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Muntz

M V P
Meme of the Year
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    Australia

Everything posted by Muntz

  1. Muntz

    Krysí Hnízdo [Rats Nest]

    Well, this is fucken sexy.
  2. Muntz

    How Yanko Dies

    A small notebook is stashed within Yanko's clothing. Inside, a myriad of scrawls, sketches, and notes adorn the crumpled pages. Among the disarray, one page seems to have been written with more care. It is on this page that the following can be read. —Translated from Czech— //OP updated
  3. Muntz

    The military RP is atrocious

    I think these three posts sum it up nicely. Especially the point about humiliating them in-game in an out of character manner. While that might not be your intention, it can be quite horrible for the other person. Also, if you are mainly noticing their errors because of questions that you are asking, consider not asking those questions. I'm not saying that their lack of knowledge won't shine through in other situations, but it at least reduces the impact. It also allows them to continue having fun, along with everyone else around. Furthermore, sometimes it isn't even a lack of effort or research. A lot of people, myself included, have never heard of a 'MOS' and wouldn't have a clue that it might be an important thing to know. It might be obvious to you, someone who is in the military, but for the rest of us—we don't know what we don't know. It's easy to take your personal knowledge for granted. If you have an issue with someone's lack of knowledge, PM them some tips or link them to a guide or two.
  4. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    So uhh, anyone up for a mid-high level ranked game or two? ??
  5. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    - user was warned for this post -
  6. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    - user was warned for this post -
  7. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    Today. Here, start by doing every exercise both Rock and Drago do in this video. Then hmu on steam later tonight and we can boogie.
  8. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    Oh, you liddle cutie. We'll get you there one day. Just need 2-4 hundred more hours. Nah
  9. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    - user was warned for this post -
  10. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    I don't know what you're talking about. I have no memory of this.
  11. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    US who wanna smash don't count, Callie.
  12. Muntz

    Any other Rocket League nerds out here?

    I'm a mechanically trash D2/C1 on 3v3 and D2/D3 on Doubles. I'm always on the lookout for ranked partners. So if you're EU and wanna smash, lmk.
  13. Muntz

    How Yanko Dies

    I appreciate you
  14. Muntz

    How Yanko Dies

    //3rd entry. Will update OP also. Additions to be separated by a line. The two leave their shelter. Raising their pace to a slow jog, they move towards the gunshots, which increase in frequency as the seconds pass. Yanko’s heart pounds as they grow closer, as loud as the ever more frequent and desperate gunshots. He pulls his recently acquired knife from his jacket. The source of the gunshots still ahead in an abandoned military compound, the pair are brought to a halt by the sudden appearance of a masked man. Dressed in grey jeans and green jacket, a military vest adorns his torso. His face is obscured by a grey bandana tied behind his head and a garish orange Boonie hat. He stands calmly as the two companions come to a stop in front of him. Yanko notices that, strangely, the man is holding only a roll of duct tape. “Is that one of yours doing all that shooting, then?” Patrick asks as he pants. “It wasn’t” the man with the orange hat replies. His nasal voice muffled by the bandana. Already running towards the compound gates, Patrick shouts over his shoulder. “Well, we’ll be off! They might need some help!” Yanko and the man in the orange hat regard one another. Glancing at the duct tape in the stranger’s hand, he raises an eyebrow. The man quickly pockets the roll before shrugging and taking off at a quick jog after Patrick. Pausing briefly to marvel at his strange Irish companion, Yanko trots after the two of them. This man who seemingly feels no hesitation at throwing himself in harm’s way for others. Who will turn his back on an unknown masked man, and who will, in an instant, cave in a zombie’s head with a pot. “I see them! They’re getting fookin’ beaten up, like” Pat grunts as he wrangles the compound gate open. The gunshots have abated. Replacing them are the shrieks and screams of zombies accompanied by the brutal slap of blows landing on flesh. Hauntingly, a woman’s laugh rings louder than all, casting a veil of surreality over the entire situation. As the trio squeeze through the gate, they spot a survivor. Clad in outdoor pants and a large jacket, the man carries a bloody axe as he runs with a limp barely twenty metres from them. Spotting the three approaching men, he barely pauses to scream, “Why wife is in there! My wife is in there!” He indicates the barrack building behind him. Patrick heads towards the building as the man continues his course. “Well, where are you going then?” Patrick yells to the retreating man. Yanko follows keeps pace with Patrick, but is hindered by a zombie slamming into his side. The screech of the woman, her hair still tightly bound in a bun, makes his ears ring. He manages to slam his knife into her thigh slicing through muscle and tendon. The blow drives the woman to the ground as Yanko steps past her to meet another onrushing infected. He knifes it in the throat twice before it drops, its filthy hands going limp as it slides off him to the ground. Yanko quickly looks around, he can see through a window that Patrick has entered the building that the man indicated, using his own knife to cut through the swathes of zombies within from behind. At first, he cannot see the man in the orange hat but soon spots him back outside the gate, unwilling to join the fray. The man sees Yanko notice him, and he disappears behind a wall. Something clamps around Yanko’s calf before a sharp pain drives him to his knees. He shuffles quickly around and stabs his knife into the face of the crawling zombie. It is the woman that first accosted him, apparently the knife to the thigh only dampened her movement, not her determination to kill. As the last of her unnatural life drains from her eyes, Yanko reaches for the bite on his leg. The fabric of his pants already slick with blood, he grits his teeth and gets to his feet. He begins to limp towards the building in which he last spotted his companion. Suddenly, There is a loud cracking bang behind him. Yanko spins as the door to another barrack is thrown open and another survivor bursts out, quickly followed by two infected. The woman, clearly overwhelmed by the assault, stumbles back from her assailants while gripping her own axe. But before Yanko can take close in on the fight and save her, the woman takes the haft of the axe in two hands, rushing one zombie and jamming the axe against its throat, the momentum of her mad rush slams them against a wall, breaking the infected neck with a crack that echoes around the compound. Spinning towards the seconds infected, she moves her grip to the end of the handle, pulling the axe head in an arc from the ground, up above her head, and down, crunching into the zombie’s forehead and driving it into the ground. The woman places her boot on ruins of the zombie’s head and uses it to brace as she pulls the axe free. The body’s death gurgle is drowned out by an exuberant cry bursting from the woman, “FUCK YOU!” Yanko feels Patrick move up beside him as the woman turns, seemingly noticing them for the first time.
  15. Muntz

    Muntz

    I still don't really get what this update thing is for.

  16. Muntz

    How Yanko Dies

    //2nd entry. Will update OP also. Additions to be separated by a line. The ferocity of the pot wielding Irishman serves them well, the short struggle leaves the stirring infected unable to gain sufficient insight into their location. Undisturbed further, the two proceed with their business at the well. After taking refreshment and refilling their containers, the two allow themselves a brief respite. They enter a nearby building, discovering the remains of a now derelict pub. They find a place at the crumbling bar, where a combat knife has been driven into the countertop, hinting at its own story, now forgotten. Pulling the knife from its resting place, Yanko looks inquiringly at his company. The man winks and sits down, unclipping his pot and plunking it down in front of him. Yanko tests the still sharp blade before carefully wrapping the knife inside a handkerchief and slipping it into his jacket pocket. They sit in silence for a moment, before the stranger offers his name, “Patrick, or Patty” he says. Of course. The two converse for a while, with Patrick doing most of the talking. Yanko, warier than ever after Patrick’s brutal showing, follows his instinct and uses humor and miscommunication to obfuscate the answers to any meaningful questions. He interacts, carefully listening and learning, but offers little of himself. He considers the infected person laying beside the well. He considers his own inability to act before the conflict had been resolved. He would be dead, if not for Patty. For the first time, he considers that he might not be capable of succeeding where so many others have failed. That he might not be able to fulfill the things he needs to. He considers the man before him. Unaware of Yanko’s inquisitive gaze, Patrick thoughtfully sips water from his now overflowing pot, his easy-going demeanor disguising the brutality hidden within. Could he do that to me? The thought rams itself into Yanko’s consciousness like an empty pot to an old lady’s skull. Of course, he could. I wouldn’t be able to stop him. With that haunting concept nestling into his consciousness, he resolves to become more. He will grow harder, stronger. And when the time comes, he will do what needs to be done. He must. For while no bounty motivates him, he is bound by the land on which he treads. He is bound by those who would do it harm, and he is bound by those who would heal it. He will not fall, and he will not fail. Yanko’s reverie is broken by the sharp cracks of gunshots. Eyes widening, he looks quickly to Patty. Putting his pot down, Patty meets that worried gaze. “Someone seems to be in a bit of bother. Let’s go take a look.”
  17. Muntz

    DayZRP Mod Nostalgia Thread

    Found the video! It's from Husky's POV @Red
  18. Muntz

    DayZRP Mod Nostalgia Thread

    Were you driving the car that sent it flying? I remember Husky was there, too. Good times.
  19. Muntz

    How Yanko Dies

    A small notebook is stashed within Yanko's clothing. Inside, a myriad of scrawls, sketches, and notes adorn the crumpled pages. Among the disarray, one page seems to have been written with more care. It is on this page that the following can be read. —Translated from Czech— //Based on in-game events. 1. A glimpse of movement is accompanied by the sudden, jarring sound of regular footsteps. An uninfected human. The realisation hits ‘Yanko’ like a truck. His words, carefully prepared and meticulously practiced over the last weeks, evaporate from his mind as if the hours of preparation had never existed. He at least remembers the accent. “Hello? H-hello!” he stammers through the front door of the house he so recently considered safe. Yanko is given a split second to ponder the higher than prepared cadence of his voice before the door bursts open in his face. “Alright there, pal?” the man asks, his own speech mired within his Irish origins. Stepping aside as the man pushes past him, Yanko manages to recover the Chernarussian accent and broken English he had so diligently developed. “Y-you really scared shit from me, friend” Grunting apologetically, the stranger barely pauses in the ransacking of Yanko’s former shelter as he asks “You from here?” “No, I just make passing through. I come from the south.” Yanko’s accent grows with his confidence; his training returning to the fore. “And where are you headed then, big man?” The stranger's tone is laden with careful probing. Yanko pauses and considers the question. “I’m not sure, if I am honest, I am completely lost.” Having completed his sweep of the small house, the man moves towards the door. Pausing in front of Yanko, he grunts. “I’m going to find a water pump to fill me fookin’ cooking pot. Feel free to join” He leaves. Yanko stands dumbly, left bewildered by the unexpected arrival, ransack and subsequent departure. Shaking off the hesitation, he grabs his ready-packed bag and follows the brusque stranger into the cold. Later, their backs to a crumbling brick wall, the two creep towards the water pump nestled within the center of the tiny village. Pausing before leaving their coverl, the stranger unclips his empty cooking pot from its place hanging from his pack. As they begin crossing the open yard towards the pump, a shriek rends the air. Its silent peace discarded, the village begins to awaken around the two men. However, the muffled yawns of a time long past are instead substituted with groaning grunts and the movements of mindless bodies, as their senses –those which they have retained, process this latest stimulus. Meanwhile, the perpetrator of the initial shriek –a small elderly woman with grey shoulder-length hair, leaps from the doorway in which she had been crouched for who knows how long. Fluid dripping from her mouth, filth covering her torn and bedraggled clothing, she throws herself with unnatural speed towards Yanko’s new companion. Before Yanko can begin to react, his Irish counterpart has gripped his cooking pot in both hands, grunting as he wrenches it at the infected woman’s face. With a sound like a bell, the pot is driven into the thing’s cheek, shattering the brittle bones beneath. As the echoes of the pot chime through the yard, a second blow –this time from above— slams the thing into the pristine snow. The violence ended before he can barely draw breathe, Yanko watches as the stranger scrubs the pot clean with some snow. The Irish man glances at the still twitching corpse crumpled in the now sullied snow before turning to Yanko. “Looks like a pack of cigarettes on her, if you want ‘em.” _____________________________________________________________________ The ferocity of the pot wielding Irishman serves them well, the short struggle leaves the stirring infected unable to gain sufficient insight into their location. Undisturbed further, the two proceed with their business at the well. After taking refreshment and refilling their containers, the two allow themselves a brief respite. They enter a nearby building, discovering the remains of a now derelict pub. They find a place at the crumbling bar, where a combat knife has been driven into the countertop, hinting at its own story, now forgotten. Pulling the knife from its resting place, Yanko looks inquiringly at his company. The man winks and sits down, unclipping his pot and plunking it down in front of him. Yanko tests the still sharp blade before carefully wrapping the knife inside a handkerchief and slipping it into his jacket pocket. They sit in silence for a moment, before the stranger offers his name, “Patrick, or Patty” he says. Of course. The two converse for a while, with Patrick doing most of the talking. Yanko, warier than ever after Patrick’s brutal showing, follows his instinct and uses humor and miscommunication to obfuscate the answers to any meaningful questions. He interacts, carefully listening and learning, but offers little of himself. He considers the infected person laying beside the well. He considers his own inability to act before the conflict had been resolved. He would be dead, if not for Patty. For the first time, he considers that he might not be capable of succeeding where so many others have failed. That he might not be able to fulfill the things he needs to. He considers the man before him. Unaware of Yanko’s inquisitive gaze, Patrick thoughtfully sips water from his now overflowing pot, his easy-going demeanor disguising the brutality within. Could he do that to me? The thought rams itself into Yanko’s consciousness like an empty pot to an old lady’s skull. Of course, he could. I wouldn’t be able to stop him. With that haunting concept nestling into his consciousness, he resolves to become more. He will grow harder, stronger. And when the time comes, he will do what needs to be done. He must. For while no bounty motivates him, he is bound by the land on which he treads. He is bound by those who would do it harm, and he is bound by those who would heal it. He will not fall, and he will not fail. Yanko’s reverie is broken by the sharp cracks of gunshots. Eyes widening, he looks quickly to Patty. Putting his pot down, Patty meets that worried gaze. “Someone seems to be in a bit of bother. Let’s go take a look.” ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The two leave their shelter. Raising their pace to a slow jog, they move towards the gunshots, which increase in frequency as the seconds pass. Yanko’s heart pounds as they grow closer, as loud as the ever more frequent and desperate gunshots. He pulls his recently acquired knife from his jacket. The source of the gunshots still ahead in an abandoned military compound, the pair are brought to a halt by the sudden appearance of a masked man. Dressed in grey jeans and green jacket, a military vest adorns his torso. His face is obscured by a grey bandana tied behind his head and a garish orange Boonie hat. He stands calmly as the two companions come to a stop in front of him. Yanko notices that, strangely, the man is holding only a roll of duct tape. “Is that one of yours doing all that shooting, then?” Patrick asks as he pants. “It wasn’t” the man with the orange hat replies. His nasal voice muffled by the bandana. Already running towards the compound gates, Patrick shouts over his shoulder. “Well, we’ll be off! They might need some help!” Yanko and the man in the orange hat regard one another. Glancing at the duct tape in the stranger’s hand, he raises an eyebrow. The man quickly pockets the roll before shrugging and taking off at a quick jog after Patrick. Pausing briefly to marvel at his strange Irish companion, Yanko trots after the two of them. This man who seemingly feels no hesitation at throwing himself in harm’s way for others. Who will turn his back on an unknown masked man, and who will, in an instant, cave in a zombie’s head with a pot. “I see them! They’re getting fookin’ beaten up, like” Pat grunts as he wrangles the compound gate open. The gunshots have abated. Replacing them are the shrieks and screams of zombies accompanied by the brutal slap of blows landing on flesh. Hauntingly, a woman’s laugh rings louder than all, casting a veil of surreality over the entire situation. As the trio squeeze through the gate, they spot a survivor. Clad in outdoor pants and a large jacket, the man carries a bloody axe as he runs with a limp barely twenty metres from them. Spotting the three approaching men, he barely pauses to scream, “Why wife is in there! My wife is in there!” He indicates the barrack building behind him. Patrick heads towards the building as the man continues his course. “Well, where are you going then?” Patrick yells to the retreating man. Yanko follows keeps pace with Patrick, but is hindered by a zombie slamming into his side. The screech of the woman, her hair still tightly bound in a bun, makes his ears ring. He manages to slam his knife into her thigh slicing through muscle and tendon. The blow drives the woman to the ground as Yanko steps past her to meet another onrushing infected. He knifes it in the throat twice before it drops, its filthy hands going limp as it slides off him to the ground. Yanko quickly looks around, he can see through a window that Patrick has entered the building that the man indicated, using his own knife to cut through the swathes of zombies within from behind. At first, he cannot see the man in the orange hat but soon spots him back outside the gate, unwilling to join the fray. The man sees Yanko notice him, and he disappears behind a wall. Something clamps around Yanko’s calf before a sharp pain drives him to his knees. He shuffles quickly around and stabs his knife into the face of the crawling zombie. It is the woman that first accosted him, apparently the knife to the thigh only dampened her movement, not her determination to kill. As the last of her unnatural life drains from her eyes, Yanko reaches for the bite on his leg. The fabric of his pants already slick with blood, he grits his teeth and gets to his feet. He begins to limp towards the building in which he last spotted his companion. Suddenly, There is a loud cracking bang behind him. Yanko spins as the door to another barrack is thrown open and another survivor bursts out, quickly followed by two infected. The woman, clearly overwhelmed by the assault, stumbles back from her assailants while gripping her own axe. But before Yanko can take close in on the fight and save her, the woman takes the haft of the axe in two hands, rushing one zombie and jamming the axe against its throat, the momentum of her mad rush slams them against a wall, breaking the infected neck with a crack that echoes around the compound. Spinning towards the seconds infected, she moves her grip to the end of the handle, pulling the axe head in an arc from the ground, up above her head, and down, crunching into the zombie’s forehead and driving it into the ground. The woman places her boot on ruins of the zombie’s head and uses it to brace as she pulls the axe free. The body’s death gurgle is drowned out by an exuberant cry bursting from the woman, “FUCK YOU!” Yanko feels Patrick move up beside him as the woman turns, seemingly noticing them for the first time.
  20. Muntz

    Muntz

    Status updates?  dafuq

     

  21. Yanko was raised in the small village of Mogilevka. The youngest child of a large family, Yanko was raised in a hard-working environment. As he grew up, he not only learned to labor with his hands, but he excelled at school, receiving exemplary grades in many subjects. As the youngest son, he helped his father and brothers work and maintain the farm, however, Yanko was always considered to be the family’s hope for one of them to be university educated. After graduating high school, Yanko was accepted into a good university in faraway Novigrad. Leaving home and heading south, he studied for a degree in education. Approaching his final year (2009, Yanko was now 21), he was set to succeed as the family’s hope for something better. Then, with barely 12 months remaining, his father and older brothers were killed by Chedaki in the aftermath of an altercation in the nearby village. Forced to return home and bury his father and brothers, Yanko soon decided that he would need to remain and help his mother and sisters care for the family farm. In 2011 he married a local girl and together they gave birth to a daughter. It was here he remained, academics and subsequent career forgotten, until the outbreak in 2014. After becoming aware of the outbreak, Yanko and his family invited his many sisters (now married) and their families back to the farm where they became recluse. Fortifying their land, the group had a decent situation, with basic fortifications in place. Trusting themselves to the exclusion of all others, the inhabitants of the farm remained relatively untouched until a catastrophic series of events led to the downfall of the small community. Yanko found himself the sole survivor of the close-knit group. His family gone, wife and child dead, Yanko began wandering. After time of aimless meandering, Yanko disappeared. No sign nor sound was heard from him man until now. Once more, Yanko walks upon the once familiar lands of his birthplace.
  22. Muntz

    DayZRP Mod Nostalgia Thread

    Fuck it. A little dump for posterity: A bunch of CLF posters: My old GM sig ? Staff 2014 waz lit: Some songs: Starting with thecringiest of them all: Then some more melodious contributions: My personal favourite: Then And the one that started it all: Then there's this video... Audio samples taken from in-game events...Although, during the making of this video, I'm pretty sure I left the gas on in my house. Take from that what you will: The infamous Chernarussian Roulette: Who knows what haunts the peak near Prigorodky: Boring Sanctuary attack video, but one that commemorates the One Night Stand. One short period of cooperation between IRA and CLF. A moment that would echo through Chernarussian history, the One Night Stand was a collaboration that, if continued, could have altered the power balance forever. Random CLF acting like they own the place at Altar castle with Terra, Gina and FireMatt. Plus whatever other derp videos are in this thread. I miss this place. Good to see it's still going. Much Love. @Ghost of [email protected] @DarkStyle @Gina @Crasher_87 @Jerry @Roland @Stagsview @Hofer @Bryan @Mikachu @Red @Sin
  23. Muntz

    DayZRP Mod Nostalgia Thread

    So I was looking through some old, OLD unlisted videos on my old youtube channel. That's where I found this following video. So, I present to you the very first player-run settlement. The following is the announcement video for Haven
  24. Muntz

    DayZRP Mod Nostalgia Thread

  25. Muntz

    Stupidest thing you ever did as a whitename?

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