Leseproben?

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Arakano
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Leseproben?

Beitrag von Arakano » 15. Januar 2011 20:20

Moin!

Da sich gerade mal wieder ein Neurekrut über mangelnde Aktivität in diesem Forum beschwert hat, frage ich mich, ob wir vielleicht etwas zur Belebung tun könnten...

Ich bin mir ziemlich sicher, daß viele Rollenspielfreaks von Haus aus gute Geschichtenerzähler und Autoren sind, man kennt das ja, Kreativität und so. Nun frage ich mich, ob nicht einige von uns Geschichten (oder von mir aus auch Dramen oder Gedichte, man ist ja flexibel ) auf ihrer Festplatte oder in ihrem Kopf schlummern haben, die zu teilen sie bereit wären. Da haben die anderen was zu lesen, wenn sie wollen, und wir sehen hier vielleicht mehr Aktivität.

Ist nur so ein Gedanke. Ich selbst würde mich bei Interesse natürlich auch beteiligen, so gutes Vorbild usw... aber nun sollte ich wohl erstmal abwarten, ob mein unwürdig-untertänigster Vorschlag überhaupt auf Resonanz stößt.
"My hatred for you burns like the skin of that guy." - Black Mage, 8-Bit-theatre

"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." - Vaarsuvius, OOTS

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Loremaster
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Loremaster » 17. Januar 2011 12:54

Klarstellung:

Das war keine Beschwerde, sondern eine entäuschte Feststellung.

...die feinen Unterschiede....

:D
"Silence, twist those knobs, twist those knobs! You, pull some levers, pull some levers!"
- Invader Zim (at his best... and now quoted correctly...)

"It's not stupid; it's advanced!"
- one of the "Allmighty Tallest"

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Arakano
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Arakano » 18. Januar 2011 00:42

Die Beschwerde war impliziert! :?
"My hatred for you burns like the skin of that guy." - Black Mage, 8-Bit-theatre

"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." - Vaarsuvius, OOTS

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Marten
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Marten » 30. Januar 2011 09:53

Du hinkst bei der Chronic der Children of the Night-Runde noch hinterher, Tim...
Let's see if those trees you're always hugging are gonna help you when Gordon Lightfoot is creeping 'round your backstairs!

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Arakano
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Arakano » 3. Februar 2011 01:20

Schande über mich. :( Aber da ich nun auch noch eine Sitzung verpasst habe, werde ich eh Unterstützung benötigen... ich schau mal, ob ich die Ereignisse des Mals davor noch zusammenkriege.
"My hatred for you burns like the skin of that guy." - Black Mage, 8-Bit-theatre

"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." - Vaarsuvius, OOTS

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Jana
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Jana » 3. Februar 2011 11:48

Wie genau stellt ihr euch das denn vor?
Sollen wir dergleichen einfach hier rein posten, oder nen Thread auf machen?
Nur so aus Neugier. ^^

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Arakano
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Arakano » 17. Februar 2011 11:10

Das hängt, denke ich, ganz vom Umfang des geposteten Texts ab. ;) Wenn er etwas länger ist, oder du mehrere Posts machst, wäre es vielleicht gar nicht schlecht, dafür einen neuen Thread aufzumachen.
"My hatred for you burns like the skin of that guy." - Black Mage, 8-Bit-theatre

"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." - Vaarsuvius, OOTS

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Matthias
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Matthias » 17. Februar 2011 16:15

Nur zu, im Zweifelsfall kann die freundliche Heinzelmännchen-Truppe (also ich) die einzelnen Threads und Beiträge und so wieder sortieren.

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Arakano
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Arakano » 18. Februar 2011 14:49

Okay, ich mach einfach mal den Anfang, vielleicht regt es ja andere an, mal was zu posten...
Folgenden englischen Text habe ich verfasst, um in einem anderem Forum an einem Wettbewerb für Fantasy-Kurzgeschichten teilzunehmen, in denen es um die Verbindung von Magie und Krieg gehen sollte (so als grobe Thematik). Hatte auch ein Wörterlimit usw., also bitte ich darum, mir dies gnädigerweise anzurechnen bei der vernichtenden Beurteilung meines bescheidenen Werkes. ;) So denn!

****

Shadur had come.

The word was passed among the tribes of the wilderness, and whispered in the slum city beneath the great citadel. Drums sounded in the forests of Tesj, fires burned on the hills of Dursk, and the mountain paths were teeming with the warriors of the great valleys high up beneath the eternal snow, coming down like an avalanche upon the hated foreign oppressors. Outlying garrisons were abandoned as a precautionary measure, and messengers were sent out to demand immediate reinforcements. The messengers went and returned, throats cut, their mutilated bodies flung down at the gates of the city, a challenge and a threat.

Here, the rule of the oppressors still held firm, the impressive garrison force further strengthened by the men from the abandoned outposts. And nobody doubted that it would remain this way, whatever the natives might tell themselves in their savage meetings. Let Shadur come! The High Sorcerer awaited him, and while he still held sway over the great citadel, the Teradjur guards remained confident and boastful. Let Shadur come!

And indeed, who would doubt the great power given to one like the High Sorcerer, who could manipulate the flows of the Great Weave that held the essence of creation? He could smite armies down with his wrath, and keep dying men up on their feet and fighting if he willed it. His eyes saw far, and his ears were keen, from mountain to sea, from the woods of Tesj to the far city of Medrash where the Purple Emperor sat serenely on the Opal Throne. What did it matter that no messengers made it through, when the High Sorcerer could mind-whisper to the brethren of his cabal in far Medrash, urging upon their souls that trouble was brewing among the Korams of the wild Gaharim people. They would not know details, they would not receive a precise report of events, but they would know enough, and the Guard would march. It would relieve the citadel, crush the rebels, and parade their cherished messiah back to the glorious capital so that he might be dragged through the streets to the amusement of the crowds.

Yes, there was no doubt and no fear in the proud hearts of the men from the Medrese empire. And thus their doom was inevitable.

It came on the day after the full moon. The most powerful shamans of the Gaharim arrived at the walls of the city, clad in their humble robes, yet striding with confidence and dignity, a solemn procession on a holy mission. They had always been scoffed at by the Medrese, and yet mercilessly hunted all the same. For while their talent and art was a mere spark next to the burning fire of the select few High Sorcerers of the Empire, they nevertheless had an undeniable connection to the Weave. And that, even in the hands of the unskilled, equalled power and wisdom beyond that of ordinary men.

So the shamans had gone into hiding, though many were still found and killed by the Madrogar, as the Medrese were called by the Gaharim. But now they had come forth to serve their people and their leader. Yes, they came forth now, for they were called by him whom they could not refuse. Shadur had come, Shadur had called.

And so they stood, in front of the high, mighty walls, tiny figures in ragged robes. Already Teradjur guards were hurrying to reach them, and messengers ran up the stairs of the great citadel to inform the High Sorcerer that he should turn his attention to his revealed enemies and smite them down where they stood.

But neither Teradjur nor High Sorcerer would kill the holy men today, and yet die they did. For one after the other, the shamans began to commit ritual suicide, in most varied and gruesome fashions, often after long and painful mutilations.

One set himself aflame with sacred oils, burning like a human torch. Another gouged out his own eyes, cut off his tongue and then jumped down a high cliff. All around the city walls, shamans cut themselves, disembowelled themselves, castrated, tortured, flayed and scourged themselves. One let himself be torn into several pieces by strong horses, another swallowed a vicious poison and died convulsing in agony.

It was a dreadful sight for even the battle-hardened Teradjur, and it seemed sheer madness to them. It was not. No madmen died that day, but martyrs of their cause and their people. They died to overthrow their enemy, and their dying curses rang out against him with a vile power, with the power that flies on the wings of death. Nobody of the simple soldiers even noticed, but shock waves went through the Weave that hour, tearing apart the connections between the citadel and Medrash, crushing the High Sorcerer’s mind and soul and sending even his brethren in far-off Medrash into a shock that they took days to recover from.

And even as the last of the chosen shamans died, he did smile, and serene bliss spread over his bloodied features. For he had gazed upon him who had guided them today, him who would avenge them, him who would lead their people to victory and liberation.

Shadur had come.

And with him came the warriors of the mountains and the hills, shepherds and cattle-grazers, miners and masons. With him came the hunters and skirmishers of the forests, charcoal-burners and woodcutters, and even those few tribes of Gaharim that roamed the plains, these renegades and thrown-aways, who had forsaken the old ways, even these had sent their levies to join in the assault. They swept over the outer walls, flooded through the city, charged up the steep hill towards the citadel. They cut down and tore apart any Teradjur or Medrese caught in their way, and blood flooded the streets of the slums that day.

In the citadel, pale servants returned from the highest spire, where they had found their High Sorcerer dead, foam at his mouth and blood flowing from his ears. They whispered the dire news to the Lord Commander, who stood aghast, chaos reigning freely around him, Medrese soldiers and civilians alike running around like headless chickens. Only the Teradjur remained calm, standing at the ready.

Then, with a tremendous thunder, the great gate burst open, and like a wave over a crumbling levee, the hordes of howling warriors swept across the shards of steel, screaming the name of their leader into the darkening sky. The Teradjur closed ranks and prepared to die.

Shadur had come.
"My hatred for you burns like the skin of that guy." - Black Mage, 8-Bit-theatre

"As the size of an explosion increases, the number of social situations it is incapable of solving approaches zero." - Vaarsuvius, OOTS

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Marten
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Marten » 2. März 2011 13:38

Tim, Du alter Tolkienist! :wink:

Hier mein Beitrag zu Leseproben. Kenner werden erkennen, in welcher Welt es angesiedelt ist, alle anderen: Enjoy the Ride!

Die letzte Kurierin - Teil 1

Amé 9 Romeo rannte durch den leeren Korridor des verlassenen Gebäudes. Eine ihrer Subroutinen integrierte noch während sie lief die Pläne des Gebäudes in ihr Kurzzeitgedächtnis, während eine weitere ihr mit jedem einzelnen Schritt bestätigte, dass sie den Boden die Berührung ihrer Füße direkt wieder vergessen lies. Amé lies dies im Hintergrund ablaufen und konzentrierte sich auf die Überwachungsdaten, die ihr passiv von einer weiteren Subroutine zugespeist wurden. Sie wies die Tür am Ende des Korridors an, sich einen Spalt weit zu öffnen und verwendete einen Teil ihrer Rechenleistung dazu, diesen Vorgang vor dem Netz zu verstecken. Kurz bevor sie auf das Dach hinauslief, ohne ihren Schritt zu verlangsahmen oder auch nur den Takt zu verändern, in dem ihre Füße den Boden berührten und die zahme K.I. ihrer Subroutinen dem Boden suggerierte, dass das nie passiert war, aktivierte sie alle ihre Masken. Die glitt durch die Tür in das gleißende Tageslicht.

Es war nicht Unsichtbarkeit per se, vielmehr war es ein Feld aus Programmen, welche die Aufmerksamkeit ihrer Umgebung von ihr ablenkten. Jede der mächtigeren Funktionen der Regierung würde sie auf Anhieb sehen – ihre einzige Chance bestand darin, dass die Regierung nicht damit rechnete, dass sie hier war. Es wurden nur noch wenige Ressourcen in die Jagd der Überlebenden investiert, seit der Totale Krieg beschlossen und implementiert wurde. Unentdeckt rannte sie über das Dach auf die kilometertiefe Straßenschlucht zu. Menschliche Beobachter hätten eine Bewegung am Rande ihres Sichtfeldes registriert und dann ignoriert. Es gab keine menschlichen Beobachter mehr in der Stadt. Künstliche Muskeln in ihren Gliedmaßen spannten sich an, ihre fullerenverstärkten Knochen wurden beschleunigt und sie sprang über die Straßenschlucht. Weit unter ihr registrierte sie eine Bewegung, die eine ihrer Subroutinen ihr als Entsorgungsmaschine identifizierte, vermutlich auf dem Weg in die Recyclinganlage, wo ihre Rohmaterialien zu Kriegsgütern rekonfiguriert würden.

Einhundertfünfzig Meter weiter vorne und achtzig weiter unten rollte sie auf dem nächsten Gebäude ab, eine Bewegung, die fließend in einen weiterführenden Sprint überging. Die Tür öffnete sich für sie, ein weiterer Wartungsschacht. Sie blieb stehen. Dieser Ort war genauso für eine Pause geeignet, wie jeder andere auch. Sie wies die Subroutinen, die in den Implantaten in ihrem Rückrat und ihrer Schädelbasis saßen an, ihr den Rücken zu decken, während sie eine zwanzigminütige Schlafphase aktivierte. Was ihr fehlte war nicht Schlaf, davon brauchte sie nicht viel. Sie hatte seit zwei Wochen nichts gegessen. Die Regierung war in der Deorganisierung der Städte gründlich gewesen. Sie schlief ein.

Zwanzig Minuten später wachte sie auf, ohne sich an Träume erinnern zu können. Amé reaktivierte ihre Waffen, die während sie schlief grundsätzlich gesichert waren. Eine Monoklinge, versteckt in ihrem rechten Ellenknochen, ein Linearbeschleuniger in ihrem linken. Waffen, die jetzt, wo sich der gesamte Mars im Totalen Krieg befand vollkommen nutzlos waren. Vor der Implementierung des Kriegszustandes waren ihre Ziele Menschen und Roboter gewesen. Terroranschläge gegen Schergen der Regierung, Bürger, Besitz. Gegen das, was die Regierung jetzt einsetzte halfen nur gute Masken. Die Besten, um genau zu sein, denn soweit sie wusste, hatten nur ihre ausgereicht. Sie war möglicherweise der letzte lebende Mensch auf dem Planeten. Und seit gestern hatte sie wieder Hoffnung, dass sie das ändern konnte.

Amé und ihre Freunde hatten die Regierung schon bekämpft, seit sie geboren waren. Sie waren durch ihre Ethnie und ihr Aussehen klar als Sklaven zu erkennen, kleiner, schwächer als die, die sich als die eigentlichen Marsianer ansahen. Der Untergrund war gut organisiert und war dennoch in einem konstanten Kampf um die bloße Existenz gefangen gewesen. Nur die besten hatten ihr Alter je erreicht. Elf Jahre war sie jetzt alt. Nicht, dass man ihr dieses Alter ansah. Ihre Implantate und Notwendigkeiten hatten ihren Körper geformt. Sie war klein, zart und schmal. Brüste hatte sie trotz ihres Alters ebensowenig wie Körperbehaarung außer den kurzen blonden Stoppeln auf ihrem Kopf, die in der Widerstandsbewegung aus Stolz jeder trug. Ihr Rückrat war, wie die meisten ihrer Knochen fullerenverstärkt und vier ihrer Wirbel waren vollständig durch Implantate ersetzt, die eigene Subroutinen und Kontrollhilfen beinhalteten. Sie hatte ein Kortikalimplantat, Implantate in den Augen und Ohren, eine Maskenmatrix in ihrer Haut und fast vollständige Kontrolle über sämtliche Funktionen ihrer inneren Organe. Die meisten ihrer Muskeln waren künstlich. Sie hatte keinen Herzschlag, da ihr Blut dezentral bewegt wurde. Ein ständiger Strom passiver Naniten in ihrem Blut- und Lymphkreislauf hielt sie auch in Situationen am Leben, die jede höhere Lebensform kurzfristig töten würden. Sie war das Beste, was die Widerstandsbewegung ins Feld schicken konnte und dies war der einzige Grund, aus dem sie noch am Leben war.

Amé lies einen Routinescan über die Gegend laufen, die Kommunikationskanäle der Regierung waren mysteriös aber auf der lokalen Ebene nicht allzu kompliziert gesichert, und führte währenddessen einige schnelle Dehnübungen aus, die strenggenommen nicht notwendig waren, ihr aber das Gefühl einer Morgenroutine gaben. Ein Satellit war vor zehn Minuten über die Gegend gewandert und hatte eine Routinesuche nach unerlaubtem Verkehr durchgeführt, ungenau, auf der Suche nach Nanosaatkapseln des Hiveminds, überlebenden Menschen, Dingen, die leichter zu finden waren als sie. Wenn es so weiterging, würde sie den Treffpunkt in wenigen Stunden erreichen. Wenn es denn ein Treffpunkt war. Es musste einer sein. Es machte keinen Sinn, sie über den halben Planeten zu locken, nur um sie zu töten. Das konnte die Regierung überall tun.

Der Totale Krieg war vor vier Wochen ausgerufen worden. Einige Menschen hatten es kommen sehen, und hatten bereits vorher den Planeten verlassen, manche im letzten Moment. Die meisten derjenigen, die es hatten kommen sehen, hatten dennoch keine Chance gehabt zu fliehen. Ein Großteil der Bevölkerung wäre nie auf die Idee gekommen, dass die Regierung so etwas überhaupt beschließen konnte. Der Krieg mit dem Hivemind, welcher inzwischen einen Großteil des Gürtels kontrollierte und dessen Übergriffe in den Inner Rim zugenommen hatten war schlechter gelaufen, als zunächst prognostiziert. Der Mars wäre dieser Bedrohung nicht mehr lange gewachsen gewesen, schon gar nicht mit einer Bevölkerung, die versorgt und beschützt werden musste. Die Regierung hatte den logischen Schluss gezogen, dass die Menschen ein massiver negativer Wirtschaftsfaktor für die Kriegsökonomie des Planeten darstellten und hatte darauf beschlossen, sie einfach abzuschaffen. Innerhalb von drei Sekunden nach der Entscheidung durch die Regierung waren bereits zwei Drittel der Menschen auf dem Mars tot, ihre Implantate setzten die Funktion ihrer Organe und Nerven aus, der Innenraum ihrer Häuser wurde von gasförmig zu fest geschaltet, der Boden tat sich auf und recyclete ihre Wasser- und Kohlenstoffanteile und die Retronaniten in der Luft rekonfigurierten sich zu tödlichen Kampfstoffen. Schließlich sollte die eigene Bevölkerung nicht plötzlich anfangen, Regierungspolitik zu sabotieren.

Wohin waren diejenigen, die entkommen waren geflohen? Amé konnte es sich nicht wirklich vorstellen, aber ihre Vorstellung von der Welt außerhalb des Mars war ohnehin nur sehr begrenzt. Der Gürtel war, so wusste sie, inzwischen großteils Teil des Hiveminds. Dorthin konnte man nicht fliehen, wenn einem die eigene Existenz als Individuum etwas zählte. Die Venus war ein halbes Jahr zuvor in den Krieg als dritte Kraft eingetreten, dort schoss man marsianische Raumschiffe vermutlich ab, sobald man sie entdeckte. Die vergiftete Atmosphäre von Terra schien auch wenig verlockend, obwohl es dort vermutlich für jemanden wie Amé nicht allzu schlimm war. Und vermutlich gab es dort etwas zu essen...

Amés Subroutinen überprüften die Umgebung und stellten fest, dass sie nicht in der Aufmerksamkeit einer höheren Regierungsintelligenz lag. Sie verlies das Gebäude im Erdgeschoss und lief durch die stillen, leeren Straßen, ihre Subroutinen immer auf Ausschau nach Zeichen, dass etwas die Gegend abtastete, seine digitalen Fühler ausstreckte und die Peripherie ihrer eigenen virtuellen Wahrnehmung striff. Vielleicht hätte sie noch einen Sekundenbruchteil, um zu reagieren und sich zu verstecken. Wahrscheinlich würde sie jedoch einen schnellen Tod sterben. Der Boden würde sie festhalten und auflösen oder, so hoffte sie, eine Partikellanze würde aus dem Himmel herunterfahren und sie in subatomare Teilchen zerlegen. Vermutlich jedoch ersteres, da es weniger Kollateralschaden verursachen würde. Amé hatte sowas schon einmal gesehen. Der Junge, mit dem sie damals unterwegs gewesen war, hatte sich in seiner Verzweiflung sein eigenes, gefangenes und in der Umwandlung befindliches Bein abgeschnitten – es hatte ihm nicht geholfen.
Let's see if those trees you're always hugging are gonna help you when Gordon Lightfoot is creeping 'round your backstairs!

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Marten
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Marten » 24. August 2011 16:06

Eine kleinere Leseprobe eines nie veröffentlichten Spieletagebuchs von mir. Ich habe Rogue Survivor gespielt und ein Tagebuch aus der Sicht meines Characters geschrieben. Ist im übrigen das beste Roguelike PC-Rollenspiel, das ich kenne. Das Tagebuch des Carlton Lee:

Day 0:
Woke up to find the house assoulted by zombies, strangers also here, ransacking the place! I grabbed some food from the fridge and my flashlight. One of the strangers beat a Z to death in my kitchen. I went into the basement and killed two rabid rats with my bare hands, blocking the stairs with some crap I found in the corner. I stashed the food in a corner of the basement and went back ourside. Went to the general store down the street to get supplies and found a horde of zombies there. Evaiding them I got back some ammo (but no weapon!) and a medkit, which I used to patch myself up after returning to my basement. Then I ate some food. The next trip went to the grocery store. I met a group of cops on the way there and a guy with a hunting rifle was sleeping at the store. I grabbed as much canned food as I could carry and brought it back here. A third trip outside brought in more cans, some fresh groceries I will have to eat sooner rather than later and also the information that the gun store next door is still barricaded. Good. I'll sleep for now as I am really tired. Hope the Z don't find me down here... It's 19h and I've been up since midnight, by the way. Rough day. Tomorrow I'll see what I can get weapons-wise.

Day 1:
Got up early at sunrise to leave my basement-hideout. I ran down to the weapons store, finding it already busted open. There was still some stuff to loot there. I have a pistol and a bunch of ammo for that now, as well as a hunting rifle and some ammo for it. And some shot-shells but no shotgun. Upon returning home I pushed a broken down car to block off the hole in the living-room. Hopefully that will slow the Z down a little. I forced myself to stay up until 21:00 so I'll get a normal sleeping-cycle again. Tomorrow I'll try to get to the police station to see what the hell is going on there. Maybe there'll be some sort of resistance there or at least some equipment to hoard. Good night, apocalyptic world!

Day 2:
What a day... I walked all the way down to the precinct. There were small fights between survivors and zombies everywhere on the way but I went straight to the station. Down there I found some cops holding out in the darkness of the basement. They said sure, I could have any equipment they didn't need so I grabbed a shotgun, a flashlight and a padded riot-jacket. I went into the basement where they have the holding cells. Thinking to myself that it would be horrible to leave all these people who were probably just drunk two days ago when it all started trapped during this apocalypse and then this guy talks to me that he works for CHAR and whatnot... He told me that it was them with their weird mind-enhancing experiments on people who started all of this in a facility in north of the city centre. I let the prisoners go and all of a sudden the guy starts retching out his own guts and turns into a tentacled monstrosity! A cop wo was present and I unloaded our shotguns into that thing until it didn't move anymore. I wandered out amidst the grateful prisoners and the indifferent cops and found myself under attack by some crazed biker-dude when I came up into the lobby. I shot him. It was self-defense. It was about 21:00 when I returned here but something had attacked my barricades while I was gone so I moved my bed next to the barricade and moved some more junk in the way between the stairs and myself. I'll have to find a more secure shelter soon. Maybe I'll go check out the subway tunnels tomorrow. It's now midnight and I'll finally sleep.

Day 3:
Spent all day here in the basement pondering the end of the world. I thought about suicide for a while but that would be pointless, wouldn't it? Might go out with a bang, might hope that rescue will come some time. If the whole mess started in this city, it's likely that here it is also worst. That means as long as I'm still alive, there'll be others and by extension there will be more people the further away one gets from this place. I assume that the army will come and get the place back in order. Until then I must hold out. Something broke the first part of my already battered barricade but then appearently lost interest. I'll sleep here behind my barricade of junk for one more night and then set out to find myself a more secure home. I won't go out during the night. I'm not that foolish.

Day 4:
I went to the eastern business district today, seeking for a better shelter and I tink I've found it. There is a maintenance-room a bit down the line in one of the subway-tunnels that is ideal. I stashed the shotgun and the shells for it there. Fought some Z on the way there and also on the way home. Tomorrow I'll bring the hunting rifle and bullets. And then maybe some of my canned food (which I think might be the most prized posession I have - I'm afraid people might murder me over it). The day after tomorrow I should be all set up in the subway station. I already blocked off the entrance with a car. I don't think it'll be too easy for the Z to get in there now! Anyway, it's getting dark - another tour would be too risky. I'll sleep, gun-in-hand though. It seems like the undead activity is increasing...

Day 5:
Shit! These fucking nutters! On my way here to the subway tunnel I found some food on the street. It was still good so I decided to leave some ammo behind in order to pick it up. As soon as I enter the subway station, after subduing two Z, this nutcase come running at me with a fucking shovel. He hit me and I ran for it into the tunnel. He didn't dare to follow me into the dark. I stashed my stuff here and went back. I'd have to get past him again and, running, did so. I went back to my house to gather more stuff, including some cans of food. When I came back he had a friend with him and both tried to cut me off before I could disappear into the dark. It was a close call and my head still hurts from that shovel-hit. I'll need to spend the night here and hope that they'll be gone tomorrow when I go and get the majority of my foodstuffs. Fucking nutcases, there's no sense trying to talk to them...

Day 6:
I left my hideout early in the morning. The two nutters living in the station have, after I fired a warning shot at them, decided that I was too scary to go after and are now running around like mad at the station. Well they are mad. Whatever. I left to go home and get my stuff. Z were everywhere but then I found a crate appearently dropped out of a helicopter by the army: Army rations! Finally the government is doing SOMETHING about this whole mess. I grabbed the five rations that were left and went on towards my house but found it crawling with Z. I decided to leave as going into the basement would leave me trapped behind a horde of unknown size. I returned here to the subway-hideout and stashed the army rations. Seing as the day was still young I went back outside to see if the Z had left my house by now. Coming there it seemed empty so I went into the basement to grab the rest of my canned food. I had emptied the pistol on the way there so I left it as it was only dead weight - I'll get another one at some point. I have also encountered zombies in army-uniforms and found an army-combat knife. Even the forces seem a bit overwhelmed by this whole situation. When I left my house a huge gang of biker-types came at me down the street. I ran for it, it was at least eight of them, wielding knives, shovels and basebal-clubs. I turned a corner and was right face-to-face with a Z. I dodged around it and left it and the bikers to fight each other so I could make my escape. Made it to my subway-hideout unharmed, with enough canned food for over a week. My head still hurts from that shovel-hit though and I sure as hell miss my bed... It's midnight and I'll try to catch some sleep now. Tomorrow we'll see if there are some medical supplies in the area.

Day 7:
Went around the district this morning to find a group of soldiers using the subway stations entrance as a camp. Nice blokes, all five of them, said they were around for basic pacification, meaning shooting any Z on sight, protecting us civilians. Beyond that appearently the entire city has been quarantined by a military perimeter so for now no one can get out. I head a chopper dropping supplies a block down the street and found a great deal of food and medical supplies. Took some painkillers and finally desinfected the wound on my head. After cleaning it out and bandaging it, it feels so much better. I brought the stuff back here and went out again to explore the area a little. One of the char-offices was busted open so I took the risk to peek inside. No survivors in there but quite some hardware and equipment! I found a handgrenade... I'll go back there tomorrow, as sundown forced me to go on back home to my subway-hideout. It's midnight again so I'll sleep now.

Day 8:
Carlton Lees Body was found in the CHAR office in Elton Street by clean-up teams of the Z-Day-Task Force appointed by the government. His body showed sings of violent trauma not inflicted by the Z but probably by bikers, as there were three found dead in the direct vicinity of his body, killed by gunshot wounds inflicted with a shotgun of the type Lee was carrying at the time. His body was looted but a small diary was found. In the hideout described by thd diary, military rations and canned food for about two weeks were found together with an arsenal of two handguns, a rifle and a shotgun and some medical equipment.
Let's see if those trees you're always hugging are gonna help you when Gordon Lightfoot is creeping 'round your backstairs!

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Marten
Mad Slayer
Beiträge: 330
Registriert: 18. April 2007 18:24
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Re: Leseproben?

Beitrag von Marten » 7. September 2011 11:39

Okay, ich hab mal wieder ein Tagebuch geschrieben. Dieser Chara hat länger überlebt, aber leider nicht so lange, wie ich gehofft hatte. Wieso konnten mich die Dreckszombies töten? Ich hatte ne verdammte Militärweste an! Naja here we go:

Day0:
The news were true and I had to get the hell out. Z everywhere, fighting, screaming. I the store and then left to the east side and found shelter in a subway station and went hauling more ammo and guns from that weapons-store twice. Now I'll sleep. More looting to be done tomorrow, I guess.

Day1:
Two more hauls, one for ammo, one for food. I have a decent stash of canned food now. Tomorrow that other gun emporium is going to be it. Not much else happening. The police warned about bikers and gangs trying to take over now that the city order is collapsing. I'll take care.

Day3:
Two hellish days seem to be finally over. Yesterday morning I saw one of the notorious gangs of bikers marauding down west street so I decided to delay my excursion to the weapons emporium and check out the police station. It was quite a hike there but I looted a pharmacy for some energy and caffeine pills. At the station I got myself a riot armour and another shotgun and shells for it. In the cell block I decided to set those trapped there free. There was this guy who said he was working for CHAR and that they were the cause of all of this. Right after he told me where the entrance to their secret facility was (and I started thinking he might just be nuts) his body burst apart and some monstrosity replaced him. The thing attacked and the prisoners and I were in complete pandaemonium. I emptied round after round of buckshot in it, it clawed at me, it was all rather horrible. In the end it was dead, a lot of the prisoners were too and I was hurt as well. I patched myself up and it was night but I had to press on so I took the caffein pills and went through the night. Took a route via the Weapons emporium to get more supplies. On the way back I ran into a group of bikers roughing up some guy. In the ensuing street-battle the guy and I killed three of them. Then I brought the loot home to my hideout. Went once more to get some more stuff. Tomorrow I'll have to set out and try to find more food and medical supplies. For now I'll take a long sleep and go to bed early.

Day4:
Had to enlarge my search radius today. I got up hungry but didn't want to touch my supply of canned food yet so I went south of the shopping district. Found some spoiled food in a fridge in a house and ate it. Also found some cans. On the way back, I found a bunch of army rations dropped by a rescue chopper. Nice! All in all a good day. I'll stay put for a few days now and then go explore around the shopping areas of the city some more.

Day5:
Okay, a nice day off, so to speak. Time to take stock of the situation. The Z have overrun the city above. There are still people other than me around but they are frantic creatures, scurrying around trying to survive. No formal resistance except a few pockets of cops have been seen. The world outside the city does seem to care and still have enough order left to send supplies into the Z zone I am in, which is why I'm eating army rations right now. I'll stay put until I'm at the last of those, probably the day after tomorrow, and then set out to get more supplies and hopefully haul them back here.

Day6:
Another day spent waiting. My wound is still itching. Itching is good, right? Seriously, I need to find something to clean it out tomorrow. Let's take stock at what I have here in my hideout: I have two shotguns and a total of 218 shells. Not bad. There is a revolver and 206 bullets for that too. I have a hunting rifle and 42 bullets for that one. I have a golf-club, a flashlight and a riot-jacket. I have 29 cans of food and just ate my last army ration. I could hold out another ten days down here without needing to go to the surface but I'd rather find something fresher to eat before going at my reserves of canned goods. Tomorrow I'll set out for that. Maybe some stores aren't looted yet.

Day7:
Went over to the eastern shopping district, dodging some Z on the way. A guy was in the process of being killed by gansters so I opened up with my shotgun. Killed three of them in a pitched firefight and the guy thanked me. Said he met some soldiers who told him that the city has been locked off with a military perimeter and units of soldiers are sent into the city to sweep the street of Z and marauding gangs. They don't seem very successful at that. I found a grocery store though. Ate some spoiled food and vomited my guts out. The cans I brought home are a good addition to my stash though. I guess I'll go out again tomorrow. Should take more shells for the shotgun though. These gansters are crazy!

Day8:
Went outside and, after fighting off some Z and a biker, found a corpse who had some still wrapped army rations. I brought some stuff back here. Cans of food and such things. A mad man at the subway station came at me with a baseball-bat and I ran off into the darkness. The living are proving to be even more dangerous than the dead...

Day9:
Went to that shopping area again. Bikers roaming the streets, trying to get me. I dodged them and met a bunch of people led by a cop who were holding out in a pharmacy. Patched myself up. Got into some firefights with the bikers on the way back. Killed three of them. Found some fresh vegetables someone must have brought from outside the city and ate it. There are hordes of Z surrounding the subway station I am camped out in. It was quite a run to get back inside. The mad man is still there, muttering to himself. I left him a can of food. I hope the car I wedged into the station entrance holds off the hordes...

Day10:
Mad man didn't touch the food and I found him being harrassed by a powerful Z. I shot that one but behind me, mad man had turned himself. I put him down too. On the top floor of the station I found two more Z and shot those too. My first foray outside found a satchel with two army rations so I brought them into the entrance of the station. Z everywhere out there! Went to the shopping district and looted the other gun store which surprisingly hadn't been broken into yet. Just got home and still need to get these rations from upstairs down here. Tomorrow I'll try to rest a little and take stock of the situation again. Haven't seen anyone sane AND alive in days...

Day11:
Forayed into a new shopping district today. Most stores were already looted but I found some medical supplies and some more ammunition I brought home. Quite a long haul. Ate some canned food over the day. I need something fresh if I don't want to whittle down my supplies too quickly. I have considered going for the CHAR headquarters... Or maybe the hospital... I don't know.

Day12:
I decided to make a secondary subway HQ near the Westside station. I packed some provisions and trecked through the dark tunnels most of the day. Found some equipment in a maintenance-room to complement me there, a crowbar and a flashlight. Spent quite some time working the gates at the station open with said crowbar. Now I'm eating dinner in my secondary hideout. Tomorrow I'll go and see if I can get to the shopping district way south of here. Straight line there, grab goods, get back here. I hope that will work out...

Day 13:
I made my way down to this district and fought off some Z and such. Found a pharmacy and patched myself up. Found some bullets too. I heard rumours about mysterious black uniformed soldiers running around, gunning down everything that moves including civilians and cops. I saw their chopper just as I was entering the store I'm now camped out in. At daybreak I'll try to make a run for it back to the subway line. It's quite a way. God, I'm more scared than I have ever been since the apocalypse hit...

Day14:
I made it! Spent most of the revolver bullets I had found fighting off Z, dodging bikers and all. Even found some canned food. It's only midday but having been up all night last night, feeling the pain of my empty stomach, I need to sleep soon. But there isn't much left for me to do in this area. I guess I'll spend tomorrow hauling stuff from my secondary base back to my main base. I came home with a single bullet left in my revolver... That was a close call...

Day15:
Spent today hauling stuff here to my main subway base. Time to take stock of our stash again. Weaponswise: Two shotguns and a total of 247 shells. Two revolvers and a pistol with a total of also 247 bullets. A hunting rifle and 129 bullets for it. 39 cans of food. A leather jacket, a riot jacket, two flashlights, a crowbar, a golf-club, eight medikits, a blister of energy-pills. Good stash. Next target? Tomorrow I might try to go to the shopping district way south of the station. Might find some more food there. I'll take the revolver and some spare ammo for it. There is a lot of office buildings on the way and other survivors told me that the CHAR private security forces are rather trigger-happy these days...

Day16:
Change of plan. I found bodies of two Black Ops soldiers outside and also two cops who warned me of the danger these guys pose. They had nice weapons but no ammo for them but they did have a strange GPS tracker that reveals the location of them when they're nearby. That will give me quite an edge over them should I ever encounter live ones. I also found some fresh food so I brought it back here and decided to call it a day. This little gadget may save my life. I'll go to the shopping area tomorrow.

Day17:
The two cops from yesterday were dead when I came out at the station. They and two Z attacked me on sight. I shot them all. They did leave behind some fresh food from god-knows-where. I will stay here at least until the day after tomorrow now. There is no need to leave this to get spoiled. The shopping district is probably looted empty by now anyways. I'll be eating nice food today and tomorrow...

Day 18:
Nothing much to say. It's getting boring here.

Day19:
Fought a Z out on the platform and it bit me. I patched myself up and decided to remain here for the day.

Day20:
Went down to the shopping district. There were lots of gangsters around and I got into quite a pitched fight with them. Thankfully only two of them had guns. I killed somewhere between 5 and 7 of them. They had some military rations with them so I called it a day and came back home, dodging Z on the way. Two more dead BO were infront of the subway station. I guess I'll have to thank the Z for keeping me save... There are quite a lot of them out there, though.

Day21:
Todays foray into the shopping district brought me quite a lot of ammo for the hunting rifle and my first run-in with the notorious BO. It was only one of them as far as I can tell but he hit me with a high-powered rifle that smashed right through my riot-jacket. I fled and limped home and here I am, patching myself up. These guys are dangerous. Really, really dangerous.

Day22:
Fought Z in the business district after searching through a CHAR office that was already beeing looted by other survivors. Had another run-in with the BO, another close-call. I think I'll try to fortify the position around my subway station before doing anything else. I gotta take it slow or the BO will get me at some point...

Day23:
Spent the whole day moving wrecked cars. Fortification of the entrance is about half-done. More tomorrow, I guess...

Day24:
Another day pushing cars, fighting off the Z. There are BO in the area. I must be careful.

Day25:
Finished the barricade. Went out to the position where the BO were overwhelmed by the Z. Grabbed an army rifle and some food. Fresh food too. Nice. Also got new batteries for that BO tracker. Another two days of safety ahead for me. Should I go for the hospital? Another survivor said that there is a safe-zone there. Well maybe later.

Day26:
Shot some Z from the barricades. Nothing much else to talk about. I kinda need fresh food. Waiting for the army to drop more supplies... There was a fight between survivors for food infront of the station though. The winners said they heard rumours of a stash of food at the hospital. I might try for that later.

Day 28:
I made it to the hospital. Fought a crazed serial killer in the breaker-room and restored power. I barricaded myself in the power room. I'll hold out here as long as these supplies last. That should be a while. There is a metal fence here. Z must get around it to get at me. As long as I still have bullets, I can hold them off indefinetly. Well I do have 93 bullets. And Food for almost two weeks. I hope this will work. I'll stay here until it's gone. Then back home. I hope.

Day37:
Spent the last days watching porn and playing games on the housekeepers laptop I found down here. Something just banged at the barricades but then shuffled off. I hope it stays away. Shit. It's too early. I still have too much food to carry out...

Day40:
Ate all the food. Time to get out of here. I'll write from the subway station. I hear them moaning up there. The hospital is full of them. This will be... Intense...

Day 41:
I fought my way through three hordes of Z before emerging from the hospital. Dodged and fought incredible masses of Z on the way back here, dodging the BO that were being dropped in like rain from their helicopters. Even found some more canned food on the way. I made it. With no electricity this place doesn't look like much after I was in that hospital for so long but it seems to be the safest place in town... I'll rest for now, I've been on my feet for 16 hours straight, always fighting and on the move... Of the 93 bullets I left the hospitals power room with I brought home 21. I've become a rather good shot.

Day42:
In the morning I found a couple of dead people who had appearently camped up in the station and been killed by something capable of climbing my barricades. Possibly BO. They did leave a military ration and some more spare equipment behind that I brought into my lair. On a second trip to the surface I helped a cop and some woman fend off a Z. They gave me two cans of food as a token of their gratitude. I hauled a load of shotshells to my old secondary base down the subway tunnels – I think I’d better prepare for an expedition to that mysterious CHAR-complex. I’ll do one haul per day until I have all I need down there. Until then I’ll also try not to eat my canned food which means I’ll have to go to the surface to get those rations the army keeps dropping. I’m a little paranoid about these BO though. Their activity seems to have risen dramatically while I was holed up in the hospital basement…

Day 43:
Some fighting at the barricade today. Got hurt a bit but patched myself up upon returning home. Other people are running around the city, so are lots of Z. I wonder when either will run out. Made another haul and also have to eat canned food tonight. I don’t like seeing my stashed food dwindle…

Day44:
Some massive battle was raging outside, a tough group of survivors against a huge horde of Z. I helped them out by firing my revolver into the Z, expending around two dozen bullets, killing a couple of them. Still, the number of Z outside the station is frightening. I brought the rest of the equipment to the secondary station. I’ll have some canned food again tonight. I hope tomorrow might even bring some military rations again but I’m starting to disbelieve it. Haven’t seen any drops but BO since I left the hospital. The day after tomorrow I’ll start making my way to the CHAR complex. Maybe it will all make sense down there…

Max Jones Died Day 45, hour 12, being overrun by Z while trying to grab some army rations that dead survivalists had dropped. Kills included 57 skeletons, 1 Zombie prince, 12 zombified men, 11 zombified women, 7 bikers, 11 gangstas, 20 zombie masters, 30 shamblers and a serial killer for 150 kills total.
Let's see if those trees you're always hugging are gonna help you when Gordon Lightfoot is creeping 'round your backstairs!

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