Hype Zombie Apocalypse: The RPG!

Nicholas - White Male - 20 years old - Brown hair/Green eyes, is clean shaven and looks rather calm, with a hint of confusion in his eyes, wearing gray pants and a black turtle neck, and a black topcoat, also a pale gray, single strap duffel over his left shoulder - Trained in hand-to-hand combat, Keysi, and various forms of weapons-handling - Pre-apocalypse, he spent most of his time traveling through European countries and making contacts with many people, always had a mysterious amount of money with him - Current location: Spider-Ville

Nicholas - Gear/weapons: Swiss SIG 550 Sniper rifle, Walther P99 QPQ pistol, Emerson Karambit knife - Duffel bag contents: box of matches, Quest NQPVS-14 Monocular, US $5,000, two handcuff keys, cellphone with broken LCD display and low battery, Omega Seamaster Professional 300M watch, Emerson Mini Commander knife, and ammunition for sniper rifle and pistol - Current Location: Spider-Ville - Stress level: Low - Sanity: 8/10



My head...ever since I woke up, my head hasn't stopped buzzing. And this...Cathedral, was the last place I expected to find myself stranded. How did I get here? My watch and cellphone are broken, without them I have no way of knowing how much time I've spent. Few hours? A day...possible. And suddenly I realize there's somebody...or something behind me. I pull out my Walther P99, turn around and see I was right: not a human. I point my gun at the creature's face, and I'd swear it was smirking at me, with it's semi-human characteristics. I pull the trigger and it goes down. But I feel disappointed. Is it dead? Instead of waiting to see if anymore of these come around, I stuff my gun into my right pocket and quickly walk for the door. Outside I'm almost blinded by the surprising sunlight; from the inside of the church you'd think it was night; this city appears...deserted. I have to know if I'm alone.
 
Poster- White female, 37, 5’8”, 135 lb, long dark hair in pony-tail, brown eyes, jeans, shirt, rain jacket, and hiking boots.
Gear- .38 revolver, 9 mm semi-auto, magazines, quick-loaders, medical supplies, food, water purifiers, leg-trap.
Current location- woods outside Spidey-ville


Five hours later, I can’t go on— fine; I don’t want or plan to continue walking. It’s evening, and I’ll camp here. I’ve purified twenty ounces of water that smelled delicious bubbling out of the hill-side. Now the fluid has a bitter scent, but it won’t add to my body’s troubles. In my palms, I crunch a chemical heat-pouch to activate it. While dinner warms, I unroll a thin ground-pad and cloak myself in a foil blanket.

I pitch a few rocks down the gravelly hill, confirming that the sound can wake me. Behind me is an over-hanging wall. Anything bumbling off the top of the cliff above me will simply pitch past, and smash itself on the hill-side. Tomorrow I’ll walk home. Hopefully all is well on the farm.

In a chilled and groggy state, I twitch, and open my eyes. It’s dark and purple-hazed in the woods. Stinking of rot and silvery with fog, cold air washes out of the cloudy woods and up the rocky slope. Something is sluggishly chattering in the brush. It’s a parody of human talk, skipping vowels and misspeaking words. I reach for my revolver, just as a muzzle-blast flashes on my ledge, next to me, and a shot deafens me. I point the revolver at the shooter. It’s the kid, and he has my 9 mm.

“I told you not to follow me.” I shout. He lifts his hands and talks, his voice well below the volume of the echoing in my head.

“I can’t hear you! Put down the gun!” I rage. “Put my gun down, now!”

He slowly squats and lays the 9 mm on the ledge. He points down the hill-side. At the base, at the wood’s edge, a flabby and decaying corpse has collapsed in the briars. Its bulging, black t-shirt is oozing zombie muck where my visitor shot it.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” I snarl, “The sound may draw others. Besides, I don’t think these bloated things can even get up this hillside.”

“There’s skinny ones, too,” He’s finally audible, though I’m amazed he can talk to me with such audacity. “And it was calling to others when I wasted it. Look! This one is still connected to the bio-net.”

I confirm that the body sports a wireless, bio-computer headset, with voice-to-prose translator. I know the rumors, but to me, they’re nothing but ignorant suppositions. There could be something to them, but I won’t blindly accept the urban legends as this boy has. “Bio-chips have no confirmed link to zombification. It’s a coincidence that the outbreaks centered on wealthy neighborhoods. Another explanation is that businessmen reside in upscale housing. They travel a lot and may have carried the infection home with them to their children.”

“It was talking leet-speak,” He insists, “Highly infectious leet-speak. I had to kill it.”

“It was talking nonsense,” I say, “The kind of gibberish you’d expect from an animated corpse with a half-liquid brain.”

Its then that the woods begin to fill with guttural nonsense and the lurching forms of young zombies.

“We have to climb.” I say. “We have to get up the wall before a horde of them gathers above and below, or we’ll be trapped. Can you climb a rock wall?”

“Of course I can. How do you think I got onto this ledge without waking you?” He points to the Spidey print on his t-shirt. “I climb like a super-hero.”

“A super-hero? Well, good. You’re going to have to save me. I can’t climb fast with this arm. Take this rope, tie it off above, and throw it down to me.”

He tucks my 9 mm. into his belt. I reflect that I’ll have to get him a holster before he shoots his foot, or, well, does worse harm to himself. He’s ten feet up before I’ve shoved my gear into my pack. Still, he has another ten feet to go, and he’s slowed by the necessity of angling for obvious hand-holds. As he’s spidering boldly up the wall, pebbles fall from atop the cliff. A zombie stands there swaying and bleating gibberish. I step back to the rim of the ledge and take aim. My line of fire is bad, and the zombie may knock me off the cliff when it falls. Still, it’s shoot well or die.
 
Name - Billy Smitz
Poster - White male, 37, 5’8”, 135 lb, short dark hair, brown eyes, business suit and tie
Gear - Briefcase and papers in the briefcase
Current location - Spider-Ville
Occupation - Accountant

Billy Smitz, wanders in the street after the infection.
A cop limps up to him and attacks.
The cop grabs Billy's head and starts chomping on his head.

Billy Smitz, former accountant...RIP
 
Wilhelm-Scream said:
"Shoot it in da HEAD!
Shoot it in da HEAD, man!"
"Which end is the head on this thing??!!!"
 
Teh Jello - White Male - 26 years old - Black hair/Blue eyes/Athletic build- Private First Class in the US Army, pre-apocalypse job was Nightclub Bouncer. Current location: Hulk Haven Hills

Teh Jello - Gear/weapons: .45 Caliber Pistol, Pocket knife, 6 Water Bottles, 3 bags of assorted junk food, 2 dollars.
- Current Location: Hulk Haven Hills

Teh Jello ducks and rolls out of his radioactive house. He fires at a bird flying by, killing it. He walks over to the birds dead body, picks it up, and eats its head. Teh Jello notices a zombie walking down the street, he turns and shoots it.
 
Johnny - gay hispanic male - 68 years old - blue hair/bule eyes/athletic build - admiral in army, pre-apocolaps job was lapdancer. Current and only location: bathroom of Hulk Haven Hills
Johnny - Gears/weapons: Sai, katanna sword, noose, white micheal jackson glove, butcher knife, sniper rifle, sawed off shotgun, machete, playgirl

Johnny tries to use the restroom but nothing is happening down there. He sighs and reads the articles in playgirl.
 
DOG LIPS said:
"Which end is the head on this thing??!!!"


"Dammit, man, just shoot BOTH ends! We can't take any risks here!"
 
Teh Jello - Gear/weapons: .45 Caliber Pistol, millions of clips of ammo, Pocket knife, a half of a Water Bottle, 2 dollars.
- Current Location: just outside Hulk Haven Hills


Teh Jello walks through the radiation covered desert, he takes a sip of water and looks around, noticing small figures moving towards him. he puts the water bottle in his bag and pulls his .45 from its hip holster, clicking off the safety, he fires, killing all but one, which seems unkillable

"DIE! DIE! DIE!"

he kicks it in the balls and stabs through its skull with his pocket knife. he sees more figures up ahead. they are DOG LIPS and Wilhelm Scream.

"YOU GUYS GOT FOOD?!
 

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