Day Z - Dear Diary

[Bazz]

heh heh heh.....
New t-shirt idea:
"Drive it like you found it abandoned in a post zombie apocolypse"
then on the back:
"Then had to spend ages finding all the shit to make it actually work
TOG Day Z - Reputable used vehicle merchants"

[Noises]

Or the classic but simple "My parents when to the North West Airfield and all they looted me was this lousy T shirt"

[HamiHarr]

A recounting of my strangest DayZ moments thus far.

Its day 7, I decide to take a kip on the outskirts of Polana on a bed of fir needles, their sharp abrasions on my skin during the night barely registering on my consciousness beyond some absent scratching and muttered cursing. Warm beds and blankets are the distant fantasy of another world.

Time passes, I awake and immediately notice something is wrong, very wrong. A rhythmic roar fills my ears that is distinctly out of place in what should be the rural countryside of Polana. I rise to my knees and my hand sinks into the soft ground; I stare disbelievingly at the sand that trickles through my fingers while absently wiping away more sand that had encrusted the side of my face where I had drooled in my sleep. The roar I had been unable to reconcile suddenly becomes clear, it is the pounding of surf on a beach...I am somewhere...else. In a panic I immediately scan my surroundings, it is dark, but the silhouettes of buildings rise out of the gloom, indicating I am nearby a town of some sort. A second wave of panic hits me as I rummage through my gear to see if anything was missing. The thought of losing any of the hard fought things of my kit makes my mouth go bone dry and my heart thuds heavily in my chest. Fortunately, everything is where I had left it when I fell asleep outside Polana. Grasping the stock of my winchester, my panic subsides and confusion returns.

With no idea how I had arrived and no plan, I hesitantly take steps toward some nearby trees to get a further bearing on my surroundings. Suddenly, the earth around starts to kick up and the thud of lethal pieces of hot lead breaks through the roaring of the surf. Panic sets in a third time in as many minutes. I dash toward a tree, but just before I make the tenuous cover of the ground by the tree trunk, I am hit and pain explodes through my consciousness. Stumbling and nearly blind from pain and blood loss, I veer towards a shrub and quickly apply a bandage before I bleed to death, not knowing if the next second will bring death and silence.

With the bandage hastily applied and bullets still landing around me I suddenly realise that there is no sound of gunshots, just bullet hits. My unknown would-be muderer must be a sniper off in the distance, too far to hear or even see muzzle flash.

I have no chance to survive.

Panic morphs quickly into anger. I shouldn't be here, I should be wandering though the ailes of the sports section of the S*MART in Polana, maybe eyeing off a Remingtion to take home with me back to the next bed of fir needles. Reaching into my pocket, I regard the mysterious, forbidden device that I had sworn never to use. Only, the thought that I shouldn't be here kept returning and my earlier promises were suddenly empty and hollow. As I press the small black button on the device, I am hit again by the sniper and the world falls away (logged out), my blood pools on the ground by the nameless beach and its camping bastard murderer.

The world returns. I have inexplicably shifted again in defiance of what should be possible. This time the sunlight is harsh on my back and my mouth is caked and parched from blood-loss. I make my way to another nearby town, Balota. While more in need of food, the spoils of the nearby airfield are too tempting to pass up. Just as I make my way into the control tower after seeming hours of careful navigation around the mindless inhabitants, my perception is ripped yet again, I blink and between one moment and the next, the stair case in front of me disappears and I am plunged into the icy waters of the ocean with no coast in sight, surrounded by strangers all struggling to stay afloat.

"What the f*#k?" I think to myself. I start laughing at the confusion on the faces of the strangers around me and their exclamations of shock. Amusement turns to anger, when I realise all my kit is gone expect for my toolbelt. Gradually the strangers disappear into the abyss. I close my eyes and join them...

...and awake by a third town, Solinchy this time. How can I keep up? Still passing out from bloodloss and now in a much more dire situation without any kit. I make my way to the houses with looting on my mind. Flashes of lighting from an approaching storm tear at my vision and the booms of thunder oppress me into huddling submission.

However, before the storm hits, the now familiar dislocation occurs yet again and I find wrenched to another nameless location, the flashes of lightning replaced by the glare of headlights shining in my face and the thunder replaced by laughter echoing from the surrounding shadows. Two nameless survivors taunt me and I attempt to reply, only to find I have no voice (broken mike). Reaching for a pen and paper I rapidly write to them, "lol, wtf?" My nameless abductors offer me a choice, take the car, or a nearby helicopter.

Why would they offer me vehicles? I pause to wonder before I sprint to the helicopter, never having flown before and knowing that I could pass out any second, throwing all caution to the wind. Clambering into the pilot's seat I start the engine, get the rotors up to speed and take off, leaving the pair of magical nutters (hackers) on the ground. Laughing, with the roar of the helicopter engine and rotors filling my ears, I fly along the coast following a road and think to myself, huh, flying is pretty easy. I start to recognise landmarks, I zoom over Kamenka and Balota airfield and on to Cherno. I buzz the place for a while and flares and fires start to light up the landscape as other survivors acknowledge my presence.

Then, the inevitable happens, as I fly over the docks, my ever present low blood catches up with me. I pass out at the controls while in a steep left bank, the aircraft becomes a hurtling ball of uncontrollable steel, plunging sideways into the ground in a magnificent ball of firey death.

Zombies shuffle past the wreckage, and my body, indifferently. Day 7 draws to a close, there will be no Day 8.

[red_one]

hami: a w e s o m e.

[HamiHarr]

Its Day 2, I open my eyes and remember I am in the woods south of Pavlovo. Movement catches my eye and I see a survivor in a ghillie suit standing 5 metres away. He turns, raises his rifle and shoots me in the head...

Talk about bad luck. There was only 5 people on the server and I didn't even have a weapon. Still funny though.

[Noises]

Dear diary.

I've been staking out a certain place for a couple of days now. Logged in today and once again I was at the beach. Fully kitted, smack bang halfway between cherno and elektro.

Cursing Loki for the trickster he is, I ran for the nearest valley and got myself inconspicuous. I took a long loop around elektro where the gunfire came at the rate of half a dozen round a minute. Too many dipshits with death wishes for my liking in there. Over comms there's a disturbing report. A survivor with a blood splattered hockey mask had appeared out of thin air and hatcheted one of the other TOG guys to death. Even more disturbing, the victim put a clip and a half into the axe murderer but he wouldn't die. His name was Gonzoo. Within a minute he'd been kicked, with the warning "god mode on? best turn it off."

I'm still moving, now with an eye behind me, through the dense woods. The late afternoon light won't last much longer, then sun is low behind me as I pass to the north of elektro almost close enough to smell the cordite and coppery smell of fresh blood. I make my way over a set of ridges and stop near a deerstand, one of our own is coming from the east with next to no gear, so I decide to cycle loot to see what turns up. Third time lucky, a coyote backpack. I leave it in the abandoned hunter's stand and make my way to RZ with Ironside and lead him back to this sweet find. He grabs his pack as I watch the zombies in front of the stand, ready to bust off if one of them so much as looks even remotely peeved, let alone agro.

Ironside comes down the ladder and we retreat back from the stand. Suddenly, Ironside yells at me "Noises! RUN!"

Run? Me? Nahhh... I step one foot across behind the other and spin on my heels, raising my gun as I do so. In a split second, I'd processed his warning, guessed at what was happening, decided to act and begun to act. Before I'd finished turning I saw the hockey mask, splashed with blood, through the CCO sight of my silenced M4A1. No panic. No delay. No questions. My finger was on the trigger and with a subtle pressure the weapon spewed death in the would-be murderer's face. I forgot about the part where he was apparently bullet proof. Fortunately, so did my gun, it's bullets and his face. As the axe swung down, rounds shattered the mask and turned his head into what could best be described swiss steak. His momentum carried him forward and the axe buried itself in my skull, but not before I saw his lifeless eyes glaze over. I died knowing I'd killed the cheating little bastard. All his advantage, all his scripts, all the initiative, blown away in a very satisfying pink spray out of the back of his shattered skull. I die. Seconds pass. Then, the words 'Gonzoo was killed' pop up under my death notice.

Moments later, I'm on the beach again. The comms crackle, it's Ironside. I've got your stuff. I set out at a run from *sigh* half way between cherno and elktro. Damn the long cut, I'm coming through, full speed and damn the deathwish dipshits. Before I've run 200m, a lone survivor with an M4A3 comes out of the hills towards me. I drift a little to the side of him and check him out. He raises his weapon. Shit. I dodge. A shot whips past my ear. This won't end well, but it doesn't have to end quickly. I close on him, jinking for all I'm worth. shot after shot misses. I double tap caps lock and start to taunt him. I tell him he doesn't even shoot as well as a girl. My sister is a better shot than he is. (She is, though. She's a better shot than me, actually. Girls who like to shoot tend to be pretty good at it.) I taunt him about the ammo he's wasting. He reloads. I mock him for letting an unarmed survivor tell him he shoots like a girl and then dance around him. I tell him to log off and practice with some mouse maze games to get his hand eye coordination up to a respectable level. I do laps of a few houses, massing zombies, before running them back and saying "here, have some friends." He shoots zombies for a while, and I continue to dance around him, encouraging him to wait for the zombies to stop if he has so much trouble with moving targets. he reloads again. I run in behind him, trying for his pack, I miss, but I try to fake him out anyway "heh, check your pack bro, I just robbed your ass." he doesn't. he flips to full auto and does what he should have done as soon as I started jinking the first time. Spray and pray. Hell it's not classy, but it's effective. Down I go.

Moments later, at the beach again. this time, roughly 250m from where Ironside sits guarding my body. Day zero again. And loving it. I set off for the hills smiling. Killed a Jason. That doesn't happen every day. Shortly afterwards on the comms, we hear my old buddy is still fail ambushing noobs on the coast, and I have the satisfaction of hearing he's now down to pistol ammo. As we strike out west, it occurs to me I'm off mission. Oh well, tomorrow is another day.

[Rog69]

Dear Diary,

I've headed across to the north western corner of the island with the intention of looking for survivor camps as I walk south along the western border. I am pretty well equipped but I still need a good weapon, some ammo and a proper backpack.

After what feels like an age I stumble across a camp of half a dozen tents. Most of them are empty but one contains some choice weapons but no ammo at all, I just don't have the space to store another gun so make the agonising decision to leave them be and stick with my trusty shotgun and move on.

A couple of miles further south I come to a wide clearing in a slight valley and spot a lone tent on one side. It's empty but as I turn away I see two more camps on the other side of the clearing. The first camp has five tents surrounded by barbed wire, I don't have the tools to deal with it but I manage to reach across to one of the tents and loot a couple of canteens and some steaks. The second camp just above it contains nothing.

I look back across to the other side of the clearing and spot another two camps so I cross back again and loot the single tent in the first camp and I hit the jackpot.

I loot a silenced M41A with a red dot sight and 8 spare clips, a M1911 with 6 clips, a Wookie suit and a can of mountain dew. There's a ton of food and drink too as well as enough gear to almost fill my tool belt.

I fill my face with his food and drink and look out across the valley, pondering what kind of person makes camp and leaves all this cool stuff where he did, I can see six other camps from where he pitched up!

[K3nks]

Nice work Rog! well done!

[Rog69]

Dear Diary,

I finish checking all the tents in the camp obvious area and find nothing else of worth so I continue south through the border wilderness.

It's crazy, there are many tents in these woods that I'm starting to worry that I might trip over a guy line and break my legs, it's starting to look like the camp site at the Glastonbury festival around here. Most of the tents are empty though which is hardly surprising given how little thought has gone into placing most of them.

I finally reach the coast and decide to head north again by a slightly different route, I still need a new back pack and some medical supplies would be a nice bonus.

I climb to the top of a rise hoping to get a good view of any nearby camps and I practically stumble into a collection of about 6 tents surrounded by sandbag walls and it's jackpot time again.

The first tent has a coyote pack and a ton more ammo for my M4, the next has some choice gear including an entrenchment tool, military flash light and NVG's, I ponder taking the rocket launcher from it but decide I'd probably be more of a danger to myself with it.

Tent three is the medical tent, not wanting to be too greedy (and even with the Coyote pack I'm getting short on space) I take one of everything. The rest of the tents are full of food and random gear.

I've never had a run of luck like this, and all this after finding a can of the supposedly cursed Mountain Dew!

[K3nks]

Dear Diary,

After being alive for over a week, I was on my way from Zub to Stary to checkout the Military tents.

From what I had heard there were only 5 other survivors alive. I staked out the area using my new toy (DMR) and couldn't see any movement or spawned Zeds.

I slipped in without attracting any attention from the walking corpses and had entered a few tents to find a weird glitch where dead soliders were flashing in and out.

I moved to another tent where I could see some gear that looked of value

BANG

The lights went out and I slipped into the abyss