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| The Ghost Town; A Zombie Survival RPG | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Sep 2 2009, 02:19 AM (2,110 Views) | |
| The_Grim_Wiiper | Sep 2 2009, 02:19 AM Post #1 |
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The Paint Samurai
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The Ghost Town![]() No Copying of this original game. All thoughts, descriptions, and ideas related to this game are intellectual property of both the players and The_Grim_Wiiper. All violations will be processed through a boatload of mean lawyers and admins. Thank you, and thanks for playing The Ghost Town, the premium in Ghost Town-style entertainment since summer '08! It has all led to this. No one could have prevented it. No one could have stopped it. Only a small group of people are left uninfected. They are not yet screaming, howling, terrifying monsters that lurk around at night, looking for food, and survivors. They stop at nothing but the pure warmth of sunlight to search for their food. Everytown has been overrun, every resident either killed or infected. But a small group of survivors have baned together and taken over a small town with a gas station, farmhouses, a police station, a grocery store, and a few office buildings and apartments that stand about three stories high. Houses surround this town and there are 2 large factories in the middle of town. But, the undead are relentless. They will come at you with a verocity that will destroy anything and anyone. The survivors must prepare each day... for the night...... HOW TO PLAY: You must live life each day by eating, preparing barricades, setting traps, or being creative and thinking up ways to survive the night. You have a monsterseeker machine which i will control. I will tell you when monsters are coming at night, and when you are able to sleep in peace. Sometimes only a few monsters will come, other times mobs will come. It all depends on the night, and how fresh your scent smells... Every other night, I will use the Dice Roll option to determine who will with die or be turned into a zombie that night. I will Roll again to determine if you are killed or turned. It will be a fair roll. Each player (including me) will take up ONE slot for the dice roll. If there are open slots, then if the dice roll lands on an open slot, nobody dies/is turned that night. If a player is turned, he is turned into a regular zombie. No super powers, just a regular, slow, man-eating zombie. If a player is killed, he/she must wait 12 HOURS until they can join again as a newcomer. The person who dies/is turned then must make up a story that is appropriate telling how they will die/be turned. The chances for dying/being turned will be 50/50. Good luck. RULES: NO BS POSTS NO DECIDING WHEN MONSTERS COME AT NIGHT NO KICKING SURVIVORS OUT OF THE TOWN [meanies] 3 STRIKE RULE SYSTEM NO LEAVING THE TOWN NIGHT BEGINS AT 8PM GMT THE ZOMBIES ARE THE SLOW-MAN EATING KIND THE ONLY WAY TO KILL A ZOMBIE IS TO DESTROY THE BRAIN EVERYONE STARTS OUT AS A SURVIVOR YoU CaN GeT InFeCtEd I wIlL TeLl YoU If YoU ArE bAsEd On ThE StAtUs Of YoU Survivors: -The_Grim_Wiiper GM - PathfinderGold GM - TemplarCommander - Chickenweed - ezerb - DNA - Finn 1939 - Neilyboy92 - Cipher -abacap 10 PLAYER LIMIT FOR SURVIVORS Infected: - Andcus - - - - Dead: - - - - - Map: ![]() Number of monsters coming tonight: 30 Days of Survival: 1 Green=woods Lime Green= Apartments Red= Market Orange= Gas Station Blue= Police Station Brown= Offices Yellow= Factories Purple= Houses Grey= Streets APC= A broken down Stryker APC. Will take 6 Real Life days to fix. Edited by The_Grim_Wiiper, Sep 3 2009, 07:06 PM.
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| PathfinderGold | Sep 2 2009, 12:52 PM Post #2 |
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Sniper One
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Darren Black walked into the deserted town, his feet aching as they crunched down onto the gravel track that turned into a road and was punctuated by potholes and metal scrap left over from fleeing inhabitants. The wind whipped at Black's overcoat and he pulled it tighter around him, and pulling his floppy hat lower over his chilled brow. He pulled his fingerless gloves out of his coat pocket and slid his icy hands into them, relishing from the protection they gave his hands. He walked past what looked like an old Armored Vehicle, but because it was so damaged he couldn't tell what it was but he guessed it was US-made from the markings. A large factory was to his right but he carried on walking regardless, his eyes flitting over the buildings scanning for one that would be suitable. It had to be the tallest in town so that he could see out over the town. I had to have a door he could barricade and most importantly it had to be free of sleeping infected. He walked past the gas station, but it had a huge glass front window which would be no good for his purposes. Then he looked left and saw a 7 story apartment building rising above all the others, most of its windows were intact and the door was actually intact, which was a rarity. He walked up to it and tried the handle; which luckily was not locked and the door swung open revealing a small lobby area with a large spiral staircase in the middle. He shut the door behind him and breathed a sigh of relief, as the wind finally wasn't lashing at his face and he could start to get warm. Black took his floppy hat off and let it hang off his neck by the cord, running a hand through his ragged brown hair. Knowing it was better not to waste time in places like this he made his way over to the staircase and began climbing. On the 1st floor he stopped and looked around, on each floor their was two corridors branching off, one left and one right. Each corridor had rooms on both sides, and all the walls were covered in graffiti, most of it bearing messages of 'Armageddon' and 'Hell On Earth'. Though Black noticed something was wrong on the 1st floor, there was a strange smell, one of rotting meat and that meant only one thing: An Infected. "Shit," Darren breathed under his breath. He put his hand inside his coat, and from a short three point sling he had slung underneath his overcoat and hanging by his side, he drew a small sawn-off shotgun. With his other hand he drew out a small standard military issue flashlight, and now ready he walked slowly down the left-hand corridor. The smell got stronger and stronger until he reached the last room in the corridor, which was not closed completely but slightly ajar, and as he approached the door he nearly gagged at the smell it was so strong. As he pushed open the door and turned the flashlight on he was relieved to see that the Zombie was curled up in a corner facing the wall, meaning it shouldn't be woken up by the shining light. Black worked quickly, checking the room for other bodies but all the room contained was bones, carcasses and dried blood. He bit down on the flashlight holding it in his mouth, leaving both hands free to wield the sawn-off with surgical precision. He got within a foot, lined the barrel up on the thing's ugly head and without a second thought, blew it to bits. The body suffered spasms and then went limp; job done. He reloaded and then pushed the shotgun inside the coat, hoping that he wouldn't have to use it again in the building. As he progressed up the floors he was pleased that it was the case, and the rest of the building was free of any other beings. He decided the 4th floor would be the best place to set-up and found a room which gave a good vantage point over the town, facing East. He shut the door and decided that he didn't need to barricade yet, it was midday and no Zeds would be around for a while, he could get some shut eye. He took off the rifle valise, that he had strapped across his back and laid it down in the corner. Black wouldn't be using the tool of his trade until tonight, the Arctic Warfare Super Magnum would be a huge help when it came to holding the zombies off. Though he didn't have much ammunition so soon he would have to find some more or improvise traps. He didn't care which, but the second would just make things harder. Then again, 40 rounds of the .338 Lapua Magnum would go a long way for his survival. Right now though he needed to sleep. Black pulled the floppy hat over his face and lay down against the wall to try and get some desperately needed rest. |
It's better to live one day as a Tiger, than a thousand years as a sheep- Frank Collins, Ex-22nd SAS Regiment.
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| Chickenweed | Sep 2 2009, 03:48 PM Post #3 |
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Wiiper's bitch >=D
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YESYESYES GHOST TOWN IS BACKKKK!!!!!! umm do we have to post as long a post as Path did???
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XBL GT: ThunderousCF18 | |
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| PathfinderGold | Sep 2 2009, 03:51 PM Post #4 |
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Sniper One
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No thats just what I do lol, u've been away too long Chicken. You've forgotten how I love to post long fan fic posts
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It's better to live one day as a Tiger, than a thousand years as a sheep- Frank Collins, Ex-22nd SAS Regiment.
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| Chickenweed | Sep 2 2009, 04:07 PM Post #5 |
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Wiiper's bitch >=D
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oh no, i DO remember, and how you were writing a novel i think? But im just saying cause Wiiper and you both posted HUGE essays on how you came to the town.:P EDIT: And OMG the accuracy and detail you put is that post was amazing! Edited by Chickenweed, Sep 2 2009, 04:09 PM.
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XBL GT: ThunderousCF18 | |
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| PathfinderGold | Sep 2 2009, 04:28 PM Post #6 |
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Sniper One
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Thanks Im glad you liked it. |
It's better to live one day as a Tiger, than a thousand years as a sheep- Frank Collins, Ex-22nd SAS Regiment.
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| Andcus | Sep 2 2009, 04:38 PM Post #7 |
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Legionnaire
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"Helo" walked along the road, passing the blown up Stryker, it had claw marks all over it. Once Zack started, they never stopped. He had been walking ever since New York. Helo had been walking for days, his 45. Pistol nearly out of ammo. His Winchester Lever had 19 gauges left. The streets were empty, only the burned out cars, smashed down doors, shell cartridges and "quarantine" posters were left. Quarantine It had been a sad affair, the US Army couldnt even focus on the mass of Zack's and the general panic of the population. So they had fallen back to certain safe zones with the government, they were kind enough not to tell the civies. Helo entered the Police station and looked it through. The ground floor had 3 entrances: The front door (which had been punched in), the large glass front window was broken into pieces and the door in the back had been shot through by at least a .203 shotgun. The second floor was a large mess of private offices. The armoury had been looted for a long time, but the Riot Room had been locked off by a large lock. Helo would have to open it later. The roof was nothing special, a fire-escape went down to the second floor, but stopped there because the retractable ladder was missing. Helo got back to the ground floor and stopped stacking things. This was his home now, until he had gained some strength to move on. ----- OC: Wiiper, to be fair. Posting about 5 Zacks killing at least one of 3 people, is kinda easy picking. And the unfortunate one will be left out for 48 hours. Cant we say that people should roll when the zombies number in high numbers. Or you post yourself into stupid situations (Running machete style on the street) Just so people who barricade themselves in and stack on ammo, have a better chance than somebody running around on the street with a bat. |
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Yes, Stone's greetings friend You will fight ceaselessly in The Legion of the Dead. | |
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| Chickenweed | Sep 2 2009, 04:39 PM Post #8 |
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Wiiper's bitch >=D
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On the horizon, a black figure appeared. It slowly made it's way toward a place that it was determined to get to. Ghost Town. It had heard stories about a safe town, with many survivors, plentiful amounts of food and weapons that made the place seem like a military armoury. The figure wore leather steel-toe boots, slightly torn jeans, a blue undershirt, and a waterproof (but not zombie-proof) sport jacket. He carried a military grade M9 pistol, and a machete. Unfortunately not enough weapons to fight off a hoard of zombies. Rick Weston. A man originally from Canada, had fled from the country after his family had been infected, and later died. He was a clever man, about average height and weight. Last year, he would have travelled every day in his high-end Mercedes-Benz to his business-like occupation, and back home again to have his wife serve him a warm, fresh dinner. Nowadays, Rick travelled on foot every day to find a 'safe' town, coming home to... nothing. But Rick was determined to find this 'Ghost Town' after a family friend of his had given him info about the place. Rick was just about to find shelter for the night when he saw something... buildings... and a sign at the entrance to the place. The fading words read, "Ghost Town". Rick almost yelled and laughed in joy, but remembered that he hadn't found refuge in the town yet. He took out his pistol, both hands gripping it. He trudged on, looking around wide eyed at the town. He passed some sort of a military transport truck, quickly checking inside for anything of use. As Rick moved on, he gazed upon a seven-story high apartment building. He decided to go in. He passed the concierge desk, grimacing as he saw blood spattered on the walls, and bodies occupying the floor, stomachs open, revealing their bloody insides. Rick started up the stairs, hoping that he might be able to get to the top and have a good look-out point. On the way up, he saw an half-open door on the fourth floor. He crouched, holding his gun harder than ever, almost too afraid to open the door. But he gained the courage and and peeked inside. It was a medium sized room, lighted only by the sun. He found a sleeping man, with fresh blood on him, but he assumed it was a zombie's because he could see no visible wounds. He cautiously walked over to the man, checked his pulse, and peacefully shook him to wake him up. The man got up in an instant and pulled out a shotgun at Rick, about to shoot. |
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XBL GT: ThunderousCF18 | |
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| The_Grim_Wiiper | Sep 2 2009, 04:54 PM Post #9 |
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The Paint Samurai
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OOC: If the dice roll lands on an open spot, nobody dies. I'll change it to 12 hours then. IC: The old man watched as people entered his town from house 19. He glared at them. What were they doing in his town? Were they trying to run him out and take his weapons and supplies? He didn't know, but he had his doubts. Never trust a stranger. The old man looked in his room on the second floor of the house. All of the windows were boarded up in the house. The stairway to the second floor was destroyed, a ladder replacing it. Bottles of water and random assortments of food scattered the second floor. His Remington 870 shot gun and Winchester 1876 leaned on a wall near a window, and right next to it his grappling hook launcher. He grabbed the grappling hook launcher and his Winchester 1876. He aimed the grappling hook launcher at the nearby market 1 and fired. The grappling hook went through a window and latched onto the building. The old man then ziplined to the market and entered it. |
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| Chickenweed | Sep 2 2009, 05:00 PM Post #10 |
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Wiiper's bitch >=D
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OC: DAYAM that old dude is athletic! |
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XBL GT: ThunderousCF18 | |
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