The odds are not often good...

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The odds are not often good...

...but luckily for Phillip Kindred 13 they were.

I love this game, even with its sometimes painful difficulty... that said I have a story.

there are MINOR MINOR spoilers, but assuming you've turned on the game, and have played for more than five minutes, there's not much I'm going to spoil here.


I could hear the beast before I ever saw it, large, heavy, and heading this way... the world was a blur and the lights played havoc with my eyes, even still I knew something was coming. Without thinking I quickly got up of the cold tiled floor and rushed to the door where the sounds were coming from, growing ever closer. Looking at the panel next to the door I realized it was nothing I recognized. Quickly I scanned the room for something, anything. I spied a broken window on the other side of the room, not terribly large, but big enough for me.

I ran to the window, taking care not to slip on the wet ground caused by my opened tank. I jumped up to the window and started to climb out as the "thing" entered the room. I only saw it for a moment, but I would never wish to see it again.

Outside the facility, I got a chance to look around... at nothing. There was nothing for what seemed like miles. There was a hill to the north, and some trees far off to the west, but no signs of life anywhere. I decided to peer back into the facility to see if I could find some clue as to where I should go.

Climbing back into the facility I nearly tripped over a medi-box, not an unusual item in a medical facility, I picked it up and peered inside. Lucky break, antibiotics, painkillers OC and Rx, some bandages, and most importantly sleep aids... no longer would I have to worry about my chronic insomnia that kept me up for weeks on end (it was nice in college when studying for my medical license); but, sadly, no directions.

I decided not to stick around the facility longer then necessary, such an odd building would surely acquire the attention of more of those creatures... if they hadn't picked up my scent already.

I hopped back out the window and started in a near random direction. With every movement the back of my mind told me to travel east, for what reason I dont know, but I had no reason to ignore my instincts.

I walked for what seemed like hours, until I finally wandered across a small forest shack. I looked in through a window but couldn't see a thing, I knocked, nothing. It was looking more and more like I would have to break in, when I decided to try the door... it was unlocked. Though odd, I was not about to question my new found luck, and quickly I began searching the place for anything I could use, I was hoping at least for some clothes.

A boot, some wire, and a box...

It seemed my luck was spent on the door.

Disappointed I left the shack, with my brand new boot... and my box with some wire inside it. Suddenly I stumbled upon a car. Using the tracking skills I picked up in basic I located a body, and not far from it another boot... too bad its another left, completely useless.

I walked back to the car and looked inside, in the back seat sat a nice comfy sleeping bag. Good, now... how am I going to carry this. I decided the box was a bit pointless, and after trying to stuff the sleeping bag into the box, entirely useless. I left the box with some wires in it, lying on the ground next to the car, perhaps someone could use it.

After another hour or two of dragging around the sleeping bag I noticed it was starting to get darker and I was having difficulty seeing, but as luck may have it, I finally found some form of civilization.

Any hope I had when I had at first seen the town quickly melted away when I saw the first few buildings up close. The town was deserted and a total wreck.

I poked around in the debris for a while, eventually finding a pair of pants, that were likely to fall apart if I sat wrong; a basic T-shirt, this made me feel a little better; and a lighter and a sauce pan, likely the best find of the search. Thinking back on basic again, I could remember the Sargent explaining the basics of survival. I dont remember it all, but I do remember the boiling water made sure it was drinkable. after letting it cool afterwards of course.

It was really starting to get dark now, and I was in need of a place to sleep. The weather was far more erratic than I remembered and I was getting tired of the rain. I took my findings into a small abandoned shed, not much but it did the trick. As I was moving things into the shed I saw something on the horizon, a backdrop of bright light on an other wisely black sky... lights? electricity? civilization! My route was planned from then on.

The night passed slowly, as I was kept awake by nightmares of the thing that I saw at the facility. I thought about using the sleeping pills, but I didn't want to waste them. Eventually, morning came.

I decided that before I leave I should look over the town once more, to make sure I hadn't missed anything. I had. A lone apartment building that I hadn't noticed the previous night was missing its door, so I looked inside. Immediately I was rewarded, a backpack... now I can carry all the things I found, I was dreading the inevitable decision on which items I would have to leave, now I could take it all.

Spirits lifted and feeling good about my self I left town heading towards the glow I saw the previous night. Though my spirits were high, I felt I was hungry and I was desperate for some water... the race for water began.

I continued on my path towards the light, either I would get there thirsty and hungry or I would find something along the way. At least that's what I told myself. Eventually though I found a lake with a nearby forest. I collected some supplies from the forest for a fire and set to work purifying some water. It took a while, and it took all my will power not to drink directly from the lake but I knew better. I heard of people back in times before proper plumbing getting cholera and dying... not a pleasant death either.

After it was sanitized I drank... probably too much, but I was thirsty, beyond what I had originally thought. With my thirst dealt with I turned my attention to my hunger. It wasn't much further to the lights, so I decided I would continue on my way, and forage for things on the way.

It wasnt long before I found a bunch of berries, they looked like blueberries but not quite, I was dreading having not payed attention during the plants section of survival training... they looked like blueberries, so I ate them. I then continued on my way.

It didnt take long for the effects to show them selves, the berries were definitely not blue berries. I was attacked by a surge of cramps followed by a massive wave of discomfort. I quickly pulled out my Medi-box and fished out my antibiotics, probably not my greatest decision, but it was the only thing I could think of.

I soldiered on, pausing only to relieve myself of my occasional "massive discomfort", eventually though I saw the city...

I walked through the shantytown and up to the gates, hopefully they had something that could help me inside. A wave of despair hit me when I was rejected entry.

Eventually though, with the help of a strange man, I was able to get entry... but it would never be. As I left the building I passed out from the pain.

I dont know for sure how long I was out, a day maybe two, all I remember is waking up with the greatest thirst I have ever known and the greatest hunger with it. But I was alive, and I felt "well", at least I didn't feel sick anymore...

In the end I made it inside the city, I was able to scrap together enough money to buy some basic food, and I used that to build bows for the shop in the shanty town... not glorious work, but good enough to get me back into shape.



And that's where the story ends, I'm still out there, surviving... somewhere, somehow. Who knows how long I have left, or if there is more to tell of my story, I want to wish every survivor/looter out there the best of luck.

We either die a survivor, or live long enough to see ourselves eat every DMC guard.

P.K. XIII got shot in the head today by a Badmutha's final attempt at survival, as the canni fell to the ground, chest stuffed with arrows, one lucky shot flew from his rifle and hit P.Kindred in the head... it hurt, but he got up and dusted himself off, he kicked the canni a few times and ended his life with a cleaver, then he dressed his wounds.

Some say 13 is an unlucky number, P.Kindred XIII would disagree...

The story continues.

We either die a survivor, or live long enough to see ourselves eat every DMC guard.

lol,You should really Write a Novel on Philip Kindred's Stories! XD

<a href="" title="View Apocalypse Scavenger on Indie DB" target="_blank"><img src="" alt="Apocalypse Scavenger" /></a>

I saw it again, the creature... I was a good ways away and luckily it was sleeping, but still it was an imposing beast. From my perch in the forest I could see the creature in the fields, lying down, unconscious; fear crept over my body, but I knew what I had to do. I walked towards the creature, bow drawn and arrows knocked, I knew only one of us would come out of this alive, but I was going to make damn sure that it would be me.

I was getting close, I got low and started sneaking towards the creature, careful not to disturb it. Eventually I was within range, I let loose an arrow, it missed...

The creature stirred.

I fired another arrow, this time I managed to hit the beast in the leg.

The creature woke up.

I fired again, hit; it began to bleed, fell over, and writhed in pain, I moved closer.

The creature got to its feet, the fight wasn't over.

I fired my final arrow, hit, the arrow lodged in its chest, and the wound was bleeding heavily.

It began to charge.

Readying my cleaver I knew the real fight was about to begin.

It was frantic and brutal, but it was over in seconds. I dodged and parried choosing carefully my times to strike, one hit, two, the beast dropped to the ground. I hit it again, while it was down, it got up anyways. Claws bared, it lunged and slashed cutting me across the chest before I had a chance to dodge. I parried the next and hit it in the head with my cleaver... it fell to the ground, no longer moving. The fight was over.

I ate well that night, but in the back of my head I remembered what a man near the DMC had once told me.

"The dog-men, as strong as they are, never travel alone. Much like the wolves of yesteryear they travel in packs. If you manage to kill one, the others are bound to be close by. If you wish to survive up north, make sure to travel with the cloak of a dog-man and the weapons to kill them."

I had managed to kill one, but with my wounds as they were, another encounter would be to their favor... I was also lacking arrows, and with no resources to replace them in the fields I now found myself, I knew I had but two choices.

Stay and fight, and likely die; or return to the DMC to fight another day.

I decided returning to the DMC would be the best bet, so I started to pack up my gear.

It didn't take long before the other beast was on me, using the cover of night, it had managed to catch me. I spun around, my cleaver drawn. This battle would determine my fate in the wastes. Would I become another dead traveler for people to forget, or would I survive to tell this tale. The fight was frantic, but longer than the last. I dodged and parried like I had never done before, fighting an enemy I could barely see. Eventually there was an opening and I stuck, I felt the cleaver hit flesh, tearing an opening across the beast abdomen. The beast hardly seemed to notice and struck back at me. I dodged, striking again I cut open the creatures leg, but not before it tore open my own. The beast went down and I struck it again, and again, and again. My cleaver had never seen this much action before... and I could feel it straining, as a weapon I could do better, but it served me well.

The battle was over as daylight flooded into the valley. I had fought two dog-men, the prime beasts of the wastes, and lived.

I dressed my wounds, and ate again, I needed to return home... there was a long journey ahead of me, but it was one I had already walked. It would only take time, and now I had a new fur coat to show off.


Safe hunting out there fellow survivors.

P.Kindred XIII

We either die a survivor, or live long enough to see ourselves eat every DMC guard.

*Applause* Cheers! Also, SPEARS ARE YOUR FRIEND!

Spears are nice, good reach, but I prefer the cleaver... for some reason.

We either die a survivor, or live long enough to see ourselves eat every DMC guard.

Nice writing. You should really consider continuing this saga, and then releasing all the completed works somewhere. I had a great little read just now! Thanks!

Thanks, I'll consider it but for the most part its just a write as I go thing.

I haven't been playing, with the release of Dark Souls II, I kinda stopped. I should get back into it, get some more content maybe another section to write.

I'm glad people are enjoying P.Kindred XIII's unfortunate tale.

We either die a survivor, or live long enough to see ourselves eat every DMC guard.

In an unfortunate turn of events I have purchased Project Zomboid, its good... but now its eating my time instead of Dark Souls II...

I might just wrap this all into one post/thread and add a conclusion to the story... good or bad, its hard to say, hopefully P.Kindred XIII will be able to accept his role in the wasteland. (That is if I decide to end it)

We either die a survivor, or live long enough to see ourselves eat every DMC guard.

It has been several days since the last report from the wasteland and the continued travels of P.Kindred XIII, this is in no way his fault of course. He continues to live out his days, taking on each challenge the waste throws at him. The Blame entirely rests on me. While usually I speak with him and gather his tales, recently I have hidden away within the confines of the walls and the security of the city. This changed recently, I decided to seek XIII out.

In the ever changing landscapes of the wasteland it is fairly easy to become lost, forget trying to find someone who wishes to stay hidden, as not to be found by the forever hungry dog-men. However, XIII and I had a fairly good understanding of each others movements and, suffice to say, even as the wasteland grew more populated his tactics and mine remained similar.

It wasn't long before I bumped into XIII, he still took the long route around Zom-Zom's, and while he looked different it was still obviously him. Now he had a cart, before he had abhorred anything that slowed him down, but it was obvious that the gear he had in the cart was far too important to leave for just anyone to find.

When XIII saw me he adopted a defensive stance, one clearly derived from living up north for any length of time. It took him a while before he realized I was not a threat and longer still before he actually recognized me.

XIII had changed much since I had last seen him, gone were the days of the clean shaven hunter, now the more rough survivalist had taken over. His eyes were not his own either... he had apparently stolen into the city one last time before his trip north to have artificial eyes implanted. I could hear the whir of the eyes as he observed me as well, I too was much different.

No longer was I the useless drunk that only spread the stories of others, I had my own to make. While that may seem but a trivial difference, it was of a magnitude by itself.

I traveled with XIII for a while before we eventually came to the lake where he usually shared his stories. While I was eager to hear if he had any, my reasons for venturing into the wastes were different than those before. There was only one question I had for XIII that day.

"Any tips for someone trying to survive out here in the wastes?"

"Yes... do NOT go north."


For anyone who reads this and likes it, I'm sorry it took me so long to continue this. I am also sorry for what I am about to say. I think I am done writing this story.

Recently my attention has been elsewhere, so draw what conclusions you want from this abrupt and poor "end"... and good luck surviving out there folks.

We either die a survivor, or live long enough to see ourselves eat every DMC guard.