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Jose

8 (42.1%)

Ruby

11 (57.9%)

Total Members Voted: 19

[Evergod41]

Hobo: Baaaaaaaaaah....
Man: Hey, why are you sweating on me and going Baaaaaaah?
Hobo: Oh, sorry. This is just how I meet people.

Oh, So going in my Sig-Repository

[Fniff]

Hobo: Baaaaaaaaaah....
Man: Hey, why are you sweating on me and going Baaaaaaah?
Hobo: Oh, sorry. This is just how I meet people.

Oh, So going in my Sig-Repository

I am honored,  Evergod.

I also decided to make a flash fiction dedicated to Patient Zero, AKA Michael.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Michael stumbled through the abandoned building. He felt like crap. He felt like there was something inside him, growing.

He didn't really care about it. Michael knew he probably had a million diseases in his body. He was homeless, and thus was probably exposed to every damn disease on the planet.

Michael settled down on the floor. He took a swig from his bottle. He wondered what went wrong with his life. Was it Vietnam? Was it the divorce? Was it the fact his eyesight was permanently damaged because of a damn landmine? Was it just his life? Was it his motivation for life? Was it anything.

Michael felt a stab in his head. He drank more whiskey. He felt a bit of warmth go into him. He shook a bit.

He sighed.

Suddenly, he felt something. He started smelling things. He could smell a very ugly smell. It blocked out all other smells. Michael felt anger at this smell. He felt like the smell should go away, in any way. He just felt like this, like it was some...Reflex.

Michael vomited. He looked at the vomit. It had blood in it.

"Aw shit...." Tears started rolling down his eyes. He was done for. This wasn't good at all. The smell got stronger and stronger, and Michael's mind got weaker and weaker.

Like many homeless people, he stopped living after a certain point. The thing that made him different was the fact that he got up again.

The New Michael looked around. It smelt something.

Prey.

[Fniff]

I hope no-one has forgotten this game, cos that would be sad. It just got into it's stride.

[Kilowatt]

We've done our stuff, now it's time for you to work your magic with progressing the story.

[MetalSlimeHunt]

He might be still setting things up with the survivors, but we have no way of knowing this without cheating.

[Fniff]

He might be still setting things up with the survivors, but we have no way of knowing this without cheating.

OK, then. That makes sense.

Sorry, but prostitute and hobo zombies are too good to pass up, and I want to make sure that it goes through.

Side note: Anyone like my story? I thought it wasn't too good, but I think that with everything I make.

[ragnarok97071]

Pretty good. once we get stuff started, have a partner in the other thread tell you of past operations and dramatize them. you're pretty good at writing this stuff (if the GM approves, of course)

[Fniff]

Pretty good. once we get stuff started, have a partner in the other thread tell you of past operations and dramatize them. you're pretty good at writing this stuff (if the GM approves, of course)

We will try when he is back online.

Anyway, I think this should be a fun forum game. If I was the zombie parasite in this game, I'd be causing the forum to hallucinate horrifying smells right now! (Sensical version: I'd be digging in pretty deep into this forum.)

Hey, actually. Does the hallucinating horrifying smells make sense? I thought it kinda made sense, since the parasite ramps up agression and causes the subject to not kill zombies using a pheromone, so I thought they'd really really hate non-pheromone smells.

[kilakan]

hum, makes sense, he coulda been smelling the pheromones giving off by himself, moments before he died, atleast that's the way i think, suppose it's up to you though, and in a story, anything well written makes sense.

[Fniff]

hum, makes sense, he coulda been smelling the pheromones giving off by himself, moments before he died, atleast that's the way i think, suppose it's up to you though, and in a story, anything well written makes sense.

Well, yeah, that'd make a load of sense. Better then my explanation, in which he smelt other hobos.

[GlyphGryph]

Or it could just be that I AM BUSY WITH WORK AND YOU ALL NEED TO HAVE A LITTLE GODDAMN PATIENCE!

Next three days are are 10+ hour shifts, bleeeeehhhh.

[GlyphGryph]

However, since someone wrote the first update for me...

You have infected your first host, patient zero!

Michael stumbled through the abandoned building. He felt like crap. He felt like there was something inside him, growing.

He didn't really care about it. Michael knew he probably had a million diseases in his body. He was homeless, and thus was probably exposed to every damn disease on the planet.

Michael settled down on the floor. He took a swig from his bottle. He wondered what went wrong with his life. Was it Vietnam? Was it the divorce? Was it the fact his eyesight was permanently damaged because of a damn landmine? Was it just his life? Was it his motivation for life? Was it anything.

Michael felt a stab in his head. He drank more whiskey. He felt a bit of warmth go into him. He shook a bit.

He sighed.

Suddenly, he felt something. He started smelling things. He could smell a very ugly smell. It blocked out all other smells. Michael felt anger at this smell. He felt like the smell should go away, in any way. He just felt like this, like it was some...Reflex.

Michael vomited. He looked at the vomit. It had blood in it.

"Aw shit...." Tears started rolling down his eyes. He was done for. This wasn't good at all. The smell got stronger and stronger, and Michael's mind got weaker and weaker.

Like many homeless people, he stopped living after a certain point. The thing that made him different was the fact that he got up again.

The New Michael looked around. It smelt something.

Prey.

Written by Fnif.

I've got the next update planned too, though, after work though.

Also, you guys are allowed to read the other thread, just not post there.

[Fniff]

However, since someone wrote the first update for me...

You have infected your first host, patient zero!

Michael stumbled through the abandoned building. He felt like crap. He felt like there was something inside him, growing.

He didn't really care about it. Michael knew he probably had a million diseases in his body. He was homeless, and thus was probably exposed to every damn disease on the planet.

Michael settled down on the floor. He took a swig from his bottle. He wondered what went wrong with his life. Was it Vietnam? Was it the divorce? Was it the fact his eyesight was permanently damaged because of a damn landmine? Was it just his life? Was it his motivation for life? Was it anything.

Michael felt a stab in his head. He drank more whiskey. He felt a bit of warmth go into him. He shook a bit.

He sighed.

Suddenly, he felt something. He started smelling things. He could smell a very ugly smell. It blocked out all other smells. Michael felt anger at this smell. He felt like the smell should go away, in any way. He just felt like this, like it was some...Reflex.

Michael vomited. He looked at the vomit. It had blood in it.

"Aw shit...." Tears started rolling down his eyes. He was done for. This wasn't good at all. The smell got stronger and stronger, and Michael's mind got weaker and weaker.

Like many homeless people, he stopped living after a certain point. The thing that made him different was the fact that he got up again.

The New Michael looked around. It smelt something.

Prey.

Written by Fnif.

I've got the next update planned too, though, after work though.

Also, you guys are allowed to read the other thread, just not post there.

Hurray!

I feel happy and such!

Sorry about being impatient, it's just that my forum game is kinda dying and I need something to do with all this spare time I have.

[GlyphGryph]

Well, mass upload means I have a few minutes.

You parasite has started to spread!

Ruby and Jose didn't say much as he prepared the needles. Ruby hated this place, hated being here, but then, she just sort of hated life anyways. That's why Jose was here. A little bit longer, and life would be good again for a while. She tapped one of her fingers impatiently against the other, occasionally stopping for a moment to squeeze the chipped red fingernails into the skin.

"Hey, you want to go again one more time before we-"
"Just give me the fucking needle, Hose." she said, snatching it out of his hand. A moment later, Ruby was backed against the wall, a hand against her chest, nearly hyperventilating.
"What the fuck was that?" she said, pointing.

Jose, up against the door, scrambling to pull out his pocket knife, peeked out the door and laughed. "It's just fucking Mikey, yah? Sleeps in back, drunk fucker always muttering about the fucking war or something. Knocked over a shelf."
"I'm glad you think its so fucking funny! What if he wants to fucking rob us or something?"
"Bitch, calm down, he's fine, he wouldn't do that. And if he tried shit, I'd take care of him." Jose made a few quick swipes with his knife, trying to look as tough as possible. "Looks fucking off his ass, though. Hey, Mikey, where the fuck do you get enough to afford all that shit anyways?"

New Michael smelled. He heard. He was still weak, still sick, but he felt... he felt like he needed. And it made him angry. It made him upset. The shadows against a wall danced, some flashes. Some quick movements. He worked his way down the hallway. The movements, they made him so angry. And the noise. Argh, why wouldn't this guy just. shut. up!

Jose sat back in his corner as Michael started down the hallway. "He doesn't seem very talkative. Looks half dead though, hah. Fucking wasted. Can smell the booze from here."
"Fuck it, Hose. If you don't think he's going to be a problem, can we just start? Okay?"
"Yeah, sure, sure, just let me-"

There he was. That bastard. That... who was he? You hated him. Damn him. That. Argh. You stepped towards him, scratching at him, barreling through the doorway and catching him by surprise. As you knocked him to the ground, you realized that more than anything else, you wanted to taste him.

"What the fuck, Mikey! What the fuck, get off of me! Fuck, Ruby, get him the fuck off me."
Ruby was already on her feet, pressed against the wall, but she didn't try to help. She wasn't stupid. Jose finally pushed Michael off of him, rolling to his feet and giving the bum a kick to the face, stunning him. Seeing she wasn't going to have to make a break for the door, she rushed into to give him a few kicks as well. "Yah, fuck you ya bum. Fucking psycho." Michael groaned on the floor, fighting the pain, and Jose scooped up his scattered supplies.
"Let's get the fuck out of here, huh, Rubes?" he said.
"What the fuck was that shit with the knife earlier then! He just fucking attacked us! Cut him!"
"You're the fucking psycho, bitch! He's just fucking stupid drunk, he don't even know what he's doing, look at him, covered in his own vomit. I'm not gonna just fucking stab him!"

Michael pushed himself back to his feet. Angrier than ever. So angry. Talking. Taunting him. Pushing himself off the ground, he rushed them, reaching forward, screaming in rage. He grabbed the woman, and felt a fist against his face, but he ignored it. The two of them toppled to the ground. He heard her screaming, and landed heavily on top of her, biting and clawing at her.

Ruby reached for something, anything, with her free hand, the other pinned between them, the only thing keeping this madman, spitting and gagging with his throat against her arm, away from her. She found something, something small but hard, and she swung it around at the side of his head. The man's eyes followed the motion, turning, even as he ignored the kicks being landed against his side. Then there was pain, and he went reeling backwards.

A short while later, the body lay unmoving on the ground, a hypodermic jutting from one of its eye, and the other side of its head nearly caved in in a bloody mess. Ruby shook uncontrollably, wiping the blood from her face with her arm, as she dropped the piece of concrete she'd used when he had started to get back up yet again.

Jose just sort of looked at the scene, scratching at the bite on his arm that was already starting to swell. "Fuck, Ruby. Fuck. We have to get out of here. We were never fucking here, you hear?"
Ruby just glared at him. "Fine. Whatever. Like anyone would care." As they head out, she stopped one last time and gave the corpse another kick for good measure.


A couple days later, your horde doubles in size...
You now have 2 zombies.

You have gained a mutation point.

[MetalSlimeHunt]

Upgrade Target Identification: Smell (-1)