A compromise? How about I use the d20 system with my own character and you can determine the effects on the environment/other characters as you see fit.

e.g. I'll roll for things such as Diplomacy checks for NPC interaction or Knowledge checks to see if I can glean a little more information about the area from you, report my results and you determine whether or not they are successful based on that.

If you think that's workable then I'll start compiling a character sheet.

Edited by - The Evil Thing on 11/17/2006 11:20:49 AM

sure, knock yourself out

Ok, mister DM, fire when ready (so to speak).

okay the votes have been cast, the subject and the situation is: Sci Fi Zombies!

The zombies are running on the dfeault viral infection, so don't get bitten. As fo the rest i can't provide much info untill you decide where you want to be. However i can tell you this


Rural(and i mean like your neighbour is a mile away): 1 or 2 zombies, low supplies exept for the mother of all crowd control, the hover-reaper
Suburban: 10-14 zombies in the general area, medium supplies, mostly just utensils
Urban: 40-50 zombies in general area, lots of supplies blaster rifles, and the like are like popcorn. Vibroblades are also easy to find.

Am I allowed to start in the rural area? My character is a soldier so he'll have basic combat supples; ammo, weapons, equipment and all that.

Going to use projectile weaponry here because I doubt energy weapons will be terribly effective against the undead.

From this point on, any OOC speech I make will be in italics.

I'll start in the suburban area. My character is a hacker/geek type guy, so computers and other such things will be open as a book to me, but physically, pretty weak.

Weapon of choice? Spade from the garden shed but if pushed, I'll use the keyboard.

Also, as I geek, I'll be more familiar with the ol' "aim for the head" thing.

I'll be starting in the urban area. My character is an assassin who was planning an attempt on the CEO of a mega-corporation that controls most of the East Coast. Unfortunately, the job went south around the time of the outbreak; the target went underground and my character (whose name will remain unknown for now) ended up trapped in the penthouse of a skyscraper. The doors are all re-enforced and booby-trapped, but the water is out and the rations are dwindling. Though the penthouse is a good hold-out for now, it won't be long before other sources of food and water will have to be found.

Name: n/a
Age: n/a; appears to be in her early twenties
Primary Melee: 25cm non-serrated combat survival knife
Secondary Melee: 1m nanowire garrote
Primary Ranged: CTR-3820 Laser Rifle with overcharge capacitors and enhanced zoom imaging. Extremely accurate out to two kilometers, but extremely slow to recharge and due to physical size would be impractical to fire on the move. Has two fire modes: pulse and beam. Pulse can be used in semiautomatic fire for 5 shots before recharging; beam produces a continuous beam for 10 seconds. Once depleted, the capacitors take roughly 20 seconds to recharge.
Secondary Ranged: TFI-32A Compact clip-fed electromagnetic flechette gun. 15 shots before reload, most effective inside 10 meters. Semi-automatic or automatic firing modes. Has been modified so that the flechettes travel at high sub-sonic speed and is consequently almost inaudible when fired.
Other equipment: A pair of sunglasses with built-in zoom imaging and two-way headset. Of course, there's no one around to communicate with, as her contact is dead.
Appearance: Stands a little short of 2m tall. Brown hair, brown eyes. Wears a loose black jumpsuit and soft-sole boots for stealth. Fit, but not muscular. If you've seen her before now, you're probably already dead.
Bio: Information is hard to find; she has no records whatsoever thanks to a few extra credits in the pocket of an experienced hacker.

Edited by - NukeIt on 11/19/2006 7:14:36 PM

the zombie virus has the effect of rabies on an animal

Name: Colonel Polozune
Age: 25
Primary Melee: VibroTec Saber, Model vb258
Secondary Melee: VibroTec Dirk, Model vb 163
Primary Ranged: Custom Made Disruptor rifle
Secondary Ranged: Blastech(not the starwars blastech) MB-26 repeating blaster
Anything else: A liter tank of gasoline on his back and a lighter, HUD on helmet.
Apperance: Tall & muscular, slight moustache, a look that says "doom guy"
Clothing: Heavy duty, puncture resistant kevlar. Metal Hemet with a halo marine style display over one eye.
Bio:
Trained in the special forces division, Polozune was a dangerous foe. He had worked his way up through the ranks in three succesful zombie wars, and was always looking for a way up. In the wars he had earned the nick name "Dusty" from the result his disruptor produced. His work with the sniper was so artful that one of his rifles was stored in the galactic combat museum.

Don't worry about my persona balance, i have to fight my way through a military base full of zombies. Anybody who wants to be in the military will be in my party.

To Tet

The house was attracting the nearby wildlife fast, and the food supplies were kept in a seperate room that requires going outside to reach. You have at most 1 week of food in the house.

To Nukelt:

Synth Paste was definetly not the most wonderful thing in the world to be eating in a zombie outbreake and the contant banging of the zombies on the doors was starting to get to you. The good news is, theres lots of linens.


Edited by - The Shroud on 11/20/2006 1:54:12 PM

So, I'm casually skimming 1/2 a penny from every government transaction when a neat popup informs me that the undead are eating people. Remembering countless zombie movies, and aware of all the potential pitfalls and problems, I baricade myself in my room with about a weeks worth of snacks and the trusty shovel, and sit down to watch whats going on on the telly.

This should be interesting.

Edited by - Aceaz on 11/20/2006 3:37:49 PM

If it would be alright, I'd prefer to write my character's bits in a prose format. It's what I'm most comfortable with. Apologies to anyone who doesn't like long posts.

The pounding was one thing. That would have just faded into the background under any other circumstances- but the stench! The putrid stench of death and rotting human flesh just wasn't something a person could get used to. It took real, conscious effort now for her to keep herself from just blowing all the traps at once and making a run for it- but she knew she wouldn't get far; the ones outside the door were just a taste of the mass that roamed the streets below.

For the first week, she'd kept herself busy cutting them to ribbons with her laser rifle- the re-built and heavily modified CTR-3820 that she had nearly three dozen confirmed kills with. Zombies didn't count, of course- well, they did at first, but after the first hundred or so she'd stopped counting. It was easy then, when she had been able to just hack in and seal off the building then pop the head off anything that came near the front gate. That was before the fusion plant shut down and city power died- now the only things keeping the unfeeling, uncaring horde at bay were a double-thick plasteel door and a couple of prox-mines. The CTR-3820 couldn't just be used lightly now; without a reliable power source the only way of charging it was the solar backup- and that could take hours to reach a full charge.

She flicked her glasses down from their perch on her forehead to peer out the window, using their zoom function to scan for any sign of intelligent life- and saw nothing, as usual. Popping in the earpiece and tapping the comm... static, as usual. Crap for reception indoors anyway, and the only person who had her frequency was dead. It never hurt to check, though; maybe another survivor might have picked up Lee's unit- a slim chance, but still a chance.

She went to check on the rations next- no rush; rats wouldn't touch that synth-paste crap and if the zombies got in she would be screwed beyond caring anyway. The usual grimace seized her face as she squeezed the dregs of the next-to-last tube into her mouth, then hurriedly took a swig from her canteen to wash the chalky taste down.

That was it then; maybe a day or two more then she could do nothing but move or die. She'd have to use the roof- no way out downstairs with all the nasties chewing on each other and anything else that looked edible. She'd been planning the move for days; a length of lightweight climbing rope and a pair of magnetic grapples now bridged the gap between the roof and the next building over. The roof was safe; the only ways to get up there were the non-functional elevators and the penthouse, and the penthouse was locked up tight. When the time came, a quick zipline ride would see her across the gap- but after that, nothing was certain. She was pretty sure the adjacent tower was abandoned, but that was no guarantee that it was zombie-free or defensible, to say nothing of potential sources of food.

One last try on the old set.

She pulled up a chair in front of the massive, boxy contraption. Old it might be, but at least it didn't require power- a few turns of the crank on the side and the ancient emergency radio burbled to life. She grabbed the mic and keyed the set to transmit on every frequency it could. Not that it had worked before, but maybe there was someone out there listening- even if that someone might have been an enemy before, any human contact would be a good enough start.

"This is Resistance operative 11-King-Echo," she said wearily into the set, "to anyone who can hear this message..."