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KYM Zombie Apocalypse 3

Last posted Nov 02, 2012 at 04:18PM EDT. Added Oct 20, 2012 at 03:46PM EDT
128 posts from 14 users

March 2nd, 2023

After a pandemic wiped out the majority of Malaysia, NATO sent an investigatory group of soldiers to attempt to find and rescue any uninfected survivors. Within thirty minutes of their gunship touching down, radio contact with them was lost. A secondary rescue op, head by Seal Team 6, was sent out the following day.

Once the first group was found, all of them unconscious, Seal Team 6 immediately took off out of the country.

The report given for the mission read simply, “God has abandoned us all.”

March 5th

The NATO team has been in quarantine since their return. A younger member had woken from his comatose state the night prior, only to begin screaming that something was holding him. After inquiries were made as to what he thought was holding him, he began coughing up blood and again went comatose, now suffering from tachycardia. His heart rate is still past what the body can endure, and yet he continues to live.

March 10th

Seal Team Six has been thrown into quarantine as well after a member began exhibiting the same symptoms as the NATO team- fatally increased heart rate and yellowing of the eyes.

March 15th

First case of the Malay Virus (as it has come to be called) found in New York City. The population of Soho has been warned to stay in doors as much as possible as an outbreak still seems avoidable.

March 21st

The first death of one of the soldiers of the NATO team occurs. Doctors present notice a peculiarly early onset of rigor mortis, which seemed to fade as the body loosened back up to a lifelike state, where it stayed. Soon after this had occurred, his body began respiration again, and his pulse resumed its high pulse rate. In light of this, doctors check him again, only to find that he was still medically dead.

The body was cremated after a postmortem MRI showed he was indeed infected by the Malay Virus- his brain stem had malignant growths that seemed to envelop his medulla oblongata, possibly the cause of his body’s life-like state.

March 30th

The East Coast is lost to the virus after only two weeks. The stages of the virus seem to last shorter and shorter as the days go by.
The truly terrifying thing is that those who’ve been killed by the virus… They don’t stay dead.

April 23rd

The deathcount is too high to accurately gauge. Hospitals are no longer accepting anyone with yellowed eyes in order to protect themselves.

May 2nd

Martial Law is set into effect as the dead begin to become violent to those without the disease.

A medical investigation was performed upon one of the infected. What they found was that the bodies are only functional to the point of walking, breathing, and…

May 28th

The United States has fallen. Canada and Mexico have become greatly infected and aren’t expected to make it much longer.

June 2nd

Russia, in a joint effort with the European Union, has been providing American survivors supplies for three days. Little did they now the virus would end up on their doorstep…
Saint Petersburg is gone. It’s estimated that Europe will fall within the month’s end.

The dead continue to rise. It’s been confirmed that they feel no pain, have no sense of touch, and that their vision is quite poor. This hasn’t, however, impeded them from causing hundreds of deaths as they feed upon the Godforsaken uninfected.

People worldwide have been urged to begin killing them without discretion.

June 12th

Germany has ordered all travel in and out of the country to be terminated. Several countries around the world (Brazil, Australia, and Japan amongst them) have followed suit, though only to discover that they’ve already been infected.

November 3rd

All the countries of the world have fallen. The Malay Virus, now known as the ‘Red Death’ to the few survivors left on the Earth, has taken everything from us. Everything except our will to live.

We can fight them.

We can live on.

We will survive.

- Intro by Patrick

This and that for your benefit.

This is an interest/sign up thread for the Third KYM Zombie Apocalypse Interactive Choose Your Own Adventure Story.

Basically a Text-Based RPG in which Player give commands for their Characters, the results of which are then posted, and another command is given, a response,.

A difference between the past installments and this one is an injection of RPG. Players will have “Attributes”, which influence different skills when an action is taken using the Pick-A-Number System. For example:

“You are making your way downtown, walking fast, when a a gun falls from the sky”
“>Pick up the gun”

This action was simple and no reasonable measure of difficulty, and so is an automatic success.

“You pick up the weapon only to find that a small, angry creature has also fallen from above, and leaps towards you.”
“>Fire at creature”

In this case, the player’s Attributes (And in turn, his skills) are needed to gauge the success of this action.


This action would be considered average, so the player would choose a number between 1-10, let’s say 5. However, this player also has a 3 in his Combat Attribute, meaning that if his selection is 3 above or below, he will also succeed (In this case, 2-8).

“You raise your weapon and with one shot, blast the creature into oblivion.

If you want to join, create a sheet using the following template:
Player Name:
Strength: Your ability to deal with situations requiring raw physical power. (Lifting, Hitting, etc.)
Agility: Your ability to deal with situations requiring speed or finesse. (Parkour, Shooting, etc.)
Wit: Your ability to deal with situations requiring Improve or Skill. (Crafting, Trapping, etc.)
Intelligence: Your ability to deal with situations requiring Knowledge: (Tech, Medicine, etc.)
Combat: Your ability to deal with situations requiring fighting or intimidation.
Oration: Your ability to deal with situations requiring Speech or Charisma.
You have five points to spend in any amount in any category, further points can be gained by leveling up, done by gathering EXP. through intelligent moves, figuring out puzzles, or winning a series of successful fights.

The game takes place here:

Last edited Oct 20, 2012 at 04:00PM EDT

Player Name: Paco Juan Pablo Montoya Rico Suave McGomery
Bio: He is a dude with a dream also he has an enormous dick.
Agility: ||
Wit: |
Intelligence: |
Combat: |
Dick: ||||||||||||||

Last edited Oct 21, 2012 at 08:31PM EDT

Name: Marco Pasta
Biography: Named after the spaghetti that his family buys, Marco Pasta was a general all around guy, if socially inept because of his horrible name. Now stuck in the Zombie apocalypse, he needs to use all of his skills to survive.
Strength: |
Agility: |
Wit: |
Intelligence: |
Combat: |

Well I apologize for taking so long to apply, but I really do not do too well when it comes to character development :/


Name: Higgins (Slappy The Fish)
Bio: Having lived most of his life on the street, Higgins has had to rely on his strength and skill in order to survive the harsh trials that he urban jungle provided. Now that the city has been overrun by the undead, Higgins must apply his talents more than ever in order to make it out with his life.

Name: Mega
Bio: Light on his feet, he’s known for always being on the move. Now in this zombie apocalypse, he’ll have to use his skills to get to hasty escapes from the undead.
Agility: ||
Intelligence: |
Combat: |
Oration: |

Last edited Oct 20, 2012 at 09:57PM EDT

Player Name: Penz

Bio: Penz relies on his quick wit and logic (not strictly knowledge of things, but ability to get around them) to solve problems quickly an efficiently. He is not strong, but is agile and fast when he needs to be. Primarily, Penz will attempt to make traps and devices to halt the zombies progression and/or kill them. When it comes to firearms, he has a sure shot, so he will always use a long range rifle when available. Penz gets along with most people, but is judgmental about decision making and behavior from companions. He will put his life on the line for a few select people.

Strength: 0
Agility: 0
Wit: 2
Intelligence: 2
Combat: 0
Oration: 1

Player Name: Barry Bonds
Bio: Once a well-respected baseball player, he maintains his strength and speed even after his time away from the game; now he has found himself stuck in a small town in the middle of nowhere during the zombie apocalypse.

Strength: ||
Agility: ||
Combat: |

Name: Jeff Winger
Bio: A former lawyer who later went to community college due to his fake law degree, Jeff Winger is an extremely persuasive speaker, as well as possessing a certain amount of wit and intelligence. He has a very large ego, however, and sometimes suffers due to it. He enjoys keeping a good body image and works out regularly. Despite his faults, Jeff has proven to be loyal to friends and an amazing motivational speaker, helping get through even the hardest of troubles, provided he has his allies about him, and manages to make friends when without. He tends to take a leadership role when a leader is needed, and does well at it.

Strength: I

Player Name: Vash
Bio: A former outlaw, now happy with the state of the fallen world, he has a shady past but is truly a nice guy. He has a natural ability to make people appreciate him for what hes worth, which is actually alot, considering his natural ability with any type of weapon. He’s a very lucky man who believes in love and piece and is somewhat intellectual, although not entirely acting on it all to often.
Agility: II

Last edited Oct 21, 2012 at 05:00PM EDT

Player Name: Liam Mayhem
Bio: A well known detective for hire that has a think outside the box way of thinking and loves games and challenges. Also he thinks for the greater good rather then self gain. He has had medical training as well.
Agility: I
Wit: II
Intelligence: II

We seem to have enough players to start. Liam, RocketPanda, Falcon, Slappy, and Penz0id will be narrated by me, the rest of you will be narrated by Patrick (Good luck with that.)

Paco: S: 0 A: 2 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

You aren’t sure where you are, then again, you aren’t sure of much these days. What you do know is that you are laying on the ground in pitch-darkness, the air stifling and hot. You can feel the space around you is small and enclosed, giving you the eerie feeling of being trapped. Instinctively, you reach out and grope for something, anything, to assure you that you aren’t in some endless void. A few minutes pass as you scratch over a rough, hard floor, before you grab hold of something metallic and cool. Just as you touch it, you can feel faint vibrations against your prone body, movement of some sort just a few feet away from the direction you are facing.

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

Even with decay all around, you can still detect the faintest traces of your old life: Oregano, Mushrooms, Tomatoes, the smell of the stuff that you had biweekly with your family. You aren’t sure whether you love or loathe that smell right now, as you snuggle deeper into the corner of the pantry of your home. You stare longingly through the Shutter Door of the confined space at the grey plaster walls beyond. You think that the Creature that had come passed is gone, but you aren’t certain…

Higgins: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

The first thing that you become aware of is that it smells bad. Really bad. Like stanky cheesy toe-jam ass up in here. It is also dark, but you can make out your surroundings well enough to realize that you are in a sewer. Black water flows in front of you, brimming with chunks of garbage and organic matter. To your left and right, the sewer leads on into darkness, and above, a cracked manhole graces you with a small amount of golden light, giving you some peace of mind.

Penz: S: 0 A: 0 W: 2 I: 2 C: 0 O: 1
Gear: None

With a light groan, you raise your head from the cloudy embrace of sleep, a stab of late noon light driving into your eyes. You sit up on the branch of the short Oak that you’d spent the night, and apparently the morning and then some, sleeping in. Your back is stiff from the awkward positions you kept, but sit up as straight as you can. Behind you, the Eastern Forest expands as far as you can see. Just ahead of your direction, a broken chain-link fence, guarding the back parking lot of some large, squat building.

Liam: S: 0 A: 1 W: 2 I: 2 C: 0 O: 0
Gear: None

Silently, you curse yourself as you realize your holster is empty. You are sitting in the bathroom of the bottom floor of the Stanly Corporation’s Headquarters. The lights, somehow still functioning, give off an eerie yellow glow that reflects sickly off the blue and grey tiles of the floor, illuminating the filthy mirrors and busted ceramic sinks, leaking small drips of brown water onto the floor. A small stream of rancid water flows to the drain in the center of the room. Across from the corner you sit in, the door to the lobby reads: “EMPLOYEES: W H YO R HA DS”. Above you, a thin stream of cool air leaks from a metallic ventilation shaft.

Mega (Megalolzers X): S: 0 A: 2 W: 0 I: 1 C: 1 O: 1
Gear: nothing useful at present

From the early age of 7, Mega has always loved running. The feel of the wind flowing through his hair as he pushes himself past his own limits is borderline orgasmic to him, and the only thing he has ever known is going fast. This has, of course, caused him a great deal of anguish, considering his anxiety disorder prevents him from getting his heartrate too high for an extended amount of time, meaning running is something he has to be cautious of, despite his passion. Ever an optimist, he’s found ways to curb his disorder so as to not get attacks often, but in times of great distress… He can’t help but collapse, clutching his chest.

You currently find yourself on top of a three story building, across from what appears to be the Town Hall, surveying your surroundings. You note the walkers tend to group up, yet don’t attack each other. You bend over tie your lucky shoes’ laces. This run might possibly be your last, but you’re still smiling, knowing the adrenaline will let you run faster than ever before.

Barry Bonds (Wicked Kitty Bitch): S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: nada

The past few years have not been kind to poor Barry. He proformed tax fraud and lost almost everything, lost his wife only 2 months after marriage, and even lost his favorite hat. In spite of losing almost everything he held dear, he’s kept his figure. He has a little problem with anger, though… He’s been known to lash out against people just for looking at him funny, but he’s happy now, knowing that somewhere, out there in the hordes of the walking undead are his exwives. He’s going to have even more fun than Mega.

You put down your tumbler of whiskey and head out of your appartment complex, snagging a ballcap before you leave. There’s a crowd of zombies in the lot, but they’re joyously eating what appears to be a deer carcass. You can sneak past them if you head north, through the park, or south, towards the shopping district.

Jeff Winger (Firo Prochainezo): S: 1 A: 0 W: 1 I: 1 C: 0 O: 2

A man with a silver tongue, but with a plastic badge; Jeff means well, but can’t help but mess things up after a while. A great deal of his suffering comes from his hamartia, but between you and me, I would chalk it up to bad luck. He is, however blessed with the ability to be likeable to almost anyone, anywhere. Having him on your survival team well definitely be a treat, though make sure to watch out for him- he’s still a little too overconfidant at times.

Scrambling, you pick up your attorney’s badge (no one would believe you’re an attorney without that thing!), and flee from the zombie that accosted you as you yell, “NO SPAWN KILLS, C’MON!” You manage to abscond and find yourself in a burnt out building filled with mannequins.

You hate mannequins.

Vash (Trash the Stampede): S: 0 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 2 O: 1
Gear: well, you may not have a weapon, but have your health, and that’s what really matters, right?

While making his way to Wayside Maximum Security Prison from Ryall State Prison in secure custody, a walker stepped in front of the bus, causing the driver to swerve. Overcorrecting, the bus flipped. Vash was violently thrown into a nearby body of water, in shackles. Nearly drowning, he was pulled from the lake by a policewoman. She undid his cuffs and warned him to stay out of the streets, and went to the aid of an injured officer.

You’re free, champ. No longer a man held by bars and chains, you’re now running free in the fresh air, feeling the sun on your skin.

Well, you would feel sun on your skin if it wasn’t for the heavy fog that has formed in the town.

It’s gonna be one of those days, isn’t it?

Last edited Oct 21, 2012 at 07:17PM EDT

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

With a slowness and silence the dead could envy, you reach across the pantry and gently touch the door, which swings easily open on it’s stainless hinges. You stay still as stone, listening intently for any reaction, before you lean forward and look ahead:
The door leads out into a small hallway, leading left into the laundry room and garage, and right into the kitchen. In a sudden panic, you flail your hands about, almost sure that you were without your arms for some reason. Shit nigga quit trippin’ balls yo.

Higgins: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

Standing on your toes and reaching as high as you can, you realize that, while you can push and move the manhole, you have no means by which to use the exit. You’d need to be at least a foot higher to get up there. Cursing your genetic luck, you turn to your right and head down the darkened path, only to stop a few dozen feet when a steel gate bars your path. The lock is a little rusted, and on the other side, you can see a large wooden crate.

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Tire Iron

You stand and, after a brief glance around to make sure that you have no unwanted company, make your way to the right. Opening the the thick aluminum door, the smell of oil and a hint of quasi-fresh air assails you. Inside, the garage has been stripped by looters over the passed few days, with empty racks along the walls, a torn apart engine littering the ground, and skid marks from a previously housed vehicle evident on the smooth concrete floor. Though almost nothing of value can be found, you manage to find a slightly bent Tire Iron, and decide to make it your first line of defense.

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Tire Iron

The Garage door is busted, and stuck in a closed position, the small gap underneath too small for you to hope to pass. Leaving would mean traveling through the rest of the house and through the front door. Y/N?

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Tire Iron

Luck is on your side, as your former guest seems to have departed. You back-track past the pantry and through the kitchen, making your way into the living room and out the front door. The outside is a sight to see. Your small sub-urban neighbor hood has turned to a nightmare: the streets are littered with broken down vehicles, decaying garbage, fetid corpses, and spills of strange materials. All around homes are broken and abandoned, boarding and plywood placed and nailed haphazardly across doors and windows, small fires illuminating their insides. Not a single building is intact, as bullet-holes and yellow caution tape stretch across the entire landscape. Besides the various homes and vehicles about, the main road stretches straight ahead of you, for perhaps half of a mile, into the Cityscape.

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Tire Iron

You decide that the main road and the city is your best option at this point, and step through the door, down the brick steps, and onto the road, moving as quickly and quietly as you can. Your procession is uneventful, until you reach close to a toll booth guarding the final stretch into the city. Nearby, you see a slightly shifted manhole, and you can hear shuffling and splashing inside. However, you also spot behind you a figure moving between a series of ruined vehicles, too fast and too far away for you to get a clear view. In front, the Toll Booth is totally abandoned, the corpse of a Highway Patrol man laying in the sun just behind it.

Higgins: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

You can’t see anything in your immediate area with which to assault the lock, and so give a half-hearted smack with your hand, giving yourself a small bruise. Frustrated, you turn back and head the opposite direction, down the left pathway. You meet another gate, though this one is torn apart and busted, a series of jagged, rusted pipes. Beyond, you see a bit of light and a faint buzz.

Last edited Oct 21, 2012 at 09:25PM EDT

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Tire Iron

You move forward and duck under a half-lowered gate before patting down the corpse for any useful goods. You manage to find a Keychain with two keys and a small tag denoting a veteran, as well as a small Pistol Magazine with 5 .45 ACP rounds.

Higgins: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Sharp Pipe

You grab a more rusted bar on the gate and give it a good tug. It groans and protests, but after the third or fourth tug, it comes free with a cruel snap. The bottom half tore parallel to the pipe, giving it a jagged, rusted edge along the length of the thing.

Barry Bonds: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: still nothin’, yo

You take the path towards the shopping district. Upon the way, you meet no resistance, but you know things could always go bad at any time. This in mind, you tred lightly as you go, keeping an eye out for movement. After only 2 minutes of walking, you find yourself in front of a series of shops… Just in front of you, you can see a habadashery, a sports equipment store, and a drugstore.

Gee. I wonder which one Barry Bonds would pick.

Barry Bonds: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: This.

You creep into the Sporting Good Store like some kind of baseball playing ninja. Inside, there’s a cornucopia of varying sporting goods, incl-…



THERE IS A GOLDEN BASEBALL BAT SIGNED BY A-ROD HERE? You think they would have advertised that or something… You run up to it to find it’s in a case. A bulletproof glass case. There’s a padlock on one side, though- it only stands to reason that the key for it would be around here somewhere. For the time being, you pick up a nearby metal bat. A little shorter than you’d like for it to be, but it should do fine for smashing some decomposing faces. You also pick up a water bladder/backpack combo, along with an amount of powdered sports drink that is beyond this narrator’s creative ability. MYSTIC MOUNTAIN BERRIES UP IN HERE NOW.

You can search for the key, or check out the other shops, or go out into the town.

Paco: S: 0 A: 2 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

“Yea fuck that mahn” you say to yourself as you flop in the most autistic manner you can in the other direction, groping around for anything and anyone. Eventually, your hand smacks against something small, warm, and furry, and you jump when you hear a small squeak. You laugh to yourself as you realize you’ve just smacked a mouse across the confines of your location. Your laugh cuts short, however, when you hear a groan farther in the darkness, followed by a series of coughs and growls.

Marco: S: 1 A: 1 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Tire Iron, .45 Magazine, 5 .45 ACP Rounds, 2 Unknown Keys

You pocket the items and resume your course into the city. As soon as you pass the booth and move passed a series of sand-bag barricades, a feeling of dread overcomes you. In front of you is a forest of massive steel buildings, a smattering of ruins and fires, smashed windows, fleets of abandoned vehicles, and a sprinkling of undead all around, none of them taking notice of you yet however. There are several large buildings of note; a Gas-Station, a Bank, several Apartment complexes, and others whose uses you can’t identify.

Higgins: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Sharp Pipe

You confidently move past the remains of the gate, feeling quite insured by your lethal melee weapon. The tunnel begins to narrow out, and you are forced to take a step in the stream of fetid water, your sneakers flooding with foul matter, causing you to cringe. Advancing despite this mess, you soon reach a turn in the sewer, and see that it opens into a large, open reservoir, nestled between the sea and an artificial inlet of the area.

Paco: S: 0 A: 2 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

You flop back the other way and reach for that metal thing. Upon groping it more, you realize that it has the shape of a handle, like a door handle, and has some exotic engravings on it, likely some fancy European style.

Higgins: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Sharp Pipe

You step out into the evening light, and get a full view of the reservoir: The structure is made of white concrete, forming a bowl maybe five hundred feet in diameter, and about half as much deep. You stand on a metal catwalk raised above the rim of the entire structure, circling around towards a steel building mounted across the way. Below, you can see the bottom completely covered with corpses and sludge; small amounts of water trickling from other waterways deeper in.

Last edited Oct 22, 2012 at 12:26AM EDT

Vash: S: 0 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 2 O: 1
Gear: Man, you ain’t got jack.

You sigh, emitting a small cloud into the chilly air. Walking forward, you find yourself in front of a small sedan, a family of walkers locked inside. The bitter thought of your lost family flutters through your mind for a depressingly long second or two. At least they didn’t go out the way these people did. You wave away the thoughts of your past, as this is no time for reminiscing, instead this is a time for action. Presently, you’re in an intersection with the street going east, west (where you came from) and right, leading to a large cluster of buildings, a large street (possibly the street’s main city? You can’t even remember anymore), and the bus, respectively. Your old place is…

Your old place is… It’s…


Things are different. This isn’t the town you used to know- and you’ve only been locked up for what was it, 2 years? Longer…? The days just started to blend together after…

Whatever. No time to think about prison either. You’re sure your apartment’s not too far away.


> Put on my glasses. (its time to get serious.)
> I’ll head to the nearest telephone booth to find a phone book, which may have my address. Using my luckiness ill try and avoid all these gross zombies.

Family? You mean Knives? Yeah I have to kill him.

Last edited Oct 22, 2012 at 01:17AM EDT

sorry to be bumping late, but someone’s been going around negging most of the posts on this thread. I had to upvote the majority of you in order to even things out but I just wanted to make sure that you guys knew that something happened

Last edited Oct 22, 2012 at 05:15AM EDT

I see.

Paco: S: 0 A: 2 W: 1 I: 1 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: None

You take hold of that handle as a desperate nigga and pop that shit like it’s hot. Light outta nowhere get’s all up in yo face all of a sudden and you be like “AW HELL NAW” ‘fore you take a quick check of this biz-nasty attic door, leading down to some nigga’s crib yo.

Higgins: S: 2 A: 2 W: 0 I: 0 C: 1 O: 0
Gear: Sharp Pipe

You make your way along the Cat-walk and into the building. As you approach, you realize that this is some sort of Control room, probably controlling some unseen floodgates and other water-way related machinery. Several dead men in yellow hard-hats and blue jump-suits are sprawled along the floor. Trying the door, you see that it is locked.


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