Bobby Smith, unsure of what would come in the last few years since moving into Chernarus from the States, is a simple man. He’s a massive fan of the wilderness. Raised by Kenneth, uncle yet a father nonetheless, he learned to hunt before he could read. Bobby is a man with ethics and morals. He’s a strong believer in fate, contradicted in his lack of faith in a greater power. He’s served his minimal 4 years of active duty for the US Marines, using this to pay for college and learn all he could about horticulture. While he lacks belief in religion, he’s aware of the possible reckoning to come. Who knew it’d turn out to be so soon, let alone real. At age 22, after his enlistment from 18-22, he came to Chernarus after applying to college and being accepted. He had come to be an exchange student, looking for opportunity to learn more about his field. He’d taken classes prior to the outbreak, learning to live off the lands. He’s always been unsure of who his parents were, being given to an orphanage at a young age. His uncle came to him at 12, and took him under his wing. By then, Bobby had little to no education, only knowing violence to defend himself, which was nowhere near beneficial, giving his scrawny build as a child. He’d been taught how to fight, use a knife, shoot, and hunt all by his uncle, who had since been his guardian up until cancer took him prior to Bobby’s enlistment into the Marines. Since then, he’d lived a normal life. He and his uncle would hunt for most meals, living off of the grid, always keeping on their toes, Kenneth being a known criminal in the area. Robberies here and there, not giving the best example to Bobby, but it kept them fed nonetheless. Skip ahead to 22, Bobby moves to Chernarus. He settled into the northern town of Karmonovka, and lives day by day, hunting and growing his own meals, getting his own water, and writing. He’d write day by day, unsure as of why. Either way, the apocalypse never stopped him. Bobby figured, hey, someone’s got to keep track of the days and their contents. Whether it be a day of gardening, a day of hunting, regardless, it was each day and he’s proud to survive each one. You never know which one will be your last, nowadays. The lime and ammunition are reaching low amounts, so he may have to head out soon to search for some. Never facing the undead since the outbreak, Bobby has trouble stomaching the thought of leaving his small town. Since moving in, he’d never left. Nor did he have to. When the lime is officially gone, and his case of ammunition is just empty enough to pack and carry, he’d set foot into the land of the dead, with nothing but his good intentions to keep him alive. Let’s hope it’s enough.