[EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?
<h1 id="title">Elliquiy Role Playing Forums</h1>
		<h2 id="linktree">Play-By-Post: Extreme =&gt; Extreme Small Groups =&gt; Topic started by: general9991824 on 06-12-2008, 02:16:57</h2>
		<dl id="posts">
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>[EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 02:16:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hey folks, this is the OOC thread to support a new zombie survival game.&nbsp; Please post your approved characters, minus any GM only notes, below along with any discussion you want.&nbsp; I plan on starting up the main game early next week.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 02:18:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Here is a repost of the setting and a few rules:<br><br>Setting:<br>The zombie genre has a lot of variation so I think it is key to establish a well defined setting so all participants have a similar initial perspective.<br><br>The story will start on May 31st 2012, Z-day +19, or 19 days after the initial worldwide outbreak.&nbsp; For reasons still unknown, on May 12th the recently dead began to rise from the grave and attack the living.&nbsp; The rising happened across the world at pretty much the same time.&nbsp; Society effectively collapsed a few days later as the dead began to outnumber the living.<br><br>By Z+19, there are no television or radio broadcasts left and most locations have lost grid power.&nbsp; Government has ceased to exist and the sounds of large scale battle have faded away.&nbsp; The initial panic and slaughter has somewhat settled down as the living are either consumed or fortified in their shelters.<br><br>The players will be forced for one reason or another to abandon their current shelter and head out on the road in search of other survivors, which is where our little RP picks up.<br><br>The game will start in the small town of Potosi, MO.&nbsp; It is a generic Midwestern town with some interesting locations nearby, including a hospital, a few big box stores, a lead mine, a prison, and an Army base not that far away.&nbsp; I want to use a real town so people can hop on Google Maps and get a good layout on their own.&nbsp; For instance instead of generics like “I approach from the north,” players can be more specific: “I approach from the north along Main street and stop at the brick wall at the intersection with 3rd avenue.”<br><br>Zombie Rules:<br>This was a point of confusion in the last game I tried.&nbsp; People seemed to jump back and forth between Romero zombies, Resident Evil zombies, and whatever they thought up on their own.&nbsp; We need a good fixed set of rules so I have outlined what I could think of below:<br><br>Unless otherwise stated the zombies will behave as those shown in the Romero stories (like Dawn of the Dead) with the exception that they can run and are capable of limited mechanical operation.&nbsp; IE they may figure out how to climb a ladder or pull a door latch, but they can’t use tools or think beyond an animalistic level.&nbsp; The reason I went away from the typical lumbering zombie is that I find the ‘fast zombie’ to be much more threatening, which adds to the overall level of fear I hope to generate in the RP.<br><br>Here are a few basic zombie rules that at this point each player’s character would know:<br>1.&nbsp; &nbsp;The only way to kill a zombie is to damage its brain.&nbsp; This could be accomplished by a shot to the head, severe blunt force trauma, complete combustion, or a powerful electrical shock.&nbsp; Decapitation will leave an angry head, and breaking the neck will stop movement below the break but it will still be ‘alive’.<br>2.&nbsp; &nbsp;The zombie infection is spread by biting or direct fluid transfer.&nbsp; There are rumors that splattered blood or flesh that lands on an open wound may cause infection, but it hasn’t been confirmed.&nbsp; Once bitten, an otherwise healthy person will die within 24 hours.&nbsp; Once an infected person ‘dies’, they will rise again within one to five minutes.<br>3.&nbsp; &nbsp;Only those who are infected and then die will rise again.&nbsp; Those that die while not infected are just dead.<br>4.&nbsp; &nbsp;Zombies will attack any living thing, but generally ignore machines.<br>5.&nbsp; &nbsp;Zombies seem to hunt by a combination of scent, sound and sight.&nbsp; They have been seen digging in the ground in an apparent attempt to find burrowing animals.<br>6.&nbsp; &nbsp;Infected animals die almost immediately and do not return.&nbsp; Eating infected flesh will infect the consumer just like a bite.<br><br><br><br>What we are looking for:<br>We (myself and another Elliquiy member that is helping me out with this project), are looking for people who want to play a character interacting with others in this zombie filled world.&nbsp; The focus should be on the interpersonal relationships after laws and society have collapsed and all people have is each other.&nbsp; I feel that was the main focus of the Romero movies and one of the most enjoyable parts.<br><br>This is not a text based shooter.&nbsp; If your goal is to slaughter zombies by the thousands and build an zombie proof stockade, go buy Left 4 Dead.&nbsp; Sure there will be some zombie killing and some construction but it won’t be the focus of the game.<br><br>Characters should also be a reflection of real people.&nbsp; What made the Romero movies interesting is how they took normal people and thrust them into extraordinary situations.&nbsp; Characters might have some useful skill set, a doctor, a cop, a solider, a thief, etc but they should also have some flaws.&nbsp; We aren’t looking for superheroes; as much fun as James Bond is in a movie, he would be a very boring zombie survivor.<br><br>All those who are interested in playing should send me a character brief via PM.&nbsp; I have included a good example below.&nbsp; The brief should include character traits that will remain hidden from the other players and they will be scrubbed from the bio before posting to an OOC thread.&nbsp; Finally the brief should include what happened to the character since Z-day, how they survived, and what caused them to leave their original shelter to seek other survivors. Treat the history as a writing sample to show off what you can do.<br><br>One final note; this game will be fairly slow paced.&nbsp; We don’t necessarily have time to post more than once every day or so.&nbsp; We don’t want two folks going off on a wild 60 post tangent between noon and 6pm so please try to keep that in mind.&nbsp; If you have any questions, please shoot me a PM or post them here.<br><br>Thanks,<br>General
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 02:19:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				And here is the character that I plan to play:<br><br>Name: Jake Curtis<br>Age: 28<br>Hometown: Paterson, NJ<br>Height: 6’2”<br>Weight: 210lbs<br>Hair: Black<br>Eyes: Brown<br>Primary Occupation: Soldier (Staff Sergeant, M2 Bradley Gunner)<br>Secondary Occupation/Skill set: Mechanical engineer<br>Physical Description:&nbsp; Jake is a physically fit and well built man with dark skin and shortly cropped black hair.&nbsp; A thin layer of dark stubble covers his face.&nbsp; He wears well weathered ACU fatigues, a floppy camo boonie hat, dark sunglasses, combat boots and a large army issue backpack.<br>Notable Equipment:&nbsp; M4 Carbine, 3 full magazines (90 rounds 5.56mm), 6 empty magazines; M9 Pistol, 3 full magazines (45 rounds 9mm); Binoculars; Night Vision Sights; Ballistic Helmet; First Aid Kit; Portable Army radio.<br>History:<br>Introduction:<br>“I was born in and grew up on the outskirts of Paterson, NJ.&nbsp; It wasn’t the best neighborhood in the world, but it was home.&nbsp; I started working in my father’s appliance store when I was 12, which is where I picked up most of my interest in mechanical and electronic devices.&nbsp; I knew it was what I wanted to do when I got older but when the time for college came around I couldn’t afford it.&nbsp; I could have stayed at my father’s shop, but I wanted to make my own way so I enlisted in the Army after high school.”<br>“I had hoped to do radio or electronics work, but for a variety of reasons I was slotted for the infantry.&nbsp; I managed to get assigned as a Bradley gunner, which was a little bit of good news.&nbsp; I was never a big fan of walking, and I did appreciate that extra armor even if it was a bit thin.&nbsp; I was deployed to Iraq with the 1st Cav, in early 2004.&nbsp; That was back in the early days of the war when things were pretty rough.&nbsp; We had a couple big battles, in Najaf and Sadr City; real rough street to street fighting.&nbsp; I was damn glad I was inside a Bradley for those battles.”<br>&nbsp;“I got out of the Army soon after I returned from the Sandbox, and used by GI Bill money to go to school and get an engineering degree.&nbsp; Now those were good days man.&nbsp; With the restrictions of military life behind me, I was free to do what I wanted and I had enough cash in my pocket to make it happen.&nbsp; When I got out of school I got a job and settled in to a nice relaxed life.”<br>Jake frowned and scratched the stubble on his chin as he continued, “Then shit hit the fan and I was recalled to duty as part of the ready reserve.&nbsp; &nbsp;I only had a few months to mothball my life before I was whisked away to a base in Texas to train up for another damn war in some sandy hellhole.&nbsp; We were just about ready to deploy when Z-Day hit.&nbsp; We had a few incidents on base, but it was mostly contained by nightfall.&nbsp; In a few days my unit was packed up and shipped to St. Louis to help control the horde.”<br>“I’m not sure why, but St. Louis survived the initial problems of Z-Day a lot better than most other large cities.&nbsp; Maybe their police were on the ball, or the citizens were better armed.&nbsp; Either way, they managed to contain their own problems, only to be flooded by refugees from further east.&nbsp; By Z+3, Chicago had completely fallen and millions of zedheads were sweeping west and overrunning the refugees.&nbsp; We were given orders to make our stand at the Mississippi River, and my group was assigned to hold the line at the Poplar Street Bridge, right where I-70 and half a dozen other highways cross the river.”<br>“We took position about half way over the bridge, with the screening team ahead of us to filter out the infected from the healthy refugees.&nbsp; By nightfall of Z+4, we got word the horde was only a mile or so from the river.&nbsp; We could hear the panic in the voices of refugees, and tried to get as many over the bridge and into the St. Louis camps as possible.&nbsp; The loud ‘thump-thump-thump’ of outbound artillery echoed across the terrain as we tried to slow down and break up incoming horde.”<br>“Around midnight the first ones showed up at the screening station and attacked those waiting to be checked.&nbsp; We pulled our guys back and set up behind the barricades.&nbsp; All I could do was look through my thermal sights and watch Zack attack the remaining refugees until we couldn’t tell who was who.&nbsp; At that point a wave of people infected and not pushed past our initial line and swarmed across the bridge.”<br>He paused his take for a bit, took a deep breath and continued, “Our unit was fairly small.&nbsp; We had maybe a hundred dismounted infantry, half a dozen humvees, two Bradleys and an Abrams tank.&nbsp; However the bridge was only 8 lanes wide which allowed us to focus our fire power.&nbsp; The swarm got within 100 meters of our line when the order came down to open fire.&nbsp; I hated doing it, I could see desperate women, children and families trying to get to safety, but we had to hold the line, or so we thought.”<br>“Have you ever seen what a Bradley can do?&nbsp; It started life as a glorified battle taxi and turned into a very effective killing machine.&nbsp; We started firing with our 7.62mm coax machine gun which was our normal anti-infantry weapon.&nbsp; We knew then that only head shots would do, so I tried to get short controlled bursts out at about head level.&nbsp; Folks dropped but a lot of them got right back up.&nbsp; The roar of all those guns managed to hold back the tide for a while, but it didn’t last.”<br>“At 50 meters I abandoned the coax and went to the cannon.&nbsp; If you haven’t seen one before it fires about 3, 25mm high explosive rounds a second.&nbsp; It was originally designed to engage trucks, or light armored vehicles but we used them against infantry more than once before.&nbsp; When one of those rounds hits a person, it explodes; leaving a pair of smoking boots and a fine pink mist.”<br>“The cannon blew huge holes in the incoming horde but there were just too many of them and not enough ammunition.&nbsp; The tank commander must have seen the same thing I did because he stopped firing into the crowd and starting using his main gun to blow through the bridge deck.&nbsp; He put some big holes in the blacktop but it wasn’t enough.&nbsp; The horde ran head long into our barricades and swarmed over us.&nbsp; My vehicle commander was pulled out of his hatch before I could seal the thing up.”<br>“Out of ammo and out of options, the driver and I just sat in our little armored box and watched as tens of thousands of them surged past us and into the city.&nbsp; We watched through our expensive optics as the refugee camps turned into feeding frenzies, and then we saw the worst part, the part that still makes my blood boil.”<br>“Out of the inky darkness of the Mississippi River came hundreds of zombies.&nbsp; In our idiocy, we had somehow expected the living dead to maneuver like a mechanized army, one that had to cross bridges at rivers or fords,” he stops and taps the side of head for emphasis, “but you have to think differently when dealing with Zack.&nbsp; He doesn’t need to breath, and doesn’t care if the water is cold, or moving.&nbsp; He just walked right into the river and popped out a while later down stream.&nbsp; We thought we had them forced into choke points we could hope to defend, when in truth the battlefront was just as wide and open as if we were in a prairie.”<br>“We could have sent the refugees on, but instead we clustered them into the ‘safety’ of the city.&nbsp; In the end we just made it easier for Zack to find everyone.&nbsp; As far as I know, that battle marked the end of organized resistance in that area.”<br>“During this whole fiasco, I just sat in my Bradley with Pvt. Kelly, my driver.&nbsp; We thought about trying to help out, grabbing a few people to shelter in the back or trying to fight, but we saw the situation was hopeless.&nbsp; Even if we could find someone who hadn’t been bitten, how would we separate them from the crowd?&nbsp; As for fighting back, we were down to a few rounds in our rifles and it was painfully obvious it wasn’t going to make a difference.&nbsp; The other vehicles that were with us pulled back in the initial chaos, leaving us alone on the bridge in a sea of screaming, moaning Zack.”<br>“We must have sat there for half an hour as the city burned and we tried to figure out what to do.&nbsp; For a while I listened to the radio traffic until one of the buggers broke my antenna.&nbsp; Eventually we decided to head west, and try to link up with any other elements of our unit.&nbsp; We drove right through the city, since the freeways were too clogged with cars to pass.&nbsp; Instead the side streets were clogged with Zack, but they are much easier to driver over than cars.&nbsp; We must have crushed thousands of them before we broke free onto a country road.&nbsp; I figure we got about thirty miles out of the city when we ran out of gas.&nbsp; That’s when we gathered what we could and started walking.”<br>“Two days later, I lost Kelly in a farmhouse.&nbsp; We were foraging for food in what looked like an abandoned house when he got bitten.&nbsp; Some little girl, the family must have locked in the pantry before they ran…or were killed themselves.&nbsp; She took a chunk out of his leg before I capped her…and then I shot him.&nbsp; I knew he was doomed and I didn’t have the stomach to watch him turn.&nbsp; I’ll never forget the look of fear and surprise on his face as I leveled my pistol at his head and pulled the trigger.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MusicNeverDies</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 02:31:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v481/Harriet_K/2003-straight-blonde-1.jpg)</td><td><strong><strong>Name:</strong> Karen Myers <br>Age:</strong> 24<br><strong>Hometown: </strong>New York, New York <br><strong>Height:</strong> 5'7”<br><strong>Weight:</strong> 155lbs<br><strong>Hair: </strong>Blonde<br><strong>Eyes: </strong>Brown<br><strong>Primary Occupation:</strong> (ex?)Prostitute<br><strong>Secondary Occupation/Skill set: </strong>Self defence teacher <br><strong>Physical Description: </strong>Maintaining a slender build, Karen holds a good deal of punch packed into a tight frame. Her face is angular and thin, but not sharp. Light brown eyes linger below side swept bangs, leading off to a layered shoulder-length cut. Any gust of wind will catch the shorter layers and frame her face like a mane. Her body is well prepositioned, though her legs seem to be longer then her torso would expect. Her breasts are also slightly larger the her frame would suggest, but are natural.&nbsp; <br><strong>Notable Equipment:</strong> Pepper spray, steel handcuffs, a tent, switch blade, portable cooking equipment kit, flashlight, matches, first aid kit, Walther PPS 9mm handgun. <br><strong>History: </strong><br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;“'Hooker with a heart of gold'? Doesn't exist. It's pure bullshit thought up by Hollywood so they can have a skank flounce around in fishnets without seeming too lewd. There are different types of us, yes, but only two. At least, two types that I've noticed. There are the ones who are alive, and the ones who are dead. No, I'm not talking about Zwhores, that's just fucking disgusting. I mean before any of this crap. The living ones are closer to that 'Hooker with a heart of gold' stuff. They're the ones who care enough to know what they are doing. The dead ones just go about it, business as usual. They could be blowing Bin Laden and think nothing of it. The living ones know they're having sex for money. The dead ones just do the only thing they've come to known. Something I've realized about the dead ones? Almost every one I've met has the money to retire at least three times over. I've never met one who has ever retired though. Which am I? Doesn't matter. I'm a hooker, and I'm alive or I'm dead. I'm sure the dead ones don't realize they're dead anyways. And I'm sure the living ones feel bad enough about it all to assume they're dead. </td></tr></tbody></table>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;How I got into it, now that's a story. If I see you giving me any half-hearted false sympathy I'm gonna stop fucking talking and get back to more important stuff, so watch yourself. Actually, if I see any sympathy I'll probably fuck off. I don't feel sorry for myself, and if anyone else feels sorry for me they're full of crap. No one is that empathetic. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Eighteen. I was eighteen and had my whole life ahead of me. At least that's what I thought, but you're a moron when you're eighteen. Virgin still, but I had a libido the size of Times Square. The only reason I hadn't fucked half of my school was because I was obsessed with one guy. Let's call him John, for the sake of being anonymous. Now John wasn't the hottest piece of meat on the stand, but God could that man make you feel like someone. He was one of those sickeningly sweet fuckers. You know the type. Had me sleeping while holding a pillow just so I could imagine it was him. Had me leaving letters in his locker when I knew I wouldn't be there the next day, so that he knew I still cared. We weren't even fucking dating. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I tried damn hard, but nothing worked. I started talking to guys, girls, anyone and anything I could get my hands on. All of them screamed the same thing, 'make him jealous, make him want you.' How the Hell could I do that when I didn't want a relationship with anyone else? I wanted guys to want me, lust after me, but I didn't want to break a guys heart just with the objective of holding him long enough that Paul would get jealous. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;So it started as stripping. Just on the weekends, but enough that I got a fuckload more money then any eighteen year old living at home without a car could ever need. A good portion of my paycheck went into his Christmas and birthday gifts. Seven months of that and he was still just a friend. We were talking about sex enough, flirting still, but he just wasn't jealous. Not that I could see. He knew none of them could touch me, I think. He didn't even come and see me. Not once. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Some of the other guys at school had found out about my job though, and they were coming every night I worked, in every sense of the word. One of them was a big fellow, hated John and John returned the favor. Came onto me one night when I was walking home. As in hitting on me, I'd have ripped it off if he just jerked onto me while I was walking home. Paul and I lived in the same apartment, have I mentioned that yet? Well whatever, we did. I knew he was working later then I was that night, and I could be home before him. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Somehow, I don't even know what I was thinking, I ended up on the stairs leading to our level, shirt gone, being fucked by someone he hated, screaming out and letting it echo in the staircase. Five people walked in on that and turned right around and left again. Not Paul..John. Fuck it, his name's Paul. I think I've let it slip like five times already anyways. Paul. Paul walked in, but he didn't turn around and leave like the others. He fucking walked past us. Inches away, and without a second glance. Like he was trying not to make eye contact. He shut the door and I came, screaming out Paul instead of Trevor, and not giving a fuck. Not even after Trevor realized the entire thing was for Paul, and gave me a black eye. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I don't know if it was rape, but I know if I could go back I'd have never done it. Things just went from bad to worse. When Paul saw my black eye he just said he always assumed I liked it rough. He was pissed. Not jealous, I didn't think, purely pissed. I thought he hated me, at that time. That pushed me further. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Trevor couldn't keep his mouth shut after that night. He fucked me in front of the guy I liked, slapped me across the face, and gotten away with everything. Everyone in the school knew the story before lunch on Monday. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;More of them came to the club, in droves. I couldn't get rid of them all some nights. I'd end up sucking some off just so they would let me go home. Two more fucked me in the stairwell, some sort of sick homage. At this point I was barely talking to Paul, he just looked so beaten and upset all the time. It got worse and worse at the club, and I had to get protection. That backfired. Never ask for protection from someone that shady. By nineteen I was being whored out, but at least I was safe from most of the guys at school. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;It was bull shit. I still thought about Paul all the time. I fucked Trevor on the staircase three more times, pro bono. I think I wanted an STD by that point. Or just for someone to go overboard one night and for there to be a killing. Or a suicide. I don't know what I was hoping for by that time. In some sick way, I got it. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Paul apparently cared more about me then he let on. When everything I was doing started to pique, when I was disgusted with myself and unable to stop, he killed himself. Papers had it as another teen suicide, but I knew that wasn't it. That stopped me dead in my tracks. For months I became a recluse, barely leaving my room to piss. I... don't know how I didn't kill myself during that time. Looking back, I'm amazed I didn't. Nothing seemed worth anything. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then I was back on the streets, a free agent. I didn't need a pimp for protection because I didn't care if I was protected. I picked up some knowledge along the way. Self defence and the blueprint to every shady area in the city, mostly. At some point I started getting better, psychologically. I started working in a group. Everyone assumes it's the weak whores who work in groups, so they aren't alone. But they'd be dead wrong. Working in a group means you have to have the heart to handle watching every other girl get chosen, and be able to stay there in the cold alone. It can bring the best of people into a spiral of self loathing. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Some time after that I started self defence training. One of the younger girls who I worked with- I never dared ask her age, but I can only assume it wasn't 18- was totaled one night. Left in a pulp. They found the guy who did it, some skinny bastard who weighed about fifty pounds. Someone she could have taken, if she had the know-how. But he did it, then got off. In every way. According to the medical report, she was covered in all the injuries well before the semen. Bastard spent a night in jail then was back walking the street. Until we broke his pelvis, at least. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;But that shit told me something had to be done, so I started passing on what I was learning in my self defence course. After a while I started adding my own elements too, spots that girls like me get into that most people don't have to counter. Like specialized whore self defence. The class sold out. It just kept going like that for a while. Do I have the money to retire? I have since I was twenty one. I can't help feeling like if I retire, I'll lose my know-how for the self defence classes. That men will change and make my lessons useless, and girls like Meaghan will have to suffer though shit like that again. Or maybe I'm one of the dead whores who won't stop until the job literally kills them. I honestly couldn't tell you. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Things in my circle have gotten a lot safer in the last 3 years, I can tell you that. We had a few paid cops who watched our backs. We got a motel room that had a camera, we'd take anyone we were weary of in that room, just in case it got bad and we had to call on our cops, we could get a positive ID. It was safe, and it started seeming less taboo. Almost like a real job, but not quite. Nothing changed after that for a very long time. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Until Zday. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Men were coming to us like wolves, all of them thought they were dead and wanted one nice lay before they kicked the bucket. I'm not going to lie, a lot of us girl thought the same thing, and wanted a decent lay as well. We got sloppy. Penny, one of our newer faces, started going bareback with everyone. I... don't know who infected her, or how many she infected in return... but that was a fucking mess. I got rid of her. And three of our regulars. Joanne killed herself, because she'd been with two of them the night before their symptoms kicked in... I think it was better that way. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;One of our veterans, Monica, she started doing the kinky shit she wanted for so long but didn't trust with. Bondage mostly. We let her use the room with the camera, just because none of us knew exactly what she'd be getting herself into...<br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Monica was smart. She wasn't wrong in what she wanted, but chose the wrong guys. The wrong guy. A beefy, depressed looking man, attractive. She wanted him. Pulled him right in and got him to cuff her to the bed, slice off all her clothes. Besides him being a bit groggy, the footage probably would have made a decent porno if they had nicer angles. She seemed to be enjoy herself, he was going to town on her with his mouth. I could see his tongue flying when I watched the footage, almost started doing myself right then and there. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Then he just passed out, wobbled for a second, then fell face first against her. He didn't move for like two minutes, she was starting to panic, squirming, trying to wake him up. I think she knew what happened for about ten seconds before he finally rose. I... can't even imagine the horror she must have felt. He started slow, almost nibbling. The first few bites she looked like she was in a mix of pure pain, and masochistic bliss. I hope the latter was stronger, for her sake. He kept it up in the same spot, finding folds of flesh and ripping into them with his teeth. That was when she started her screams- bone chilling. I... I couldn't watch the whole video, but I helped drag what was left of her out of that room. There wasn't enough of her that help was needed for the weight, no, but she was held together by so little that we couldn't have moved her in one piece without three people. <br>&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;I stopped working, right then. I couldn't. I had to leave. Do I regret not telling anyone, up and leaving? No. They would be better to think me dead then to linger on trying to find me. I never had a destination in mind, just a broad 'not here' ringing in my ears. I don't give a fuck if I do die, I just don't want to become a Z. I'm not hopeful that anyone is going to make it through this alive, but I figure if I go- I'm taking a pile of corpses with me. Not because I want to help protect others by bringing down the number of Z's. No. It's because dead whores are spiteful little bitches.”<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 03:42:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name:</strong> Kristie Andrea Parker<br><strong>Age:</strong> 21<br><strong>Gender:</strong> Female<br><strong>Weight:</strong> 127Lbs<br><strong>Height:</strong> 5'5''<br><strong>Measurements:</strong> 32C-23-33<br><strong>POB:</strong> Memphis, Tennessee<br><strong>Hair Color:</strong> Blonde<br><strong>Eye Color:</strong> Hazel<br><strong>Occupation:</strong> United States Marine<br><strong>Rank:</strong> Corporal E-4<br><strong>MOS:</strong> 2336 - Explosives Ordinance Disposal Technician, Assigned to assist in Field EOD Operations with the 1st Battalion, 1st Marines<br><strong>Equipment:</strong> M16A4 Assualt Rifle with EoTech Holographic Sight, Foregrip and 3-point sling, 4 5.56mm Magazines, 30 rounds each. M9 Handgun, 5 9mm Magazines, 12 rounds each. Mossberg 500 Tactical Shotgun with EoTech Reflex sight, LED Flashlight, 30 12 gauge shotgun shells. USMC Issue M40A3 Bolt Action Sniper Weapon System, 6x mag telescopic scope, 16 7.62mm NATO FMJ Rounds. 3 M67 Fragmentation Grenades, 2 M84 Flashbangs. Lightweight Combat Helmet, Marine Corps Load Bear Vest and Packs, Marine Corps 8 Point Cover, AN/PVS-14 NVD, Woodland MARPAT MCCUU, Marine Corps Ka-Bar Bowie Knife.<br><strong>Physical Description:</strong> <em>A letter from a fellow Marine to family</em> "...yeah and there is more benefits to being transfered to the 3/1, there is this technician with Able Company named Parker. I don't even think I can write how good this Marine looks, long blonde hair and blue eyes even you couldn't handle not seeing at least twice a day Carl, and don't even get me started on her body. I saw her working out in a two piece, sweat top and shorts, I swear I got a boner I could use as a bayonet. Nice top half, sweet little body and damn, definitely a Marine. Muscles on her arms and legs and nice tanned skin, but you can still tell she keeps herself looking good, I swear looks CAN kill buddy, they can. But even what the Gunny does to us can't shake that certain, cute and sweetness she has about her, specially considering that smile she gives you all the time. At that point, even the boys dad fought in the Pacific would run shitless from this bayonet, if I do say so myself.<br><br>And don't even get me started on how she looks in combat gear. I swear the 8 point was meant for that head, and the only reason I hate the new Kevlar vests we just got for Iraq, cause they block out that body of hers, but even then that just makes it all the better when you get those tell-tale bumps on her MARPAT uniform, holy smokes. Anyways, almost time for nightly PT, maybe I'll get lucky and get behind her for a front row show. You know something is fine when you can look forward to PT with Gunny Ellis."<br><br><strong>Personal History:</strong> "Please tell us your name, rank and service company for records." a young female reported asked, her head and mind both burried in a note pad resting on her lap, with a small digital camera a few inches from her face.<br><br>"Oh uh, my name is Lance Corporal Kristie Parker, Bravo Company of the 1st Marine Battalion, 1st Marine Division." a stunningly beautiful Marine replied, a bright smile never leaving her face.<br><br>"Please, in detail, tell us about your life before you joined the Marines. Why did you enlist? Weren't there other things you wanted to do? Why the Marine Corps?"<br><br>"Hmmm...well. My dad and uncle were Marines in Vietnam, and my grandfather was on Peleliu in World War Two, he died there but my dad was always proud of him either way, heck, everyone in my family is proud of my grandfather. My mom, well she was a social worker in Memphis, where I was born. We lived in a pretty bad neighborhood, heh, even when I was really young I remember dad teaching mom a few, Marine Corps Hand to Hand moves for when he was gone. My mom and dad even taught me some of them while I was growing up through high school and all that. I mostly studied, I liked learning new things for some reason, kinda made me different from everyone else. I was always facinated by science, the understanding of the world around us, knowing we are made from the same microscopic things as everything else in the world always facinated me. Well...when I got to high school I dropped that and kinda wanted to be a Marine all of a sudden. I don't know if its because I was inspired by my dad, or because I just got sick of the violence." Kristie cheerfully ranted, using her hands constantly and almost acting like she was doing an autobiography.<br><br>"What violence?" The young reported interupted.<br><br>"Oh well...we didn't live in an upscale place. I went to a pretty...much forgotten high school in Memphis. There were a lot of gangs and stuff, a few shootings and LOTS of drugs. And, being more or less the only caucasian girl there...I got a lot of attention. I even got beat up and stuff a few times, but nobody ever bothered me. My older brother is a Marine, and everyone knew how over-protective he was. Heck, one of my boyfriends hit me and my brother fractured his arm in two places, dislocated his shoulder and snapped his leg at the knee. After that...nobody even talked too me...kind of made it lonely but at least the druggies and 'gangsters' left me alone, which I can't complain about."<br><br>"So why did you join the Marines? What was training like?"<br><br>"Well... I guess I joined for my family, and because there wasn't much I could do in Memphis, and we didn't have the money for university, and I didn't get scholarships. I figured service was my only option more or less, and my dad would throw a shit storm if he knew I was with the Army or Navy, and don't even get me started on the spanking I'd get if I went Air Force. I swear, the day I came home from my graduation, the first thing he did was put on his old uniform, medals and citations and all, and took me and my similarly dressed brother, whom was an Officer at the time, to a bar and bought me my first drink. Albeit I was underaged, he didn't care. He damn near cried, both his kids in the Corps, and better yet his little girl with his old unit, the 1/1 Marines. It was weird with my brother, he and I couldn't serve together because of regulations, but we saw each other on base, and I forgot to salute him once, and my Gunnery Sergeant gave me such an ass chewing, you wouldn't even want to know what was going on."<br><br>"That you for your time, Lance Corporal Parker. We have other Marines to interview, but tell your folks to tune into CNN for our special on the Marines, I'm sure you'll be there."<br><br><strong>Introduction:</strong> On May 13th, after heavy security lock down at MCB Quantico, Corporal Kristie Parker was once again reassigned to the 1st Marine Division, 1st Marine Battalion as part of the 'Big Push' initiative, a joint US Army- US Marine surge through the continental United States to reestablish communications and contact with the bases on the West Cost, most specifically Camp Pendleton and the US Navy 2nd Fleet, led by the USS Lincoln and USS George Washington. On May 14th, a joint convoy of the US 2nd Armored Battalion and the 1st Marine Battalion set out from MCB Quantico, bringing with them supplies and heavy amounts of ammunition to ensure security at several bases on the West Coast which were being used as 'safe havens' for civilians. They had sent communications two days earlier about potential attack and lack of ammunition. The stage was set.<br><br>The plan was too cross from Virginia, straight to California, then North and South respectively along the west coast. After, they would ensure maximum civilian evacuations to various US Naval vessels off shore, then plans would be made to find out what had happened, and figure out a way to stop it. But no plan survives first contact. Due to constant ambush and bad road conditions, over 37 Marines were killed before they even entered Kentucky. Upon reaching the Missouri State borders to Kentucky and Illinois, three vehicles were struck by a US Army mine in the middle of the road. It appeared&nbsp; the Army had tried defense here but failed, and until the late hours of May 15th, Kristie, being an EOD expert and formerly assisting FBI teams at Quantico to spot IED's, Kristie was near the front of the convoy when suddenly, a massive horde of undead attacked. One Marine shouted 'its the population of Dallas for Christ sakes!' <br><br>The entire convoy was at this point, lost. Most Marines and US Army personnel fled only to be cut down by more from every direction. Kristie, and the few survivors, commandeered a HMMWV and fled into Missouri, where only several hours later they ran out of ammunition and were again ambushed. Kristie was the sole survivor, after being pinned under the HMMWV and forgotten, overlooked or simply ignored by the hordes, she made her was West and eventually arrived at Potosi.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Priest</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 03:52:48</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<strong>Name:</strong> Marcus Lethin<br><strong>Age: </strong> 42<br><strong>Hometown:</strong> New York<br><strong>Height:</strong> 5’11”<br><strong>Weight:</strong> 225lbs<br><strong>Hair: </strong> Black/grey<br><strong>Eyes:</strong> Blue<br><strong>Primary Occupation: </strong> Helicopter Pilot<br><strong>Secondary Occupation/skill set:</strong> Mechanic<br><br><strong>Physical description:</strong> Marcus isn’t the fittest figure of a man; not to say he is overweight or unhealthy, but he certainly lacks tone; in every respect he is physically average.&nbsp; His hair reaches to his shoulders and is sometimes tied back; he sports a goatee which is only rarely trimmed.&nbsp; He wears a fairly vulgar line in Hawaiian shirt and jeans.&nbsp; <br><br><strong>Notable equipment: </strong> A109E Power Police issue helicopter, S&amp;W 4506 [45 rounds], Glock 22 [20 rounds], Remington 11-18 w/ 18” barrel [32 shells], baseball bat.<br><br><strong>Background:</strong><br>Born in New York; Marcus led what could only be described as a life uneventful;&nbsp; Pretty average would be an accurate snapshot of anything he set his mind too, he had only one passion, that being flying.&nbsp; In his 30’s he landed his dream job; a helicopter pilot for a news channel; he would actively follow breaking news stories, whether they be police pursuits, transporting a news crew to an ‘as it happens’ news locale or hovering above the cities gridlocked streets during the daily traffic congestion reports.&nbsp; But all wasn’t as good as it could be.<br><br>He hated the pace of life in New York; while others thrived, he floundered amidst the continuous throb of activity; his passion was rapidly becoming his burden and he turned to contemplating the hereafter with a bottle of Jack Daniels; this became an increasingly regular habit, regular enough for the channel he worked at to tire of his constantly staggering through the door unfit to fly and he was rapidly dropped from their news team.&nbsp; Left with no job and crippling debts; not to mention a drink problem, he upped and left the city and headed out west to a small Midwestern town to try his hand at reinventing himself; but he could never truly escape himself and was still reliant on the bottle; only now he had learned to hide his problem from his employers.<br><br>In the early onset of the outbreak Marcus was doing what he usually did; transporting the field reporting team to one of the sites of breaking news; an event that would be coined as Z-day.&nbsp; There had been rumours about what had been going on but Marcus had paid them scant attention as he had been nursing a drink for most of that day.&nbsp; He flew the team in and set down a little outside of one of the reported encounters.&nbsp; It was little more than ten minutes after setting down and beginning their live report, the news team where attacked.&nbsp; They creatures broke cover, a group of twenty or so, their bodies torn and bloody.&nbsp; Were they attracted by their scent? their activity?&nbsp; They didn’t know, the news crew tried to fight them off and sprint back to the chopper.&nbsp; Marcus was sat in the pilot seat and saw all of this; he could have helped, but he panicked.&nbsp; He hit the engines and lifted the bird into the sky, leaving them to their violent fate.<br><br>He was alone and airborne; from his vantage point in the sky he could see the panic and the carnage caused in the wake of the attacks.&nbsp; He turned to his hip flask and tried to clam his fears, for now he was safe; nothing could touch him in the air, but he couldn’t remain airborne for long.&nbsp; With the copter running on fumes he was forced to ditch it and he spent a taut evening fending for himself with no idea of what to do next; more out of instinct than the belief that he would be safe, he made headway towards the police station.&nbsp; He found the place in chaos, what few people remained there were in no position to aid him.&nbsp; <br><br>&nbsp;Sat on the roof of the building was the&nbsp; Police air support chopper; an A109E; beneath the seat he found a weapons box containing a couple of handguns and some 9mm ammunition as well as several packs of shells; the shotgun being mounted on the back wall of the copter.&nbsp; <br><br>He was wracked with the guilt of leaving him colleagues to their grim demise; and the sight of the lead anchor woman’s face is burnt into his memory and often leads to him having some brutal nightmares as her bloody and rotting corpse lurches towards him; he has forgotten how often he has awoken wrapped in sweat soaked sheets; and each time he promises himself that he will never abandon anyone to such a violent fate, <br><br><br><div align="center">(http://remote.lohudblogs.com/files/2008/02/pilot.jpg)</div><br>edit: Just so I can keep track of what ammunition I have left<br><br>S&amp;W 4506 [45 rounds], <br>Glock 22 [20 rounds], <br>Remington 11-18 w/ 18” barrel [29 shells], 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Inkidu</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 07:53:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Name: Eric Bradshaw<br>Age: 25<br>Hometown: Boston, Massachusetts<br>Height: 6’1”<br>Weight: 180lbs<br>Hair: dirty blond hair.<br>Eyes: green<br>Primary Occupation: Surgeon, medical resident<br>Secondary Occupation/Skill set: General first-aid, diagnostician, smooth talker, movie buff<br>Physical Description: Eric is a slim man, surprisingly agile. Not overly powerful but able to endure, and handle gore. This is due to his residency at Boston Memorial. Long hours have made him able to run on lower amounts of sleep and ignore a large amount of fatigue if not pain. He can run fast and hard if he needs to. He's skinny and wiry looking. He was last seen in green surgical scrub bottoms and a navy blue tee-shirt. Wearing white gym socks and black converse high-tops.<br>Notable Equipment: Nothing<br>History: "I'm beginning to hyperventilate. Calm down. Calm down! Focus. Focus what's you're life story! Focus!&nbsp; I was born to Olivia and Harold Bradshaw of Boston, MA. Always a curious youth I grew up in the old colonials of Boston. I lived in a relative safety of his prim and proper upbringing. However, my life hasn't been all that perfect. I've had a total of two near-death experiences. First, at age ten I fell of my fathers fishing boat one January day and nearly drowned. As a result I cannot swim, I fear deep water. That's it rationalize, rationalize... Okay at seventeen I was out of high school and going into college. I was up on the water tower of some hick town in the boondocks and I was shit-faced drunk. I nearly fell off of the tower and my friends barely grabbed me in time, and now I'm afraid of heights.<br>I didn't let that stop me. I was always smart and I was able to take college courses online while in high school and was able to almost enter med school afterward. I was-- am-- am damn it, a promising surgeon. Gifted damn it all. But you couldn't take that and go with it. No. You had to show everyone how damn smart you were. Play the damn game. I became addicted to gambling and ran up a huge debt to the New Jersey mafia. Apparently numbers are much harder than being a surgeon. That's ultimately why I'm in this shit heap. I've spent the last... almost a damn month running from the mob, but they caught up to me about three days ago. They... broke my arm and shoved me in a trunk. I never stayed in one place for a day. but they caught up and now I'm in Ohio, or Nebraska waiting to be whacked. God it sounded like a movie. That was honestly a brief overview of this butchery you call a life. Now you're in the back of the trunk you've been in here for three days. You're dehydrated and hungry, at least they let you take a piss, and the trunk had a hole somewhere, a bullet wound. More movies, God. So I'm not going to suffocate. However, they stopped the car and there was some muffled fighting. I have no idea what about but I've stopped hyperventilating. What's going on? Oh God! They're going to kill me! Sweating, I tried to keep my mind off of my death, but the minutes went on and nothing happened. Half an hour ticked by and I kicked the trunk. It was a nice old Corvette Piece of Shit. Deep trunk lots of kicking room. After another twenty or so minutes the trunk popped open. No one was a around? Not the mafioso, nobody. Podunk towns. Jesus, I don't need this right now. My arm hurts and I'm hungry. I took a look a the nearby street signs. Oh God. At least it was a humerus break and only needed a sling. North Missouri Street, Potosi. Missouri! Damn it. At least there was a General Store nearby, Casey's? It works. Some nice, good luck. I began to walk across the street to the store. Maybe I can find a phone. Call the police."
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>06-12-2008, 23:26:36</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<table class="bbc_table"><tbody><tr><td>(http://elliquiy.com/elluiki/images/thumb/a/a8/Cowgirl.jpg/458px-Cowgirl.jpg)</td><td>Name: Dinah Martin<br>Age: 21<br>Hometown: Springtown, MO<br>Height: 5'6<br>Weight: 130<br>Hair: Strawberry Blonde<br>Eyes: Blue<br>Primary Occupation: Student (3rd year Bio-Engineering student, pre-med), cross-country team, Dean's list.<br>Secondary Occupation/Skill set: Agriculture/country girl<br>Physical Description:&nbsp; Dinah is in excellent health, of moderate height and in competitive-level physical condition.&nbsp; She wears blue jeans-- a little worn from repeated washings, some thin spots from abrasions and scrapes, a sleeveless black tank-tee, a red-brown leather duster, black leather gloves, snake-proof boots.&nbsp; Her hair is pleated along her scalp in a close-pinned weave, covered by a weatherproof felt cowboy hat, kept in place by a tight-drawn chin cord.&nbsp; She wears no makeup, but wears a small silver chain around her neck that disappears into the neck of her t-shirt, and has two small silver hoop earrings.&nbsp; Around her neck is a painter's-style respirator mask, and she has amber-tinted safety glasses with an eyewear retainer.&nbsp; Over her jacket, a hikers' pack is on her back.<br>Notable Equipment:&nbsp; Camping gear: tarp, bungee cords, canteen, water-purification tablets, venison jerky, canned food, matches in ziploc bag, first-aid kit, sleeping bag, 1 pack baby wipes, Leatherman multi-tool.&nbsp; Remington 870 12-ga shotgun w/ box deer slugs and box 00 copper-jacketed shot.&nbsp; Ruger P345, spare clip, box .45 acp.&nbsp; Fold-out road map of MO, AR.&nbsp; Spare underwear, socks, t-shirt.&nbsp; Family photos, ziploc-bagged.<br>History:&nbsp; Born to a farming family outside of Springtown, Dinah grew up a tomboy-- she learned to hunt, fish, camp, drive a tractor, and ride a 4-wheel atv while many of her friends were taking ballet lessons and watching MTV.&nbsp; Not that she was without cultural exposure-- aside from church, she had friends, took piano lessons, played soccer and ran cross-country.<br>Her early interest in veterinary medicine, her athletic performance, and her academic marks afforded her a combination of mid-range scholarships at the University of Missouri in Columbia, where she entered a pre-med program with a focus on Biological Engineering.&nbsp; Despite the long trip, she carpooled home for holidays and spent at least one weekend a month with her parents and two brothers, and has managed a number of challenges, until most recently when, twelve days prior, her father had succumbed to an unexpected aneurysm and passed away.&nbsp; She took an 'incomplete' on her courses, and would finalize her coursework during the summer.<br>She was home with her family when it happened...</td></tr></tbody></table>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>09-12-2008, 03:59:00</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ok folks the game thread is up and ready to go:<br><br>http://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=25474.0<br><br>I tried to keep the introduction fairly open for whomever jumps onto the thread first, so hopefully it fits whatever you had in mind as an introduction.<br><br>Also, unfortunately my assistant GM Josietta had to back out due to other commitments.&nbsp; I am looking for someone else who might be willing to help GM this game.&nbsp; Basically someone to bounce ideas off and help move the story forward in my absence.&nbsp; If you are interested shoot me a PM.&nbsp; <br><br>Let the game begin.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>19-12-2008, 08:36:53</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				So uh, is it just us 4?<br><br>Also, what are the rules regarding combat. I pretty much just winged it the best way I know how, and I know my zombie stuff, that'd work, trust me XD!<br><br>But, if theres a requirement to leave combat results up to your discretion, then just lemme know and I'll change it up.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>19-12-2008, 19:41:49</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				So far it appears to be just us four.&nbsp; Then again maybe the others are just looking for a good place to come in; I don't want to spoil anyone's dramatic entrance.&nbsp; Plus I guess it is more realistic that folks would dribble into town rather than all showing up at once.<br><br>Anyway, about combat; I am going to treat it that as long as nobody turns into a ninja or the Terminator, folks are allowed to pretty much do as they will with killing zombies.&nbsp; The game is very slow paced and if we have to go to dice rolling or a GM check after each shot it's going to get too slow.&nbsp; If it becomes a problem I will rethink a better system.&nbsp; I'd just leave a little wiggle room in your posts if there are multiple people involved.&nbsp; IE if all of us have rifles and are facing down a horde of zombies, one person saying they got headshots on all of them in one post won't be much fun.<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>19-12-2008, 20:26:38</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Also, I have noticed a little confusion as to where everyone is physically located.&nbsp; Therefore I created a few pictures of the area with icons to represent important locations or people.&nbsp; From my best recollection, this is where everyone is located:<br><br>(http://i428.photobucket.com/albums/qq5/general9991824/Do_the_living_envy_the_dead_12_19_0.jpg)<br><br>If I've gotten something wrong, please let me know. <br><br>Also if anyone wants to fool around with things on their own, I have included a blank version of the above pictures with everyone's location removed.&nbsp; <br><br>(http://i428.photobucket.com/albums/qq5/general9991824/Do_the_living_envy_the_dead_blank.jpg)<br><br><br>Let me know what you guys think.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>20-12-2008, 20:10:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Heh, that looks good. I was kinda ....way off from where the fire and explosion was. I'm more the far center/South-Western area of town. Off by a few grids I guess, haha!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>21-12-2008, 02:18:58</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Don't worry about being a few grids off.&nbsp; I know the Marines don't have digital fire control a little off isn't too bad :) .
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>24-12-2008, 01:04:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Heh. Maybe you should sent out PM's to everyone who hasn't checked in, to get themselves to the HomeDepot before we lock it up. :P<br><br>Just a thought, XD
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MusicNeverDies</strong> on <strong>27-12-2008, 15:16:01</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sorry about the late entry, but I'm in now guys. <br><br>No, I wasn't trying to be epic with my entrance, I simply got really busy and haven't had much time for E as of late. xP
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>27-12-2008, 15:21:32</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Awesome, welcome to the zombie-lific fun!<br><br>Remember, don't kill it with fire!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>MusicNeverDies</strong> on <strong>27-12-2008, 15:23:51</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<em>Don't</em> kill it with fire? Ahh crap. *Puts away the Molotov Cocktail*<br><br>Feel free to tell me if I somehow butchered the location or something. xP
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>28-12-2008, 03:30:08</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ak, just realized that maybe you meant Karen?&nbsp; I'm assuming that Dinah completely missed her, was circling inside the range of the fire while Karen was watching-- hope that's ok, if you need me to edit let me know.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>28-12-2008, 04:54:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ixy, don't worry about it.&nbsp; I kept my response generic enough on purpose that whichever of you wrote back first would work.&nbsp; <br><br>As for MusicNeverDies, feel free to hear the whistle too and come by when you are ready.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insanitosis</strong> on <strong>31-12-2008, 11:06:14</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Is this rp still open?<br>I was dead set on starting a Resident evil themed rp<br>But I saw this. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>31-12-2008, 19:40:39</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Insanitosis, we have had a few people seemingly drop out, so if you are interested in participating, you need to PM me a character profile similar to the ones above for approval.&nbsp; Also please keep in mind this is not a Resident Evil game.&nbsp; The flavor of this zombie game is more closely tied to movies such as Dawn of the Dead or the Max Brooks zombie books.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insanitosis</strong> on <strong>31-12-2008, 21:54:31</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I am aware of that, you are shooting for a more realistic rp. <br>The resident evil rp would be on a different topic, with different twists, such as B.O.W.S. <br><br>I have read all of Brook's books<br><br>So there isn't a key Character profile?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>02-01-2009, 17:08:33</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				There is some freedom in the character profile.&nbsp; Generally more information is better.&nbsp; I wrote up the profile for Jake Curtis, so that is a good one to start with.&nbsp; But some of the other folks have done a little more, which is perfectly fine.&nbsp; The main things I am looking for are:<br><br>1.&nbsp; A physical description of the character<br>2.&nbsp; A little backstory that gives us an idea about who your character is and what skills he may bring to the table<br>3.&nbsp; A description of how your character reacted to Zday and how he ended up in Potosi, MO.<br>4.&nbsp; A brief list of the equipment your character will have. <br>5.&nbsp; You can also include any GM notes that I should know about but shouldn't be common knowledge to the whole group.&nbsp; For instance maybe your character has a degenerative disease that isn't initially apparent but may appear after a few days or weeks.&nbsp; <br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>09-01-2009, 08:05:25</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sad to see this one just die like a shitty song.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>09-01-2009, 22:02:02</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				You're right.&nbsp; I have been waiting for a while to see if Music would jump in again since the plot flow was focused on her at the point where we stopped.&nbsp; I thought maybe folks were busy with the holiday and everything, but if there is no reply by tonight, I try to throw in a little literary two step and get things back on track.<br><br><br><br>Sorry for the problem.&nbsp; Hopefully we can pick it up again.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Insanitosis</strong> on <strong>09-01-2009, 22:30:21</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				And I am still considering joining.<br>I would like to know where everyone is though. 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>18-01-2009, 20:35:56</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I like the idea to skip ahead of the construction to later that night.&nbsp; All in favor?
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>19-01-2009, 04:18:37</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				good by me :)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>26-01-2009, 14:58:10</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Ok guys... I'm not sure if you guys like this idea, but I guess we could put it to a vote..?&nbsp; Any chance we could get a rainstorm at this point?&nbsp; Yes, I know it's "Deus ex machina" to have a rainstorm when they're low on water, but it seems like it could be symbolic of their newfound fortune and the potential to live.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>general9991824</strong> on <strong>27-01-2009, 02:01:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Sounds good to me.&nbsp; Plus a nice thunderstorm on a hot summer's night could cool things down.&nbsp; I do like sleeping to the sound of rain and thunder.&nbsp; <br><br>What do the other folks think?&nbsp; I guess if I don't hear anything, I'll add the rain to a post tomorrow night.&nbsp; 
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>27-01-2009, 17:01:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I can do with a torrential downpour. :D
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>31-01-2009, 05:57:16</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I'm shooting for like, a sense of guilt but also hope with Kristie, hopefully I didn't Sunday Drama the last little bit <em>too much</em>. xD
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Erebus</strong> on <strong>03-02-2009, 11:54:05</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Hey guys, sorry for bursting in like that, I just wanted to let you know that i really enjoy reading your game.&nbsp; I have bookmarked it and read it every few days like a beloved book.&nbsp; Thank you all for this and keep up the good work.<br><br>PS:<br>I can't wait to see what will happen inside the hospital :)<br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>03-02-2009, 15:06:34</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Wow.&nbsp; Really?&nbsp; That's awesome... I'm really glad to hear it :)
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>12-02-2009, 13:51:41</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				ok-- sorry for the double post.&nbsp; <br><br>My suggestion is that, unless Markus and/or Kristie will be discovering/interrupting Jake and Dinah, then we can continue with the next morning or later that night, if you'd like to keep things moving.&nbsp; In the meantime, I'll post a reply asap.<br><br>I hope you guys are doing alright!
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>23-02-2009, 23:39:28</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				:P<br><br>So uh, Priest, do you have any ideas of what might happen in the hospital? <br><br>:D
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Priest</strong> on <strong>24-02-2009, 03:42:24</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=25245.msg1641958#msg1641958">Quote from: Destiny Ascension on 23-02-2009, 23:39:28</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">:P<br><br>So uh, Priest, do you have any ideas of what might happen in the hospital? <br><br>:D<br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br><br><del>I will have my response up a little later today; once the daily grind has given way to a bit of me time.&nbsp; :P</del> Ak, got caught up in a few work related change of plans but will post up later on<br><br>As for ideas for what can happen in the hospital ...watch this space, er; literaly as I will likely edit this post with a few thoughts tossed about when I get back from work.&nbsp; Could always work in someway of getting them seperated perhaps ...will think on<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Ixy</strong> on <strong>24-02-2009, 20:25:11</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Hey all-- I didn't QUITE fall off the face of the planet, and will post today.<br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>25-02-2009, 00:59:47</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Good to see your still alive n' kicking Ixy, hope you and Jake are having fun ^_^<br><br>I'll be kind of slow responding Priest, I messed up my shoulder today and its insanely hard to write up a decent post too quick. So I'll work on it in little bits at a time, hopefully I'll be able to post again in a couple of days at regular speed.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Priest</strong> on <strong>25-02-2009, 01:43:40</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				<div class="quoteheader"><div class="topslice_quote"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?topic=25245.msg1644592#msg1644592">Quote from: Destiny Ascension on 25-02-2009, 00:59:47</a></div></div><blockquote class="bbc_standard_quote">Good to see your still alive n' kicking Ixy, hope you and Jake are having fun ^_^<br><br></blockquote><div class="quotefooter"><div class="botslice_quote"></div></div><br>&nbsp;:P<br><br>No worries Destiny, I shall use the time honing my post with Marcus out there ..alone...in the dark ...and the cold... and, worst of all, No drink!&nbsp; ;D<br><br>You look after yourself and rest that shoulder up <br><br>
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>Destiny Ascension</strong> on <strong>03-03-2009, 03:12:57</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				Alright, I'm back Priest, whenever your ready to post I'm good to go.
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>LadySky</strong> on <strong>27-03-2009, 06:08:42</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				I am just dying to know what is going to happen in that hospital! Loving the story and would love to join in at some point perhaps. Sitting on the edge of my chair here!&nbsp; XD
			</dd>
			<dt class="postheader">
				Title: <strong>Re: [EX] [OOC] Do The Living Envy the Dead?</strong><br>
				Post by: <strong>LadySky</strong> on <strong>28-03-2009, 22:48:15</strong>
			</dt>
			<dd class="postbody">
				(http://i585.photobucket.com/albums/ss291/Lucille79_photos/5629.jpg)<br><br><br><strong>Name:</strong> Leslie Marie Kemp<br><strong>Age:</strong> 24<br><strong>Hometown:</strong> Ouachita, LA<br><strong>Height:</strong> 5'2<br><strong>Weight:</strong> 132 pds<br><strong>Hair:</strong> Reddish Brown<br><strong>Eyes:</strong> Emerald Green<br><strong>Primary Occupation:</strong> Executive Chef, Restaurant Owner<br><strong>Secondary Occupation/Skill set:</strong> Emergency Medical Technician<br><br><strong>Physical Description:</strong>&nbsp; Leslie is tiny in every way until she opens her mouth. Only 5'2 she is what her mother describes as plump and her lovers describe as curvacious as hell, think Marilyn Monroe....Thick curly hair falls to her waist and can never be tamed. Almost red it is just a tad to brown to qualify. Her eyes are shockingly green and big as saucers. She uses them to her advantage frequently. Always in the kitchen she can be found in simple blue jeans, countless numbers of blue t-shits that are a size to small (she loves to show off those amazing DD breasts of hers) &amp; Reebocks. For some reason she loves panties and bras, she can always be found wearing silk and lace thongs of every color, even after the world ended.<br><br><strong>Notable Equipment:</strong>&nbsp; SMART MCI BAG W/EMS FLOW CHARTS TRIAGE SYSTEM(fully equipped medical supply system), Field Guide Medical Books, Various other medical supplies such as Burn Care, Medications of all kinds, Needles, Syinges, 2 Glock 17 pistols, 5 boxes of ammo, 5 stapped on daggers hidden by clothing, camping equipment, &amp; 3 gallons of gas.<br><br><strong>History:</strong> Born in a small town outside of West Monroe, Lousiana Leslie is from a giant family of loud, drinking, Scottish/Irish swamp rats. Having 11 Aunts and Uncles brought about huge family gatherings. Gatherings brought about cooking and Leslie loved cooking. Delving into the world of spices and baking Leslie was ready to open her own restaurant by the time she was 12. Dreams had finally started coming true for Leslie in the last 2 years. Having started working at the wonderful <em>CANARD'S</em> at 16 washing dishes Leslie finally made soux chef at 21 and when her mentor retired she purchased the place of her dreams with the help of her loud obnoxious and highly supportive family. Now 24 Leslie lived and breathed her restaurant. She still lived with her parents because having a home ment taking time away from her baby, <em>CARNARD'S.....</em>Being very concerned with everyones safety was another of her obessions, this led her to getting her EMT license at age 20 so she would always be prepared for injuries. No pets, rarely ever any lovers, family was her only link with the outside world. Looking at Leslie Marie one would think she was small, cute and quite shy. They would be mistaken. Walk into her kitchen and her mouth would make a sailor faint. Demanding military perfection in her kitchen was her world and she would cut anyone down with a flash of her brillant eyes and smart mouth. Her food was great though....<br><br><br><strong>Introduction:</strong>&nbsp; "This has no lobster in it you idiot! How can you serve <em>LOBSTER RISOTTO</em> with <em>NO LOBSTER</em>! This is shit! Go back and do it right or I'll kick your sorry fat ass out of my kitchen you jack ass!" Leslie screamed in her sister's face. Whipping back around she began checking orders once again and sending them out to her loyal customers. Another plate of <em>LOBSTER RISOTTO</em> appeared on the hot plate and after checking it she grinned. "Excellent risotto Lela!" &nbsp;she called out as it left the kitchen. God she loved this place, she could feel her adrienaline pumping and smell the heavenly scent of food being prepared. Leslie let a laugh slip past her lips, oh how alive she felt!<br><br>A crash and scream brought her head up with a flash. Rushing out into the dining area she saw someone who looked dead attacking her cousin who happened to be her hostess. Customers were horrified as the dead person took a chunk from Holly's neck and blood spattered everywhere. Grabbing a chair Leslie hit the attacker over the back with it and almost vomitted at the sight that she beheld when it let go of Holly and turned to her. Only instinct saved her as she kicked the creature squarely upon the jaw and heard its neck crack. Falling to her knees she grabbed a table cloth and began wrapping her cousin Holly's wound but it was to late. An artary had been severed and she was gone already. "Oh MY GOD!!!!" customers began screaming behind her. Hearing a moaning she turned to see IT rising up from the ground, it broken neck at a gruesome angle. Leslie began crawling backwards screaming in shock as the dead man with a broken neck continued its pursuit of her! Nothing could have prepared her for the pain in her chest as she watched her customers being attacked and then Holly, dead Holly, rose from the blood soaked ground to attack as well! Feeling her heart pounding and her chest hurting from inability to breathe Leslie feared she would soon pass out.....<br><br>Leslie lept to her feet ready for battle. Covered in sweat, shaking from head to toe, her chest clinched in panic. The dream again.....after a moment of deep breathing she flopped back down on her sleeping bag and took a swig of her Vodka. God she hated that dream, or memory more acuratly. It was cold after the rain tonight and no fire meant she would stay cold. At least she had fresh water again and had enjoyed a good bath. She could stand to smell herself again. It took hours to fall asleep again and dawn approached so soon. Sipping her coffee she looked toward Potosi. Leslie had lost everyone, no family left and her world was gone. Potosi was her hope, Aunt Joyce had moved there to be with her internet found boyfriend and she was Leslie's last hope of finding a family member alive.<br><br>Sighing in what sounded like defeat she slowly gathered her camping gear into the back of the latest pickup she had found. Driving was not easy but she could go off road to get around things in the highway with this 4x4 monster. It guzzled the fuel however and she was sure hoping it would make it to Potosi. Leslie did not think she could actually carry all her supplies she had gathered over the last couple weeks. Taking a deep breath and popping in her Elvis cd she firmed her chin and started forward. Aunt Joyce had to be alive, she had spoken to her and she had been in the hospital safe and sound and Leslie had decided that she still was and that was all there was to it! "I'm coming Aunt Joyce" she muttered.....the smoke she saw in the distance worried her however.
			</dd>
		</dl>
		<div id="footer" class="smalltext">
			
			<span class="smalltext" style="display: inline; visibility: visible; font-family: Verdana, Arial, sans-serif;"><a href="https://elliquiy.com/forums/index.php?action=credits" title="Simple Machines Forum" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF 2.0.19</a> |
 <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org/about/smf/license.php" title="License" target="_blank" class="new_win">SMF © 2021</a>, <a href="https://www.simplemachines.org" title="Simple Machines" target="_blank" class="new_win">Simple Machines</a>
			</span>
		</div>