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The Unfortunate Journal of Dr. Drew

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// And yet I still haven't talked to you in game. Damnit I want a crossover. One of the reasons I think it's good was because it was heavily inspired by a certain forum member who also gave tips to me on writing. HINT

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"This is Dr. Drew, still at the TP. Met some hilariously racist dudes today.

Well, more of ignorant. They asked where I was from, I said I travel alot. They asked what tribe I am, I said my family name. Then they somehow came to the conclusion that I was a Tutsi tribe member who lived in Tootsie Land, which was located in Detroit. Which in turn, was located in Tootsie Land. Like a Klein Bottle, it was inside of itself.

There is just so much wrong with that statement.

The Tutsi are from Rwanda and Burundi, two countries in Africa. They thought I was Tutsi because I said I was not Hutu, let alone that there is a third tribe in that area called the Twa. But I digress.

Detroit is a city in Michigan, U.S.A. Tootsie Land does not exist. Obviously.

But! They are not racist... somehow. The moment someone said, " Hey! Monkey! Go climb that tower!", they jumped to my defense.... in their own way... They explained since Tootsie Land is made of Tootsie Rolls, I would have no experience climbing trees.

This is why I don't hang out with people anymore. Any logic in that sentence just committed suicide by flying into the sun.

Later on they wanted me to play "Bullet Tag", and after a brief period of Pendrake chasing them chasing me screaming "WHY ARE BLACK PEOPLE SO FAST!" I told them to stop drinking so heavily and do some damn cardio.

Seriously, what where those guys ON?

Anyway, this is your favorite physicist who isn't Gordon Freeman, signing off.

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"Yeah, you know who the hell it is. Sup.

So, after the TP exploded, I talked with Tomeran for a bit. He reminded me that I had promised to help him defend Cherarus from the zombies back in B-town and seeing as that US military vessel is still off shore and came last time, hell yeah I was in.

The location for the newest siege? Devil's castle. So, after a brief manufacturing lesson, my new "prosthetic leg" and I headed of to Devil's Castle. It was not easy, but I got there.

The first thing I noticed was a frighting lack of preparation. At least at the actual castle, there were no sandbags, or tents or anything. Medical supplies are kinda important Tom, especially when we aren't stationed at a hospital.

Well, I'll investigate a bit more around here, keep my mind active for the time being. This is Dr. Drew, signing off."

(//OOC: Because I managed to dig myself into a hole, my character is now an amputee, meaning I need to add certain restrictions. At the moment, that consists of carrying firewood with me to signify the prosthesis. If anyone has any better or other ones, please let me know)

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"Yes! Good evening. Guess what? It's story time, the time where I talk for an inanimate object for about forty five minutes. Its the Doctor. Guess who?

Alright. First thing I did today was wake up to the pleasing smell of barbeque. Then I looked around and was mildly surprised to find half the fucking castle on fire. So, I ran. Ran far away from that place.

I wound up somewhere near the north west airfield again. It was raining, so I decided to take a rest for the night. After the most haunting nightmare to date, I woke up screaming, and had to leave. Yep. My dumb ass still tries to kill itself.

Either way, I knew which way I had to head from there. I did make a promise, and when I say I'll do something, I'll fight through hell to do it. It took me hours this time.. I'm not sure why. Upon my arrival, I get to see that instead of the castle burnt to a cinder, everything was perfectly fine! I was just tripping balls again. Oh joy!

What a relief it is to not trust my own FUCKING EYES, and have to honor one BULLSHIT deal I made with someone I BARELY FUCKING KNOW!

Alright then... Your tip for this entry?

Fear is a sense that, whatever you are about to do is extraordinarily dangerous. Courage is the realization that something is more important. So, never be afraid to take a necessary risk. When it's important, you'll pull it off.

Well, this is ... me, signing off. Later."

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"Ow! Quit it! Do you even know what the hell you're doing?

Yeah. Hi. This is your friendly neighborhood least known about, most hated, non Chernarussian Doctor, speaking as I get a new prosthetic. Hopefully a cooler on- Dude! Watch it!

So, what happened? Well, I met up with Tomeran at Devil's castle, and.. shit went down hill. We lost the first line in seconds. The second line we held out for as long as we can, but by this time, we were all feeling the vice. Similarly to the Anaconda Plan in the American civil war, the zombies were winning, simply because we didn't have infinite ammo.

We fell back to the Castle by this time, and shit fell to pieces there. A heli exploded, my gun ran out of bullets. But then, a small miracle for me happened.

I found a hunting rifle, CZ something or other. It wasn't the most powerful, but I loved it. Wanna know why?

I saw someone pinned down by a zombie, and from my perch, I killed it. The quickly muttered thanks, the look of surprise on his face, and the feeling that I was someone's saint? The best feeling in the world.

Then my peg leg thing broke, and my skull smashed into the solid stone construction of the castle. Oh you Chernarussians. Damn you and your love of medieval architecture.

So, now I'm somewhere. I heard that others are trying to make some sort of settlements. Maybe I'll check those out.

Oh yeah! Tip of the day. The secret to winning any fist fight? Almost all attackers try to start with a right hook. Most people are right handed, punching is easy. Makes sense.

So, now that you know that, you know what to do. Another hint for winning a fist fight? Your hands are full of tiny fragile bones. So why not find a weapon?

Rule of thumb : If it is light, or smaller than your fist, throw it. If longer than your fist, swing it. If too big to be moved, throw them into it.

This is Dr. Drew. I'm signing off. Also, if anyone knows a place to get robot legs, I will be your best friend.

Especially if they come with rocket boots."

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(//OOC: Beware. This is a very long one, due to the Dr.'s reluctance to go to sleep. You have been warned.))

"This is... you know who the hell it is. If you don't, listen to the other like... five logs on this damn machine and stop skipping to the front.

Lazy bastards.

So yeah. Since my prosthetic was made of duct tape, cardboard, pain and willpower, I decided to go to the only medical authority in Cherarus I know. The Free Medics.

Of course, I didn't have a map, nor a compass, but by channeling my inner Bear Grylls I found my way to Lake Prud.

Well, actually, I got lost most of the way, walked into some WELL camo'ed CLF dudes, and they pointed me in the right direction. Once there, I met up with the Free Medics, who gave me some bad news some crappy news, some worse news, and some good news.

Short intermission here: The Free Medics have tricked this place out. They have an antenna, a generator, more tents, two military barracks, and a tent for surgery. Pretty well done for some people who started with one tent, and a whole lot of thieves.

But back to task.

The bad news is that no one can find my PTSD medication any more. The crappy news is that no one knows how to properly make a prosthesis either. The good news is that they directed me to someone who could perform surgery, and install one of those robotic prosthetics. The worse news is that the good news was a lie.

Yep. Day is getting better. Hallucinations getting worse. This time, everything was on fire, even the zombies. Like that stopped them. They kept slamming, pounding and wailing against the door to the barracks. Then... silence. The silence was the second scariest sound I heard during the whole nightmare. The first was when they began accusing me.

I looked out the window, like an idiot, and saw a bunch of zombies. Only the ones I killed. With the same wounds I inflicted. When I first landed in Chernarus, I had a hobby of seeing how many zombies I could kill with only my fire axe. I need a new hobby.

So, after my night time terrors had ceased, I awoke to the sound of someone stocking the tents. It was a man named Hunter Milnor, and he is a pretty cool dude. A member of the first response team to the outbreak, said team has been reduced to three people. Two of them are missing.

We talked about things like the small hamlet TOR, TPD and the Free Medics were building here. We talked about a good way for them to make an economy. We talked about their lack of bloodbags. And we decided to do something about it.

Hunter radio'ed in his friend, a Mr. Harston Chelton. Also a cool dude. A former soldier turned security officer on the ISS, his job was to make sure our astronauts and cosmonauts didn't throw each other out the airlock. After five months of waiting for a transmission, and waiting out their supplies, they said "Screw it, I'm going to earth." And went to Earth. Chelton landed here. His friends landed somewhere else. After a brief stint in Chernarus, he and some other dudes made a group called The First Regiment. And the 'The' has to be capitalized. Why, I don't know.

ANYWAY... We went to Vybor, grabbed some food, found no bloodbags, killed more animals than PETA could sue us for, and talked more about the Prud village, including suggested names, how to pronounce the word 'Prud', and means of currency.

The others went to sleep, and I really don't feel like having a nightmare again, so that's why I'm whispering into a small oblong box like an insane man.

Tip of the ... I have no idea what day it is. But, the tip: To create any form of currency, you need three things. It has to be hard to create, or rare. It has to be easily carried, and it has to have some sort of value behind it, lest inflation take place.

Well, this is a very tired Doctor, who isn't a doctor, reporting in at 2:26 in the morning. Good morning."

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(OOC: Holy balls. 600 views.)

"Yeah, its me. The non time traveling doctor with only one heart. Sorry about that.

I haven't used this thing in a while. Mainly cause the other town visitors keep playing with it. I mean, I have no idea how much batteries this has. I have no idea how to charge it either. But. Progress.

Dr. Osaka said he could help me with my leg. If we can find a prosthesis and surgical supplies. Like a shit ton of morphine. Fuck, this won't be pretty.

In lighter news, I applied to join the TPD. So, now I have to also make logs for if anything unusual happens. Yay. Give the depressed cripple more to talk about. It wasn't even a big deal joining. I just said, Hey, how do I join this thing right here, and some dude says, Talk to that dude. Really.

So, yeah. I haven't met any of the other members yet, because I seem to have the one weird shift in the middle of nothing. I also seem to have amazing luck.

Almost every time I go to sleep, I manage to sleep through some really crappy occurrence. Like some psycho chicks shooting up the place. Or three consecutive robberies. Finally! Karma pays me back!

Yeah, so now I'll continue drawing stuff on some printer paper I found. I still can't sleep. Damn nightmares are so real now. And that shit? About remembering it's just a dream, and you control it? Doesn't work. It even makes things worse.

Welp, back to the drawings. Good night, person who is listing to this. Probably without my permission. You asshole."

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Amazing, Gullio1! One of my favourite journals in terms of writing style. I love the witty undertone.

I hope you don't mind that I took inspiration from your journals. You probably noticed that already. :P

Oh, and I just nominated you for the The Role Play Story Accolade.

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Guest Matrix the Hero

I read this in Three Dog's voice.

Also replying so I can read it again later.

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// Damn I wish I was as good at writing these kind of stories/journals!

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Holy fucking shit I have so much to talk about. Alright... Well, my leg got infected from all that cool Jack Bauer shit I was doing, so I had to get that cleaned, but then it got too infected and I had to get more of it amputated up to the knee, and then I passed out like a bitch, and fell into a coma where I was probably molested or some other weird unlucky shit. But fear not, random homeless reader!

I fell into a coma a short while after, cause of the blood loss. When I woke up, it was about a week later. The doctor who was with me brought some supplies back a few times, but eventually stopped coming. I couldn't go out scavenging, so I ended up just staying inside doodling and eating my supplies and what not up until my recorder ran out of battery.

So after staying in my shitty little barn for so long that the taste of canned beans had driven me to contemplate mass murder, I decided, "Fuck it. I'm going to the town." Crawling with the prestige and skill that only a one legged person carrying 30 pounds could, I rolled downhill like a brain dead idiot until I found the most glorious place on earth.

It wasn't just a hospital. It was a sport injury clinic. And those places have something glorious. Something so revolutionary, they made my fucking day right there and then.

Running prostheics.

Hell yes! It's no robot rocket shoe legs but I'll fucking take it! People of Chernarus, if you ever needed any more evidence that there is a slightly selfish deistic higher power who rules over all of these lands, let this story be unconditional proof. I AM A GOD! A CRIPPLED, INSANE GOD. Honestly, if the Pope is still alive, I deserve to be canonized cause that was a grand fucking miracle.

Oh man, it is good to be able to walk again. So! This is your second favorite Doctor and theoretical physicist armed with a crowbar, telling you your God-king is back! Try not to shoot at him this time!

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For some reason I didn't see this thread back in the day. Great work mate, the humour gives a fantastic contrast. Fantastic. Glad you have continued it. Keep it up!

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I love the humor in this, I'll be sure to read your past ones later.

Hope to see you at the Outpost one day. :)

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Entry 2 : Setting Goals

Damn. Chernarus is a much different place than when I saw it last. Japanese army is here for some obscure reason, some weird ass wild west cosplayers, and the Free Medics have a separate division that now packs heat. What the fuck, right? It's like there's one huge ass power vacuum that was filled by sixty other assholes. Honestly, why the fuck does anyone want to come to this fucking wasteland? It's cold, there's barely any food, it's cold, we somehow have pirates despite not having a traversable river system, there are a shit ton of hungry hungry zombies, and oh sweet jesus it's so fucking cold.

But, enough about that. I figured since I haven't written a survival tip in months, might as well write one now, even if no one else will read it. So, I heard a long time ago that surviving anything is all about setting goals.

I don't have any goals.

So, I decided to start with something simple, something that every single one of us wishes we could do again. From this date on, I will try to have a goddamn bowl of cereal or die trying. Cold, hot, I don't give a shit. The point is I want a half-decent meal. So, I made some steps.

Step 1. Get some milk. Shouldn't be too hard, all I need to do is milk a cow, not get gored and put the milk in a water bottle. How hard could it be?

Step 2. Find some cold or hot cereal. Now, this might be difficult, as, despite common logic and economics telling me I'm wrong, I haven't actually seen any cereal in Chernarus. Like the illusive banana or filled bottle of alcohol, it remains purely theoretical.

Step 3. Put the cereal and milk in my mouth. No shit.

And thus, a goal was made! I'll probably have to improvise with this shit, but hey, it's a goal.

Anyway, it's late and I hear gunshots. Time to get a move on before I get distracted again. Doctor out.

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Entry 3: Better Ideas To Make Deliciousness

Alright then. Regarding the attempts to get a good god damned bowl of cereal here, it seems to be difficult. Most the cereal boxes I find are empty, and the other ones have insect eggs in them. A guy named Mace said he'd keep an eye out for them, but so far, no such luck.

He did teach me how to fish though, so a pretty good trade off.

So, I was at that TOR base thingy when some people said they were going to go look for car parts. So I came with them. We screwed around until we got to the north west airfield, where I wandered into the woods to take a piss, got hit with a widowmaker, and woke up in the middle of the day with no one there.

But then, inspiration struck!

The first thing I saw was a cow and a goat just chilling there. And then I realized, why try to get cereal, only for myself, when I can go make cheese, and make so much money. I'd be the only person with cheese in Cherarus. I would be running a highly profitable monopoly that all other traders would need to go to, provided no one else figures this out. Then again, with the disturbing lack of alcohol here, I don't think anyone's noticed.

I remember that goat cheese makes feta cheese, and that goat intestines have bacteria that eat the milk part of milk, leaving only the curds. So, new plan!

1. Make some sort of canteen out of goat organs and skin.

2. Get some milk, from anything really. Heat it up.

3. Put the milk into the canteen, and walk around with it. The movement should do the rest.

4. Sell that shit. Make hella cash.

Now of course, I need to find someone to teach me how to skin an animal. Normally I only care about the meat, so I end up ripping the skin to shreds. And I'll need to get a new map, cause I gave that one to some guy who was lost in the woods or something.

On the bright side, I got a baseball bat out of the whole thing. From what I've learned from zombie movies, that's the equivalent of a god damned lightsaber. And I found some nails and barbed wire, which made me think I should totally trick out my bat.

God damnnit, I just used "totally" in my journal. WELL, I GUESS I'M DONE FOR THE DAY.

Good night.

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Entry 4: Fuck Goats

No honestly. Fuck goats. They're organs don't make a durable canteen/satchel thing, they don't want to give me any of their goddamned milk, they are hard to gut in the cold, and they kick like a mother fucker. I think I broke a rib the last time.

Aw well. It seems my plan to destabilize the Chernarussian cheese market has failed for now. But I will come up with another plan dammit. I will.

So, seeing as I'm back to the cereal plan, I found a box. No milk though, so I'll let this one sit in my pack for a while. See if flies come out so I know if there's eggs or maggots in there.

I HATE maggots. And flies. And raisins (thats how it's spelled?). But mostly maggots. Fuck maggots.

I'll tell you the raisin story some other day. For now, I'm gonna need to learn to skin a goat or something. This is your doctor, signing out.

(Sorry for the delay, I've been having some weird internet problems.)

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