right then, with no ammo and no hope left, I felt a compulsion to loot the body that laid at my feet.Fuck. Me.Snickering, I gripped the tin of beans hard as the undead horde descended upon me. Edited August 1, 2012 by olivia Share this post Link to post Share on other sites
