I notice...

[Bowwy]

There are no actual stories...just RPG's....so....did this place EVER have writers? I have the time and I would like to do it, but My writing skills actually kinda stink.....I would make a story...but...Not sure if it would just be random violence....:unsure:

[Sgt Pepper]

The only way to improve is to practice! Dont be afraid to post your story here, people mostly offer hints and tips to make it better.

[Bowwy]

...I guess....I'll post it later...it might be a CYOA....not sure....

[Bowwy]

First part!

Ok…here we go…




Moaning…screaming….gunshots…was all I heard during those 3 Days. My name’s Calvin Richie. About 3 Days ago, these…flesh eating…things…like zombies…appeared and started their rampage. It’s weird. I always thought zombies couldn’t take over a city so easily..but 3 days…looks like our town has been under zombie control for years…Right now, I’m in my room…waiting for something to happen. I should know better…I saw some military get dropped off a dat ago, and they started shooting everything. ~~~~ government. Trying to hide it all up…


I awoke to more gunshots. This was the 4th day of the Zombie crap. I looked out of my third story apartment window. About 30 Zombies out there…coming for the people inside the building. I walked out of my apartment and walked down the stairs. The power was on reserve, so they had shut down the elevators. It’s weird how people could be down here. Our Unit has sliding glass doors that we barricaded and shut down from opening, and we can see and hear the zombies. Nevertheless, they serve breakfast on the bottom floor. I grabbed myself a donut and saw my friend, Nathan, and sat down. Neither of us said anything for a while, then he said
“My sister hasn’t called in a week” His sister was on the other side of town, and they could communicate by cell phone. They call at least once a day to make sure they are both safe.
“Nathan…get that thought out of your head…she’ll be ok-“ I was interrupted by his cell phone ringing. He opened it up and said
“Hello?” Then he had the happiest expression on his face I had ever seen. He mouthed to me
“It’s her” Then went back to his sister. He got up and went to the wall to talk. He came back a few minutes later, a grim expression on his face.
“She’s with a group of about 10 people. They’re in a warehouse on the other side of town, in the basement…there are zombies inside the warehouse…I’m going to get her.”
“Nathan…are you insane? You can’t go out there alone…”
“Calvin…I’ll go with you or without you”
“Did you just ask me to go with you?
“Yeah….”

[Kommando]

Good writing. But I'd suggest you to put commas instead of "..." in sentences like this: “Calvin…I’ll go with you or without you”. So make it look like this: “Calvin, I’ll go with you or without you”

Hope you'll keep it up.

[Bowwy]

...That was meant to be a pause...But, I'll remember that K?

[Wizard]

Well in grammar and in dailogue. the comma , represent pause.

Unless your used to one genre of script writing (such as my self). I'd use to both. Commas in proper sentencing, and within dailogue the pacing method of the dots.

[Bowwy]

Thanks for comments guys

“Nathan, we both know that unarmed, you’ll die out there.”
“I know. I’ve had a Handgun in my drawer for a while, and that shotgun on my wall is real.”
“…It…well…show them to me.” We walked over to the stairs, throwing away our breakfast. He lived on the second floor. We got to his apartment; he pulled out a key and walked through. He walked over to his bed, opened a bedside table drawer, and handed me the Handgun. He grabbed the shotgun off the wall. He grabbed 2 Butcher knives from his kitchen, and gave one to me.
“Nathan, I can’t fight…I’ve never shot gun.” Nathan didn’t say anything for a few seconds, then said,
“Neither have I”
“Well….We should get going.” Hearing this, he looked much happier. We walked back down to the first floor. We snuck to the back door. If anyone knew we were doing this, they would lock us in a room. This could get everyone killed. We opened the back door and inched our way out. It was About 11:00 in the morning, and the sun was shining brightly. We saw no “Zombies” thank god. Nathan lead the way, avoiding the main streets. Whenever we saw a body, I didn’t look. All of the bodies were, well, uncomplete, if you get what I’m saying. We couldn’t of gone without one zombie encounter of course.

We broke through some bush. A few zombies were ahead. They noticed us. I looked over at Nathan to see what he was doing, but he was just staring.
“Nathan!...What do we do?”
“Let’s go around.” We ran around the group of zombies, quite fast to avoid being eaten, and somehow ended up on the streets. Nathan looked up at the Warehouse. There was blood everywhere. We heard a gunshot from inside. Nathan ran in. I followed after him. Inside, there were bodies everywhere. Also, a group of about 10 Humans had gone up into a control room like place. It was powered by an elevator. Another larger group of zombies were crowding around the elevator shaft, lucky for the people, they had found a way to keep the elevator up. The group of zombies noticed us, and started lurching toward us.
“Nathan, you have a suggestion?” I asked.
“Aim for the head!” He yelled, cocking his shotgun. He blasted off a round, and surprisingly, 1 Zombie went down. I fired, and hit one in the chest. I fired again, hit the same zombie in the head, and it fell to the ground. It was pretty easy killing all of them. Nathan had given me a few loose handgun bullets, and replaced the ones I used on the zombies. The elevator came down, and all the people thanked us.
“Where’s my sister?” Nathan asked.
“Right here Nathan!” Nathan’s sister called out. She was 12 Years old. She had been on the other side of town with her uncle, but they got separated.
“Alright, all you people, Me and Calvin are gonna take you back to our apartment Unit!” Nathan yelled to the group.
“But, is there any place with guns nearby?”
“There’s a place a few blocks from here” A voice called out.
“Calvin, will you go check it out?” Nathan asked me.
“Why me? Alone?”
“Yeah. I wanna get my sister out of here as soon as possible”
“I guess…” I got directions from the guy who gave us the suggestion, and it was a gun store. I had been there before. I walked out of the warehouse, giving my wave good-bye, and jogged up the road. I luckily saw no zombies on the way, and when I got there, it had already been looted. There was a dead body, but I took no notice of it. There were 2 Guns left, another handgun, which I pocketed, and a hunting rifle. .223 Caliber, I read. I’m not very good with guns. I checked around some more. In one of the drawers was a .357 magnum. I pocketed that as well. I walked out of the store, feeling much more tired. It was getting late. I looked at my watch. It was 8:26 PM. I walked for a little while, saw the warehouse, then started following the route that Nathan had shown me. I walked for a little bit, then heard Rapid gunfire. I crept and looked over a fence, and saw a large group of zombies and some military guys. They had this heavy firing machine guns. I needed to get out of there, fast. The government was trying to keep this a secret. They were ordered to shoot all people, dead or alive. I kept my head low, and when the gunfire stopped, I peeked through the fence to see another eye.
“F***!” I yelled, and ran off. One of the military guys climbed over the fence and shot at me. He hit me in the leg. I fell down. The next part was just instinct. I didn’t want to kill him. But, my hand slid into my pocket where the .357 magnum was, and I fired. It hit him in the face, and he fell to the ground, landing in a growing pool of blood. I limped off. It was late when I finally made it back to the Apartment complex. I slid into one of the lobby chairs and fell asleep

[xxxrobxxx]

aw man, not ye olde militairy clean-up story again :(


we all know the militairy would never do such a thing...





right?...

[OkeiDo]

Pretty good story. Keep it up homeboy!

[renegadedod]

i find this kind of insulting... here i am making updates every friday, and you make a post about how there is only RPGs and not stories being posted...

[Bowwy]

...what?


RPG=/=Story

[Harrier]

If you'd look farther back than a week, you'd see a whole lot of stories. There have only been 3 or 4 RPGs.

[Bowwy]

Ok...now I have to read them...

[renegadedod]

the forums are screwy so they only show things that have been posted in the same day (maybe the day before)... this means you have to manually select to show all topics from the beginning to see all the stories... there has to be an option in user CP so you dont need to keep manually doing it.

[Bowwy]

Oh. I apologize Renegadedod

[renegadedod]

there is an option to show all of the threads and not ahve to do it manually every time...

go into user CP, and go to edit options... under thread age limit/cut-off (something to that extent) select show all threads... now you will not need to do it manually every single time for any forum...

[Bowwy]

Cool. Thanks. I apologize again.

[renegadedod]

no problem...

[excon]

I used to have a huge story, i was writing, but I've been away for months now and it seems they moved or deleted it. Your concept and perspectives are really orginial but the story would be way more exciting if you used diverse grammar and vocabulary =P.

-Keep it Up!

[Bowwy]

Hmm...it's about time I started bringing in more than just Human zombies...time for some other zombie stuff...I'll update later today

[Harrier]

I still like mine the most...

[renegadedod]

I used to have a huge story, i was writing, but I've been away for months now and it seems they moved or deleted it. Your concept and perspectives are really orginial but the story would be way more exciting if you used diverse grammar and vocabulary =P.

-Keep it Up!

that is why i am going to be using a thesaurus more often... sick of using simple words, and i am quite repeatetive usually, but lately i have been changing up that habit.

[noobbot]

I'm not sure if I've posted on these forums before, but I've been following this mod for quite a while. I previously played the HL (Gold Source) version until I no longer desired to do so (for some reason, though I admit I had great fun while it lasted). Anyways, this mod will most likely be the only player-versus-player zombie MOD I will play.
I do write fan fictions on another forum, and they've been rather well received. Since I think making an entirely new story for a forum I occasionally stop by would be quite a waste, I'll lay one down from the NMRiH forums. Renegade, you might know me as "noobot" from those forums. By the way, the full thing is MUCH, MUCH longer (about 3 - 4 times what's in here), so you're getting a sample, to put it simply. Also, many of the more minor parts have been cut out.

A New Day


Dan sat there, idly, his M1911 in his hand; the hard, warm wood beneath him. His head was in between his knees, and his arms held his knees together. The room wasn’t splendor at all; the walls were torn up, with scattered holes, and the wallpaper itself was peeling off. Even the floor had dirt and debris on it. The room he was in was particularly unkempt, and he was in a corner. No where to run; hiding was out of question.

One thing was clear: death was inevitable. It was going to get you some time, and now seemed his time. Dan, who’d conquered death so many times, was now going to succumb to its oppressive and absolute grip. He’d be a memory scorched on many a dead man’s mind, and a few of the living, too.

He was lying on his bed, when suddenly the world was turned upside down. The old comforts of home; the pillows, the cleanliness, fresh clothing, water, power, and hygiene – all gone; a memory. Not quite faded, and not forgotten, but a memory, nonetheless. This new world was one of filth and horror; gruesomeness and death; one of polar opposites.

As he was in his bed, gun fire erupted in the streets. When he had collected his thoughts and fully awoken, he stepped outside, in his underwear – a plain t-shirt and boxer shorts – to a terrible sight. In the streets, the police were battling people.

Daniel was a rather wealthy and successful lawyer, and he owned a fairly nice house in a well-respected community. He was single, unlike most of the other local owners, but he got along with them well. He, too, was respectable, and he’d helped many of his neighbors in civil court, for what ever needs they had, and he won 95% of his cases; a very high number in that world.

In an instant, that life was wiped, and the new Dan emerged. His former success no longer mattered; the courts didn’t exist any longer. Order, as he knew it, was erased. This new Dan was not a kind one, nor was he caring; survival and instincts consumed his thought. Any logic he possessed (he was a fairly intelligent man) was now put to the task of living; surviving.

He went back inside his home, put on blue-jean pants, got his keys, ran back out the door, and climbed into his Porsche convertible. He was going to get something, out of instinct, out of logic, but what? He couldn’t remember, but that didn’t matter. He knew where it was, and he pursued it.
His destination: his former workplace; his office.

Once he was inside, it dawned on him; what he wanted was his gun. His gun was a particular M1911 with a 4” barrel, which fired .45ACPs and accepted double-stack magazines. That was it.

He went to his desk, flanked it; pulled the drawer open. He removed his M1911 from the drawer, pulled open another container, and he inserted the magazine that was formerly inside that drawer. He pulled back the slide.

He was locked and loaded; prepared for the world outside. He had 13 rounds to prepare for the world, all of which he’d decided to use, and wisely at that.
When he turned to go back to the door, he found one of his former employees, an attractive female secretary, who was bleeding from her arm rapidly.

“It won’t f*cking stop, Dan! It won’t stop bleeding,” she shouted, teary-eyed. Dan recoiled, but soon after, he wheeled around the desk and held the woman’s wound.

“Don’t worry, everything will be alright. Just keep some pressure on it. I’ll find a bandage,” Dan pacified the woman, and held her. She began whimpering and crying, and Dan held her tighter.

A few minutes later, he again instructed her to, “keep pressure on the wound,” and he went into the storage closet, where a few [large] bandages were. When he arrived again, the woman’s hands were completely blood soaked, and she occupied his chair.

"Thanks, Dan,” she complimented, as she slumped back in his chair, quickly becoming unconscious.

Up until then, he’d been completely oblivious to a pain in his shoulder. Indeed, he hadn’t even noticed the pain, nor had he seen the blood leaking out. Judging by the blood loss, he’d received the wound a little over an hour before then; when he was at his home.

The wound was a nasty one, located just below his left clavicle on his left shoulder. He’d been lucky whoever shot him hadn’t hit his neck, head, or his right arm. Right there was a 0.5” entry, and a 1.2” exit wound. It didn’t bleed too much, luckily, but it was important.

To do so, he’d have to find something hot, but what? What could he use? He searched the desks of his employees, and found in one man’s desk, a certain James Evan, a lighter and a few packs of cigarettes.

Dan thumbed the igniter of the lighter multiple times, but to no avail. When he shook it, there was rather little sloshing noise; the lighter was low on fuel. He tried again, and after a minute, a flame finally danced above the lighter. He thrusted a cigarette into the flames, then applied it to both sides of his wound.

He shouted, repeatedly, in a burning agony. But soon, the benefits overwhelmed the pain. The hole no longer bled, and it was all but sealed on both sides. The pain was still present, however.

Outside were the now familiar sounds of chaos – cars, gun shots, screams, and the sound of death. He got up from his seat, and approached the door. When he looked outside (the doors were wide-open), he saw cars swerving around - a few of them even hit each other or their surroundings – and he saw people running around, some chasing others. Very few people had guns, and those who did, shot at every unfamiliar person in sight.

He immediately closed the door, and when he did, he leaned against it, panting. Just the perception of what was occurring outside made him lose breath. He immediately began finding ways to reinforce the door, as to prevent the outsiders from entering. First, he started by engaging all the locking systems around the door, then by using furniture to impede the motion of the door.

After he’d erected his [crude] barricade, he sat down in the chair he’d been in roughly half an hour before (when he stood to go to the door and make the barricades). He sat down, slumped into the chair, and fingered his gun. He was toying with it; he needed to prepare himself for whatever was next to come.

There stood the formerly dead secretary. Dan stood, out of his chair, and moved backward. He yanked out his M1911, but when he tried to pull the trigger, he found he couldn’t. The secretary was fast approaching him, and he simply continued to back up. Before long, the secretary began running at him, and he stumbled backwards.

He shouted at it (or her), but he got no response other than a bright glare of delight in its eyes and a snarl. It (or she; he couldn’t decide) leaped onto him, and began snapping at him.

He tried to push it off, constantly screaming. But it didn’t listen or heed his advice; rather, it stubbornly continued, trying to bite at his carotid artery.

Dan grabbed his M1911 by the action and barrel, and smacked the former secretary on the head with the solid steel pistol grip. It recoiled, and fell off Dan long enough for him to regain his foothold.

He found his finger perilously tight around the trigger, and accidentally, he discharged one .45ACP into the skull of his [former] secretary. The round struck it on the back of the cranium, as it was facing down, trying to recover itself, and the bullet exited through its neck, most assuredly hitting the larynx and a carotid or jugular along the way.

But after a half hour or more of silent sobbing and mourning, he found his survivalist self, Dan, reemerging.
_______________________________________________
Things to remember about a good story:
- Use realistic dialog. This means making each person speak realistically, depending, of course, on the character's personality. This often means use of profanities, low vocabulary, and fragmented sentences, though the latter shouldn't be constantly used.
- Emply realistic details. This means having a good, sensible environment and series of events; something that seems likely, if only under the circumstances described. This doesn't necessarily mean sticking only to real creatures or even places, rather seemingly authentic reactions, events, and environments.
- No writer is perfect; there is always room for improvement. One way to help this is to look over your piece, proof read, and edit it. Try to eliminate fragmented or incomplete thoughts, bad grammar, and improper spelling as much as possible, without making this process the most lengthy.

[noobbot]

Oops..

PS: could they change the post length restrictions in this part of the forum?

[Harrier]

Could you make your own topic?

[noobbot]

Could you make your own topic?

I sure could.