leather knife sheath does not sit on the body correctly - it appears to act as a butt plug. Will post a screenshot shortly.
Also is the crafting of items supposed to vore my scissors to prevent me from making more stuff or is that a bug?
Excuse my hud glitch I'm sorry father
Well, it's been a while since I have written anything useful or meaningful in this. While I'd like to burn the pages and forget what I've done - That would be wrong. Blatantly so.
But, moving on starts with adding new pages to this journal. And that starts with keeping it up to date, at least to some extent.
The past few weeks I have spent in the country I've spent time gathering people and resources to attempt to make a campsite - A better life for myself and others in my company. I've met plenty of good folks along the way, those being Erik, Nikolas, Jimmy, Gunni, Lenka, and a few others who I have bumped into in my travels. They've all been helped quite a bit with the walls, the gathering of tents for housing, weapons, ammo, tools and so much more than I could have ever dreamed of completing alone.
So far I've gained information related to some groups, those being Funeral Parlor, the Wolf Pack, some trading hotspots, as well as popular campsites. Most of it negative. Some of it positive. I've also discovered that people still have mixed priorities - Those being....
Chernarussians are still primarily racist, lost in their nationalistic tendencies. Even nearly two years into this mess, they will get angry at you for being a foreigner, for wearing the wrong clothing, and so much more.
Bandits still will rob you for the strangest of reasons - One of those reasons being having a knife sheath. Ever been threatened for your life for a knife sheath? Yeah. Welcome to Chernarus.
I met another woman who was remarkably friendly - Specifically Katie. We walked for a while before we had to go our separate ways.
While this update was short, it was sweet. I hope it starts a change in my behavior, as well as improves my own morale. I will be attempting to get in touch with Katie, as well as some of my other contacts to try and check on them now and then. For now this is it, hopefully things keep going well.
So, it's been a while since I've updated my status since I evacuated South Zagoria in my fools errand of getting help and not dying.
Well, it can be argued that I did succeed in not dying, but help is not exactly something I found.
When I had left, it's safe to say I did it out of anger and hopelessness. Calandra was kidnapped, being dehumanized right in front of my very eyes with nothing I could do about it. They assembled a group with the intent to help rescue her and I giddily accepted, at least with them I had a chance to save her, to get her back. When I arrived and saw how they were all interacting... They seemed more interested in bickering among themselves, placing blame on one another for things completely unrelated to the task at hand. I felt it was clear that if I wanted to save her, I'd have to do it myself. But I didn't. I couldn't, not alone, right? I had to leave to get help from someone, anyone. But I didn't.
Regardless of my blatant failure, and my cowardice. I'm back, and I won't make the same mistake I did last time. I'll find Calandra if she's alive. I don't have anything left except her. So far my efforts have been fruitless, everyone I've spoken too doesn't recognize the name or the description. The closest I've heard is some Chernarussian woman named Elaine. Maybe it's her putting up her disguise again? Maybe she's in hiding? I don't know. I've met several people since I've been here, an Icelandic man with a name I couldn't pronounce, he called himself Gunner. He introduced me to someone named Waters who says they're with a decent sized group, granted, they just seem to be a group of scavengers. I haven't spoken to all of them yet, so maybe one of them recognize who I'm looking for. If all else fails, I'll go to the Airfield or Stary in an attempt to find her, or find someone who knows her.
I won't make the same mistake again. I hate that I left her. I hate that I didn't try to do something, anything but what I did. If she's still held by them, I won't leave. I'll die trying.
With that in mind, I'll hand my journal off to someone. There's not a lot in here, I don't think there's much meaning to any of it, but if I die before I find her, maybe this will find her. At least she'll know I tried something.
In the event that's the case, I'll write something for you.
Calandra, I love you. I always have and always will, and I'm sorry I wasn't there. I'm sorry I ran away, that I stopped talking to you, I hope you're alive, and healthy, but most importantly. I hope you're happy.
Holy fuck journal what the fuck I have fucked the fuck.
Alright, I think I should be more concise on exactly how I screwed the pooch.
We'll start from the beginning.
I was relaxing in a small town near the NE Airfield, admiring the safety and "company" of some of Jimmy's friends. Roxanne, a teenage girl with a disfigured appearance, told me that a woman by the name of "Ela" would be coming into town, and was a good friend of hers. Me and her exchanged some conversation, where I explained to keep her away from me, and to try and stop Jimmy from trying to get her to interact with me. Told me some of her issues and conditions, anorexia and the like. A hard life. She didn't want me trying to help her.
I am a terrible liar.
From there, everyone disappeared and she came into town, and I figured I'll just make sure it's them, greet them, introduce myself, let someone else do the talking as per usual. It's not my problem, right? Wrong.
I sat down and talked to her, a stranger. She was small, and frail. I felt it would be wrong of me to just... Leave her, and not speak to her. So I gave her my time and my company. I'm not sure if I regret it or not, I don't think I do. We talked for what felt like a lovely eternity about what she's been through, what I've been through, what's happening with the world and what's going on with the people here. I held her hand to comfort her. She told me her name. She was the most wonderful, unique woman I've ever had the luxury to meet. I had to know more about her, she was like a drug and I couldn't possibly get enough.
So I delved deeper, I ignored everything that got me this far, everything that kept me alive to talk to her and get to know her. And I've done so for the better part of a week, I've learned so much about her, I've grown so attached to her. I've even worn normal, civilian clothing on her request, and haven't even gone to attend my camp at all recently because she feels more important than that. Her time is more important to me than any worldly possessions. I met her family, friends, been teased constantly for clinging to her side and traveling together as much as I can manage.
Man, this is all shit and shit and more shit and I need to maintain a professional tone, I feel for her, emotions are normal. But to this extent? It borders on madness. It was a small chance at all that I spoke to her, spent any time with her at all in the first place.
Things have been going well, all calm. I feel like many mental weights have been lifted these past few days, it's been great to talk and interact with people. Very enlightening to see how other people act, granted, none of them compare to Jimmy "Avocado" in my humble opinion. But I'm biased.
For better or for worse, Calandra, I believe, to some extent, is my partner. Romantic partner. And thus I imagine I will be spending a lot of time with her, but that's not exactly a recent development between me and her. Her father figure will be speaking to me tomorrow, I think it'll be alright. We talked today and he seemed to appreciate my answers to his questions.
For now, I need to gather my thoughts, rest my mind, and try and adjust to the concept of a relationship.
Dear Journal, I spent the majority of today setting up some utilities at camp, and gathering more food and drink. Got a jerry can full of water at camp now, should keep me set up for a while. Suffice it to say it was pretty boring, the highlights of the day being getting nearly swarmed by zed heads and having to gun about twenty of them down. Never knew my training would actually be useful to me at some point.
I need to stop traveling alone, every time something like this happens I get out by the skin of my teeth, it's a mess. I can't stand surviving in this place, there's no chance I'm ever going home, the only thing that drives me is the fact that dying is probably far worse than that.
On an entirely different note, I traveled further South to rendezvous with Jimmy. Apparently they need my help with some woman with some group called "The Killers" or something like that. Who on God's Green Earth comes up with a name like that? It's like they took two seconds to think it up. I suppose it lives up to the name, they're all cannibals and murderers as far as I've been told. Bandit filth come to make life harder, as usual. Apparently they had some snake in their group and I'm going to be sitting in a bush to provide some form of support. My favorite, ticks and fleas while I wait for a boring conversation to end. The woman was apparently injured, so I might provide some medical support.
Luckily, I didn't have to waste my medical supplies on her. Things were handled by someone else. Sadly, I've learned a disturbing detail about Jimmy's colleagues. Apparently when they got their hands on a serial killer and burned him alive. A-fucking-live. Jimmy seemed to have been pretty shaken up, and I don't blame him. Something like that is akin to serious trauma, PTSD causing events that stick with you for the rest of your life, doesn't matter who's screaming. It's still a man. I will be the first to admit the man probably deserved it, however, why waste time, and energy? If the goal is to kill the man anyway, why not just end it there? One bullet does a job quicker, fuck it and fuck him. Move on to killing some other bandit and psycho scum. No need to traumatize all of your people.
I digress, no sense in raving and ranting. Here's a T-Rex with a film star's heads and tits. ((There's no God, I'm sorry.))
A member of his posse apparently broke their hand, they lost their brother and were mourning. Drove off to dig a grave. I wasn't there to attend and I wasn't around to do much with that, I can only extend condolences.
The day ended with alcohol and a game of "I never ever..." and we all went to relax and sleep after. I discovered that everyone has far more trouble holding down their drink than I did. And I rarely drink. We'll chock that up to "German engineering" or some funny joke I'm sure the others would say. I'll head to camp tomorrow.
I almost forgot, I told Jimmy he had a tumor and the look on his face was priceless, I told him all the things that could happen and complications before giving it a heavy smack to pop it. It'll hopefully be done, but admittedly it'll swell back up and I'll have to perform some "surgery" to get the pus out.
"You know Erich, you know it's probably a good idea to actually keep a journal. You know it's usually a good idea to talk to people about things that are bothering you. Though, I mean, I know sometimes not everybody is super comfortable with that. And so, if you write it in a journal, it's like the non-crazy way of talking to yourself. Give it a shot, it may help you out! Anyway- About that cyst..."
Dear Journal, as you may have read above, I was "coerced" into writing some dialogue in here in order to help my decreasing sanity. Let's just ignore the fact that it's dwindling due to the constant exposure to the walking dead, wolf attacks, the people who I've hurt and killed, and the fact that everyone in this country is also insane. It's like half the people here escaped a mental health ward.
That's neither here nor there, I suppose. We reap what we sow.
Against my better judgement, I will take Jimmy Estacado's advice, and rant and rave in this worthless book. Lest I make everyone around me insane as well. I don't really know what to write here, so I guess I'll just write something.
I've recovered from the wolf injuries I had recently, at least for the most part. I need to thank that young doctor that helped me, if it wasn't for the drugs she gave me I don't think I'd have gotten any sleep. Regardless, I am once again healthy, on my feet, and ready for whatever this hell hole might throw my way. Slightly ironic considering all I've done today is relax in a bush near by camp clad in my ghillie suit. And writing the words in this worthless book that only I will read. I suppose it's true, I am a pessimist. Food and water is good, and my ammo supply should hold off the zed heads for at least a few days. Hard to say. That's all I have to write for now, and as a reminder to myself, I'm going to tell Jimmy that it's not a cyst, it's a tumor. I can't wait to see his reaction.
So I have a question, if you are currently with a "dynamic" group, and you're initiated on while a friend is a bit away, and you're initiated on, your friend is within VOIP range and shoots them without initiating... That makes sense from an IC perspective. To just shoot them, but it's also against the rules... If someone is reported for defending their friend, would that be considered rule play over role play?