( OPEN ) GAME START.

[monstermasher]

▶ WHO: Everyone.
▶ DATE: July 9th, 2015 (Day 1)
▶ WARNINGS: Blood, violence, general zombie horror.
▶ SUMMARY: You've met with a bad... however that line goes. Welcome to Earth.

GOOD MORNING!

---

Please try and ignore whatever it is that you just heard. It should only last for up to a minute... maybe.

It... it is morning, right?

There are no windows.

There's a light, but it's barely considered one. The compound runs on a solar generator, but that doesn't mean it has a lot of power. The light seems to be hanging from the ceiling, swinging precariously. That's when you might actually start to wake up, sit up, find the things that are familiar to you... and then some of the things that aren't. It'd be wise to explore the small room you're in before leaving through the steel door, but there's nobody around to tell you that.

Outside is a tightly knit compound, just as dark and metallic as the room. The hallway you're in houses dozens more doors identical to yours, and if you're unlucky there may be more people poking their heads out through them, just like you. There's a dull glowing sign that reads MEDICAL BAY but not all of you remember being hurt. Some of you may be just fine, apart from the memory of the sound you heard when waking up.

The Medical Bay is stocked with enough medicine to last a couple of months. There's almost everything that can be found in a hospital. Somebody was thinking ahead.

Outside of the Medical Bay are more doors, some are even locked—many aren't. There are living quarters, a food storage, a kitchen, some laboratories; even a room full of computers and nothing else, all with a screen asking for a password. There's only two doors out of the compound, a vehicle bay with what appear to be a few military jeeps and trucks, and the front doors. It's on the inside of the front doors that something is painted in bright red, flecked with what smell like blood:

DO NOT GO OUTSIDE WITHOUT A GUN AND WATER.
GUNSHOTS ATTRACT THEM.
HOLLOWS IS 1.3 MILES NORTH OF HERE.
GOOD LUCK.

And on the outside of the doors, if you choose to open them:

THE WORLD ENDED JULY 3RD, 2015.

Now... how long ago was that? And where is this place? Luckily for you, Hollows is a small town that can be raided. It hasn't been too long since the apocalypse—surely you'll be able to find something there. Batteries, food, weapons, maybe some people—and what you're guaranteed to find. Them, whatever that means.

Outside of the compound there's a fence with a single gate. Nothing can get past this unless you let them in for tea, so be careful. There's a shooting range and a large shed full of weapons and ammo, enough to last two months if you're careful. Guns, knives, anything that would be used by the military and police is hidden away in the shed. There are even a few hunting bows with arrows.

If you climb up the ladder to the top of the wall, there's enough room to walk along the top. There's definitely something moving in the distance, something you should definitely be worrying about. Maybe it's time to get a good look with a sniper rifle...?

Oh.

It's gone.

Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Regardless, it's impossible for everyone to stay in the compound forever. There are nefarious things at work! The choices are to go to Hollows, stick around, or go somewhere else. Really, the world is almost a blank slate. Maybe more of a used slate, but still yours to explore.

When the night comes, you should be hiding. The screamers, the ragers, whatever the hell they are, are running full tilt through the streets and across the landscape, running through anything in their way, ripping apart anything alive. If you don't make any noise, they won't notice you. Especially since they're stuck listening to each other. But if you get noticed by one, it won't be long until a horde forms... you might be able to outrun one for awhile, but they don't seem to let up on their breakneck pace. Maybe someone should have told you how to kill them.

OOC NOTES.

---

There will be zombies in Hollows. Whether you meet them on the way there is up to you. Apart from the undead and the animals (maybe somebody should let those poor creatures out of their houses) the town is completely deserted. In fact, the closest thing you can find to a human are the bodies of those who died without being bitten, and there's even few of those. You can find anything you'd find in a normal town here, and are free to loot and raid the houses and stores—the cops won't be coming, after all. The power is OFF apart from what you can find that is solar powered or still has a charge. If you're lucky and find another town while exploring the first few weeks, you might find an area that still has power—thank hydroelectricity.

Just keep in mind travel time... and travel expenses.

You have creative freedom over everything else. The world is open. The only stationary places are landmarks and cities—if you want to go to Texas and talk to the poor astronauts stranded up in space, it's there. (Might be a long trip, though...)

If your character can figure it out by geography before getting to Hollows, the compound is located a few hours from the west coast, in California.

The way to kill a zombie is blunt force to the head. The head doesn't need to be removed, but significant damage needs to be done to it. This does not include the throat—it needs to be a headshot.

There's also a glaring hint. The computers in the compound, asking for a password. It is impossible to hack at this time. There will be more on this later!

Finally, if your character is exploring outside of the compound (or extensively inside of it) there's a comment here for linking me the thread. You can also PM me! I'll be ducking in with what your character may or may not have found, via a response to the actual RP thread.

IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS please direct them here!

Comments

[usavatar]

So she knows the military, or at least knows how to read his insignia. Interesting, and perhaps relevant, and very possibly dangerous, given the situation.

"Yes ma'am." He can't stand precisely at-ease with the shield on his arm, but one hand goes to his back, the other hanging at his side with his prize. "I beg your pardon, but is this your facility?"

[oplourgia]

That's like someone asking Steve if he's in charge of the local Ren Faire, and incredulity flashes across Halsey's face before she manages to school her expression back to reasonably-pleasant neutrality.

"Any facility of mine would be far better managed. No, I'm as lost as I presume you are." It occurs to Halsey that he, unlike her, would have started out on Earth, and something that might be a wry grin tugs at the corner of her mouth. "...Perhaps more so."

[usavatar]

He catches that expression, though he's not sure how to interpret it yet. He can guess, but guessing games in a situation like this lead to bodies. That's one lesson he doesn't need to learn the hard way to appreciate.

"No insult meant." He slides his shield off of his arm and places it against the wall, close at hand, easy to reach, but out of the way of their conversation. "Captain Steve Rogers, United States Army."

The introduction comes with another, more firm salute, since she responded well to that the first time.

[oplourgia]

"I'm not insulted." She rises to greet him, finally, her full height in her practical flats still making her significantly shorter than he is.

"Dr. Catherine Halsey, Office of Naval Intelligence, United Nations Space Command." The list of her affiliations is very dry, since Halsey is currently under arrest for war crimes. "Pleased to meet you, Captain Rogers."

Civilians don't salute, and she simply offers a hand to shake.

[usavatar]

"Space Command." There's the mildest tint of irony in his tone. "So you're from the future. The future for me, I s'pose."

He really, really hopes he's not the first to bring up time travel with her. "This is my first time-traveling experience, but some folks here seem to be very comfortable with the idea. I'm from 1943 myself."

It's so strange to say it like it's a place, not a time.

[oplourgia]

"2558." If not outright comfortable with the idea of time travel, Halsey has at least given it some thought, and it amuses her that it might become de rigueur to introduce oneself by year. "Controlled time travel isn't explicitly disallowed by slipstream theory, but attempting it has been low on my priority list--until quite recently we were also in the middle of a genocidal war."

World War II was still going in 1943, right? Halsey has a broad education and a superb memory, but she's a scientist and a doctor who's spent her career in a desperate race to stave off human extinction. Recalling exactly when pre-unification conflicts happened is low on her priority list, too.

[usavatar]

He's... not going to answer any of the technobabble, because he has nothing intelligent to contribute. The last part of what she says is what catches most of his attention.

"For how long?"

[oplourgia]

"Officially? 28 years." There's a reason Halsey's as icy as she is: three decades of heinous losses punctuated by the occasional Pyrrhic victory, the tide turned only by a heavy dose of near-miraculous luck, purchased at great cost to what even thoroughgoing materialist Catherine Halsey would call her soul.

"Don't worry, humanity won. I wouldn't be around to have this conversation otherwise."

[usavatar]

Don't worry, she says, humanity won. All he can think about is the leagues a war that long would populate with bodies. The miracle of anyone living through it at all. He wanted to help, to serve, to fight, and thanks to this place has the promise of a war that ends in two years, the hope for a life that goes on after it.

Two years in the face of twenty-eight. Longer than he's even been alive.

He lifts his hand and salutes, standing at attention again. "It's an honor, Dr. Halsey."

[oplourgia]

"Is it, Captain Rogers?" she replies, suddenly looking tired in a way mere age can't explain, but holding herself very, very straight. "I've found there to be little honor in war. We survived, that's all. Billions didn't."

Yes, she said "billions."

[usavatar]

He falters at that, salute held, seeing a shadow-resemblance to the Forgotten Men of the the Great War in her eyes.

Billions. Billions. How many people even live on Earth?

[untodawn]

Sometime during Halsey feeling the tug of the long years weigh heavier than usual, and Captain Rogers's mind trying to troubleshoot the numbers against what that other Great War - the smell of coffee wafted down the hall. Boots struck concrete loud but in slow, rhythmic pace with a man in a green suit of armor that dwarfed anything with the name STARK stiched in the corners came down the hall, chary of the mug comically small in his hands.

"Ma'am."

A deep voice rumbled behind the burnt orange visor as a mug chipped around the lip with the faded neon logo of a radio station on the side was carefully passed over to Halsey. He almost seemed reluctant to give it to her. As he sheepishly put it,

"Had to use paper towels as a stopgap coffee filter."

It was then with his hands free the man seemed to pay notice to Rogers, or rather the bars on his shoulders.

"Sir." His voice reverberated when he snapped to attention.

[oplourgia]

"Civilians don't salute, Captain--ah, thank you John." Halsey breaks off her conversation with Steve to greet him, wearing the warmest expression she's shown yet. On most people it would still count as tepid.

"I'm sure it's fine, given what you had to work with." She's sure it's not fine, but she'll drink paper towel coffee with what passes for a smile from her before she'll let on to John she's less than satisfied.

"This is Captain Rogers, United States Army, 1943. Captain, the Master Chief and I share a set of spatio-temporal coordinates, more or less." Halsey makes the introductions and then takes a sip of her coffee, poker-faced in preparation for the taste.

[usavatar]

Steve takes a half-step back in surprise when he sees the source of the footsteps, salute lost. Steve's not small - not any more - but the armor-clad man still towers over him. It's less John's size that takes him off-guard than the sudden return to a physical point of view he's spent the last few months without.

Another quick salute. "At ease," Steve says, a little awkwardly. He's used to the Commandos, who wouldn't stand at attention for him if he paid them. "It's nice to meet you."

[untodawn]

John moved to clasp his hands fluidly behind his back although the tension in his shoulders was still stiff. He rolled one shoulder and curtly dipped his head; a brief read into his discomfort with the number of unknowns Rogers presented that only Halsey could see. Regardless, the respect was unwavering - almost instinctual even if that order was half-heartedly given.

Although, he does take that small greeting as permission to speak freely. John looks to Halsey, then back to Rogers again. He hears Halsey mention that Rogers is instead Military - American, just like he placed him...and from 1943. Something Déjà had glossed over several years ago comes to minds: Allied Forces. Which would place Rogers squarely in the point beyond coincidence that...

"You know Carter."

It wasn't a question.

[oplourgia]

Mama Halsey raised a pack of polite seven-foot murder machines.

She watches John out of the corner of her eye, seeing his discomfort screaming from his every move. Rogers almost certainly won't notice, and Halsey isn't going to charge in to rescue John from some social awkwardness, not unless he signals her that he wants it. She stays silent, observing.

The coffee is godawful, thanks for asking.

[usavatar]

"I do." Steve's smile is involuntary. He raises a hand to smooth it away. "We work together."

He almost adds that Peggy is handling much of his hand-to-hand training, but stops himself. Admitting his own inexperience seems... somehow inadvisable, right now.