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[Hubris Incalculable]

Spoiler: what is this? I don't even... (click to show/hide)

This is a free-form, un-governed role-play, but try not to go too apeshit insane. oh, and i'd appreciate it if you coloured your dialogue.

The year is 1982. A year ago, the Soviets ordered an all-out nuclear attack against the country of America. Luckily, our small band, strange as it may seem, survived the whole year in a disused 50's shelter. Unfortunately, near the end, poor Sid (may God rest his soul and have mercy on ours) was sacrificed, by his own choice, to the greater good of the other residents (in other words, we ate him). The old geiger counter seems to be in working condition, and is reading safe levels outside, and, as supplies are limited, it seems we must leave our shelter and fend for ourselves outside...

"Fookin' 'ell, this place looks more torn oop than me jeans" declared a short but skinny British punk, named Gavin, who had come to America a month before the war on tour with his band, the Rotters. It had been his drummer whom he had been forced to choke down for the last month.

[Phantom of The Library]

A cold wind blew across the white landscape and a figure in a trenchcoat and gas-mask approaches.
He stops several feet away and proclaims: "Howdy-do neighbors!"

((thank thank you thank you for starting up another one of these!!!))

[LordBucket]

Sure, I'll give this a try. And just to be different, rather than creating a character, I'll play...me! So, for this, I'll know what I know, and can do what I can do. (I'll be honest.)

"So guys," said LordBucket, I think it's time we investigate above ground. Who's with me? Feel free to join or not. I'll be going to the surface whether you come with me or not. I mean, Sid was delicious and all. But I think I'd rather not eat our way through the rest of us until there's only one person left to starve to death alone."

Actions
 * Take an inventory of materials and supplies in the shelter. In particular, looking for: seeds, tools (especially need digging and cutting tools), weapons, fuel, medical supplies (gauze, tape, scalpel and disinfectant would be nice), radios and bags/backpacks. Also, duct tape, buckets, hose, face masks and iodine tablets if possible.
 * Also need inventory of food and water supplies. Since we've been in here for a year I assume we have some sort of water source or recycling system sufficient to allow us to wash clothes and take showers, yes?

[Hubris Incalculable]

((-_^  Lordbucket, instead of asking me to carry out your actions, just write them up. That's the point. I'm here to play as well, not to regulate what you do.))

"'Oi! I 'eard tha'!" shouted Gavin as he climbed back down the ladder. "Don't you talk like that abou' me mate, or i'll stove yer oogly Yank face in! Anyway, we got comp'ny!"

[LordBucket]

((-_^  Lordbucket, instead of asking me to carry out your actions, just write them up. That's the point. I'm here it play as well, not to regulate what you do.))

(...no GM? So we can arbitrarily decide we have these things and we do? Think I'll lurk for a bit to see how the format is supposed to work.)

[Hubris Incalculable]

((ABSOLUTLY. Anything can happen, so you decide what does. link for your perusal: http://www.bay12forums.com/smf/index.php?topic=81962.msg2169544#msg2169544))

[Spinal_Taper]

Peter, a tall muscular man with a broadsword and a carbine has arrived!
Hey! You guys! I'm looking for some homies, you in?

[Phantom of The Library]

I'm Yoki just so ya' know.  We heard ya' were running' out o' food so I decided to pay ya' a visit.. Yoki walked over to Gavin and shook his hand then pointed behind him to the man with the broadsword. Pay no attention to the man with the anachronistic accent.

[Spinal_Taper]

Peter, hearing Yoki's remark suddenly seemed a bit less amicable.
Aiight, that's real cool. That's how you treat your survival partner?

[Hubris Incalculable]

Gavin turns around and, with a sheepish grin at the corners of his mouth, runs his hand through his pink-tipped ginger hair. A year without scissors, more hair dye, or wax had forced him to forgo his liberty spikes in favor of a pink and ginger mop.

"Well blimey, we only jus' opened the doors to have a look aroun', bu' I don't mind if you bum around wif us for a bi'," he said, then turned to the other occupants of the shelter. "What abou' you lot?"

((

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

yes, that is a hint that i want some bunker-mates as well as outsiders

))

[LordBucket]

About this time LordBucket returns from one of the storage rooms with a shotgun slung over his shoulder and carrying a duffel bag in both hands.

"Hey guys, I found some..." he begins. Then noticing the newcomers, "Hello. I take it you two are friendly."

His head tilts and he looks thoughtfully at Peter for a moment as he contemplates the mechanics of dual wielding a broad sword and carbine simulataneously.

"Hmm," he thinks outloud, "I suppose you could do it. Assuming you were right handed, you'd want the sword in your right and the rifle in your left hand. The rifle would tend to throw off your swordarm, but you could minimize that by bringing your fist to your shoulder and tucking the barrel behind your neck. Of course, you'd want to keep your finger out of the trigger guard and just grab the handle while you did it. In a pinch you could even slide your hand across your body or down to use the barrel to parry. If your opponent is also right handed, some useful number of attacks would probably come from that direction. Still though, I bet a nice steel tonfa or a parrying dagger would give better results. It's not like you're going to be able to hit anything firing the rifle single handed anyway. Though...maybe a pistol in the left hand. Hmm. That would eliminate the weight and awkwardness of the rifle and would be practical to fire with just one hand. In a crowded fight at close quarters where at any time a second attacker might switch to you, that might even be useful."

He's thoughtful for a few silent moment longer then with a look of certainty says, "I think I'll stick with the shotgun. Anyway, I found some gear in storage. You two have been on the surface. What are conditions up there like?"

Seeing that the newcomers aren't here to fight, he sits down with a rag and some gun oil as he waits for their answer, and begins dismantling the shotgun.

[Spinal_Taper]

Peter says "Oh damn. They're here again" He points towards a point on the horizon where a vast horde is visible.

[Wayward Device]

At this point a ragged Englishman emerged from the bunker entrance. He was gaunt, his face marked with lines of worry ill befitting his age. His hair was long and unkempt, as hair tends to be when grown out unchecked for a year from a sensible short cut. A beard both long and sparse was about his face, as was a look resigned despair. He squinted in the harsh glare of the morning sun, his left eye closed and his right darting between his bunkermates and the newcomers. His hand almost darted to the hilt of the antique flamberg strapped to his light hiking pack, but his good sense got the better of him. He finished taking in the ruins of the finest American suburbia had to offer and turned to Gavin, locking him with his gaze.

"Gav mate. I say this with the greatest of love. You fucking cunt, this is still by and far the worst party you ever took me too."   

He grinned broadly, but there was worn edge to his easy good humor, like a record played for the hundredth time or a fine cloak just starting to fray at the edges. Before Gavin could reply, the Englishman's gaze darted over his shoulder and his eyes narrowed. He turned to face the outsider with the broadsword in his right hand and the carbine in his left. He pointed with his left hand at the slowly approaching crown of figures.

"Those are not men."

At this point a close and clever observer would have noticed an almost intangible change in the Englishman's eyes. It was almost as if an ember was stirring in a the ashes of a fire almost gone cold.   

[Hubris Incalculable]

Turning towards the advance horde, Gavin pushed his hair out of his face and remarked:
"You may be right abou' that. An' anyway, that concert in Bromley was def'nitely worse! You remember?"

"Oi, Bucket, you got anymore guns in tha' bag? I fink I'll be needing one."

[LordBucket]

"Sure," he says as he pulls a pair of beretta 9mm from the duffel bag. "15 shots to a clip, and about half a dozen empty clips to go with them. As for bullets, there are about a dozen ammo cases down below. More than we could possibly carry on foot. I recommend filling clips in advance. It takes about a minute to do, and you don't want to be stuck loading individual bullets into the chamber in a bad situation. There's also a hunting rifle of some kind down there."

LordBucket looks tentatively at Gavin for a few moments before continuing. "So far as I know, none of these have been fired in at least the year we've been down here. I'd recommend cleaning before use. Anyway, that's two pistols and a rifle if anyone needs weapons. I'll take one of the berreta's if nobody else wants them."

LordBucket takes a moment from the work he's doing with his shotgun to pull out a pair of binoculars and head aboveground to see what the Ragged Englishman meant about "them" not being men. A short minute later, he returns with wide eyes.

"Guys, when he said they weren't men, I was expecting zombies. I was totally expecting zombies." He pauses to swallow.

"Those aren't zombies."