Phillip the Nerd
I've played the demo through a number of times, and it's more or less been the same type of person each time: a rough and tumble hobo, fortunate enough to collect enough tin cans to buy a ticket in a cryopod. In this distant future apocolypse these fighting survivalists can really make a go of things, where the skills and wherewithall to choke down a raw squirrel and wear it's furry backside as a hat are indeed desirable.
But these aren't the type of people who get frozen stiff and propelled into the future, oh no. Dotcom Billionaires, Animation Moguls and Venture Capitalists are. Or to put it another way, Giant Nerds.
This is the story of Phillip the Nerd.
Phillip is Fragile. Perhaps because of this he spent much of his formative years in libraries, on computers, indoors and pretty much anywhere he could avoid other, less fragile children. He knows all there is to know about Electronics, Hacking, Mechanics and having a slow Metabolism. Phillip also went to High School, and despite knowing everything there is to know about Electronics, Hacking, Mechanics and having a slow Metabolism Phillip is very much still alive. From this evidence it is safe to assume that Phillip is also good at Hiding.
Phillip woke up. He was cold. Cold and... wet? Phillip let out a low whine. Not wet, he thought, not again. No. Wait. Not again... not for some years in fact. Phillip slowly raised his head from where it had fallen, an ache swam out from the back of his skull, arcing gracefully across his forehead. Yes, some years since... that had happened, and almost as many since a hangover. They're worse than he remembered. What had made him drink ? He hadn't touched alcohol since he'd first tried it at the late age of 14. Alcohol was for idiots. There was a... party? That can't be right. He'd been to parties. Not massively frequently mind, but still, always avoided drinking-
A unearthly scream interrupted Phillip's derailed train of thought. His eyes slammed open, then immediately shut again as the searing light from a window lightly singed his retinas. Another scream. Phillip was scrabbling to his feet, his eyes split gingerly to take in the room. Machines. Tubes. A computer. That bastard window. A dark hallway. Another scream.
The word creaked out of his throat like he hadn't uttered a word in years. Phillip whirled trying to collect himself. He didn't quite manage it. With one more scream, Phillip's flight response kicked in and he propelled himself towards the window, diving through the broken glass and landing in an overgrown hedge. Scratched and bruised, Phillip rose to his feet. "That was stupid," he thought "don't you know you're Fragile?" Sprinting into the open field Phillip thought this is exactly the kind of terrible decision making that follows the consumption of alcohol.
After about five hundred yards the telltale burning in his chest served as a reminder of Phillip's non-existent athletic career. It probably wasn't even a THING in the darkness, more likely some screeching equipment or mechanism. In his semi-awake state it had sounded strange, sure, but really, monsters? Phillip, feeling silly, slowed to a stop, and looked back the way he'd come.
The Werewolf stared back.
Phillip ran over two sizeable hills and into some woodland without stopping.
With aching feet, burning lungs and freezing buttocks Phillip could finally run no further. He collapsed into a ditch, breathing heavily. He grabbed the largest stick to hand and brandished it as menacingly as a 32 year old Software Engineer ever had. It was then that Phillip noticed a medical style tag around his wrist. It said his name was Phillip Kindred. This was News to Phillip.
Phillip took stock. He remembered waking up, he was wet, but it wasn't... that. He remembered that. And it wasn't that. He remembered school. He remembered work. Some faces, some names. He remembered a party. And then remembered running through the woods. Running away from a Werewolf. He also remembered Werewolves definitely weren't a thing.
This was the sum total of the things Phillip remembered. Not among those things were his name, or how he came to be running for his life through the woods (away from a werewolf, natch) in nothing but a hospital gown. A backless hospital gown. Phillip suddenly felt very underequipped for the situation he found himself in.
Haha, awesome story! Keep on going! :D
And Philip still hasn't realized it is the end of the world... He'll get a wake-up call... Heh heh.
This gives me inspiration to RP my characters more, it seems.
Hey... HEY! Wheres the update? If youre dead you gotta tell us so we can loot you! ... Or at least kick on your dead body until a note of Philips diary fall out!