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Mr. Blue

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Mr. Blue last won the day on August 30 2018

Mr. Blue had the most liked content!

TIME PLAYED

923 h Bush Wookie

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1005 Veteran

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  • Whitelisted YES
  • Last played 2 months ago

Personal Information

  • Sex
    Male

Recent Profile Visitors

  • TheRocker500

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  • RocJag

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  1. I agree, not having a bridge can be inconvenient, but when you have a group based there it has a unique feeling of isolation, and the fear of people swimming up can creep in. I like that feeling, nothing else in the game makes me feel like how it did based up there.
  2. about time I changed musicals for the profile

  3. Tonight is opening night for my college's first "online play" due to covid-19. Hopefully wifi doesn't shut off in the middle of it 🔥

  4. If your character is tired, then RP it out. This is an RP server, it takes the player to act it out sometimes.
  5. Bro just wanna say I missed ya dawg. Can't wait for the two OG's to run  into each other again.

    1. Mr. Blue

      Mr. Blue

      @Wolfstorm Same here brother! Can't wait 🙂

  6. wanna play together again?

    1. Mr. Blue

      Mr. Blue

      wouldn't be opposed!

    2. Lori
  7. Great RP from @RocJag and others today!
  8. Ken Mendenhall grew up on a farm in rural Indiana. Farm life was boring for him throughout his childhood, so when he was 18 he became a trucker to get out of the farming business and see the world. He shipped just about anything you can think of; pop, furniture, stoves, wrecked cars, solar panels, hell he even shipped twinkies at one point. After trucking for so many years, he got a call from some buddy he grew up with. This buddy had turned out to be in the illegal drug trade, and needed someone to ship cocaine out to the far east. He didn't know or trust anybody else to ship it out in this foreign "Chernarus" place, save Ken. Ken saw this as an opportunity to go out and see Europe, even if it wasn't exactly clean. Besides, it's not like he didn't do a few odd jobs here and there that weren't exactly kid friendly. So his mobster friend gave Ken a plane ticket to Chernarus, and when he arrived he was escorted by some Russian sounding guys to a warehouse. They showed him around, and even gave him a new truck. Ken would do this for a few months, but eventually found it boring. Who knew Europe could be so bland? He tried getting out, but his Chernarussian friends told him that he was going to stay there and ship trucks, or could go back to America in a body bag. So Ken was trapped in this drug trade, shipping out product to other mobsters. He never stopped trying to find a way out, but one never really came up, that was until he started listening to the radio. Apparently some people were going feral or something, but it sounded isolated at first so he didn't give it much thought. But one night he was just driving, jamming out to some country music, when all of a sudden he crashed into something. Ken jumped out, expecting it to be a deer or some other animal. But when he found out what it was, it horrified him. He saw a dead person reaching out to him, but it's legs were broken so it couldn't move. It looked like one of those things he heard on the radio, so he got an idea. He got a burlap bag from out of his semi, and placed it on the crawlers head. He grabbed it and hauled it into the container in the back. A perfect distraction. He drove back to the mob's ware house, and told everyone that there was a big shipment that just arrived. Ken had a handgun on him holstered, and let the three guys open the container. They were horrified as the crawler bit the face off of one of the three, but then Ken pulled out his gun and shot the other two. Growing up in rural Indiana, he learned how to use all sorts of guns. He let the other one scream and get eaten alive, so Ken got into a car, grabbed some cash the mob had stored there, and prepared to leave. As he started the car, he could hear the mobster shouting that Ken was a monster, and that he could burn in hell. This haunted Ken as he drove away, being raised Christian and all. But hey, God would have wanted Ken to escape anyways, at least that's what Ken thought. As he drove towards the airport, he was shocked to find that it had been overrun with walkers. Panicking, he recalled the dying man. Maybe God wanted Ken to suffer for what he did, maybe this was how Ken was to pay. He drove back the way he came, and eventually the car ran out of gas. He walked and walked until he eventually found people, and continued on from there.
  9. (An insight into the man's delusion of grandeur) I never appealed to the corrupt and flawed societal nincompoops that interfere with my everyday life. I am a man of high character, painfully aware of the world around me. I am one of a dying breed, yes, a dying breed of highly aware, highly intelligent people left on this planet, and might I say what a gaping wound and hole in my heart it is to be so perceptive of such realities. Ever since I have been alive to remember, I have always been surrounded by idiots. My parents made this very clear to me at a young age, them being second generation immigrants from Germany. I am told it is a much more enlightened, sophisticated and culturally richer nation than America, and the festering maggots that inhabit the country. All of Europe for that matter is superior. But I drag on too much about my personal opinions, allow me to introduce myself to you my friend. Petyr Zeiler. What, were you expecting me to elaborate as to the internal qualities that reside within me? Typical. This is why I chose to isolate myself from the likes of you, the majority of the human race with their pestering questions, their ever onward attempts of trying to get inside of my head. Yes that is right, for the past five years I have been isolated in the woodlands of South Zagoria, with besides the occasional yearly grocery visit to stockpile, have been enjoying my favorite company, which is to say me, myself, and I. I had it with society, and people for that matter. Perhaps I would have come out in the next year or two and see if the passage of time had decided to propel you people in a positive direction, but that is what I like to classify as "wishful thinking". But I must hand it to the Chernarussians, they have a beautiful country. And it's mostly quiet. That's why I chose to stay here and leave terrible America. It was nice enough becoming and being a Pathologist before this, I got to work with dead people and rooting out the causes as to how exactly they had become deceased. And there was nobody around to annoy me, delightful really. But being out here has really been a treat, because what is a scenario that is better than only being around dead people as opposed to living, talkative people? Not being around any sort of people at all! Delightful, really. It is about time I restocked my provisions for the following year, running dangerously low of canned food and water. About 20 crate fulls should suffice. Now to just go out and get it....
  10. My one minute monologue has gotta be perfected by this Tuesday for auditions, which is also my birthday

    gahh

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