The world as you know it is gone, who knows why, but at least you had enough foresight to build this nifty bunker in your backyard. For being such a genius survivalist you didn’t bring much, maybe you’re looking at things the wrong way. What things (and or people) did you manage to bring down here with you?
>>6002030> A robust multitool
>>6002030>Hand cranked well>freeze dried legumes in large bags>Solar panels, rechargable batteries, drives, small computers, electronics, etc. in small Faraday containers>Plenty of textbooks, maps, dictionaries, and survival textbooks>Pemmican>Any dried veggies>Seeds of all kinds>Self defense items>Waste septic tank>Tool shed>Radio transmitter and receiverAnything else missing anons?
>>6002033a bottle of everclear or any other high proof alcohol
>>6002033>>Solar panels, rechargable batteries, drives, small computers, electronics, etc. in small Faraday containersanything but that. let it fucking burn. embrace a new, cleaner world.t. professional developer
>>6002034Good call.>>6002036>He forgot about digital encyclopedias, music, and any books without space to be kept physically>He forgets that coal, petrol, and whatever is in the air after the apocalypse still exist
>>6002049i did not forget anything. i calculated in everything and i still hold my judgement the right callalso the more interesting for the quest
>>6002033yes. big list incoming
>>6002030>6 count PSA AR-15s in 300 BLK with slings and and 60 magazines of 30 round capacity and 6000 rounds of subsonic 300blk ammo>3 count beretta bobcat 21a pistols with pocket holsters and 30 magazines of standard capacity and 3000 rounds of subsonic 22lr ammo>3 count sig p365 pistols with pocket holsters and 10 magazines of 10 capacity and 20 magazines of 17 capacity an 3000 rounds of 9mm 147 grain subsonic ammo>4 gun cleaning kits with fluids>4 pistol magazine loading aid devices>Your grandfathers break action 12 gauge shotgun with an x-calibur insert set and 500 rounds of 00 buckshot>20 standard capacity magazines for each firearm>8 count jansport backpacks - two each in black, tan, grey, and green>8 CAT tournequets>20 pressure bandages>4 travel sewing kits your put together yourself and not prepackaged>4 duffel bags of various gauze>4 shelf stable medicine and booboo kits with stuff like mineral oil, activated charcoal, rubbing alcohol wipes, flushing syringes, bandaids, self-stick bandages petroleum jelly ect.>80 packs of unscented baby wipes>80 bars of unscented soap>20 gallons of hand sanitizer>12 boxes of disposable gloves>12 boxes of disposeable plastic shoe booties>bulk pack of heavy duty lawn care bags>box of flat packed unused grocery bags>bulk box of boxes of quart ziplock bags>bulk box of boxes of gallon ziplock bags>8 rolls of clear heavy duty plastic sheeting>5 gallon bucket of various rolls of tape and glues>5 gallon bucket full of cans of spray paint>books on permaculture gardening and soil amending and organic pest control, books on butchering, books on charcuterie, books on sulphuring fruits, books on doing and raising cuttings from trees, books on root cellar construction and use, books on calling food, a bunch of old national geographic magazines and prepper magazines, set of boxcar children books, a 5 gallon bucket of legos, pictionary, a couple of clean joke books, a couple poetry books, anti-communist book collection, the entire works of hp lovecraft, stephen king, chuck palaniuk, and jocko willink
>>6002030A gun with ONE bullet. It's for us once we realize this isn't the kind of apocalypse one rides out and it's the less painful way to go.
Well, you’re more than stocked up. I’m fact there’s very little that you don’t have. You got shelves upon shelves of everything you need to survive, but not too much room. A little claustrophobic but you don’t seem to mind yet. It’s WEEK ONE of life in the bunker and you’re enjoying your solitude, taking pride in the fact that you’re probably the only man in the word right now that has the privilege of laying back and chewing on pennican while sampling one of the countless books in your vast library or listening to some tunes. Clean water, power, enough guns to clear a small country. Holy fuck you’re living large. You’ve spent your first couple days cutting down through the works of Stephen king, physical books taking up far too much valuable space for your liking. Though you can only imagine how rare they are right now, the last of their kind surely. God forbid something catches on fire down here, you could have sworn you brought the extinguisher with you when the sirens started but it’s gone. At least there’s well water. While reading you hear banging come from above, sounding over the calls of Chuck Berry playing from your small MP3 player. You can’t see shit, but you can certainly hear the pounding on the hatch from above, and some wild snarling. Looks like you’re not the only one that made it out. What’s the plan?
>>6002030>Meditations by Marcus Aurelius in two different translations>packs of heirloom seeds>12 soil testing kits>4 count 50 gallon drums of fertilizer sealed in thick plastic>sawed off brook and dustpan>2 canners rated for use on a campfire>40 quart canning jars full of candy>1200 quart jar canning lids>5 gallon bucket of powder sulfur>50 gallon barrel of rock sulfur>50 gallon barrel of sodium nitrite>50 gallon barrel of citric acid crystals>4 count 50 gallon barrels of salt>1 canister of 1-methylcyclopropene>4 years of rice and oatmeal and lentils for 4 people packed in nitrogen purged mylar bags with oxygen absorbers inside steel 5 gallon buckets>5 gallon bucket of foil packs of THC gummies>1 month supply of Millenium Food Bars in assorted flavors>1 month supply of normal canned and shelf stable food>50 Rat Traps>Roll of Chicken Wire>8 hens and 2 roosters each of a different breed in cages>air filter>2 sump pumps you bought second hand marked [property of Reginald M.]>2 rolling coolers>50 gallon bucket of candles>Car jumper/tire inflater battery pack with two 3 prong plugs and 4 usb plugs and 4000watt capability>4 road atlases and sets of usgs maps in waterproof sleeves and military compasses>police scanner>12 penlight flashlights>12 maglight slim flashlights>bulk pack AA batteries>bulk pack AAA batteries>a few flat packed cardboard boxes for refridgerators>various Copper Flat Washers>various Zinc Flat Washers>Shrink Wrap Tubing>10 gallons Distilled Water>20 gallons of Vinegar>Soldering Iron with Solder>Digital Multimeter>4 pairs paramedic Scissors>set of metal files>General house repair tool kit>Bicycle repair tool kit with spare tires and tubes>4 bicycles kitted out for bicycle touring>5 gallon bucket of bic lighters>2 crowbars>4 wire cutters>8 sets pocket lockpicking and lock bypass kits>5 gallon bucket of locksport learning supplies, locks, and books>5 black 0 Ferenheit rated sleeping bags>5 multicam bivy bags>Green 4 person tent>Ender 3d Printer with a 50 gallon barrel of printing supplies>old pre-1950s K-5th grade textbooks and learning to read books>Alan Quatermain novels open domain printed out and put in binding>6 pair airtight swimming goggles >6 pair military goggles>6 pair razor walker headsets>8 slashpro shirts>16 pair mechanix fastfit gloves>80 white v-neck t-shirts>40 pair wrangler cargo khakis>120 pair merino wool underwear>120 pair merino wool socks>5 winter parkas>5 plastic heavy ponchos>20 pair new balance sneakers>10 pair danner combat boots>10 pair waterproof snake boots>3 plate Slickster carriers and 6 count hesco premium thin level 4 plates>8 wrist compasses>8 wrist casio f-91 watches>8 powercaps each with a pack of spare batteries>Copy of important documents>Family Photo album>poloroid camera and filmand most importantly of all>Your patient wife>Your shy son>Your smart daughter
>Open up the rest of your bunker and check on your family?
>>6002159A complementary suicide option is a must for apocalypse bunkers. You bought it right after the legos.
cool, the only the we DONT have is any amount of equipment to go to the surface.>>6002181based>>6002174sit in silence waiting for the banger to go away
The banger keeps banging, while he bangs you can’t help but remember your family. Who you brought with you. It completely slipped your mind for a second, funny thing that. You couldn’t live without SON,WIFE,and DAUGHTER. In a spare room you keep your family with various extra supplies, the other beds, the toys, and most of your entertainment is kept in this extra room. The family room. It’s the closest thing you’ve got to your old living room, a leather couch and an antique rug taking up more space than you’re comfortable with, but WIFE managed to sway you on it. If the family’s comfortable and happy then so are you. You peek your head in and say hello, the banging is sufficiently less audible from within here, and you deliberately stay between them and the main room with the ladder as the rattling outside continues, It’s better for them not to know about these things. Keep things worry free. After an hour of chit chat and having to awkwardly idle in front of the door frame you decide to just join them in the family room and wait it out, joining your wife and daughter on the couch as your son plays on the rug. They are none the wiser. Any questions regarding the faint thumping are written off as the bunker making various sounds. You elect to sleep on the couch in the family room as the chosen nightly movie comes to a close, one by one they all head to bed, the thumping persists. It’s not until the next day that you’re gifted with silence. Whoever it was they’re gone now. Your family awakes gradually. Your wife goes to make breakfast from your selection of food items Your daughter remains in the family room reading a book And your son wanders off to the storage room.
>>6002186I had tyvek suits, rubber gloves, rubber boots, and P100 respirators in my orginal post but my browser ate that post. Im okay with that, our lovely QM has been extremely gracious and patient and it'll force us to figure something out.
your radio whines and squeals through throws of static as faint rumbles sound outside from above. “Come in? Come in? Seeking ground contact.” A man’s voice scrambles through the radio, calling into the main room of your bunker. Your wife, cracking open canned provisions, urges you to answer, believing the transmission to be from the government. If there’s even one left.Outside the blood trails stagnate in the beating dead sun, and your neighbor’s ruined house has its doors cracked open from its hinges. As your wife awaits your response for this radio debacle, the water from the sink she’s affixed in front of slowly stops pouring, going from a torrent of clean water to a scarce drip as the pipes groan. She makes it immediately known that there’s an issue. >Check on your kids >Answer the radio >Check on the water >Go outside [NO PROTECTION]>Write in
>>6002210>Listen but do not reply.
>>6002212“This is uh..ah.. this is fir-”Breathing heavily with his voice muffled through some respirator, the man seems to hold his sentence. “Fuck it” He decides to forgo rank and talk to anyone who will hear. “I’m a pilot, military, civilian aircraft..” Hissing through gritted teeth he can barely form his sentence as he fights his injuries. “running out of fuel, need to land. This is an open call for shelter, for anyone still alive. I need somewhere to go once I’m grounded, I’ve got..”The plane, a small two seat car above the ruins of what once was your home struggles to stay in the air, rattling and buckling. “ more than enough to make up for it just..” The plane comes lower to the ground as its pilot continues to make his distress call. “Help me”>Answer the call, disclose location>Answer the call, do not disclose >Continue listening >He’s a goner, hangup and go focus on other things
>>6002210what's he doing sneaking over there
>>6002237>Answer the call, disclose locationOur daughter will de delighted we got her a boyfriend to procreate with on daily basis
>>6002210>Answer the call, disclose location also take the seeds away from our son and give him a ration.
>>6002267Supporting this
>>Continue listening, take the seeds from son and give him one of those raspberry millenium bars to try. Well, at least the boy isn't afraid to esch some veggies.
>>6002237>Answer the call, disclose location
>>6002176Those Danners are comfy as fuck, good call
Ok wtf, take the seeds away but DO NOT reply. This dude is contaminated, injured, & likely to try to steal our women & supplies with a knife in our sleep. Family first, no one else second.
>>6002483But but but, our daughter needs a strong man. He's from the army, he would be great for impregnating her, it's like an arranged marriage and our beloved daughter just hit puberty at 11yo and she needs to start mating in order for us to procreate the new master race. He could also impregnate our wife!
>>6002491This reads like something the Mazelafag would write.
>>6002237>Continue listening
Vote locked in ANSWER THE CALL, disclose Writing now, panels are drawn >>6002253Kek thanks anon.
The radio continues to squeal and garble as the pilot keeps rattling off his distress call, but the only thing you can focus on right now is the rummaging coming from down the hall in the storage room. You stand there at your desk with your gun in your hand, it’s a bad habit, debating whether or not to pick up the receiver but whatever your son is up to is killing your focus. Plane man can wait right now you got to check this out. Tucking your gun into your waistband you travel down the hall and into storage, you look down to see SON rolling around on the floor in a pile of wasted food with a mouthful of seeds, he attempts to crawl into one of the bags. “Beebeebeebeebeebeebee pbbbbt” your boy reeks of baked beans, two cans are somehow cracked open and strewn across the floor. He’s unique. Shaking your head you give the little dumbass a millennium bar from the top of the shelf, raspberry, you thank god he didn’t get into the five gallon paint bucket of thc gummies. He thanks you. “Rapbrerry” infinitely wise. Like father like son. “Rapbrerry. No beans, no seeds. Got it?” He nods, way to lay down the law. You saunter back over to the radio, no more food waste for now, either you or your wife will clean up the mess later. For now you have business to attend to. You pick up the receiver, take a deep breath, and hold onto the button. “This is “bunker” speaking, i’m reading you loud and clear soldier. Reading you loud and clear.”
“Oh thank god. Thank fucking god.” Some rough laughter rattles out from the wounded pilot, wheezing from within his mask. Way up in his cockpit in the sky he palms at the necklace in his pocket with a free hand and grasps it. “Bunker.” He laughs again, at the absurdity of it all, delirious and thankful for the sudden help. “Thought I was dying up here, bunker.” “Easy soldier. You’re not dying, not if I can help it.” You stand over the radio collected, one hand on your temple and the other on the receiver. “Whereabout are you? Closest landmarks? Anything discernible?” There’s no time for conversation, you need to reign him in. “Flying in over..uh” The pilot looks through the dust coated glass as the plane shakes and stirs. He attempts to recognize the wasted layout of the city below, whatever neighborhood he’s cresting over. But it’s hard, everything’s been raised. “central. Looks like central.” You nod, looking at your maps, looking at your neighborhood in relation to his location. “Good, good. I’m in Springfield. Not far south of central, you know it?” “Yeah, yeah I know it. The burbs huh. I hear you. It’s going to be a tight squeeze. Landing’s going to be rough. I’ll try to find a field. Wouldn’t want to crash out in your backyard.” He chuckles to himself again, a hollow chuckle as his lungs sit on the verge of collapsing. “Springfield’s a big stretch, things start looking the same. Wherever you land you’ll need to get here quick, before night. I’ll give you my cords. You’ll see it when you’re there.” “Right.” Over the next minute the pilot recites the numbers to himself as you list them out over the air, repeating them beneath his breath as the plain turns in the skies high above the skeletons of buildings. The sound of a receiver being picked up and put down blends into the static of the pilot’s chaotic audio, it goes unnoticed. Thirty minutes pass, silence between the both of you, the only thing you can hear is the garbled sounds of the plane’s engine over the speaker. Heavy silence hangs over the shelter as you sit there tracing your map with your finger. “Hey bunker? You there?” “I’m here.”“If it doesn’t pan out, all of this. I need someone to know who I am. To know I was here.” You say nothing, closing your eyes and rubbing your hand across your forehead. The pilot looks out onto the fields of ash and gnarled scorched brush. Toxic clouds swelling and dispelling below. Lines and lines of burnt out cars clogging the roads. “I don’t want to be another body, bunker. I don’t.” He takes another shaking breath, the mask struggling, he doesn’t let go of the necklace in his pocket. “My name. My name’s Michael.”You grasp the receiver and tell him your name in return. “nice to meet you. Nice to talk to someone else.” “Likewise. Looking forward to seeing you land, buddy. How’s it looking up there.”
>>6002033>Going into games machine>Full library of video games
>>6002750“Looking good. Out of the city now, turning over Springfield. Flying high. Should be there soon. It’s..” Michael checks the fuel in the plane, not much left, just enough to get him to set down your neighborhood.“It’s real nice up here. In a way. It shouldn’t be. But it is.” “I’m sure. Never flown before, tell me what you see.” “You never flew?”“Never saw the point in it, guess I missed my chance huh.” “Damn i guess so, man. But it ain’t bad. Sky isn’t so blue anymore but it’s still there, land goes out as far as you can see,I mean it’s something.”“Hey man who knows, I might find myself a plane one day.”“Shiiit, if you do, tell me. This one’s seen its last day in the air.” “Yeah we’ll get a new one, big ass airliner. Two man it all the way to the Maldives.”“That right? Well i’ll hold you to it, then.” The pilot laughs, looking at his destination. The vast burnt out sprawl of your neighborhood. As the conversation goes on he feels an air of calm. “Hey I got eyes on Springfield. Coming in to land now. See you soon.”“See you soon” “Lowering altitude. Lowering, lowering..”
BANG A .308 round fires from the second floor of a blackened house, cutting through the air, a masterful shot directly into the cockpit of the small single engine plane. Tunneling through the glass and into the chest of the pilot, a spray of blood coating the windscreen, he wrestles against the pain pinning him into the seat attempting to pull the plane up, trying to see through the splatter of blood. Burnt hands eject the casing and slide in another round with effortless speed, another shot snakes out from the same house.BANG directly into the engine compartment of the aircraft. Thick plumes of black smoke coat the sky as the engines of the plane scream and wail, its body careening towards the earth in a hellish display, Michael shambles from his seat, throwing himself against the door to his left in a last attempt to survive. You hear the screams over the speaker, the plane tearing apart, Michael yelling in anguish. “Fuck!” You stand up, nearly knocking over the table. Your wife stands in the doorway holding a hand over her mouth, your son runs to you with the bar in his hand, your daughter looks up at the ceiling of the bunker. Hearing the rumbling. “Oh my god!”You can hear the carnage from below ground, the plane descends from above, howling and falling apart at the seams as it catches ablaze, the propeller cutting apart anything in its way as it descends, the wing clipping a telephone poll that rips it from its body in a brutal display. It’s coming in fast, it’s coming straight for you. Everyone Roll 2d100s One for Michael, the other for the damage caused by the craft.
Rolled 6, 77 = 83 (2d100)>>6002790
Rolled 62, 16 = 78 (2d100)>>6002790
Rolled 42, 52 = 94 (2d100)>>6002790Damn raiders already existing out in the wastelands and these fuckers are near enough to watch out location.
Rolled 13, 51 = 64 (2d100)>>6002790fuck! that navy seal pasta dude is real!!
Rolled 63, 93 = 156 (2d100)>>6002790
>>6002790Well we can only hope very few people alive have shortwave radios and heard those coordinates. A good feint of pretending on the radio we are nowhere near the crash site and don't know what happened might help confuse things. Our solar panels are a dead giveaway though
Rolled 16, 75 = 91 (2d100)>>6002877Borked the roll
Rolls are locked. Michael roll: FailurePlane Damage roll: Success, crisis averted. Working on update. Thanks for the votes gang.
>>6002491Kill yourself>>6002602Agreed>>6002701Nice art style, saving this as a reaction image>>6002877Solid save idea, but then again the more we broadcast the easier it will be to narrow down our location.>Tell the Wife about our Son eating beans & making a mess to distract her/have her attend to it.
>>6002995Fuck, but Michael was supposed to impregnate our 11yo daughter and wife. Oh well, I guess papa is going to have to do all the heavy lifting around here himself
>>6002877We could take down our solar panels and cover up the entrance at night because they will know the crash site is somewhere near our base if they have radio. Its risky but raiders will come and investigate our area for loot and might spot the panels.
>>6003093Could also trying hiding or disguising them, a simple lil fence would help, however with the raiders already outside. I don't know gents, we are kind of rough at it here. If we go out alone, our family is fucked should we not make it back, but no one is really useful or independent enough to go out with us. We need to get our water situation sorted and then just keep trying waiting them out. After a week they should be pretty dehydrated.
Still screeching and spiraling from the sky and down towards the earth the plane comes closer, the rumbling and whirring becoming deafening as it begins to make impact with the ground. You brace, holding on to anything and dropping low to the floor as the whole bunker begins to shake, your radio setup clatters to the ground, the lights flickers, the guns jostle within their racks. You motion for everyone to get down, shouting something you can’t even hear amongst the chaos. The plane twirls down into your front yard, the wing is bisected by the telephone poll tearing it apart, the body skips across the ground, refusing to lodge itself in place. Bouncing along the earth, each small impact making a thunderous quake, like a blade the craft’s body cuts apart your front yard, the propeller being caught on the earth and the remains of a fence. The propeller tears off at the friction and is flung in another direction, hitting the body of the pilot who had flung himself from the plane in hopes of a scape, chopping off his arm and sending him in the direction of a tree that had been destroyed in the plane’s wake. After eviscerating just about every ruin in front of your bunker, narrowly avoiding your solar panels, the plane’s carcass bounces over again. Coasting right over before finally landing in the woods behind the bunker with a thundering crash, and a large explosion sounds off as it does, a crater enveloped in smoke and flame lies in its wake. Michael slumps over sever feet into the shattered form of the tree, impaled through his chest. Dying right above the hatch to shelter.About ten minutes after that last explosion in the woods behind your bunker you finally stand to your feet, waving your family up to do the same. Your mind races, there’s too much to process, too much to handle, you can barely think of how much danger you just put yourself in. How close that plane came to taking out your one source of electricity. Your hands shake and you grip the sides of your head, having to take a seat on the bed.
“God damn it!”You stand up and flip the table, sounds of rage involuntarily escaping through your teeth as you stand sweating. Your son covers his ears, your daughter is smart enough not to say anything and simply gets out of the way already distressed enough, and your wife looks on. It takes only a moment for you to look up to your family and see their reactions, it instantly grounds you, your breathing steadies and your eyes widen as you stand in the doorway. You look across the bunker and stare straight into your wife’s eyes, needing something else to focus on. “The uh..the beans.” You breathe out, on the verge of collapsing.“What?” “Our son. He uh..he spilled some beans in the pantry. Can you get on that, please? I’ll..I’ll pick up here.” “Okay.”You pick up the table along with the radio that had fallen on the ground before. You give it a once over to make sure it’s working. Thankfully nothing managed to break it. As you stand at your table, thinking of your next move. Your daughter lowers her voice to ask you a question. “Dad.”“The man in the plane? Is he..dead?” “Can’t say for sure, he was low enough, we just need to wait and see okay? It’ll be alright.” You lie, you have to.
There was no way anyone could have survived a crash like that, you heard it for god’s sake. Every hour that passes you become infinitely more thankful that you’re down here and not up there. But the main thing on your mind right. now isn’t the crash, or the death, it’s the fact that anyone remotely nearby is going to be coming to your doorstep. Whether they have a radio and wrote down your coordinates after listening to your conversation with the pilot, or they’ve come to salvage the wreckage of the plane. At least most of the plane is far enough from the bunker, hopefully they don’t linger around the area. The only thing you’re truly certain of is the gunman, you don’t know exactly how close he was, but he had to be nearby if he managed to shoot down Michael as he was coming in low. That means you’ve got at least one armed man close by, a man that could have been listening in, a man that could be on his way at this moment. And that’s if he’s alone. You can’t tell if he intercepted your signal, maybe he saw the plane from his vantage and just got lucky. Either way it doesn’t matter. You’re not one to guess right now. You either need to start preparing somehow now before nightfall or find some way to distract yourself. There’s still the faulty piping beneath the sink.Your daughter is anxious.Your son is confused. And your wife cleans the storage room. How do you use those last few hours before night falls. Something tells you that you won’t be getting much sleep tonight.
>>6003156How durable is the door of our shelter?Anyway after all that ruckus, we either poke out now and grab shit as we are the closest, and hide our door and panels as best we can in 1 hour or less before the raiders show.I recommend we take a rag and soak it to catch particulates and tie it around our face to protect us the best we can, and grab whatever Michael had or possibly save him (would be good practice/ emergency rations if we fail). Once again our hand pump well is fucked for some reason, raiders now know our coordinates, and are coming without a doubt. Our options are narrowing rapidly, and this could be bad end very quick.
As usual write ins are encouraged, anything from that long list of resources that was submitted can be applied. Here are some blanket options though for those that need direction. >Go outside and attempt to hide evidence of your shelter, NO PROTECTION>loot Michael, NO PROTECTION >Fix the piping issue >Focus on improving family moral>Attempt to lie on the radio. >Use the radio to call out the gunman.
>>6003163Personally I envisioned a proper blast door, this huge hatch that’s kind of embedded into the ground. Definitely where most of the funding went. It would take a lot of time, coordinated effort, or some heavy blast directly on the door’s surface to breach it. That doesn’t mean it’s invulnerable though, breaches are possible.
>>6003164What is the full list? Going with what I see and what is mentioned.>Hand cranked well>freeze dried legumes in large bags>Solar panels, rechargable batteries, drives, small computers, electronics, etc. in small Faraday containers>Plenty of textbooks, maps, dictionaries, and survival textbooks>Pemmican>Any dried veggies>Seeds of all kinds>Self defense items>Waste septic tank>Tool shed>Radio transmitter and receiver>hella guns and bullets>8 count jansport backpacks - two each in black, tan, grey, and green>basically a small field hospital>bulk bag boxes (various)>8 rolls of clear heavy duty plastic sheeting>5 gallon bucket of various rolls of tape and glues>5 gallon bucket full of cans of spray paint>packs of heirloom seeds>12 soil testing kits>Canning equipment and jars>4 count 50 gallon barrels of salt>1 canister of 1-methylcyclopropene>4 years of rice and oatmeal and lentils for 4 people packed in nitrogen purged mylar bags with oxygen absorbers inside steel 5 gallon buckets>5 gallon bucket of foil packs of THC gummies>1 month supply of Millenium Food Bars in assorted flavors>1 month supply of normal canned and shelf stable food>50 Rat Traps>Roll of Chicken Wire>8 hens and 2 roosters each of a different breed in cages>air filter>2 sump pumps you bought second hand marked [property of Reginald M.]>2 rolling coolers>50 gallon bucket of candles>Car jumper/tire inflater battery pack with two 3 prong plugs and 4 usb plugs and 4000watt capability>4 road atlases and sets of usgs maps in waterproof sleeves and military compasses>police scanner>12 penlight flashlights>12 maglight slim flashlights>bulk pack>bulk pack batt. mult.>big boxes>various Copper Flat Washers>various Zinc Flat Washers>Shrink Wrap Tubing>10 gallons Distilled Water>20 gallons of Vinegar>Soldering Iron with Solder>Digital Multimeter>4 pairs paramedic Scissors>set of metal files>General house repair tool kit>Bicycle repair tool kit with spare tires and tubes>4 bicycles kitted out for bicycle touring>5 gallon bucket of bic lighters>2 crowbars>4 wire cutters>8 sets pocket lockpicking and lock bypass kits>5 gallon bucket of locksport learning supplies, locks, and books>5 black 0 Ferenheit rated sleeping bags>5 multicam bivy bags>Green 4 person tent>Ender 3d Printer with a 50 gallon barrel of printing supplies>old pre-1950s K-5th grade textbooks and learning to read books>Alan Quatermain novels open domain printed out and put in binding>6 pair airtight swimming goggles>6 pair military goggles>6 pair razor walker headsets>several sets of clothes (and winter protection)>5 plastic heavy ponchos>Boots and sneakers>3 plate carriers/6 plates>8 wrist compasses>8 wrist casio f-91 watches>8 powercaps each with a pack of spare batteries>Copy of important documents>Family Photo album>poloroid camera and film>Your patient wife>Your shy son>Your smart daughter
>>6003164>Fix the piping issue>Use the radio to call out the gunman.>Check the door for any damage.Our front yard’s boutta turn into a war zone if there’s enough people nearby. Best we can do is hunker down and try to wait it out. I doubt there’s anything up there we don’t already have down here.
>>6003176True, you have a good point, I'm just concerned that they will ruin our solar panels. We should arm and armor up, throw on some goggles and a face covering for smoke/dust, and try to hide them disguise them. But if we really don't need it- we atleast want to throw a piece of sheet metal over the door as concealment.
>>6003164>Go outside and hide evidence, IMPROVISED PROTECTION>Go back in when done and address the piping issue.
>>6003180+1
>>6003176+1Keep turtling, we could contract a plague, bring down radioactive contaminants, or get ventillated as soon as we pop open the hatch. The longer we wait, the less hazardous conditions will be.
>>6003176Supporting We also need to put our kids to work tomorrow, I’d say we should tunnel down - but we have nowhere for the dirt to go
>>6003271We could make them into bricks using water, or as makeshift sandbags to protect our entrance section incase of invaders.
>>6003180>>6003176Guys we need to salvage one or two solar panels from the top. Raiders will come and loot our equipment and leave us without power and be forced to get outside as we can't power the lights or filtration systems. We have to get out and wear damp clothing and use the basement to throw our tainted clothing. We can't cover up the plane or we can rush the plane and grab the pilots suit for some protection. Whatever we do we must assume the solar panels will be lost if we do nothing.
>>6003164>Wear winter clothing and cover every part of exposure skin and wear swimming goggles and soak the clothes in water to resist contamination exposure. Grab a gun and armor.ThenGo outside and attempt to salvage the solar panels from being raided
>>6003362>>6003180This I like, if we could get them back in or just some, we would have more cards in our hand to sit out while raiders begin the bloodorgy.
>>6003161>Very briefly pretend to try to raise Michael on the radio as if you don't know what happened, then turn the radio off. Its unlikely that our adversaries will have a direction finding rig but its possible.>If the pump is broken its most likely due to old pump leathers, I have some experience here. The fix would be to remove the pump and pipe and draw water using a portion of the pipe capped with a pvc end(or just a length of pvc from our home repair supplies if we have it) off as a bucket. We could improvise some cordage from our house repair supplies or if that looks to be a bad option, by trying grocery bags together. Bam, ye old well bucket. Give your family instructions on how to start working on this, and arrange a secret knock coordinating with your old phone number.>Suit up for combat. Put on your combat boots, cargo pants, slashpro shirt, plate carrier with plates, diving goggles, use a shirt soaked with water as a face mask (maybe you can salvage a respirator or few from what's left of your tool shed), helmet, a p365 pistol in your pocket with a 10 round magazine and 5 spare 17 round magazines, an ar-15 in 300blk (with a suppressor if that's included in the hella guns supply) with 8 full magazines, and a backpack with 2 pressure bandages, 2 tournequets, 3 days worth of millenium bars, some pedialyte or something from the medical supplies if you have it, a notebook and pencil, and tools to remove the solar panels so you can hide them somewhere.>Go up and quickly survey the scene, first priority to to see if you can salvage a respirator, you are no good if you are dead.
>>6003414Sorry I ended up simplifying a lot of what you put in the inventory, couldn't fit it all.
>>6003416No worries at all , my list was massive. :)
>>6003176Modifying my vote to this.>Hide the solar panels.>Fix the piping issue.>Use the radio to call out the gunman.>Check the door for any damage.After the solar panels are promptly hidden, we hunker down HARD. Nothing comes in or out until the scavengers are all gone.
>>6003180+1Also, the art here reminds me of the Flash game Balloon in a Wasteland. Maybe just the 'erecting a shelter in a wasteland full of danger' part.
Currently counting votes and drawing environment art but it seems like the general consensus is to suit up, go outside, and hide the shelter as well as fix the water situation.Whether the gunman gets called out on the radio or not can be decided after the job is done. Also I’ve never played that flash game before but my original concept for this quest before I made it, playing as the guy who banged on the door at the start and going door to door, looks way more in line with that aesthetic, that’s neat.
>>6003561+1I feel like we might just get shot
>>6003691Oh, that was a *guy*. I figured it was just a mutant or monster or something... poor fella.
>>6003819Sucks for that guy but we had no idea if it was a mutant and had no way to communicate with the ground survivor.
>>6003164>Focus on improving family moralUse textbooks, start setting up an education system for the kids
>>6003164>Have SEX with your wife to SIRE a new child and increase your FAMILY SIZE.
>>6004419+1, also impregnate our daughter, she just hit puberty, we can't pass up anymore chances for future offspring. The baby factories need to be working 24/7 in producing our future
>>6004524I hope you understand that killing yourself would, in a very minute, incremental way, improve society & humanity overall.
>>6004607Bobo, why you gotta be so mad? Do you always get upset when someone does something you don't agree with. Your life must be a long stretch of suffering judging from your demeanor
>>6004524(You)
>>6004607Ignore the underaged.
You’ve decided. If you keep bunkering down they’ll follow the smoke, find your bunker, and at the very least scrap your only power supply assuming they don’t kill you and everyone else inside after.You need to leave now, hide everything, but without a respirator you’re putting your life on the line here but it’s the only option. There’s not much time, you glance to one of your several watches dotted about the area next to your bed, looks like you’ve got barely three hours of light left before nightfall. Should be enough, but you need to go quick. There’s no time to fix the pipes, you’ll have to give your family the rundown while you prepare to do the unthinkable and leave the shelter.Operating with peak efficiency you whistle through your teeth, a deafening squeal it bounces about the bunker with an echo and any murmurs among your family are instantly silent, though the chickens in storage seem to be agitated by your call. Your wife sets down the broom and gathers the children to her side while you rifle through a stack of clothes, in the time it took for them to all gather around you’ve already found your shirt, pants, and gloves. All color coded and separated appropriately, preparation pays off in spades. “Alright, everyone listen up. This is important.” You can’t afford to stand still and speak, they’ll have to deal with frequent voice muffling as you put on the several layers of clothes you’ll need to brave the outside. “I’m heading outside, two and a half hours at the most.” You decide to be completely honest now, getting some looks as you put your holster on and start going for your guns. “Talking on the radio put a target on us, not to mention the plane that’s smoking on our doorstep right now. Anyone with eyes is going to head towards that plane thinking it’s their lucky day, and they’re going to walk into us, those solar panels aren’t helping. We’ll be lucky if someone isn’t on their way right now so..”You trail off as you pack your bag, food, tools, fuck it put the fire axe on the side, a crowbar, guns are loaded and ready to go. “Honey, plate carrier please?” You interrupt yourself to motion for the plate carrier, she’s got your back. You put it on in an instant as you examine the bag. You manage to cram in anything disposable that you can use as clutter. Looks like you can secure some folded up cardboard boxes to yourself on the way out and start laying some of those around, you pack in a length of chicken wire as well. “I’m junking it all up. We should blend in and be a pile of garbage by the time I’m done. That means you guys get to hold down the fort. should be back soon. Packed up if I’m not. You know the drill. No knock no open. Everyone remember the knock?” The only thing that stops your rapid gear up is looking to see if everyone gets the memo, you hear three overlapped rhythms on cue. Perfect. It’s DAD in Morse. You have to smile.
“Great job, everyone. Stellar.” Clothes, plate carrier, mags, guns, backpack filled to go, you take one of those plastic rain ponchos and tie it around your neck. Might need it at some point, you’d wear it if it didn’t fuck with your mobility so bad. “Alright last thing on the agenda, gotta make sure I’m not doing all the work. We need our pipes working, I want you guys to get started on that. Don’t worry I’ll work you through it.”You give your family the rundown on well repairs and the adventures of pvc tubing as you go to storage and take out one of the several tubs of water you have stockpiled. Drenching the amalgam of tied together white shirts you have in your hands until they’re all thoroughly damp. You make sure to quiz the family on how long exactly they can live without water, they ace it. You take what little is left and smear it across your clothes. Should do until you find a proper respirator. If the ones in the shed outside you forgot to pack survived. You put your gloves on, your helmet, and slide on the airtight diving goggles. cumbersome but safe. You walk back into the main room towards the ladder as your lessons draw to a close. After everyone’s confirmations that they understand you can’t help but notice a wry smile on your wife’s face, she’s cracking up at the survival suit. “Well aren’t you just handsome.”“Dashing aren’t I?” She giggles and you give her a light hug as you secure the last of your gear onto yourself. “Daddy look like monster” your son chimes in, he’s still struggling with his r’s. You hold your arms up and begin to pen and close your hands rapidly. “Rah.”You look utterly ridiculous. It sends him into a giggling fit. “Hey, stay safe dad.” Your daughter says, taking the opportunity to give you a parting hug. “Hey, I will sweetie. Keep the rabble in line okay.”“I will.”“Awesome.” You start to ascend the latter, looking down ti give everyone a wave as you do. Goodbyes are important. “Be back soon, gang” the chorus of byes as you march into the dark before the hatch door make it all worth it. You take a deep breath and begin to open the door, you hear the rooms below seal up, that’s your cue. The grinding of metal fills your ears. You crack the door, and blinding white light fills your eyes. This is it.
In the minutes it takes for your eyes to adjust the surface’s light you come to realize that, god, this IS it. The end of the world. You take it all in, you shouldn’t be able to smell anything through the shirt but the overwhelming miasma of an all encompassing rotting death hits your nostrils. You can only imagine if this shit hit your skin, you can see..flakes in the air. Flakes of something. The burnt soil looks like it’s breathing. Certainly not what you had in mind, you thought it was just standard bombs being dropped, this doesn’t line up. What the hell did they do?Looking around makes you realize the gravity of your situation, staring through the inches of dust already coating across your goggles you can see an inferno on the horizon in the distance. Right in the middle of the woods behind these houses. You take a look at your surroundings, muffled roars of gluttonous fire and screeches of rusting metal in your ears as you stare on. Your old house was completely decimated, no tears spilled there. Your neighbor’s place is mostly in tact, the door battered from its hinges. There are two plumes of black smoke merely a couple feet from the hatch, there’s that dead giveaway, one comes from the wing resting precariously close to your solar panels and the other comes from the hulking mass of scrap that’s landed atop the tool shed. But the centerpiece of this train wreck is right in front of you, Michael, impaled on your son’s favorite tree inches from your door. The tire swing sitting next to his discarded helmet, a metal pang sounds with each drop of blood that drips down onto it.There’s no doubt about it. He’s dead. Tree straight through his organs, arm chopped off. You hope he didn’t live to feel it. You stare into the dead soldier’s eyes, swollen and bloodshot. You find it tragic, it’s not every day a man dies so close to home. You don’t know how to feel but you know one thing. Michael certainly isn’t what you expected either. That’s no military uniform that you’ve ever seen. Every second in this shithole raises a question. In the minute you take to look at the corpse you can’t help but eye up his gear, his respirator, survival first, it’s practically trashed. The eyes are shattered, too many dents and bangs, covered in blood, and who knows what he’s breathed into it. There could be something salvageable I’m there somewhere but you’d rather hit the shed. You examine the rest of his gear. Plate carrier is demolished. The whole tree’s running through it, plane shrapnel to boot. Communications device on his shoulder is kaput. Knee guards look dinged up but could come in handy. But..what’s this. In Michael’s holster you spot a gun. You can’t help yourself.
You pick up THE JUDGEBig bastard’s fully loaded. In the old soldier’s pocket you find a pocketful of shells. Beneath the ammo a small brass locket sits tightly bundled up within itself. A small heart with a name engraved upon it, “Phoebe”. Take the necklace?>Yes >No As awful as you find it you decide you’ll have your pick of Michael’s loot if any whenever you finish your business here. You pocket THE JUDGE and move on.
Pocketing the judge you take one last look around and lay your bag out on top of the bunker, it’s go time. The lack of respirator hasn’t failed you yet and the currently on fire and smoking shed is deterring you from going to get them, you can make due for now. With your watch ticking down you spend let an hour gradually tearing down everything in sight within reason, using your tools to get the job done. Causing enough damage to make it look natural, not something man made. Boards of houses are smashed and pry’d off with your crowbar along with any rusted out sheet metal you can find, small burnt out trees and the remains of old post fences are cut up and dashed with your fire axe. Whatever shrapnel from the plane you can pick up or scalp off from the bits next to your door you throw into the pile of junk and debris you’ve been forming around the door. It’s by no means perfect, you’re still gathering things up, you haven’t put down any of the trash you’ve brought from the bunker yet. With every new ruin smashed you take care to watch the noise, every move you make is fucking nerve wracking. The sounds out here are setting off too many false alarms. Old wind chimes, rustling, thumps and falling scrap far away, you watch yourself and try to draw as little attention as you can. Don’t want anyone showing up in the middle of the process. You tried to smother out the smoke next to your door as you gathered, but you don’t have the damned fire extinguisher, never packed it. It’s got to be in the shed smothered underneath the massive hunk of plane. After the destruction is over you start laying down boxes, crushing them and stomping them out before scattering them across and around the area. tossing down clumps of wire and scattered plastic. Things are starting to shape up. There’s a nice horde around the bunker door and the solar panels are beginning to pile up. You debate taking them down and hiding the parts, or bringing them inside until this all blows over, the bunker can run off of auxiliary until the morning. Then again you could just get more scrap and cover them up. The more you’re out here the more the shed seems to be standing in your way. Things are too quiet and it’s playing on your nerves, the amount of buildings around you aren’t helping, anyone could be out here and here you are sitting out in the open. The only thing stopping you from doing more is the shed, things are passable for now but if you could manage to get your respirators and extinguisher from the shed, manage to salvage that plane wreckage and add it to the pile, you’ll be set. No one will know that you were here. But it’ll take time, and it’s risky. You still have about an hour of time.
You look upon the wreckage of the shed, the flames have died down but the endless flood of smoke fills your vision, it beats down on you through the damp shirt. You can hardly breathe. The smoke darkens everything near the shack as the sun already hangs lower in the sky than when you started. The scrap lodged within the roof creaks and groans as the wind races through it, the closer you approach the more sounds you clue in on. If it doesn’t collapse now it will soon, and whatever you had in there before the bomb is going with it. But this is no where near safe, nothing’s stopping the building from buckling with you in it. As you stop and weigh your decision the constant sounds of the burning scrap metal does little to cure your doubts, neither does the damp trail of fetid blood leading to the door. It smells of sulfur. What’s the plan? How do you spend the rest of your allotted time. >Head into the wrecked shed to get your gear >Attempt to scrap the salvage atop the shed [RISK CRUSHING GEAR]>Take the solar panels down and head back inside>Leave the solar panels up and try to hide them to the best of your ability >To hell with the time, you packed for the long haul, stay outside longer and explore the neighborhood. >Write in
Apologies for the time it took for the update everyone this was a big one. Glad everyone’s been patient and invested so far
>>6005513>Head inside the shed>Take the solar panels downJust need to be quick about it.
>>6005513I am concerned that making a big junk pile around our door will just mean that people are drawn to come and dig through it and find the bunker, so maybe we should leave one of the solar panels out in the open by the shed so the eye of any scavenger is naturally drawn to it.>Take down solar panels>Leave one by shed>Briefly grab some gear from shed while there
>>6005513Also, you should post this update in the /QTG/, QM. I'm sure the new fancy art will get some people in.
>>6005513>>Head inside the shed>>Take the solar panels downLooks like a nice quest. Rip Micheal. Damn the world looks fucked
>>6005496>>Yes>>6005513>>Head into the wrecked shed to get your gear
>>6005513>Take down solar panels>Leave one by shedGuys fuck the shed we don't need to risk a collapse as we already spent too much time on covering the entrance. Our original plan was salvaging the solar panel anything else is a liability so get out, salvage, and get in quick before the raiders or worse the sniper spots us. Also anon good idea on leaving bait salvage should help cause a fight if multiple groups find us.Also QM nice art I can feel the and tension at every especially with the ghost sniper just waiting to pop up.
>>6005496>Yes. And a photo of Michael if he has one.He asked to be remembered so this is the best we can do.
>>6005496Forgot here>Yes >>6005688I can agree with this
>>6005687+1hopefully we can also take a closer look at THE JUDGE when we get back inside
>>6005496>Yes>>6005513>Take the solar panels down and head back inside
>>6005513>Head into the wrecked shed to get your gear>Take the solar panels down and head back insideGet respirators from shed
>>6005513>Head into the wrecked shed to get your gear >Take the necklace
>>6005838Maybe it has interesting ammo.
>>6006085AP to go through armor, hollow point for more damage against abominations, or tracer rounds to trigger gas traps. It has options for rare ammo that all can be useful in the right circumstances.
>>6006209Where would you find AP or tracer rounds in .45LC or .410? (rhetorical question, you wouldn't)Still nice to have a versatile sidearm.
>>6006392>k tismyou forgot about HE rounds, lol
>>6006447Really though LMFAODU rounds in my wheelgun
>>6005496>Yes>>6005513>Head into the wrecked shed to get your gear >Take the solar panels down and head back inside
>>6006799Dont forget APHEFSDS rounds
>>6007274You stumped me on that one, I'm sure I can find some for my .30-30 though.
>>6005517Loving this art style. Delicious.
>>6005513>Head into the wrecked shed to get your gear>Take the solar panels down and head back inside
>>6005517Everything OK, QM?
>>6010461He was taken behind the shed and shot dead with a shotgun. We didn't have enough money for an anesthesia
>>6010487Jesus!Wait. Is that a V for Vendetta reference?
>>6010499Very well. Escort Ms. Hammond back to her cell. Arrange a detail of six men and take her out behind the chemical shed and shoot her.
>>6010461/qst/ has been dead this weekend, not sure quite why.
he will return......
You stand between the rapidly destabilizing shack and the concrete hatch of your bunker, hearing lights scrapes of scrap metal along the stone as the quickly approaching winds make their way across the barren wastes. The conditions out here worsen, somehow, by the minute as the warbled mass of light you used to know as the sun attempts to beat through swathes of quickly darkening fog, light greens quickly sinking into darker hues as dusk is on its way. The smoke from the plane certainly doesn’t help, you almost subconsciously avoid it, your survival trained mind instead focusing on your myriad of plans, the exact timing of the dismantling process for the panels, the logistics of elaborate war torn scrap positioning in an attempt to make natural looking cover, anything to avoid the fattening black cloud flowing forth from your old shed. Even through the damp spore pocked cloth draped about your face the tendrils of the plane’s smoke gnaw at you, too thick, you’ll head into the shed in just a moment. You have to. Sauntering away from that smoldering wreck with as much urgency as you can muster in this low visibility you begin to up your pace, hustling across the barren earth as jostling breezes escalate into howling winds. Wreckages groan and light objects are toppled and strewn across the planes, dust is kicked up, and kicked up some more, it’s nearly as suffocating as the smoke. Clouds of dirt and grime kick past your visor at rapid pace as you kneel at the foot of your solar panel arrays, gloved hands intricately weaving between wires and tools and screws, loosening and pulling at various fixtures. Taking it down piece by piece. You didn’t even realize you were doing it until the first panel lied in front of you, it’s your second nature. A process so ingrained you weren’t even aware, you’re barely cognizant of it as one panel becomes two which becomes three and as it continues and blurs past your eyes through the picking up waves of rolling dirt you only stop at what you deem to be out of place sounds amidst the stampede. Muffled footsteps, thuds, bending and cracking of floors, it has to be. You swear that you can hear it. Grinds of metal too heavy to be strewn by the dust cloud and its fierce winds, it’s that fucking gunman it has to be. You can picture an ideal vantage point, several of them, taking your pick as you do. its as if you were looking down on yourself now through the glass of a scope. You feel the weight of the gun, the indomitable force of the scope sighting you in and your body laying directly in the center of the line of fire. Your mind digs into the mental image as you work at your last panel with a tightness in your chest.
Back at the tree you had rifled through Michael’s pockets, in them you had found a small clasped locket buried beneath the shells, A delicate ornament made of brass, lovingly assembled. You had decided to take it, it sits in your pocket now, as the image of fast hands sliding a round into that rifle’s chamber at a windowsill perch flashes in your head and you grab at the locket. You think of your family as that last panel comes down, you think of how little separates you from becoming the gored man impaled along the oak tree. But your thoughts of your family, your survival, the sentimentality imbued within the locket pull you from your stupor. You snap back into reality to the sound of one of your watches frantically beeping. Your heart rate is alarmingly high, but it begins to drop as you come back into reason and ground yourself, ever so slowly. You’re jumping at shadows, not focusing on what’s important, visibility is far too low for a good shot on you. You’re safe. You can’t wrap your head around that bout of paranoia, you’d rather avoid it and focus on the task at hand. Several solar panels lay expertly disassembled in front of you, for now you tuck them neatly under the junk pile, lifting and lowering stretches of scrap to gently conceal them beneath. All but one are hidden, you’ll come back for them after your visit to the shed. With the last panel tucked beneath your arm you approach the shed again, black smoke and roaring flames in full force amongst the dust storm. You fight the urge to cough and sputter, battling against the smoke you manage to make it to the shack’s side wall where you prop the panel up against its surface, making to sure to catch it against the jagged boards so the winds don’t blow it free. You hope that this single panel proves itself as a suitable enough distraction, the only visible thing of worth in this little junk pile you’ve created for yourself. Who could resist? With a hand along the shack’s ramshackle wall you manage to bring yourself around the building, barely able to breathe through the dark, inching along the edge until you feel the door beneath your gloves.
You take out one of your firearms and hold it at the ready, slowly cracking the door to the shack and heading into the building. >P35>AR-15>THE JUDGE Your chosen weapon sits in your hands at the ready, nothing will stop you from switching to one of your other guns, but that time is precious. As the door opens naturally you do a sweep, as much as you can at least, and you aim left to right. Your line of sight is blocked and crowded by a horde of crates to either side of you, misshapen masses of black through the throwers of smoke, with the old world horde taking up nearly half of the small building. Boxes of clutter. There’s not nearly enough space to hide behind them, they’re all along the walls, piles of ruined junk. You move forward, aiming your gun ahead to see the other half of the shack. The trail of rancid crimson from outside pools at your feet, a huddled mass sits motionless beneath a creased and bloodied tarp. The one who made it to your door earlier in the week no doubt. The plane hunk looms above embedded into the ruined planks, creaking as the wind blows over it outside. And your box of respirators sit proudly on the shelf. Hallelujah. To get to them you need to make it to the shelf, approaching the tarp in the process. What’s the plan?>Speak to the figure >Shoot >Quietly approach >Rush the shelf >Write in
Hey everyone, I can’t apologize enough for the sudden lack of posts! Things have gotten super busy and I’ve had no internet, go figure. Shoutout to falling trees and storms. But we are now back to frequent updates!
>>6016234>P35>ShootNo time, no reason to nurse a scav.
>>6016234>>AR-15Its suppressed.>>Shoot the Figure
>>6016234>Speak to the figure"I'm going to pick up some of my supplies. If you make any sudden moves, I shoot you. If you don't, we both get out of here none the worse for wear. Once I leave, I recommend you get out of here and find a new place to hide before we get company. Understand?"
>>6016636After some thought, yes. I will change to this.>Speak to the figure
>>6016234>>THE JUDGE>>6016636+1QM lives in Kansas
>>6016235I like the details of the family figuring out the well pipe bucket.
>>6016636Just realized I forgot to pick a gun.>AR-15Sorry!
>>6016235Totally understand if you need time to deal with those insurance companies, they do sure like putting a guy to work to wring the money out that you're owed.
