ThreeDawg
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Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Mar 2, 2014 10:59:17 GMT -5
Eight months, thirteen days? Fourteen? The day the world as I knew it ended, it spread too fast for me to remember what day it really started. How long it had been going on without Media attention. It doesn't help that Nobody knows who patient Zero was, where it all started. I heard the first case was in some island near Papau New Guinea - Banpo? Bandui? Whatever it was called, it was paradise turned hell that fateful day the infection broke out. At least that's what I call it, an infection. Others call it a Virus, a Parasite, a Divine Disease. But to me, these people - these things - who feast upon our flesh are infected with something, some ancient disease from the undiscovered parts of the world? Something we can catch, if they bite us. Who knew the old movies could come true.
People call them different things, Walkers, Infected, Zeds, Zombies to name but a few. I've heard a few people calling them Demons before now, possessing the corpses of those they slay. Maybe they are - I don't know. I heard rumours of some guys who are immune to the infection, I've even seen a guy with a bite mark that looked healed over. Haven't seen him since, mind. But that doesn't matter - the Infected would still tear him apart. The Infected die of course, the easiest way is by smashing their skull in, kill the brain. But they can die all the same, albeit much harder, by just beating on them long enough. Break enough bones and organs and they'll drop redead. They're also quite susceptible to burning and electrocution, I've noticed. I even heard someone drowned one once, so maybe they need to breath?
They managed to spread off that island, again I don't know how - I don't know much these days. Maybe they stowed away on refugee ships, in the holds of aircraft, released by terrorists - or hell, people keep talking about 'governments'. But it doesn't matter anymore. They've spread everywhere, the entire world.
Some nations got more advanced warning than others, they set up quarantines and walls - they managed to survive, barely. Most weren't so lucky. Quarantines broke, the infected got through, nations collapsed. It happened here, in Brazil. Everything broke down, people looted, gangs seized territory only to die at the teeth of the infected. Some Governments still survive, clearly. I think our own does to some degree - the occasional supply drop gets flown over the city and released in parachuted boxes by some big military plane. Mostly food, medicine, occasionally some boxes full of ammunition. It used to come more often, with more things. But it's rare now, and fewer crates fall each time it passes.
People fight for them.
That's all we know now, survival. It's all that matters. People will do anything to survive. Anything. Here in Rio de Janeiro, the Infected are a constant problem. There are so many of them. The rooftops are quite safe, aside from the rare survivor dying up their and becoming one of them, or a few finding their way up stairs to the tops. At least, during the day.
Normally, when the sun beats upon your back, the Infected just wander around in search of food. They shamble, mostly, until they spot you. But even then they don't quite run. (the man laughs, it's clear by the wheeze to it and the sadness it bares that he doesn't laugh often) It's more a power walk really. I call them Walkers.
There are a few exceptions, mutations maybe. But they're rare.. The most common isn't really a mutation, it's the final stage of infection. A fresh infected, a survivor just turned. They retain some of their senses, their smarts. They run, jump, thrash and bite - like feral dogs on adrenalin. Sometimes you can see the regret in their eyes. They know what they're doing - they don't want to.
But at night, everything changes. The infected they- they change. For some reason when the sun goes down they get faster, stronger, more aware and even... Intelligent, to a degree. They chase, they're fast. There's no point in fighting - look at what happened to the Army. The only hope is to run, run fast and lose them. Use traps, too. But there's something else... Something else that comes out at night.
I call them Hunters. Mutated Infected with shredded skin, a jaw that splits into four - like those Predator Aliens in that movie with that Austrian dude. (The man puts on a fake Austrian accent as he quotes a line from the movie) "Get to the Choppa!". Well good look getting there. These guys are fast, strong, clever. They hunt like we used to hunt deer: they lay traps, use the Infected like attack dogs to flush us out. The one saving grace is they don't work well together, they seem pretty territorial. There are no rumours of people killing Hunters. You don't. When they get close enough, you just die. No point in fighting. It's why we fear the night so much.
We have a saying here in the Fevala, it's simple but... So true:
Good Night, Good Luck.
Soooooo this is my Zombie RPs OOC and planning thread. It's being based off the upcoming video game Dying Light (a sort of free running (Mirror's Edge like) zombie invasion (a successor to Dead Island) with a fear of the dark (I Am Legend) thrown in) and I decided that we're playing in and around Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. Because I think it'd be cool with the massive variety in the city - Jungle, Favelas, Downtown districts, Rich areas, Fine Ass Beaches. Also there's plenty of guns per person - and other weapons. So that's a bonus dying a Zombie 'Invasion'. I'd like us all to meet up in the thread - we don't have any prior attachment to each other. So I'll post the first post setting all that up, you guys just jump in and ride the train to Awesomeville. Now the thread is pretty full already, so if you want to join and you're not already part of the thread (as in I've told you you're in before now) then post a character like everyone else, include in the top that you're looking to join and I'll have a talk with everyone else and see if we've got room for the char you've offered (I don't want the thread going too slowly). Also means if someone leaves/dies, your char is already made! Any questions, give me a PM. Anywho, on with the sheet, make whatever character you want here. Fancy a Lawyer? Go for it. Everyone gets a chance to survive.
Name: Duh... Gender: I think you know how to fill this in by now. Birthplace: I'm including this here because I think it's important for this RP - to see if you're local or not. The only catch is that your character needs to know and speak passable Portuguese - we'll pretend the English we write is Portuguese to get rid of any language barriers. Not too much to ask, right? Age: I'd prefer it if you were 16 at the least, although the older you are the more experienced and likely to survive you are. Appearance: A picture or a description of your appearance, can include description of clothing here or in equipment - up to you. Equipment: What stuff do you have, weapons, apparel, stuff in your backpack (if you have a backpack). What you carry is how you survive - we'll be largely scavenging to live so having a start with some rations and some water would allow you to live a bit longer. Don't go carrying too much stuff, keep it realistic. Oh I'll also be allowing jury rigged modified weapons ala Dead Rising and Dead Island but id prefer you do them in the thread  Faction?: Are you aligned with a specific faction of survivors? If so, include it here and what they are/do/did. Personality: Doesn't have to be too long. I imagine it'll come out in the RP anyway. Background: Doesn't have to be too long - it's only a Freeform. But the longer the better in my opinion. What did you used to be before the world went to pop? What did you do when the world went to pop (you could also include that in your first IC post)? What do you do now that the world HAS gone to pop? Survivor's Log: Here's a little idea Wulf came up with that I thought I'd include. I'd like a little short paragraph (or longer, no limits) that is IC for your character, where they give a short explanation of their views of survival, what they're willing to do, their current views on their new life and current situation in Rio. Like what I did at the top of the post, but for your characters 
And Code!
[b]Name:[/b]
[b]Gender:[/b]
[b]Birthplace:[/b]
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Appearance:[/b]
[b]Equipment:[/b]
[b]Faction?:[/b]
[b]Personality:[/b]
[b]Background:[/b]
[b]Survivor's Log:[/b]
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Post by The Lost Traveler on Mar 2, 2014 11:46:04 GMT -5
I'm very interested. I love post-apocalypse stories. And now that I got a good handle on my schoolwork I should manage a slightly faster speed in my threads. But I have one quick question: How long has it been since Day 0?
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
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Post by ThreeDawg on Mar 2, 2014 11:51:59 GMT -5
Good question. I'll add that into the top of the post |
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Post by The Lost Traveler on Mar 2, 2014 11:56:19 GMT -5
Cool. Anyway, the basic premise I have is that a man was over here for a vacation (either a business trip or with his family) when the Zombie Apocalypse happened, and so he and the other tourists just holed up in their hotel and fortified it. Would that be feasible or would the Hunters hone in on any settlement like that?
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
Posts: 1,219
Likes: 33
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Post by ThreeDawg on Mar 2, 2014 12:01:06 GMT -5
Perfectly feasible, hunters prefer to pick off prey that is alone or in someplace they aren't safe. Only catch is that the character need to know passable Portuguese - so that we don't get into language barriers. I'm adding that in right now |
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Post by <> MetaWulf <> on Mar 2, 2014 12:07:36 GMT -5
WIP Name: Leonard "Leo" Cavaretta
Gender: Male
Birthplace: New York, USA
Age: 30
Appearance: Equipment: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Weapons Leo's .357 Colt Python.
Former sidearm of the office building's now dead security manager.- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Apparel Leo's Pack-Vest.
Taken from a Camping and Sporting Goods Store downtown.- Ballcap w/ clip-on LED light - Tattered Scarf / ( insert other word here. ) - ADIDAS Windbreaker Hoodie - Fingerless Leather Gloves - Denim Jeans - Liberated Pumas - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Equipment, Tools, & Gear Leo's LED / Infared Flashlight. Taken from the his first supply crate.
Currently has no batteries.
Leo's Waterproof Binoculars. Also taken from his first supply crate. - 39 Waterproof Matches in a Bag - 1 Thin Rain Poncho ( when folded is the size and weight of a pack of cigarettes )- 1 Needle-Nosed Pliers / Multi-Tool - 1 Tweezers - 1 Fork - 1 Stiletto Knife ( one of the only possessions Leo has managed to keep since the outbreak )- 1 Can Opener / Bottle Opener ( comb sized )- 1 Pocket Mirror - 1 Bar of Soap - 1 Rag - 1 Spray Bottle of First Aid Antiseptic / Disinfectant - 1 Extra Pair of Socks - 7 Water Purification Tablets - 1 Small Canteen - 2 Packages of Beef Jerky - 1 Can of Blue Spray Paint - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - Faction: Leo is something of a loner. Shortly after the outbreak, he was part of a small group who stuck to the office buildings of Rio. He became very close to a young brazilian survivor. When they were all slaughtered six months ago, Leo barley survived and did not take it well. Since then he attempts to remain a loner, fearing the pain of losing friends and lovers. Personality: Confident, Perceptive, Condescendingly Friendly, Charismatic Background & History: Past:Leo ( who seldom reveals his full name among other survivors ) was born a Leonard Cavaretta to a couple of Italian-Americans in the Bronx of New York. His mother worked on Wall Street, and his father was in the US Marine Corps. Leo's father was often gone for months at a time, leaving his mother responsible for raising the boy. Between her long hours at work and his father's absence, Leo grew up lonely. The streets of New York City can make or break a person, and although Leo's mother and his baby-sitter did their best to keep the boy in line, he was exposed to the harsh realities of life at a young age. The Outbreak:Leo had been grifting the streets of Rio Branco Avenue when the outbreak hit the central city. The creatures flooded the streets slowly, and the people were slow to notice. Then, with a few screams, chaos erupted. Pulling off the road and removing his helmet, the young man observed as the streets turned ugly. A Porsche jumped the curb and hit a man before rolling to rest in the median. Leo bailed from his motorcycle as a bus careened over the bike and smashed into the base of a nearby building. The young man scrambled to his feet and navigated the mob of panicked citizens until he found a clear alley. Making his way on foot and taking refuge in one of Rio's many massive office buildings, Leo joined a group of survivors living on the top floor and became close to many of them. One girl in particular occupied most of his time, Alatea Delago. Leo and Alatea spent much of their time away from the others, holed up in a empty office overlooking Rio's cityscape. Present:Survivor's Log: WIP |
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Post by Endicott on Mar 2, 2014 14:53:03 GMT -5
Name: Waylon Starkweather Gender: Male Birthplace: Detroit, Michigan, United States of America Age: 43 Appearance:  Equipment: Flashlight (x1), Batteries (x4), Beige-Khaki Backpack (x1), Taurus PT92 Pistol (x1), Clips (x4), Bowie Knife (x1), First Aid Kit (containing bandages, antibacterial gel, water, stitching kit, tissues and forceps) (x1), Tins of Beans (x3), Tin Opener (x1), Walkie Talkie (x1) (BROKEN), Water Canteen (x1) (FULL), Several Bottles of Antibiotics/Medicines (x4) (3 full, 1 half-empty). Personality: Waylon has always been quite pragmatic and cynical, even as a child (due to his parents' influence). In spite of this, he's often the life of a party and is quite social, having many friends pre-outbreak. Post-outbreak, he has become more cautious, less trusting and even more sarcastic, but deep down is still the jesting, quirky joker he always was. Faction: Waylon has traveled with several groups of survivors during the past eight months, although he hasn't ever stayed with one. Background: Waylon grew up to two oddly-parents. One was a social worker and the other a biochemist, but in terms of personality they seemed to fit well enough. Waylon's childhood was nothing special, a regular mixture of tomfoolery, immaturity and lesson-learning. Waylon's father had already set his son's aspirations aside and insisted Waylon was to follow in his footsteps. Waylon was reluctant at first, but his father couldn't be argued with and before he knew it he was studying Biochemistry at a local University in Detroit. To him, this seemed like a dead-end subject that would lead nowhere, but as it drew to a close and Waylon started looking for a job, he found it be extremely useful. Eventually, after a few low-grade training jobs, he got a job in toxicology in the pharmaceutical industry (testing drugs for their potentially toxic effects, as well as using biochemical, immunological, molecular biological or specialised microscopic techniques to help assess safety and provide a risk assessment). This job proved to be a good earner and landed him with a steady income, although he worked for several different companies during his time. During the his life prior to the outbreak, he had a few love interests but none of them took-off long-term. The rest of his life, he remained in this line of work, earned a lot and made quite a few close friends; all was well. Well, up until he received news that his father, while on holiday in Rio de Janiero, had contracted a potentially lethal illness and was on his deathbed. Within the next 12 hours, he was on a flight to Brazil. As he waited in the hospital, he couldn't help but notice to news was plagued with warnings of a pandemic. Waylon feared that this could be what his father had caught, and this suspicion was proven correct once a bite was found on his father's leg. His father died the next day, and soon after so did civilisation; the outbreak had begun on a massive scale. Survivor's Log: [sounds of fiddling around and a quite breathing] ...What's this, a Dictaphone? I haven't seen one of these since the 90's. Is this recording? Shit, it is. At least something works. Uhh... [goes quite for a few minutes, although low breathing can be heard] Alright, I guess I'll leave something for the next guy or gal that happens to stumble across this. My name is Waylon Starkweather, I'm a former toxicologist and now full-time apocalypse survivor. It's not bad work, but all the parties are just DEAD quite, y'know? [chuckles], I mean, all the people there are stiffs [laughing] Some of them though... [low laughing] Some of them are just DEAD funny... [put-on laughing fit] [long pause, with sighing heard, and possibly a slight sob] I guess I should cut the crap. I had to kill a human today... and it wasn't one of the infected ones either. He went to stab me, and the gun was in my hand. Somehow, I wish I were in his shoes; that is, dead, instead of feeling obliged to survive in this new world. I mean... [long, audible sigh]... I keep on wishing there was some hope for us... I mean.. y'know.. humanity. But deep down I know that's bullshit. I just... [voice becomes distant, inaudible and hard to hear, but one phrase can be made out: "I'm sorry", following by the sound of a gunshot] It's... FUCKING STUFF LIKE THAT WHICH IS GETTING TO ME! MOTHERFUCKING DEAD MEN SNEAKING UP ON ME, JUST CARRYING ON IN THE HOPE THAT THEY CAN... THAT THEY CAN.. FUCKING EAT MY BRAINS?! THIS ISN'T NORMAL, YOU HEAR?! THIS ISN'T NORMAL! [...after another long pause, the sound of the recorder being picked up again is heard] Well... [laughs].. well... I guess I should get out of here... I think more of them are on their way, and I need uh.. a drink. Good night, I guess... and if you're still listening..... good luck... [recording ends]
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Post by The Lost Traveler on Mar 2, 2014 15:49:34 GMT -5
Name: Gabriel Bruno
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Loch Lomond, Florida
Age: 38
Appearance: Gabe stands at around a little under six feet. He has a good head of hair on him, sandy blond, which reaches down to his shoulders. In the days immediately before the outbreak he used to wear a (“Horrible”, Siv says) Hawaiin shirt, flipflops and shorts/bathing suit which he wore when sunbathing by the pool, but now he wears jeans, boots, a gray hoodie and gloves – with duct tape wrapped around his hands and legs for added protection against bites. The Hawaiin shirt, along with the rest of his old wardrobe which he brought for the trip, is packed away in a his old suitcase in the closet in his room.
Equipment: Before the outbreak, Gabe knew nothing about guns or how to use them, but he had to become a quick study. Now, he wields a Rhino, a recent revolver manufactured right before the outbreak. He normally keeps it concealed in his sweater's pocket, and it's design allows for quick, accurate repeat shots – which is more than a little useful against walkers. He also uses a IMBEL IA2 which he took off the body of a soldier he found early on. The rifle has several accessories, such as a scope, flashlight, and laser sight. He normally keeps it strapped to his back over his backpack and it's the more obvious threat on him compared to his holdout revolver. His pack itself contains a weeks worth of rations, a canteen of water, a compass, a city map of Rio de Janeiro (which he needs less and less as he becomes more familiar with the city), and a machete strapped to the side.
Faction?: He's often dubbed as a “Tourist” because he is part of an enclave that is set up in the Copacabana Palace, the most renown hotel in Brazil before the fall, which is ironic because save for him and a couple others most of the survivors in the hotels are actually locals. The fact that it was one of the most expensive hotels and it mainly catered to the rich and famous has also earned them the nicknames of “Big Shots” which hits a bit closer to home.
Personality: Gabriel is a distant man, almost cold, to the point where he would rather speak to his few close friends than to other survivors in the Palace. He used to be rather gregarious, hosting parties and being in the center of attention, but when that all fell apart he found himself stranded with no one to hang onto. But now that his Portuguese is better his old personality is coming to the fore as he socializes more with the Tourists, but his conversations are still never long.
Background: Gabriel Bruno was born in Loch Lomond, Florida, as a third generation Brazilian-American. His grandparents on his father's side were immigrants, the entire family moving over to the States in the mid sixties. His father, Luedo Bruno, then met the love of his life, Emilie Harolds, his next door neighbor. A decade later and Gabriel was born.
The family realized quickly that Gabriel was a gifted boy. Even in his pre-teen years he seemed to have a knack for science, impressing his teachers and winning several awards. In particular, he was enamored with chemistry and medical science. He was bumped up a grade, graduated from his high school early, and then entered a medical school on a full scholarship.
While going through his higher levels of education, Gabriel took the first steps in creating the company which would later become Bruno Enterprises, the multimillion dollar pharmaceutical company. By the time he had finished his education he was ready to apply his practical theories. The company became very successful over the span of a year and continued to grow over the next decade. As the tenth year anniversary of the company's start approached he and several other high ranking department heads prepared to host a week-long party in Rio de Janeiro (hand picked by Gabriel due to a long held desire to visit Brazil) to celebrate.
Gabriel Bruno is the last one left alive.
Survivor's Log:
Day … I honestly lost track of the count, let's make it a clean slate at 0.
I'm never going to get used to this.
I don't mean the apocalypse in general … I've had to get used to that. If I hadn't I would have joined the first wave of suicides after everything vanished in a puff of smoke. What I mean is, the small things, the necessities required for living in this new world. For example, I just came back from a supply run. Even now my hands are still shaking as I try to write. Before, I had actually been a bit afraid of heights. I could never stand penthouses, despite that it came with the amenities of my lifestyle. An hour ago I was standing on the rooftop of the Palace and was glancing down to the ground several stories below. A single slip would spell my doom, yet still the rooftops of such towering monoliths were safer to navigate than the streets where those … things … wandered and feasted. So, it's just another thing you have to do now. You travel by day on the roofs and you hunker down at night, somewhere safe, secure and with guns at your back, and even then you can't sleep well. Hell, you can't sleep at all. All I could do then was hoist that heavy backpack further up on my shoulders and test the strength of the sheet of metal that Siv and the others had set up on the Hotel's roof to link it to the other line of buildings along the coast to the west. All the while thinking that a bit more pressure, a extra pound of weight, and the whole thing will cave in and slip off and my body will be careening through the air, all the while they would be looking in from the beach and …
You know what? I'm stopping for today. I need a drink.
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
Posts: 1,219
Likes: 33
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Post by ThreeDawg on Mar 2, 2014 16:10:31 GMT -5
It's more just so we can write English as if it was Portuguese, get me?
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Post by unit894 on Mar 2, 2014 16:56:08 GMT -5
Name: Rick Greene
Gender: Male
Birthplace: Cambridge, Massachusetts
(Can speak Portuguese, Spanish and a few local dialects)
Age: 33
Appearance: 6"0", 180lbs, lanky but athletic. His hair is a sort of sandy-blonde, reaches his shoulders and is twisted into dreaklocks. His facial hair is usually left to roam free, but he sometimes shaves. He has mild blue eyes. His nose looks as if it was broken a long time ago, and never set properly, making it slightly wonky.
Equipment: AK74-u (folding stock, shoulder strap), a retro Colt 1911 from the 60's (Black with a white grip)(usually held in belt), machete (In sheath on the side of his backpack, but on a way he can grab it easily). Red hawaiian shirt with yellow flowers on, white vest. Dark green combat trousers, dark grey and blue hiking boots. Boxing tape covers hands, and continues half-way up lower arms. Necklace of snake fangs around neck. Large black hiking backpack with food, water, ammo, compass, several maps of the City and the Columbian jungle, a handheld satnav device, and a high-power camera.
Faction: None
Personality: Very laid-back, even in such a harrowing situation as a zombie apocalypse. Tries to help people when he can. Very experienced in life, has traveled the world and had many adventures.
Background: Rick was a very smart lad, and had a normal childhood growing up in the suburbs. He managed to get a place at Harvards, and studied Archeology in his home town. He was able to pay for his degree by being the sole source of Ketamin and Marijuana for students and professors alike. He went on to have a very successful career in archeology, working in Europe, Asia and many other wild, untamed places. He was made a professor of Archeology at the age of 28, the youngest ever. He lectured his students on his favourite area of archeology: South America. South America was the last frontier of modern archeology, only a fraction of the continent had been surveyed by professional archeologists. After two years of lecturing, he was able to get the board to give him 10000 dollars to fund an expedition into the Columbian jungle. Rick went alone, and spent a year galavanting with drug dealers, cartels, tribals, para-military organisations, other archeologists, missionaries, volunteer aid workers and ancient Incan spirits (according to Rick). Aside from finding several dozen possible dig sites throughout the jungle, his greatest achievement was to find an ancient Incan city, 'The City of Clouds'. The first city ever in which a pristine mummified Royal family member was found, the rest burnt by the Spanish. Rick became world famous, written about in National Geographic, documentaries were written about him and aspiring archeologists sought him out for guidance and inspiration. Rick himself simply bought a small flat in Rio de Janeiro, living off of the royalties and having one-on-one "tutor sessions" with under-grad students. When the apocalypse came, Rick went straight into survival mode. He packed up his old archeology gear, as well as a few 'momentos' from his time in the jungle. He moved around a lot, only leaving the rooftops to look for supplies.
Survivor's Log: So here I am, supposed to be enjoying my retirement, but that went up shit creek fast enough. I always thought it would have been the BDL or the FARC coming to get a little revenge that would be my end. Turns out Zombies'll kill me first. I know I should be traumatised, or at least a little surprised or something, but to be perfectly honest this whole scene isn't much different from many of the digs I've been on. A lot of governments reaaaaaaly hate it when a nosy man with a shovel comes and finds all their precious history. And the whole zombie bite thing? I'm no biologist, but I'm pretty sure humans can't infect...stuff through their teeth. Not like snakes anyhow. And there ain't no-one that knows snakes like me. I haven't seen another person for a while, not that I'm looking very hard. A bit of company might be nice, having a different grad student every week is a habit that is hard to drop. Still, I haven't seen that big guy that always cut in front of me in the coffee shop for a while. There's a positive to every situation when you think about it.
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Post by The Lost Traveler on Mar 2, 2014 17:53:53 GMT -5
It's more just so we can write English as if it was Portuguese, get me? Yep. I doubt any of us are just going to break out in Portuguese during their post. If they did, I would have to use Google Translator for it and then respond and who knows what sort of messes we'll get then. Anyway, I'll edit that earlier post when I get around to creating my submission. Which should hopefully be soon. |
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Post by Court Baron Butters on Mar 2, 2014 22:59:56 GMT -5
If you'll have me... Name: Eustache Eve Eustis "Mr. Stache", "The Stache", or "The Mountaineer" in some circles Gender: Male Birthplace: Born in the Pyrenees mountains of France Age: 23 Appearance: Eustache is tall, with messy brown hair and stubble all around his chin, he is Scrawny, pail, and really rather sickly looking. Euastache could run for miles but never cared much for working out...and it shows. Equipment: Eustache wears a dark brown jacket over his black t-shirt around his neck is a Purple bandanna worn as a choker, he has dark black jeans, and brown suede leather shoes. Eustache has a large brown backpack which he keeps food and water in, currently he has only a couple cans of beans and and several empty bottles of water, he also carries a small compass to better keep his barrings. Attached to the side of this backpack on one side is his custom made Resonator Cigar-box guitar, and on the other side is a metal crowbar which he picked up after the outbreak (it has since been drenched in blood and is mostly red now). In one of pocket of his backpack you can find his Harmonica, and its holder for use while also playing the guitar. [Eustache's Custom-built Resonator Cigar-Box Guitar]  Faction?: Stashes of Eustache - A band started by Eustache while traveling through the slums of Argentina, who specialize in the genre's of Jazz, blues, and there most favorite Folk-Punk. The members are as follows; Eustache "The Stache" Eustis (Lead vocals, Harmonica, Resonator Cigar-Box guitar); Frankie "Squid" Chavez (Vocals, upright bass, and washtub bass); Marco "Marco" Albatross (Vocals, Accordian); Nayla "Polo" Polo (Vocals, Washboardist); Rafael "Seamus O'Flanahan" Belen (Vocals, Fiddle); Jessica Romani (Vocals, Banjo). Personality: Eustache is a social creature who never shy's away from a conversation, but will always want to talk about music. He is always outgoing, and prepared for a challenge. Background: Eustache was certainly not what you'd call "Privileged" Born and raised in a small village in the Pyrenees mountains, fortunately for him his parents decided to move him off to Bordeaux when he was a teenager, back in the mountains he passed the time by making music on his guitar - though with no radio he had few influences - During his time in Bordeaux he created many bands, but they never lasted very long in most cases he claimed: "We just couldn't stay commited." It came time for college...and Eustache had no money for it, he could care less about working, all he ever wanted to do was make music and he did just that, his primary income came from street performances, concerts, and music festivals. He moved from band to band never quite finding the right sound. Eventually Eustache moved to Argentina (In a search for adventure, and booty), and was introduced to a group of friends who he would eventually come to know as "os esconderijos" (The Stashes) A small folk band from Argentina, they discovered that Eustache played the Cigar box guitar, and the Harmonica they welcomed him in with open arms, but with this new member came change, the band formerly had few lyrics in most of their songs but Eustache found his voice in this band, and became the lead vocalist. The bands popularity grew, and Eustache had become somewhat of a frontman, one of the members saw it fit that the band be renamed to highlight Eustaches entrance into the band, comically they decided to re-name the band in English (Mainly as a gag of their lead singers name) and they became "Stashes of Eustache" The band has since migrated to Brazil, chasing rumors of Asylum. The following is an excerpt from "The musicians guide to surviving the Apocalypse" A journal written by Eustache. What the fuck! Am I doing here. I'm sorry that was a bit dramatic, but I really am quite frightened of this whole situation, those damn things have been chasing us for hours, and i'm getting sick and fucking tired of it.Have you ever had to eat dog food straight out of the tin? Don't get me wrong I've ate some shit, and I mean SERIOUS SHIT while on the road, but this is getting ridiculous, we found a local market the other day, and it was plum empty, nearly got our heads bashed in by some straight-up-sledge-wielding-asshole That whole day was a mess...at least I have my health.Have you ever left bread out for a really long time? I mean weeks, and weeks? It gets that weird fucking green shit on it, that's what color my vomit was this morning, Fuck me right?You know I was having a shitty week, but we busted into this liquor store today, met some hot super models... needless to say it was a good day.Why the hell did I write that? I'm sorry that was fabricated, Who the hell am I trying to impress with this notebook? Anyway... we're all slowly dying from hunger, blah, blah, blah.I wrote a song today about how the zombies have been around us our whole lives, but we haven't truly seen them till the outbreak, it's all a metaphor for the corporate fat-cats trying to keep us locked-up inside this virtual prison, oh wait...All of those bastards have either killed themselves, or are Zed-food now... WOOHOO!We've found this old shack on top of a roof today, started to clean it up a bit...For the first time during this outbreak I think I can finally call something home, it isn't perfect, but if we survived all those stupid mosh-pitters we can survive a Zombie-outbreak. |
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Post by Stelpher on Mar 3, 2014 4:20:21 GMT -5
Would be interested in joining Dawgs, as long as their are any empty spaces. Will hope to get in a character sometime soon. Also, which character should i do? A recycled version of my hitman from Sal's walking dead thread, or a crazy chick who was on vacation with her parents? And if either of those are okay would be nice too. Thanks, cya in Rio |
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ThreeDawg
Administrator
Voice of the Wastes
Posts: 1,219
Likes: 33
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Post by ThreeDawg on Mar 3, 2014 5:26:18 GMT -5
Either or both  Crazy Chickas on vacation are always welcome. Hitman are too, what with Rio being effectively run by the Militia (Mafia-type) and Drug Lords even today. |
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Post by Stelpher on Mar 3, 2014 6:02:44 GMT -5
Think im gonna go with crazy. Hope you all like strange messages written in blood!
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Crazy Chickas on vacation are always welcome. Hitman are too, what with Rio being effectively run by the Militia (Mafia-type) and Drug Lords even today.