Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

Jose

8 (42.1%)

Ruby

11 (57.9%)

Total Members Voted: 19

[mission0]

Follow the PartyGoers!

[Evergod41]

Da Po-Po would have a good and funny transformation stage, plus, we have the chance to get guns!

[Eagle_eye]

I vote police, definitely. They're exposed to a large number of people, not suspicious in most environments.

[MetalSlimeHunt]

I vote police, definitely. They're exposed to a large number of people, not suspicious in most environments.

I'd like to remind you that our enviorment is Detroit.

[Eagle_eye]

not all of detroit is slums...

[MetalSlimeHunt]

Not all, but there are places in Detroit where cops don't go, and more still where they raise high suspicion. A normal cop would be on guard, but Zombie!Cop isn't going to.

[Evergod41]

We need to do !!Zombie!! that explode...

[Fniff]

Hey guys. If you take Detroit, I got a special story planned for you. I'll update it if the situation changes, but still.

[Kilowatt]

Partygoers.

[ragnarok97071]

Partygoers.

It's what's for dinner. Tonight.

[Humaan]

I have been pondering it for a while, and I realized the benefit mimicing personality of our host.


It would allow:

1. Stealth, because those infected are not damn obvious due to partial/obvious insanity.
2. Spreading efficiency, because "Partygoers" and other socialites would go to parties and start infecting people there.
3. Survival, because when someone know someone, its inevitable that they will not attack them "as a person", and the fact they do sound like a person means there are going to be those who are reluctant. This means the we can infect THEM easier as well.

[GlyphGryph]

This will get updated Monday. I've been really busy last couple days. :/

[GlyphGryph]

It's still Monday! I have time! Working on update now!

[GlyphGryph]

"No, dude, no I'm not fucking with you man I am sick as a dog. I don't know man. I was at the party, that one with that fucking psycho on PCP or whatever the fuck, you know. Fucker bit me, I went to the hospital and they cleaned it up but fack man I don't even know. I'm gonna go back tomorrow if I'm not feeling any better right now I am just so fucking high cause I thought it would help my headache, you know like when they talk about the medical marijuana and stuff I though ti would help but now I just feeling like fucking barfing all over the place so I can't come."

The person on the other end says something, but you're already hanging up the phone. You don't even care. You just want to die. You feel like such crap it is crazy. The phone misses the receiver and clatters on the floor. Shit. You look over at your barf/tissue bucket, and wonder if it's worth it. Your roommate should be back soon, maybe he'll hang it up. You cover your face with a pillow and moan a bit.

Finally, you hear the door knob turn, and you peek out to see Lucas sort of edging into the room.
"Shit man, did you get the fucking... shit. You know?"

Lucas puts his hand the surgical mask on his face. "I got the fucking shit I needed if that's what you mean, which is to keep your hell germs away from me. I also got you the bottle of root beer you asked for. When you puke it all back up, do me a favour and try to keep the vomit on your side of the room this time, eh?"

"One sec man," you say, struggling to sit up. "I'll get up and poor myself. A cup of it."

"Oh no, fuck that. You stay right where you are on your side of this biological breeding ground. I will poor you a cup, and then leave, because I'm going to spend the next couple of nights at Stacie's until I am sure you will not puke all over me in the night."

No, man... No. I'll get up. You push yourself unsteadily to your feet. No, wait. Did you actually say that, or just think it? You decide to try again. "Ughhh... guhhh... eee" Your tongue seems almost thick in your mouth, nearly unresponsive. Your thoughts are a bit sluggish. You are so spaced out... you wonder if... someone laced your shit with some shit or shit...

"What? Did you say something? Man, what ar-"

You bite him, hard. You claw at him. You don't know why. You don't care. You want to. You want to feel him against your tongue. You want to hurt him. To make him pay. For something. He pushes you off him, babbles something stupid. Runs into the hallway. Leaves the door open. Follow him. Yes. Follow the delicious scent. Follow the motion, the sounds. You're in the hall now. Others come to their doorways to peek out at you. You stumble forward a bit, getting a feeling for walking. But you always knew how to walk? Why would you need to get a feel for it. Maybe you fell asleep, and you're dreaming. Whatever. You walk down the hallway. Someone says something. You turn to them, see them speaking from a half closed doorway, looking out at you. Frustrating. Why doesn't she speak clearer. You try to get closer. Maybe you can taste what she was trying to say.

"Shit, shut the fucking door, Elissa!"
"Oh my god! I'm trying! His arms coming through it, just waving around. What the hell is he on?"
"Duncan, you fuck, get the fuck out of our room or I'm calling the cops! I'm serious! I'm not joking here!"
One of the girls runs up the door and gives it a kick, making an unhappy cracking sound and leaving a line of blood against Duncan's shirt.
"Shit, Kelly, what did you-"

Pain. Ouch. Fucking hurts. You pull back. Shrink back. The door clicks shut. You back off. Whatever. You have. You have to find someone. Ask them what's going on. Shouldn't hurt this much, dreams. Dreams shouldn't hurt. There. Someone coming. The RA. Asking things. Asking. You are confused for a moment. You want to say something, but you just watch him get closer. Some part of you just says to wait. Not to say anything, just wait. Suddenly, you lunge forward, grappling with him, biting at him, but he pushes you away. Doors open. Someone comes out. Pulling on you, pulling you off him.

You realize there is something in your hand. A glass? When did you. Oh yeah. You were getting up to fill it with ginger ale. Need to get some ginger ale. But it's broken now. Weird. You didn't even notice it breaking. You smell blood. Your own blood. Someone elses blood. One of the people pulling on you backs off, and you smell a third persons blood. You drop the bloody broken glass, and look at your bloody hand. Painful. Ouch. You look up at someone else. You hear people talking behind doors in urgent voices. The man in front of you is backing up. You feel your stomache turn again. Something it didn't like. You vomit, and then you start to move towards him, but then you notice the person at your feet trying to crawl away. No. Bad. Bite bite. But smells like you. Got you all over him. Okay, maybe the other guy. He's running for the stairs now. You chase him. Chase him.

Then other people. Bigger people. People in uniforms. Your hands are bound, and you're placed somewhere unpleasant. You're hungry, though. So hungry. You hope they give you some food.

Your horde size has increased by 11 (2 converted from this character, 3 opportunities lost to lack of strength, 1 lost to lack of any of intelligence/speed/hunting instinct and presence of unaware) to size 19.

You have gained 1 Mutation point, plus an additional Mutation point from your source, for a total of 2 Mutation points.

I've decided to give you guys a breakdown of missed opportunities so you know what's holding you back. Realize, however, that having a skill doesn't guarantee it will be enough to gain the opportunity, and that making skills that make NEW opportunities needs to balanced with skills that allow you to succeed at them. There IS actually a mechanical system in place here somewhere.

[MetalSlimeHunt]

Remove weak.
Continue to devour the living.