「☠」-- close your eyes and pretend it's alright

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「☠」-- close your eyes and pretend it's alright

Post  Peace on Sat Mar 21, 2015 6:20 am

Warning: Graphic themes ahead. Proceed with care.



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In the wake of destruction...

There is nothing but despair. False propositions of hope were merely that; false.

Employing the idea of being able to discover light in a time so dark is uselessly optimistic.

Death is the only true escape. Being turned is.. less than ideal, for all parties involved.

I would say "don't give up without a fight", but we're all dead anyway.

Welcome to Hell.

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This is an Achievement Hunter zombie apocalypse AU roleplay for lazer and myself.
We ask that you refrain from posting if you are not one of us unless necessary.

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Peace plays:

- Michael Jones
- Ray Narvaez Jr.
- Ryan Haywood


lazer plays:

- Geoff Ramsey
- Jack Pattillo
- Gavin Free

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i want to sleep underneath the weeping willow.

Post  Peace on Sun Mar 22, 2015 1:47 am


xxxxxxxxxxIt was, truly, a cruel world in which they lived. Admittedly, it had not always been so. However, any and all happy memories felt like ancient history, when in reality they took place a mere.. what, two years prior? Three? Recently enough to retain clarity, and long enough for a deep, aching longing to settle in his heart. He wished for the comfort of plastic controllers; they had long since been replaced by the cold metal of guns - a reality check if there ever was one. He yearned for laughter and the sunshine that you could feel on your skin, warming it in the best of ways. He dreamed of another world, of what they used to have, of everything that had been snatched so abruptly from him. Like sand it all fell through his fingers, disappearing into the wind and drifting to far off places. Places he would, surely, never again see. For what hope remained, really? Despite the entirety of the world's best efforts, the enemy only grew in numbers. Nobody could really be surprised, though. They recruited the dead. Their army grew by the hundreds every day. The human population had been reduced by at least seventy percent. Arguably, that is. Since, technically, they were...

xxxxxxxxxxNo. No, they weren't human. Long ago, perhaps. But to call them human as they were currently.. was too much. They were monsters. Mobs from video games brought to life; a transition from button to trigger forced upon people everywhere. A high gamerscore didn't mean shit in the real world. He'd never shot a gun before - at least, certainly not at any remotely humanoid figure. It was, obviously, very different than shooting a gun in a video game...

xxxxxxxxxxAnd yet, he was alive. Somehow all six of them were. A vast majority of the company had disappeared - some right before him, eyes wide and desperate and begging for help as they were all but eaten alive. Others... He liked to think they had escaped to bunkers, riding out the last waves of life for as long as they could. Tormenting his mind with the alternative was not productive.

xxxxxxxxxxThen again, neither was sitting against the wall of a half-standing building, hugging his knees to his chest and letting other such thoughts consume him. At least it was midday; if he was going to zone out, now would be the best time. A pattern of low activity had revealed itself to exist as the sun became just overhead. Which tended to be a bit inconsistent, seeing as the sun was not visible through the thick, gray-green smog that had settled over the sky of the planet. Even so, they had a rough idea of time - it wasn't that hard, anyway. Light = good, sometimes. Dark = bad, all the time. Like he thought. Not that hard.

xxxxxxxxxxThe sky was not the only part of Earth that had been affected. Many governments had decided that the zombies (he hated the term; it sounded so childish and underwhelming and fake) could be wiped out through the use of nuclear weapons. Some argued that it did work, sort of... But the lasting effects on the planet had not been worth it. Many humans had died with the creatures. Side effects, bizarre beyond belief, had struck many more. Loss of one or more senses, strange growths, sicknesses... If one could imagine it, it was likely that someone had it. Foliage grayed, wilted, died. Everything did. Lush green grasses and beautiful landscapes no longer existed. Everything was gray, bleak brown, sickly green... Everything was wrong. Sweet rain turned acid. Buildings crumbled, and the remains of society followed. Safe houses and bunkers morphed into prisons. At least they were alive, he would tell himself. At least they were alive.

xxxxxxxxxxRay buried his face in his arms, breathing deeply. His clothes were tattered, and his skin was covered in dirt and scratches. He had three knives on him, along with a pistol. A sniper rifle with one meager shot left in it was propped against the building next to him. He knew he shouldn't be there (they had all agreed to stay in groups of two, at the very least, long ago), but... Sometimes it was necessary to get away for a little while. Someone would fetch him eventually, or he would find his way back to the others. And yes, Ray was normally reprimanded for his actions, but he couldn't bring himself to stop. 'Something will go wrong one day', they'd tell him. Yeah, maybe. But as he would have said, like, five years ago, YOLO, right? If he wanted to go for a nice stroll through rubble and wastelands, he'd do it.

xxxxxxxxxxThat being said, he'd been out on his own for some time already. So while it was probably about time for him to pick up his sniper and walk back to their 'camp'... He lacked the motivation. It was oddly calming where he was. Not ominously so (although that could change at any moment, he reminded himself glumly), nor would he call it nice... It just sort of was, for the time being.
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let the blood red roses go

Post  lazer on Sat Jul 11, 2015 7:28 am

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The sound of metal hitting concrete rang throughout the small house. Muttered curses accompanying it. A man sitting on the floor, clothes tattered, skin painted a shade of brown that could only come from not washing. Small cuts were strewn across, looking like drunkards tried playing darts. Unruly ginger hair made into a beard, adorned a tired face. Dirty, matted hair sat atop the man's head, a few strands coming down over his forehead. The man was Jack. Jack Pattillo. Employee at the company called Rooster Teeth. Well, former. He had seen the company fall. Seen his friends suffer and die right before him. Their screams and pleas for help. Hands outstretched as the zombies, no, monsters, bit them. Murdered. Feasted. Jack had watched the light of life fade from so many people he held close to his heart. He had just stood there, horror and pain on his face. He remembered grabbing the person closest to him, and ran. He ignored the screams, the begging, the wails. He ignored that. All that was on his mind back then was save someone, anyone, that he cared for and loved like a family.

From there on, he lost track of the days. He and the rest of main six from Achievement Hunter had found each other, and survived. Days of playing fun video games, laughing at someones stupidity, enjoying life, were ripped from them all. No one knew if anybody else at the company was still alive. If any had made it to a safe zone, or bunker. Jack rathered not dwell on those thoughts.

So here he was now, sorting through their meager food rations. It had been some time since this whole thing started(two years? three?), and it was about time to see what was still edible. Whoever said that canned food could last the 'apocalypse' had obviously not thought that it would last longer than a year. "Gone, gone, gone..this is good still.." Jack mumbled, throwing the bad ones in a separate pile. He continued the action for another five minutes or so until every last can had been sorted. The man sighed, taking in the size difference. Dammit, this meant they'd have to conduct another supply run. He knew they were running dangerously low on medical necessities as well, having done stock earlier. Jack grunted as he stood up from his position on the floor, grabbing his pistol as well. He tucked the gun into his makeshift holder that was attached to his body. Scooching the good cans next to the wall with his foot, he looked around before sighing. He wondered where the rest all were.

Stepping outside, he caught sight of four of the others. Frowning, Jack did a headcount. Geoff, Michael, Gavin, Ryan...where was Ray? Knowing the younger had a tendency to go off on his own without really thinking anything of it, he looked up to the sun. It was another overcast day, but the star could be seen just a bit past overhead. At least it wasn't prime time for the dead. Making sure his pistol was fully loaded, and he had his machete with him, he walked towards the city. Their..."home" was located on the outskirts of a bigger town. A little on the safer side than being in the town. The place was getting more and more active as the days went on. Half hour later he entered the town, immediately becoming alert of any and all sounds he could pick up. He and the rest of them had made little raids to the town, but Jack knew his way around it best. He stuck to larger and more open streets, as there wasn't too little room to make a hasty escape. Rounding the corner, but not before checking behind him, he stopped. A sigh escaped his mouth, whether of relief or sympathy he didn't know himself.

Jack walked over to the man sitting on the ground, leaning against a building. His head was resting in his arms. The bearded man took notice of the rifle leaning up against the wall, and he knew Ray wouldn't leave camp without his knives or other gun. He nodded in approval, before he squatted down next to the younger. His hand came up to swat the back of the Puerto Rican's head. "You know better than to leave without a buddy, idiot." Jack scolded, "Why do you insist on doing this? You know how worried some of us get...and I know you like the silence and the peace that it may bring, but it's not safe." He said softly, shifting his hand to rest on Ray's shoulder. He squeezed it in silent understanding and support. He stayed there for a minute, before removing his hand. As he got up from his squat, his other hand came to ruffle the dark hair of the younger. "Now, I believe it's time to get back. I didn't tell anybody where I was going, but I don't think they will question us too bad if we show up in a pair. Like we're supposed to." Jack emphasized the last part, hoping Ray would pick up on it. He wasn't mad or frustrated. Just a little annoyed and a lot exasperated. But a small part of him also felt sympathy. He offered his hand to the man on the ground, not keen on leaving him.


Last edited by lazer on Sat Jul 11, 2015 7:29 am; edited 1 time in total (Reason for editing : sighs)
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you with the sad smile, don't lose your courage.

Post  Peace on Sun Jul 12, 2015 6:16 am


xxxxxxxxxxBriefly, he tensed, one hand slowly moving towards his shoe and fingers dipping into it to brush against the hilt of one of his knives. He was not entirely moronic - the sound of approaching footsteps was one that he most certainly heard, and would most certainly not ignore. But the short list in his head - steady, even steps, lack of audible breathing or growling, no sudden aroma of rotten flesh... Probably not one of the undead, he decided. While they weren't as sloppy as video games always depicted them, there was a definite difference between zombies (he took a short moment to continue to hate the term) and humans. Of course, this human could just as well be a total stranger, but Ray didn't care enough to lift his head. If they weren't a former member of AH, maybe they had at least retained their sanity enough to, y'know, not kill him or otherwise raid him for the few supplies he had on him.

xxxxxxxxxxAs a matter of fact, Ray opened his mouth to utter a muffled, 'the sniper's all I've got worth stealing, just take it and move along' but didn't get the chance - instead he received a hand to the back of his head. All at once, the Puerto Rican relaxed, withdrawing his hand from his shoe and folding it back over the other again. He didn't lift his head until the man - voice immediately giving him away as Jack, of course - spoke of how his excursions offered.. peace. Ray's head lolled up against the building again, and he silently readjusted his scratched, dust-covered glasses before raising his deep brown eyes to Jack's and murmuring, "S'not peace." Silence, yes. That was.. about it. His time spent alone fell in some medium between serene and not - it was like a separate bubble of simply being. Like he said before - not ominous, nor tranquil. Something neutral. Which, he supposed, was an improvement and, admittedly, as close to peace as one could get nowadays. Still, he would not call it was it was not.

xxxxxxxxxxRay simply held the ginger-haired man's gaze until the latter stood, offering a half-hearted scowl as his own brown mess of hair was ruffled. He drew a hand over his dark locks afterwards in a vain attempt to sort it out, but could barely find the strength to really care. He remained quiet as Jack gently berated him for his reckless actions - nothing unexpected there - and didn't immediately take the hand offered to him. "It's just.. surreal, even now," he said softly, eyes shifting towards the ground. "It's not something that can be gotten used to, y'know? I walk to clear my head, and then I just end up away from camp." Ray swallowed, before taking Jack's hand and pulling himself to his feet. "I mean, I won't try to say it's accidental," he continued, as he moved to collect his rifle. "Not that air-headed. Plus, it's daytime." Ray hefted the sniper against his shoulder and turned to face Jack once more. "It might be a risk, but it's a calculated risk."

xxxxxxxxxxHumor had been such a core building block for all six men. They had not completely lost it, although some had more than others. Ray thought of Michael - barely willing to crack a smile nowadays, that one. He looked at the picture so realistically, phrases like 'logically speaking' and 'in theory' falling from his lips more often than not. Joking wasn't something he did often, so focused on survival. Trying to be strong, trying to protect them - the other lads, especially, as the gents' protectiveness tended to tromp Michael's. He wasn't entirely dry, but he'd definitely taken a bad hit. (Plus, Ray was pretty sure all five of them [except maybe Gavin, although that one was far more perceptive than he let on] knew that despite his apparent strength, the redhead crumbled behind closed doors.)

xxxxxxxxxxRyan had suffered a similar fate, although to a far less extreme degree. The gent was among the most optimistic of the group, second only to perhaps 'mother hen' Jack, and still gave soft smiles to them all. He was similar to Michael in that he took a realistic approach, but he managed it without coming off as negative. In an attempt to receive some smiles back, he'd try his best to pull a joke or two every now and then. Someone had to, he told Ray once.

xxxxxxxxxxRay admired all five of them for various reasons. After he and Ryan had talked about how holding onto jokes was important for the outlook of the entire group, the lad had tried his best to lighten up. Ray didn't think he was strong or fast or smart - so if nothing else, he'd try to supply the humor. It was 50/50 with him, honestly. Some days were worse than others (see: today). Not admitting it, perhaps, but that was a big factor in why he needed to be alone sometimes. He knew it was pointless, since he waited for someone to fetch him more often than not, but... Oh well. They all knew that none of the others were alright. They could pretend all they wanted, but it didn't matter. Ray preferred that they knew. For someone to be entirely unaffected by the state of the world would seem.. inhumane. On that lovely note, he began striding in the direction of their hideout, before glancing back at Jack and shrugging. "I'm going buddy-less, what can I say? Sue me for looking for silence and having Gavin as the only option to take a stroll with."
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