Poot
11-07-2013, 09:19 PM
Rated M for distressing situations, potential language, violence, gore, underage drinking, and drug references
The Z-Word
Kevin Mallow was exactly sixteen the first time he killed a man. If that's what you would call it.
Maybe it was a thing?
Or was that rude?
Whatever.
All he knew, as he stared into the giant deep fryer, that he was only sixteen and he probably wasn't supposed to do something like that. Like, ever.
✄ - - -
Kevin was fifteen when he got his job at Chick On A Stick. He thought the name was stupid, but he was desperate. Desperate times call for horrible jobs. He would wake up and walk to the fast food place day after day in his oversized uniform and stand at the cashier, fattening up men and women and families in need of quick food.
Kevin felt almost bad as every person entered, obviously so amazed at the idea of chicken impaled on wooden sticks.
Exciting. New. Revolutionary. An exciting, new, revolutionary idea that will change the way we eat meat forever!
And they weren't just saying that. They were actually believing it. It made Kevin sad. It made him want to bring up corn dogs and how nobody had ever thought they were that great. At least the dude who thought up corn dogs had added corn bread. A lot cooler than just putting an unsuspecting chicken on a stick, in Kevin's opinion.
But he never did mention corn dogs, no matter how much he wanted to. Because that is sour mouth thinking, Kevin Mallow - a direct quote from Mr. Arthur Snopps.
Also known as Kevin's boss.
Who looked ironically a lot like a chicken.
So every day Kevin would go to work, missing school to burn his fingers cooking chicken and feeding it to random people he'd never see again. Felt like he was poisoning them with a smile. A quiet villain hiding behind his nametag and baggy, mustard yellow uniform.
"Hi, my name is Kevin. How may I kill you today?"
✄ - - -
The day that Kevin killed a man-thing-whatever, he had been asked-forced-whatever by Mr. Snopps to lock up the place when he was done. That meant cleaning and turning everything off, too. That meant extra labor for no extra money. Fantastic.
Kevin was cleaning the tables when a man who looked to be about mid-fourties walked in. Actually, more like trudged. Kevin didn't know anybody actually ever trudged.
"Yo. Closed, man." Kevin called with a frown, still leaning over the last table.
The man turned, startling Kevin into dropping his rag and cleaner onto the floor. His skin was gray and sagging off his face, covered in a thin film of sweat, seemingly dangling off his cheekbones. The sight shocking him into silence, Kevin just stood and stared.
"Food... I... I hungry. Got money." The disfigured man held a few ten dollar bills in his pale, shaky hand. "Need... meat..."
"Uh... sorry but you need to go." Kevin whispered, stepping slowly away from the stranger.
The man suddenly lurched at him and grabbed him by the shirt, holding him high off the ground. "No! Food now! So hungry!" The man screamed. Kevin was the kind of boy who would punch the man in the face and call the police - something smart, something strong, something that made him look cool. But there, dangling high over the concrete floor, he saw something in the mans eyes. Something feral and scared and desperate and painful. So, instead of punching the maniac, he hushed him.
"Whoa, whoa, dude! Chill. I'm sorry! It's okay, I'll get you some food. Okay?"
The man stood there for a moment, grunted, and then let the boy down.
"Hur-hurr-hurry up. It... it hurts."
Kevin nodded and ran behind the counter to cook up an extra value meal. For free.
✄ - - -
Just as Kevin finished heating up the deep fryer and threw some chicken in and got out some sticks, he heard screaming coming from the eating area. Inhuman. Loud and feral. Like an animal dying.
Kevin ran to the counter, looking out at the tables. Behind one of the booths the man rose jerkily, twitching and moaning. Now his skin was peeling and his clothes were torn up, like he was in a struggle. But who with? Himself?
The man looked around like an animal before resting his gaze on Kevin, his eyes now showed nothing. Nothing but pure hunger. For Kevin. Slowly, he limped around the table and toward Kevin, growling furiously.
"Man! No I got your chicken cooking!" Kevin yelled, stepping away quickly, his hands up defensively like the dude was gonna shoot him. But part of him knew his yelling was useless. He was something else. Kevin had watched enough horror movies to know that there was something completely wrong.
Possession? No.
Serial killer? No.
Zombie? Sounded about right.
"Look, dude, I'm not letting you eat me. So just leave." Quick pause. "Aw, man, that wouldn't be good either 'cause then you'd eat a little girl or something and start an apocalypse. Unless that's already happened. But I gotta save that little girl, I guess... So what do I do? C'mon, man, what do I do? I just thought I was gonna be going home with some greasy chicken and givin' it to my brother and good-for-nothing dad before passing out in my room, but no. Now I gotta kill me a zombie." Kevin mumbled, half talking to himself, half talking to the dead dude. He looked around, keeping an eye on the zombie - thanking the earth, the Lord, whatever was listening that the thing was as slow as a turtle - while searching for something to do.
His eyes fell on the deep fryer and he ran to it, grabbing a knife and standing next to the bubbling oil, his knuckles white by clutching the weapon so tightly.
Shaky.
Afraid.
He'd never felt that way before. It made him feel weak.
Weak as the footsteps neared and the moans grew louder, zombie moving around the many obstacles of the kitchen. Breathing heavy, preparing to throw the things head into the scolding oil, praying it would work.
It reached out, hands outstretched towards Kevin, eyes hungrier than ever.
Five feet.
Two feet.
One foot.
Inches.
Stab. Knife in zombie chest.
It looked down, staring at the knife calmly. But its confusion was just enough time for Kevin to throw it into the oil, headfirst into the bubbling chicken. It thrashed and jerked, but Kevin held on tightly, too busy pushing the zombie deeper in to notice the tears in his own eyes, his violent sobbing.
And, slowly, the zombie went completely still. It's pounding limbs twitched to a stiff stop, arms falling limply to its sides and legs failing to keep it standing any longer. Probably melted and blackened. Kevin quickly pulled his hands back and the zombie slipped down. He decided not to look. He just walked slowly away, tears streaming down his cheeks, staring at cooked man-thing. Zombie on a stick. And he ran. He wasn't supposed to kill. He was too young for any of that junk. But he had and now he could never take it back.
He jumped into his truck, started the engine and bounded down the street, way over the speed limit. Most of the time he went fifty miles over the speed limit to show he didn't care about any law, any limits. But it was different this time. He cried and pounded on the steering wheel with his fists, forgetting for the moment that there was probably a zombie apocalypse. Forgetting anything but the fact that he had killed. That he was a murderer.
Behind, Chick On A Stick's front door was left open, unlocked. A nametag sat alone on the floor. Kevin quit.
Hi everyone. Welcome to my first attempt at roleplaying on this website. My first try is being a GM - totally not ambitious at all. But, hey, let's give it a shot, anyway! As you can see, this is yet another zombie apocalypse roleplay. However, I wanted to take it a little differently than I have seen others take it. I wanted to show it purely from the point of view of teenagers (13-19 years old.) Most zombie movies/books/roleplays and so on show from the point of view of adults, people who are full grown, have the resources, strength, and wisdom. Sure, there are usually a couple kids or teenagers around, but nobody really goes into what they think. They're just being protected. Now, these kids are going to have to grow up and be the protectors for once - muster up all the strength and intelligence they can. They'll have to put those hours of video games and late-night movie marathons to use.
The zombie apocalypse is already a helpless situation. Now let's see it from the eyes of a 13 year old boy who watched his parents get ripped apart and has to learn how to use a gun. Let's see it from a 18 year old girl's point of view, just finally making it into adulthood with so much left to do. Let's watch it all unfold from a 16 year old who thought he only had to worry about school and how to get the prettiest girl in school to like him. These kids are just learning to grow up, balancing their lives and responsibilities, struggling with raging hormones - and now they're being forced to face the apocalypse with only a small group of other terrified teenagers to help.
I think it could be very, very interesting.
"My dad always said there were certain rules to when a zombie apocalypse came around. What you should and shouldn't do and stuff. Never really paid attention or nothing 'cause it all seemed stupid. Wish I had. This is all I really remember..."
Rule #1: Everybody dies. Pretty much. During an apocalypse its pretty much impossible to survive. Doesn't mean you shouldn't try, 'cause sometimes it all ends good. But also means you should be ready to die. Don't expect your characters to survive. If you want to live, think before you act as much as possible.
Rule #2: Don't have to be nice to others during an apocalypse. It's nice to have company, though, so I'd actually try and make a couple friends so you don't go insane. But do whatever you like. Just make sure that when out of character, you're nice to all the others. They're people, too.
Rule #3: Good grammar and stuff. Otherwise you get kicked out.
Rule #4: Always write at least two paragraphs a post... Please?
Rule #5: No perfect characters, no power-playing, no god-modding, no railroading, or anything like that. Your character is not a super-hero, your character is a scared teenager in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. They ain't gonna be perfect.
Rule #6: Follow the rules or your character is probably going to die. That's how it is. During an apocalypse you follow the basic rules - and for this apocalypse, these are the rules.
BACKGROUND
As the apocalypse is going to start seemingly very suddenly to the characters, they aren't going to know exactly how it happened or what's going on. Instead, I was hoping they would slowly come to realize it over time as the story progresses. Are they rising from the graves? Is it some kind of killer drug? Is it a virus that can be stopped? Is there some kind of toxic food they have been eating? Who knows. We don't. Not yet, that is. However, let me shine some light on the setting.
Everything will be taking place in the small, fictional town of Fairpine in Vermont. With a population of approximately 10,000 people, it's a fairly tiny corner of the state and provides only the basics for it's populous. Most of the place is made up of suburban neighborhoods, picture perfect lanes with dainty names. It's a pleasant little place - quiet and almost completely clean of crime save for a few troublemaking teenagers.
"Downtown" is a few small roads made up of a few small chain restaurants, craft stores, a clothes shop, a tiny theater, a small apartment complex, a library, and a 7-Eleven. Besides downtown, there are very few stores scattered around the town - the best being a convenience store called Food For Yoo on the outskirts of Fairpine. The main attraction of the town are a few paintball fields based at random spots around the town. Otherwise, the town is made up of houses and green fields. Welcome to Fairpine. Be prepared for rain and snow.
CHARACTERS
"Dad would also say that during the zombie apocalypse, you don't trust nobody. Nobody. Just you and your gun. Anybody who doesn't have a good story and good appearance, chop their head off. And, sometimes, even if their story and stuff is alright, chop it off, anyway."
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Sexual Orientation:
Appearance [picture or detailed description]:
Height & Weight:
Personality:
Biography:
NOTE: Personality and Biography are actually completely optional! You can go ahead and fill them out if you want or leave them blank. The reason for this is because I personally prefer to see a character come to life within the roleplay. It feels more real to me, like seeing a puzzle come together jigsaw piece by jigsaw piece. I find it more personal than reading a form about who they are. But that's just my preference. Whatever you would prefer is fine. You can put in as much or as little information as you want into those two sections.
Name: Kevin Mallow.
Age: Seventeen.
Gender: Male.
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual.
Appearance:
http://data1.whicdn.com/images/56796417/tumblr_lyzvvgvjgd1r6fl4qo1_500_large.png
Height & Weight: Six feet, two inches and 147 pounds.
Name: Rose Ravens
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Appearance: Rose has long black hair that falls to her waist. Her eyes are a deep Sapphire blue. Her skin white like snow. She likes to wear black leggings, black knee high boots, red tops and her favourite red hoodie.
Height & Weight: 5'3 and 95lbs
Personality: Rose often tends to be a kind caring young girl. She can easily turn nasty if people aren't careful. She doesn't often lash out at people, but when she does, people don't forget it easy
Biography: Rose sees herself as a youngster in the group. She turned 16 only a couple of days ago, and feels like she doesn't fit in. She turns to Kevin most of the time when she needs help, but tries to hide the fact she really likes him.
Name: Trevor White
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Appearance: Thin and pale with Brown hair and green eyes. His trademark outfit is a blue and white plaid collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a fedora and red converse to complement his dark blue jeans.
Height and weight: 5' 10", 130 lbs
Personality: All brains with a lot of style
Name: Ellie Martian
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: heterosexual
Appearance [picture or detailed description]:
http://tweengirlstylemagazine.com/Home/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/Laken-Nicole-Mitchem-headband.jpg
Height & Weight: 5'2" and 105lbs
The Z-Word
Kevin Mallow was exactly sixteen the first time he killed a man. If that's what you would call it.
Maybe it was a thing?
Or was that rude?
Whatever.
All he knew, as he stared into the giant deep fryer, that he was only sixteen and he probably wasn't supposed to do something like that. Like, ever.
✄ - - -
Kevin was fifteen when he got his job at Chick On A Stick. He thought the name was stupid, but he was desperate. Desperate times call for horrible jobs. He would wake up and walk to the fast food place day after day in his oversized uniform and stand at the cashier, fattening up men and women and families in need of quick food.
Kevin felt almost bad as every person entered, obviously so amazed at the idea of chicken impaled on wooden sticks.
Exciting. New. Revolutionary. An exciting, new, revolutionary idea that will change the way we eat meat forever!
And they weren't just saying that. They were actually believing it. It made Kevin sad. It made him want to bring up corn dogs and how nobody had ever thought they were that great. At least the dude who thought up corn dogs had added corn bread. A lot cooler than just putting an unsuspecting chicken on a stick, in Kevin's opinion.
But he never did mention corn dogs, no matter how much he wanted to. Because that is sour mouth thinking, Kevin Mallow - a direct quote from Mr. Arthur Snopps.
Also known as Kevin's boss.
Who looked ironically a lot like a chicken.
So every day Kevin would go to work, missing school to burn his fingers cooking chicken and feeding it to random people he'd never see again. Felt like he was poisoning them with a smile. A quiet villain hiding behind his nametag and baggy, mustard yellow uniform.
"Hi, my name is Kevin. How may I kill you today?"
✄ - - -
The day that Kevin killed a man-thing-whatever, he had been asked-forced-whatever by Mr. Snopps to lock up the place when he was done. That meant cleaning and turning everything off, too. That meant extra labor for no extra money. Fantastic.
Kevin was cleaning the tables when a man who looked to be about mid-fourties walked in. Actually, more like trudged. Kevin didn't know anybody actually ever trudged.
"Yo. Closed, man." Kevin called with a frown, still leaning over the last table.
The man turned, startling Kevin into dropping his rag and cleaner onto the floor. His skin was gray and sagging off his face, covered in a thin film of sweat, seemingly dangling off his cheekbones. The sight shocking him into silence, Kevin just stood and stared.
"Food... I... I hungry. Got money." The disfigured man held a few ten dollar bills in his pale, shaky hand. "Need... meat..."
"Uh... sorry but you need to go." Kevin whispered, stepping slowly away from the stranger.
The man suddenly lurched at him and grabbed him by the shirt, holding him high off the ground. "No! Food now! So hungry!" The man screamed. Kevin was the kind of boy who would punch the man in the face and call the police - something smart, something strong, something that made him look cool. But there, dangling high over the concrete floor, he saw something in the mans eyes. Something feral and scared and desperate and painful. So, instead of punching the maniac, he hushed him.
"Whoa, whoa, dude! Chill. I'm sorry! It's okay, I'll get you some food. Okay?"
The man stood there for a moment, grunted, and then let the boy down.
"Hur-hurr-hurry up. It... it hurts."
Kevin nodded and ran behind the counter to cook up an extra value meal. For free.
✄ - - -
Just as Kevin finished heating up the deep fryer and threw some chicken in and got out some sticks, he heard screaming coming from the eating area. Inhuman. Loud and feral. Like an animal dying.
Kevin ran to the counter, looking out at the tables. Behind one of the booths the man rose jerkily, twitching and moaning. Now his skin was peeling and his clothes were torn up, like he was in a struggle. But who with? Himself?
The man looked around like an animal before resting his gaze on Kevin, his eyes now showed nothing. Nothing but pure hunger. For Kevin. Slowly, he limped around the table and toward Kevin, growling furiously.
"Man! No I got your chicken cooking!" Kevin yelled, stepping away quickly, his hands up defensively like the dude was gonna shoot him. But part of him knew his yelling was useless. He was something else. Kevin had watched enough horror movies to know that there was something completely wrong.
Possession? No.
Serial killer? No.
Zombie? Sounded about right.
"Look, dude, I'm not letting you eat me. So just leave." Quick pause. "Aw, man, that wouldn't be good either 'cause then you'd eat a little girl or something and start an apocalypse. Unless that's already happened. But I gotta save that little girl, I guess... So what do I do? C'mon, man, what do I do? I just thought I was gonna be going home with some greasy chicken and givin' it to my brother and good-for-nothing dad before passing out in my room, but no. Now I gotta kill me a zombie." Kevin mumbled, half talking to himself, half talking to the dead dude. He looked around, keeping an eye on the zombie - thanking the earth, the Lord, whatever was listening that the thing was as slow as a turtle - while searching for something to do.
His eyes fell on the deep fryer and he ran to it, grabbing a knife and standing next to the bubbling oil, his knuckles white by clutching the weapon so tightly.
Shaky.
Afraid.
He'd never felt that way before. It made him feel weak.
Weak as the footsteps neared and the moans grew louder, zombie moving around the many obstacles of the kitchen. Breathing heavy, preparing to throw the things head into the scolding oil, praying it would work.
It reached out, hands outstretched towards Kevin, eyes hungrier than ever.
Five feet.
Two feet.
One foot.
Inches.
Stab. Knife in zombie chest.
It looked down, staring at the knife calmly. But its confusion was just enough time for Kevin to throw it into the oil, headfirst into the bubbling chicken. It thrashed and jerked, but Kevin held on tightly, too busy pushing the zombie deeper in to notice the tears in his own eyes, his violent sobbing.
And, slowly, the zombie went completely still. It's pounding limbs twitched to a stiff stop, arms falling limply to its sides and legs failing to keep it standing any longer. Probably melted and blackened. Kevin quickly pulled his hands back and the zombie slipped down. He decided not to look. He just walked slowly away, tears streaming down his cheeks, staring at cooked man-thing. Zombie on a stick. And he ran. He wasn't supposed to kill. He was too young for any of that junk. But he had and now he could never take it back.
He jumped into his truck, started the engine and bounded down the street, way over the speed limit. Most of the time he went fifty miles over the speed limit to show he didn't care about any law, any limits. But it was different this time. He cried and pounded on the steering wheel with his fists, forgetting for the moment that there was probably a zombie apocalypse. Forgetting anything but the fact that he had killed. That he was a murderer.
Behind, Chick On A Stick's front door was left open, unlocked. A nametag sat alone on the floor. Kevin quit.
Hi everyone. Welcome to my first attempt at roleplaying on this website. My first try is being a GM - totally not ambitious at all. But, hey, let's give it a shot, anyway! As you can see, this is yet another zombie apocalypse roleplay. However, I wanted to take it a little differently than I have seen others take it. I wanted to show it purely from the point of view of teenagers (13-19 years old.) Most zombie movies/books/roleplays and so on show from the point of view of adults, people who are full grown, have the resources, strength, and wisdom. Sure, there are usually a couple kids or teenagers around, but nobody really goes into what they think. They're just being protected. Now, these kids are going to have to grow up and be the protectors for once - muster up all the strength and intelligence they can. They'll have to put those hours of video games and late-night movie marathons to use.
The zombie apocalypse is already a helpless situation. Now let's see it from the eyes of a 13 year old boy who watched his parents get ripped apart and has to learn how to use a gun. Let's see it from a 18 year old girl's point of view, just finally making it into adulthood with so much left to do. Let's watch it all unfold from a 16 year old who thought he only had to worry about school and how to get the prettiest girl in school to like him. These kids are just learning to grow up, balancing their lives and responsibilities, struggling with raging hormones - and now they're being forced to face the apocalypse with only a small group of other terrified teenagers to help.
I think it could be very, very interesting.
"My dad always said there were certain rules to when a zombie apocalypse came around. What you should and shouldn't do and stuff. Never really paid attention or nothing 'cause it all seemed stupid. Wish I had. This is all I really remember..."
Rule #1: Everybody dies. Pretty much. During an apocalypse its pretty much impossible to survive. Doesn't mean you shouldn't try, 'cause sometimes it all ends good. But also means you should be ready to die. Don't expect your characters to survive. If you want to live, think before you act as much as possible.
Rule #2: Don't have to be nice to others during an apocalypse. It's nice to have company, though, so I'd actually try and make a couple friends so you don't go insane. But do whatever you like. Just make sure that when out of character, you're nice to all the others. They're people, too.
Rule #3: Good grammar and stuff. Otherwise you get kicked out.
Rule #4: Always write at least two paragraphs a post... Please?
Rule #5: No perfect characters, no power-playing, no god-modding, no railroading, or anything like that. Your character is not a super-hero, your character is a scared teenager in the middle of a zombie apocalypse. They ain't gonna be perfect.
Rule #6: Follow the rules or your character is probably going to die. That's how it is. During an apocalypse you follow the basic rules - and for this apocalypse, these are the rules.
BACKGROUND
As the apocalypse is going to start seemingly very suddenly to the characters, they aren't going to know exactly how it happened or what's going on. Instead, I was hoping they would slowly come to realize it over time as the story progresses. Are they rising from the graves? Is it some kind of killer drug? Is it a virus that can be stopped? Is there some kind of toxic food they have been eating? Who knows. We don't. Not yet, that is. However, let me shine some light on the setting.
Everything will be taking place in the small, fictional town of Fairpine in Vermont. With a population of approximately 10,000 people, it's a fairly tiny corner of the state and provides only the basics for it's populous. Most of the place is made up of suburban neighborhoods, picture perfect lanes with dainty names. It's a pleasant little place - quiet and almost completely clean of crime save for a few troublemaking teenagers.
"Downtown" is a few small roads made up of a few small chain restaurants, craft stores, a clothes shop, a tiny theater, a small apartment complex, a library, and a 7-Eleven. Besides downtown, there are very few stores scattered around the town - the best being a convenience store called Food For Yoo on the outskirts of Fairpine. The main attraction of the town are a few paintball fields based at random spots around the town. Otherwise, the town is made up of houses and green fields. Welcome to Fairpine. Be prepared for rain and snow.
CHARACTERS
"Dad would also say that during the zombie apocalypse, you don't trust nobody. Nobody. Just you and your gun. Anybody who doesn't have a good story and good appearance, chop their head off. And, sometimes, even if their story and stuff is alright, chop it off, anyway."
Name:
Age:
Gender:
Sexual Orientation:
Appearance [picture or detailed description]:
Height & Weight:
Personality:
Biography:
NOTE: Personality and Biography are actually completely optional! You can go ahead and fill them out if you want or leave them blank. The reason for this is because I personally prefer to see a character come to life within the roleplay. It feels more real to me, like seeing a puzzle come together jigsaw piece by jigsaw piece. I find it more personal than reading a form about who they are. But that's just my preference. Whatever you would prefer is fine. You can put in as much or as little information as you want into those two sections.
Name: Kevin Mallow.
Age: Seventeen.
Gender: Male.
Sexual Orientation: Pansexual.
Appearance:
http://data1.whicdn.com/images/56796417/tumblr_lyzvvgvjgd1r6fl4qo1_500_large.png
Height & Weight: Six feet, two inches and 147 pounds.
Name: Rose Ravens
Age: 16
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Appearance: Rose has long black hair that falls to her waist. Her eyes are a deep Sapphire blue. Her skin white like snow. She likes to wear black leggings, black knee high boots, red tops and her favourite red hoodie.
Height & Weight: 5'3 and 95lbs
Personality: Rose often tends to be a kind caring young girl. She can easily turn nasty if people aren't careful. She doesn't often lash out at people, but when she does, people don't forget it easy
Biography: Rose sees herself as a youngster in the group. She turned 16 only a couple of days ago, and feels like she doesn't fit in. She turns to Kevin most of the time when she needs help, but tries to hide the fact she really likes him.
Name: Trevor White
Age: 17
Gender: Male
Sexual Orientation: Straight
Appearance: Thin and pale with Brown hair and green eyes. His trademark outfit is a blue and white plaid collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a fedora and red converse to complement his dark blue jeans.
Height and weight: 5' 10", 130 lbs
Personality: All brains with a lot of style
Name: Ellie Martian
Age: 12
Gender: Female
Sexual Orientation: heterosexual
Appearance [picture or detailed description]:
http://tweengirlstylemagazine.com/Home/wp-content/uploads/2010/06/Laken-Nicole-Mitchem-headband.jpg
Height & Weight: 5'2" and 105lbs