Discussion in 'State of Decay News' started by Undead Sanya, Jan 16, 2013.
What story did the music tell you?
Society has definately collapsed, although the ruins of civilization are still present they're a war-zone if anything. nature has begun to retake the city-scapes, a blade of grass rustles in the breeze as an armored pick-up truck speeds over it.
As the city fades into the background the truck finds itself in a small woodland community. A lone survivor, armed with only a scavenged police officers pistol and a dented metal bat retakes a large country home and begins the long process of survival.
Flash forward a week, a few other survivors find their way to his new home and join in on the fortifications, the future is still bleak but there is a faint glimmer of hope.
Skip to a dark night, the man from earlier scavenges several cans of beans and such from the small nearby town, skipping ahead to him slowly walking back towards his home, now barricaded with a fenceline permeter and several lanterns glowing in the darkness.
track one told me to be carful now they out number you build and move on.. track 2 kill and spray when shit hits the fan just dont look back and run XD... track 3 in your base of operations chilling thinking of the things that are happening, planning to what to do next and how to survive another day i so like the third one sooooo much XD the chilling mood is epic
am hypnotized with the third one what did you do Sanya
That nobody is alone.
In a way, it spoke brotherhood. Standing against a line of enemies, hand in hand. The last line of defense between them and the community. People holding shotguns, shovels, pick axes and torches. I imagine them going, one by one, into the fray. Killing the zed in a blind adrenaline-fueled rage. The zed clearly out number them, but they hold the line. They are brave, and they will not let them enter at all costs. They do it out of fear, out of compassion, and some type of love. Most of them perish, yes.
But they will not be forgotten.
You live life like any other day but you realize it's not like any other day you and some survivors are trying to live with what was once civilization people trying to survive from what they can because once all the survivors are gone humans will no longer be the top of the food chain but yet your grateful you can still breathe the air of life and that other people are still with you and you realize there is still hope and that human kind will once again be able to live in peace.
After loosing your group and being lost for a few days you see a small piece of hope in the horizon: a school that has "survivors inside" painted on the outside wall. As you start to approach the school you have to sneak your way through the streets filled with zombies, going inside some houses seeing some horrifying scenes: people who took out their lifes, a twitching door that you can only imagine what's inside, you can even hear some cries for help in the distance. You keep going, waiting for the hordes to pass by you, hoping they don't realize you're there, you keep getting closer to the school knowing that any moment could be your last... you finally arrive to the school just to see it's has been overrun by zombies and there's no survivors left. You're all alone again.
Sorry if my English or writing it's not very good, i tried my best.
Elmo stealing Prime Ministers Cookie Monster, cookies. He then plans revenge. He then shoot Elmo in the face. Cuts his body open. Takes the half digested cookies. Eats it.
Seems the music fits the mood of a scouting operation of some kind.
You climb to the top of a small hill overlooking a supermarket. Plenty of food must still be inside, even if the place has been looted. Only one thing stands in your way, and its the maggot sacks roaming around in the front parking lot. You signal to your partner, and make a flanking movement on the crowd. He makes a noise to pull them away while you slip inside and grab as much as your pack can carry. Quick trip to the pharmacy in the back end of the store couldn't hurt. You go into the room and grab some medicinal supplies, but a body you thought was dead isn't exactly all that, well dead. As it rises to it's feet you panic, and freeze up trying to make the decision of either fight, or flight. Clock is ticking.
We once thought this world was a safe place full of happiness.
But we were always wrong thinking the "myths" we come up with never come true.
That's what we all thought till the "myths" come true...
The outbreak has just started it was just a day ago I left the town, me and my group found a street in a small neighborhood people blocked off with some makeshift walls, cars and lots of wood, but how will this hold against creatures what feel no pain? Me and my group have stayed here for about a day now, with about 14 other people, I am not sure how long the food supply will last with all of us I hope we will not have to go out into the now unsafe world anytime soon. But you know some thing like this was bound to happen eventually with how careless the human could be, because nobody know I am BIT ! but it does not matter, because all the world is, is a....
STATE OF DECAY
It's been a week since the outbreak. In the background, a small city with smoke rising from buildings is seen. Only a couple of miles away from the city, a safe house filled with survivors is awaiting is scavenge team to return. Finally, they hear a noise. They see a truck pull up in front of the base. It's the same truck of the scavenge team. The team exits the truck with the supplies, but they aren't just carrying supplies, but one of their team mates as well. He's been bitten.
They carry the supplies and the survivor inside. As other survivors grab food and water, a doctor examines the wound of the survivor. There's a large bite mark on the side of his torso. "We were ambushed by some infected," a survivor tells the doctor. The doctor replies that the wounded survivor only has little than half an hour left before he becomes one of them.
Suddenly, the survivor slowly opens his eyes and looks up to one of the survivors. He reaches out to him.
"D...Don't let m-me...bec-come one of th-them..." He struggles to speak as the infection slowly begins to affect his brain. "P...Please..."
He slowly points to the survivor's gun in its holster. The other survivor struggles to think of an answer. After a few moments, he nods slowly. The survivors, including the doctor, then carry the dying survivor out to the woods, far from the base. One survivor pulls his gun out, and aims it to his friend's head. Tears fall down his face. Slowly, he pulls the trigger. A loud bang echoes through the woods.
Once it was over, the survivors leave back to camp, leaving their dead friend slumped against a tree. Minutes after they leave, a group of Walkers stumble upon the corpse of the survivor, and begin to feast on his flesh.
State of Decay
AN EXCERPT FROM A STORY THAT I'M CURRENTLY WRITING
Riots broke out all across the world. Simultaneously they sprang up, and without warning, engulfing entire countries in a matter of days, and some in even a few hours. Africa didnâ€™t stand a chance; thatâ€™s where it was first noticed. Then the smaller island countries caught wind of the infection: Madagascar, Jamaica, Australia, and the UK. It took a month at most for the entire world to go darkâ€¦and now here we are, reduced to primitive lifestyles, merely postponing the inevitable end.
If you asked me where we were in the world, I honestly couldnâ€™t tell you for sure. Weâ€™ve done so much traveling that Iâ€™ve lost track; maybe weâ€™re in Indiana, or possibly Iowa? I donâ€™t know. Regardless of where we are exactly, weâ€™ve taken a temporary refuge in a small cluster of rental homes in a semi-suburban area; probably on the border of what was a small cityâ€¦which just looks like a huge bonfire at this point. We knocked down the dry-wall separating each building, so as to make one large room, and we have kind of built a little society amongst ourselves here.
Maybe weâ€™ll be able to stay here for a couple weeks; Iâ€™m starting to like it.
I woke in my less than comfortable sleeping bag beside a probably only slightly more comfortable wire-frame bed. The light barely managed to seep in between the mess of boards and sheets that covered the windows, making it seem as though it had been dawn for hours. My back popped and whined with even the slightest of movement, forcing a grimace on my face as I stood from the ground. Alyssa stirred in the bed next to Hunter, making him grumble in his sleep, probably about to join me in waking earlier than normal.
I walked into the living-room, which, after clearing the dry-wall that separated them, was more like two made into one. Dayton, a larger young adult figure that very well represented that tall Viking we all wish we knew, hair, beard, size and all, was waiting for me there, sipping on a small cup of black coffee.
â€œMorning, Dayton,â€ I greeted him.
He held a finger to his lips, signaling silence, as he stared between the blinds of a window.
I joined him at the window and peered as well, to see that he was watching an infected walk around outside. Call them what you will, be it zombies, walkers, biters, lame-brains, or bastards, whatever; we choose to call them what they are: infected. They meander about using the basics of their senses to find their next fleshy meal, almost in a comatose state, until they sense prey. Once theyâ€™re alerted, theyâ€™ll attack in the most pathetically frenzied, shambling manner, making all kinds of noise that attracts more of them. So, as obvious as it should be by now, discretion is of the utmost importance.
Dayton leaned close to me and said under his breath, â€œThe buggerâ€™s been out there for the last two hours, I swear.â€
â€œLetâ€™s kill it, then,â€ I said.
He looked at me for a second, but then returned his gaze to the shambling being outside. â€œNow see, I would have,â€ he began, â€œbut I donâ€™t necessarily do well in the way of dealing with things quietly.â€
I shot him a sarcastic glance. â€œReally, now?â€
â€œYeah, man,â€ he said, quite obviously ignoring the sarcasm in my question.
â€œIâ€™ll take care of him. Nothing like a good kill to start a day, huh?â€
He smirked, but didnâ€™t answer me. Dayton was an interesting character. Sure, he was a Viking by nature, but he not only represented them physically, he also carried their mysterious traits in him. It was funny though, because it was all an act; he enjoyed being who he was, so he over-played it purely for the amusement of those around him. Heâ€™s really quite the comedian.
I stood from my knelt position, and approached the front door, but not before retrieving a sharp metal spear from the umbrella-container near it. Take a note: when I say â€˜sharp metal spearâ€™, I mean a long metal pole that has been sharpened to a point on one end; we are by no mean expert blacksmiths here.
I crouched and opened the door as quietly as I could, allowing the light of midday to flood into the refuge, and made a quick observation of my exterior surroundings. The infected that Dayton had been watching seemed to be the only one around for the moment, suggesting that he had likely been left behind by a migrating horde sometime in the night. He shambled away from my position, one arm dangling and the other used as a directive for his bodyâ€™s movements. The poor creature was also grossly underfed (good), which was made obvious by the exposed ribs beneath the ripped over-coat that hardly stayed in one piece across his shoulders. Iâ€™d be doing this bastard a favor.
Silently, I crept up behind the infected, spear ready and my grip firm. Once close enough, I didnâ€™t hesitate; I shoved the pointed end of the metal rod into the base of the infectedâ€™s skull. It uttered a startled gurgling sound, then went limp and fell to the ground, sliding easily off of my spear. I wiped the blood that remained on it across his coat, and walked back to the refuge. Iâ€™d almost be willing to admit how much I hate myself for enjoying that, if it wasnâ€™t so much fun.
â€œWell done, my good man!â€ Dayton praised as I entered. He embraced me briefly, and then took a seat on one of the sofas at the West end of the living-room. Iâ€™m not sure I previously mentioned how interesting an individl he really is, but I donâ€™t believe any elaboration is necessary at this point.
â€œHey, Roy,â€ beckoned someone from the far end of the room, â€œcome here!â€
Jacob was driving home from the farm. Mr. Mather had given him some soup his wife had made to bring home for his dad.
Wasn't much work since the economy broke down, and route 54 had been all been empty this afternoon.
he wanted to get home early, it was his little brother Michael's birthday.
Michael hadn't been feeling too well either, and Jacob wanted to do something special
He carved Michael a horse just like he wanted during his lunch break
and worked extra hard to finish early to get home by five.
it was tough cause none of the other hands showed up.
He drove into carter town to find it all but empty, some cars seemed present but something was off
It was weird McKinley tavern was open but not a car was parked outside and around now it was usually packed
he paid no mind and set off down main street to get to his parents house.
they needed all the money they could get, since dad got sick. Hence why Jacob took the job.
checking his mirror, he swore he saw someone run by, but he was rushing and wanted to get home.
As he pulled into the driveway with his old Chevy he rushed quickly to the front steps, the door was open.
Not that it was bizarre that the door was open, this was a small town, but the lights flickering and the calmness
of the houses freaked him out.
Jacob stopped in the doorway, and dropped the carved horse. There on the floor was Michael....eating mom.
and beside Michael, was pop who turned his head, mouth full of gore and growled...
society has fallen and you are a survivor just trying to survive, but you are not alone......
thats what it tells me but what i actually hear is someone playing the guitar awsomely . i know that's not a word but there no other way to describe it .
I heard like a western suspense type feel. I think it's a type of song you would hear when your doing an introduction where you see developer names and stuff as its flashing between different spots in the town with the names up on blood or building and streets and there are zombies walking around. That is just what I hear. I know it's odd.
Wait is this supposed to be about zombies ?
As my Trooper turned north at the exit, I-90 faded off out of sight as the road started climbing past the abandoned and blackened reststop. The husks of vehicles littered the road side making it difficult at first to build up any speed. Now I was clear of most of the wrecks and the ragdoll husks of what was left of survivors trying to flee the devastation. It didn't look like anything was left to salvage or scavenge and I was determined I had to reach Trumball Valley and Uncle Rudy's homestead today. It had been a bitch to get here this far. I tried my cell again but still no signal. It had been that way for days driving up from Vegas. Luckily I had stocked up on plenty of cans of fuel before I made it out of the last traces of people. Now all I can see are looted and burned out cars and trucks... and the ravers. Some seem to just wander out to make you avoid them. Others just stand looking at you with their glassed over bloodeyes as you fly by on the road. Fortunately things are clear up here haven't run into any of the trackstars. This road won't afford much of a chance for detours or a shoulder to avoid or shake them. That last one I ran over made a mess all across the front of the Trooper and I can still smell it. I keep hoping that this plague didn't reach this far out into the wilds but the warnings on the radio seem to be spot on. Nothings escaping this... folks are out of hope or gone crazy. Everythings gone crazy.
A group of survivors have gotten lost in a forest. Night has fallen and the group are using the full moon as a light source. All is quiet which makes them nervous. They pick up the pace despite their growing fears of what else may be out there. As they continue on they hear footfalls behind them. Someone is follwing them! Could be zombies or could be something worse...
I opened my eye's only to see myself untouched but bloody covered by my friends and the hot sun beating over head. The streets seem to go on forever but no one in sight only bits and piece's on what civilization use to be. From now and then i can see what use to be our friends and our family but they are crazed blood hungry animals without reason. Time is spent moving during the day they are easier to see smell on the other hand isn't a issue. Its down to me all alone in a world full of wolf's trying to stay alive. Every now and then i hear screams in the dead of night but i don't know if its someone or a screamer they are very crafty for deadheads. I leave this town soon move on to the next in hope's i will fine more living people because this world if without a doubt in a State of Decay
The scene starts with a bloodied man looking at a picture, it's him, his wife,and two of his friends all smiling. He flashes back: he is at his house watching tv with his wife when suddenly they hear a ,Bang, Bang, Bang. someone is at the door.His wife get's up to answer it. she pulls the door open and has no time to react before she is pounced on and bitten on the neck. She is dead instantly.The man sees this and lunges at the crazed person.He pulls the psycho off his wife and pins him to a wall and gazes at this monster.Somethings not right, this mans face is decayed. The man doesn't care and a plunges nearby knife into the face of the killer. The flashback is abruptly ended by the sounds of moaning and then repeated banging on the walls. "their here" he says as he begins to stand. His anger begins to consume him as he starts walking to a nearby door. He glances to his left. There in the eye of a dead human is a combat knife.The man walks over and pulls it out of this persons skull without even the slightest of care.Finally he reaches the door and takes one last long look at the picture.He steels himself and begins to turn the handle...
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