[Combat Item]
Hardened Leather Armguards
Level: 1/2
EXP: 0/5
Hit Points: 0.5
Durability: 31/31
[—]
[Combat Item]
Hardened Leather Leg Guards
Level: 1/2
EXP: 0/7
Hit Points: 2.0
Durability: 27/27
[—]
He splurged the twelve EXP necessary to max out both items. Pleased to see such a great bonus come his way, he checked his status to see if things truly worked as he thought. He almost could not contain his joy when he saw the hit point attribute did in fact appear.
Hit points in this weird ass game were a sort of damage negation force field. Any damage taken would first be soaked up by hit points. That meant that he could survive shotgun blasts to the face as long as he had enough hit points to negate the damage. The hit points provided by armor worked for every part of the body. Further, the item itself would only take damage if it was hit directly.
He had one hundred seventy-six EXP remaining. He did not want to buy more items at the moment. He would rather expend the rest of his points on his actual status in order to upgrade his core ability. One hundred fifty-eight points were expended without hesitation. He increased resilience to two points, and brought both dexterity and charisma to one point.
After further consideration he increased dexterity once more, and then strength. His main weapon was a gun after all. Dexterity did not increase the damage of the weapon, only upgrading a firearm did that. However, it would allow him to better use the weapon so that he hit what he aimed at more often.
[Status]
[Name: Scott Davidson]
[Age: 20]
[Race: Earthling]
[Level: 0][196.00/1000]
[EXP: 0.00]
[Life Span: 3 Day(s)]
[Hit Points: 1[36]
[ATTRIBUTES]
[Strength: 1.10][Resilience: 2.00]
[Vitality: 1.00][Dexterity: 1.15]
[Concentration: 1.48][Charisma: 1.00]
[FEATS]
[None]
[POWERS]
[None]
[—]
"Hell yeah. I'm getting there," he said after taking stock of things. Resilience became his go to stat for the time being after reading the hit point information. Not only did it act as a base defensive stat that resists damage. It also turned out that every full point of resilience granted half of a hit point. However, there was supposedly a feat that he could acquire at four resilience that would allow him to have one hit point per point of resilience.
Admittedly, that seemed like a small amount of hit points. Honestly, it did not excite him much originally. It was not until he finally discovered one of the purposes of increasing his level that he truly grew excited.
Each time he increased his level, his hit points would increase by the base number of hit points that he'd developed. Four resilience, plus the hit point increasing feat, would allow him to gain four additional hit points every time his level went up.
The best part was that there were more feats that increased base hit points, and the increases were retroactive! Basically, his base hit points would always be the minimum multiplied by his level. If he reached level ten with only four resilience and that hit point feat, he could increase his resilience to ten and suddenly go from forty hit points to one hundred. He could completely tank one shot from his pistol, even at point blank range!
"Immunity to damage? Yes, please!" He did not quite know how hit points worked in action, as there had been mention of superficial damage being generated for dramatic effect, but he should not receive serious injuries while his hit points were intact. The sheer promise that such a thing showed was staggering. For the first time since this ridiculous game started, a true sense of hope began to rise up from deep within.
Chapter 5: Bounty Star
The chirping birds mixed with the dim light of early morning to create an atmosphere of tranquility that most did not notice due to the fact that the hustle and bustle of the common day would begin soon. Most people still slept in their warm beds, and knew nothing of the splendor that is the natural world.
Scott Davidson was not such a person. Though he did not care much about the splendor of the natural world, he was certainly up at that time of morning. In fact, he had never gone to sleep at all that night.
"Talk to me man," said Scott into his headset while he used his controller to manipulate his onscreen avatar through a narrow hallway. He'd been up all night playing online games with his supposed friends. They were not especially close friends, and that's how he liked it. They never met offline, nor tried to do so.
A voice that seemed vaguely feminine came back over the headset. Andy, the person Scott played with most often, had a strange voice. He talked like a boy, but sometimes his voice would go high like a girl's for reasons that were never asked or explained. "I've got the mines planted. They're silently activated, so when you go through, go through running."
"Roger that good buddy. Let's blow our load on these turkeys," said Scott. Sure, his euphemism was shaky at best. After thirty-three hours of continuous play over the long weekend he'd hit a wall. At this point he was lucky to even be able to speak, much less provide colorful and coherent gaming commentary.
"Sounds... Fun," said Andy.
Scott turned the corner, black clad Turks hot on his trail. They fired at him every chance they got, but it did not matter. They could not hit him often enough to bring him down when he was in partial stealth mode. He half-ghosted around the corner then slowed down for roughly two seconds before entering into a dead sprint.
The Turks on his trail rounded the corner just as he passed the delayed detonation mines placed in advance. They ran right into the middle of them as the mines exploded.
A raucous laugh echoed from both ends of the headsets as Scott and Andy enjoyed the virtual deaths of the computer generated idiots for that level. The plan had gone off without a hitch.
"Well, that's enough for me for one night," said Andy, after the end of level cut scene finished playing.
"Wuss. Be a man dammit," said Scott cheerfully.
"I can't. I just can't," said Andy with a yawn. It was his favorite catch phrase for some reason. He only used it whenever Scott demanded that he be a man.
Scott looked at the screen as it replayed images of their recent kill. Perhaps it was the thirty some odd hours of murdering digital avatars, but a strange quiet overtook him. "You ever feel bad for the poor little things?"
"What, your dick and balls?" asked Andy in an amused tone.
"No. That's a lost cause, and I've come to terms with it," said Scott in a dismissive tone of voice.
Andy's laughter pealed through the headset. After it died down Scott nodded his head lightly then said, "I'm talking about the mobs in these games."
A sleepy, surprisingly high pitched laugh echoed through the headset. "What kind of drugs are you on?"
"Dunno," said Scott. "Just... It's sort of sad that they were made just to be killed. You know."
"Fuck those one-one-zero-one bitches. They ain't nothin'," said Andy with a yawn.
"Yeah, yeah. You're Mr. Hardcore. Kill 'em all and take their shoes," mumbled Scott before the infectious nature of yawns caught up with him.
"G'night. Spank ya later," said Andy with a half-laugh.
"I'm not into that sort of thing," replied Scott in customary fashion.
"Who says you get a choice?" mocked Andy before he disconnected.
Scott squinted at the empty air for a moment then closed his eyes. "Why does shit always turn weird with him?" He yawned again, cursed the high-pitched bastard for infecting him with sleepiness, then shut down for the night. He had a few more hours until he needed to be up for another round.
As Scott fell into bed, his eyes snapped open in complete darkness. It took a moment for him to realize what happened. He'd dreamed about his rece
nt past after falling asleep in the calming darkness. He sat up quickly and looked around the room.
"Shit. It's all still real, huh?" he asked with a sigh. Three days had passed since he cleared the school. Those days were brutal and hard. Somehow he managed to survive each of his missions, though on more than one occasion he left various body parts behind. Fingers, were the most common thing to lose. Zombies loved finger food.
Scott sat up then yawned once. He was not certain why he was so tired. Restoration completely healed him each time, including his need for sleep. Yet, he wanted to sleep anyway.
The situation that he was in came back to him completely after a moment. He frowned. "Something's got to break soon."
If things continued as they did currently, he would die. In the last few days he pulled low-end missions that barely covered the cost of restoration and continuing his existence. He did not even bother spending EXP on anything as he needed to bank a little just to be certain he met his daily quota. One day he only earned sixty EXP across three different missions due to how much damage he took. Without banking his EXP he would not have been able to keep his life counter cushion intact. Two or three bad days in a row would kill him even if he survived the missions.
"Fucking zombie virus costs a small fortune to heal," groused Scott. Whenever he was infected he never managed to get away with anything less than fifty EXP to heal himself. It usually cost him a great deal more because he would be missing an arm, a leg, or a finger at the least. Once he lost an eye and part of his nose. God damn, he'd wished that it was only a finger when it happened.
The timer revealed that there was another thirty minutes before missions would become available once more. He'd done all of the ones available for the day. One of the reasons he decided to try and get some sleep was to make the time go by faster.
Scott leaned back against the cold wall of his cell and sighed. He was not hungry. He was not thirsty. He merely existed in a state of total lack of stimulation. How could he be so bored? He did not know. What he did know was that without any stimulation, time seemed to take forever to pass.
It was inevitable that he would feel memories of before creep into his head. He reveled in them for a time. He remembered his favorite past time, gaming. Since the day he first learned about video games it was like he had found his calling. He could spend days doing the same repetitive things on an endless loop just to make a character slightly stronger. Never once did it concern him that he might be wasting his precious, irreplaceable, days on something useless.
Scott barked out a laugh after he reviewed all of the different games, movies, and other things he invested his life into up until this point. "It's like I've always lived in a world like this, one populated by impossible things."
He closed his eyes and took a few breaths. "Maybe I was training for this my whole life."
It seemed as good a thing to do as any. No amount of console gaming prepared someone for a zombie apocalypse, but it did ease his mind a little.
"Shit. Even the zombies are better than this," muttered Scott as he waited for the timer. It was a lie, of course. The zombies sucked. They sucked hard. Rather, they bit hard and never let go till they received their own momento of his trip through Zombieland.
Once his missions ended, there was nothing to experience but the depressing darkness of his room and the wait for something new to happen. The darkness and the quiet continued for far longer than he would have liked, even now that he'd grown accustomed to it.
Currently, one minute felt like ten. A half hour felt like a day. However, time did inevitably pass. The siren blared at midnight. A new day had come.
"About damned time," groused Scott. He walked over to the door and read the information. It was nothing new. He'd done the exact same sort of mission several times already.
[Mission Briefing]
Exterminate! Exterminate! You have been tasked with killing all of the zombies at the Altman Strip Mall.
This mission will occur in a sealed environment. You must kill every zombie on site. Time will be synchronized to the time in your personal chamber. You will be unable to leave the area until all zombies have been slain. The zombies will not be able to wander off, either.
Difficulty: H-1
World: Dead Men Walking
World Type: Survival Horror
Force Response Authorization: Solo Mission
Primary Goal: Total Extermination
Enemies Remaining: [98/98]
Reward: 10 EXP
[—]
"Shit. This sorry ass mission. How am I supposed to get EXP like this?" Scott was annoyed with the mission selection. He would be lucky to manage even one hundred EXP with this mission since zombies rarely gave even one full EXP point. The big guy a few days back only counted for a little over two points.
"Whatever. Let's do this shit," Scott readied his equipment then accepted the mission.
He stepped out into a sunny mid-morning at a small strip mall. It was an outdoor affair where people would normally walk in the open from one shop to the next. "Less than a hundred zombies, probably not a single one of them special."
It did not take long before moans echoed through the air. Scott sighed and turned to view the oncoming undead. They were slow, so damned slow.
"Fuck it," he muttered. Scott strolled off from the battle scene. He had all day to fuck around. He was in no mood to end things quickly. The last few days were the same, or worse. Either the mission difficulty was too easy, and offered little to nothing in the way of points, or he ended up in a situation where he was forced to run from the sudden arrival of a special zombie due to the higher difficulty level.
He'd nearly lost his life twice because of a Big Boy knocking him back when it appeared suddenly at close quarters. The worst situation happened when he was staggered by the blow an opportunistic zombie savaged his face.
The worst situations were the ones that took place in tight quarters. When those missions happened, and there were more than a few, he typically left pieces of himself behind. His hit points were only good for a few bites or scratches before they were completely depleted. Worse, if the bastards bit skin protected by hit points there was always a small chance of causing him to bleed. If that happened, he could also contract the virus even with hit points in full effect.
Scott ignored the shambling idiots while he sought out the edges of the area. There was no point in this mission. It was like he was being punished for surviving until this point.
The edge of the world turned out to be roughly half a mile, by his estimation, from the center of the strip mall parking area. By the time he finished wandering around, roughly half the zombies he was sent to defeat had gathered into a mini-horde by following him around.
"Whatever," said Scott absent-mindedly. He opened fire on the zombies with a loud sigh. His dexterity improved slightly after the fight at the high school, but he had not upgraded at all since then. He did not see it happening today, either.
Three shots blasted out. The air became distorted as a crackling sound emanated from his weapon. A blue bolt of energy raced out and missed the target that he aimed at. However, it hit the zombie behind it and to the left. Its head exploded in a shower of gore just before its body fell limply to the side. Scott saw the little green EXP symbol, but the zombie was too far away to see what he earned. Given recent events, it was probably about thirty percent of one EXP point.
Scott continued to fire until his ammunition ran out. Four more zombies fell to the dirt. He switched on the safety of his weapon then calmly walked away a short distance for about three seconds. The safety was turned off, and he lifted his weapon. Another dozen shots were fired. Three more zombies hit the dirt.
The process repeated itself for a while. The horde had no real chance to stop him unless he did something stupid.
It was easy EXP, but it would not even remotely be enough to grow. Missions like this were like a carrot on a stick. The experience points were easy to gain, but the
n he would need to take side missions. That was when they would send him into bullshit missions that often led to missing chunks of flesh.
Once the final zombie in the mini-horde fell, Scott scouted the area once more to count the bodies. His plasma rounds easily killed the shambling morons that still straggled around the parking lot. "Thirty-two to go... Oh joy."
Surprisingly, it seemed like the stores had not been looted much. The food and clothing was gone, of course. The pharmacy was empty. However, the other stuff still remained. He found a lot of money and electronic equipment.
In fact, while he wandered idly through the local Game Paradise store, he took the time and effort to look at all of the games left behind. He laughed at a few of the titles. They seemed to be plays on words, or parodies of popular games from back home.
"Emo Fantasy Thirteen-Six: The Quest for Coherent Plot." His laughter tore through the store for a moment. He would have played the hell out of that just to see what it was.
A zombie shambled out of the backroom. Scott shot it with little fanfare and continued to browse the local selections. As he wandered into the retro-gaming section, something strange happened. A noise off to his right caught his attention.
"It was a time of high science, and space villainy..." said an overly dire sounding voice.
"Hello?" called Scott. Would there be local people in this mission? He had only met the high school harem to date. Meeting people would at least make this mission interesting.
"Space Pirates roamed the spaceways. The United Federal Galactic Military Space Forces were stretched too thin by the last space war..." said the dour sounding man.
Scott worked his way over to the sound then opened his eyes wide in surprise. One of the flat screen TVs actually worked. There was no power to the store, but somehow the thing was working perfectly.
"Due to the number of space pirates that began to crop up, bounty hunters were granted license to do whatever it took to bring them down. These bounty hunters did not work for honor, or glory. They wanted credits and a life filled with adventure and violence...in space."
Galactic Fist of Legend Page 8