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"July 17th. It's been ten days. Just ten days since there was a real difference between life and death. Ten days ago we ruled this city. Now it belongs to them. Zombies, walking dead, freaks, whatever you want to call them. Nobody really knows how it all started for all that everybody has a theory. My personal favorite comes from a guy wearing a tin foil hat. He says it was caused by some kind of contaminated hot dog sauce. Still gives me a laugh. About the only thing that keeps me going sometimes, too. We lost contact with the outside world almost immediately. Lost running water in two days, city power grid in three. Cops couldn't stop them. Barely even slowed them down. National Guard never showed up, either. Probably holed up in the mountains surrounding the city. Penning us in. Making sure none of the rots can leave. Worst part is we can't even contact anyone. Phones aren't working. Not even cells. We're on our own. Those of us that are left. Nine point five million people in this city, and maybe a couple hundred of us are still alive. Scrounging around in the shadows for the scraps of what's left. The 'lucky' ones that have survived so far. Me? Different kind of luck. The luck that had me hunting in those mountains with my old man when I was a kid. The same luck that got me my marksman ribbons in Basic. Pistol and rifle. Hell, I'll take all the luck I can get. It's getting dark soon." -Mihkel Ellis, electrician.

Those of you that actually took the time to read the introduction have probably figured out that this is going to be a zombie roleplay. But it isn't going to be your typical zombie apocalypse. There aren't any heroes. No one is going to save you. You are on your own. You've stayed alive so far, but if you plan on keeping it that way its going to have to be by your own wits and using whatever you can lay your hands on. I won't lie to you. I'm going to do my best to make this rough while still keeping it fun. Some of you are going to die, there's no way around it. Possibly all of you. Still interested? Keep reading.




You tell me. Do you dream about rebuilding society? Escape? Raising a merchant empire? Or are you just trying to survive? Your life is your own. Decide how you want to live your last days.




The roleplay will be taking place in the fictional city of Larano, a landlocked metropolis roughly the size of modern day Chicago nestled in a valley fully enclosed by heavily wooded, iron rich mountains. Those same mountains were the lifeblood of Larano, housing a mine just twenty miles north of the city limits. Larano also boasts the industrial facilities necessary to process that raw iron ore into the ingots used by other industries around the world. Larano's other major employer, a railroad, connects the iron mines to the smelting facilities of Larano's northern district. It also handles hauling the ingots through one of the two available passes for shipping to other facilities. Larano has no airport, only a small helicopter landing pad at the larger of the three hospitals, but is connected to the highway system through the second of the two passes. The rest of Larano is filled with the residential zones necessary to house the city's 9.5 million people as well as a hefty number of businesses to supply them with nearly anything they might desire. The vast majority of these businesses are housed in the 2,000,000 x 4,500,000 square foot megamall located in the exact geographic center of Larano. Many of the city's roads are blocked, capped off by anything from sand bag walls and concrete road blocks to overturned cars and the occasional bus, all in the hopes of slowing the advance of the dead. Homes and businesses have been broken into, looted, and vandalized. Broken furniture and other items too damaged or too heavy to be stolen lie haphazardly in the streets alongside the broken and bloody corpses of the dead that have yet to change. Bodies, beaten and sometimes burned, sway from street lights where they were lynched with rope or chain by their fear-crazed neighbors.




I'm not going to put much here. I'm going to hope that the population of this guild has the common sense to realize that there are things that you just can't do. I did put a few restrictions in the character profile section. I assure you, I'm not trying to be a d**k. I just want to ensure that we don't have any Rambos and that we get as little confusion from people's posts as possible. Likewise, I'm not going to enforce a posting order. If people start getting skipped too frequently, however, that will change. Let's just keep this fun and friendly, shall we?




Profiles MUST be PMed directly to me. Anyone trying to post their own profile will have it deleted. All characters are perfectly normal humans unless they get infected in game. No chat speak. I'm getting a little tired of decoding applications.

User's Name:
Survivor's Name:
Gender:
Age:
Description: If you give me a picture, you're going to rewrite.
Psyche: This will include your character's personality as well as their current state of mental health, which will be given in a different color. Green for healthy, orange for anything cautionary, and red for cracked.
Former Job: Quite simply, what your character did before the dead were no longer dead. Do some research. If you can't give me at least a semi-decently detailed description of what the job's duties then you need to pick something else. I don't want people trying to BS their way through things.
Hobbies & Training: Again, do some research. If you can't explain how something works, how are you going to know you're doing it correctly?
Place of Residence: Current place only. You can be homeless, a squatter, or still live in your apartment or home. Each of these situations has its own risks and rewards.
Clothing: Anything you want, within reason.
Possessions: If you want to start with any weapons, please, limit them to household items or things you can find in a Wal-mart or self help store. If you want a homemade weapon, please keep it simple. No explosives or projectile weapons.

NEWS

April 10, 2011: The dead walk on the morrow.

April 11, 2011: Roleplay is open. Start posting.

The muscles in Melody's jaws clenched tightly as she watched the walking corpses shuffle along the street. She desperately wanted to rush out at them from her hiding place among the bushes and impale them on her improvised spear, to bash them with her hammer and get some measure of revenge for her parents. But eight was too many for her. Once again she cursed her luck. If that stupid kid in the football armor hadn't gotten himself killed yesterday she might have been able to get him to teach her to make pipe bombs.

"Just have to do it the hard way," she whispered to herself as she checked over her shoulder to make sure the area behind her was clear before she backed out and darted off.

Jack slowly ade his way into the living room, the closest room to the front door. The Television was... on. Sort of. There was at least evidence it had been on, what with the bag of chips on the table, cups knocked over, likely from the panic, and the half packed bags scattered across the room. Then there was the blood, starting at the shattered window behind the couch, streaked across the room, and down the hall. That one had been the first in the family infected. Probably while watching the outbreak on the emergency broadcast, that had likely been on the, now shattered, T.V. screen. "I should probably take the parts from that, and the remote. could be useful for making a trap sometime later." He mutter, picking up a large chunk of shattered glass. "Of course, I'd need electricity, and a lot of other parts. Not sure if I'll have either of those."

He looked around a moment, lifting the couch, looking underneath, then lowering it again, quietly enough that he'd hardly heard the thump of the leg hitting the ground. After a couple minutes of looking, he decided that room was void of anything useful, other than the bag of chips on the table. Cheetos, his least favorite, by far.

Having cleared the living room, Jack decided it would be best to block of the entrance to where the blood streak led, and so he moved the table in front of it, lifted the T.V. on top, and dragged the couch in front as well, before heading the opposite direction, into the hall again, and then into a small bedroom. It appeared to be a teenage boy's room. Band posters on the wall, a T.V. and games in the far right corner, and a small assortment of toy guns. He lifted the bed, chuckling a moment before grabbing an issue of playboy, and putting it into his bag. "Don't know if I'll ever see another living girl again, gotta have something." He laughed, continuing his search. Nothing else of worth, not surprising. On to the next room.

He repeated the same process through two more bedrooms, and three bathrooms, finding only a pair of scissors, some gloves, and some tape. Duct tape, and electrical tape, both incredible useful. Now, he'd made it to the kitchen. He went through the drawers, finding a bunch of knives, all useless, other than a large chef's knife. He grabbed a half empty bottle of soda from the fridge, the only the that wouldn't have gone bad by now, although he could tell by looking at it that it was flat. "Better than nothing." He mumbled, finishing he search, and heading down the hall, just a few steps, leading to a closet. Inside was the normal stuff, a broom, a mop, a vacuum cleaner, nothing special. He grabbed the map and the broom, taping all the useless knives onto the shafts, and headed back to the living room. "If there are any of you in there, be ready to die." He already knew where it led, the only rooms left. The master bedroom, and the cellar. He could guess where the thing was... or things.

Melody peeked around the corner of the hobby store she was hiding behind and grinned. The liquor store looked deserted. The owner had had the foresight to try boarding up the glass windows and door with sheets of plywood but looters had come by and either torn down or smashed the makeshift barricade to get at the alcohol inside. Melody knew that meant the chances of finding what she was looking for were slim but with a little luck and common sense she might be able to look at what had been looted the most and figure out what made the best molotovs.

Her eyes darted around the street to make sure it was empty, then she ran across the street with her improvised spear held out in front of her like a lance. She leaned up against the corner of the liquor store and snuck a quick glance through one of the smashed windows. Lights were out, but the sun was still high enough that she could see the main area of the store was clear. Melody was a little disappointed with that but if she was lucky there might be one or two behind the counter where she couldn't see, or even in one of the back rooms.