ok, wasn't sure if you were joking around or not but just to clarify for all the salt
1. this isn't an apocalypse yet. for all civilians know, its just really sick people that go into a frenzy. hence why people try to just punch the Zs and RP as "knocking them out"
2. in the context of the photo, there was music playing and people dancing.
3. even if it was an apocalypse, that does not mean it's has to be DepressedRP where everyone has to walk around all gloomy. Especially when in a community where people tell jokes, play music and dance around.
4. From what I see, this was ADDED into the mod. therefore, must be some reason to use the dab. In a group with music and dancing and people laughing, its quite reasonable. Considering other's were doin it too,
I’ve died at least once from starvation because I couldn’t find a knife to open a can. I get that there is suppose to be a bit of a challenge, but like, even a stone knife wouldn’t be the worst thing. Or a custom small knife. Or make knife spawns a bit more common.
This. I’ve always had great experience at the Vybor camp. Haven’t seen many RF people as I’ve been hanging around the NW more often. But my experience with the RAC has always been great. Yeah, it’s a bit unorganized sometimes but the NW has always been popular traffic and it’s hard to maintain complete control, speaking as someone who has RP as military in the past. Honestly, I don’t get the OP’s complain other than “I don’t like that people are taking my weapon from me.” Like, I get it, you don’t want to lose your weapon, but with respect to lore and RPing, military isn’t going to just let people waltz around with AKs nilly willy
Would love to see it. As said above, Russian rp is a bit boring after a few years. Also my Russian accent is dogshit so I try not rp as one. Been wanting to do a Takistan character but just never the right equipment for something immersive.
Born in a small town outside of Los Angeles, California, Michael Bonnet always yearned to go off to the world. However, growing up in a destitute family, he had to stay in town to run the family business. An old burger joint in the middle of Ventura. His parents eventually saved up money for him to go to college where he wanted to study to be a teacher. A true old school hippie at heart however, he decided to ditch his education, and spend his traveling the world. He decided to do this by enrolling in a volunteering program for countries in need. After looking at different countries, one stood out to him. A little country just south of Russia. Chernarus. Torn apart by years of civil conflict and unrest, its citizens poor and struggling. Destitute, like he was growing up. Upon arriving to Chernarus, he was struck with its beauty. Beautiful lush forests, breathtakingly beautiful mountain ranges and views of the oceans both north of the country and south of it. There was an antiquated feeling within the city. Old, yet noble and strong, bearing the scars of the years of war and riots. Without the nagging of social medias, and the other comforts of modern society, he was at home. He spent his days teaching children how to read, how to write, teaching them the American ways of life. He showed them television shows, cartoons, music. His kindness and quick wit lead to him being loved by the locals. Many nights were spent at local bars wasting away on alcohol. Having spent Christmas and New Years at Chernogorsk, he was prepared to leave. However, he and his group were stopped. There was talk of a disease rapidly growing throughout the country, and to avoid risk they would have to quarantine themselves. Weeks passed by as police rolled in, and then the military, securing the town, shutting down stores and shops. No one was leaving the city any time soon. One night, they were awoken to the sound of screaming. Michael jumped out of his bed and ran to the door. When he opened it, he immediately recoiled by the bright fire he saw from across the street. A full riot was in place and people were running wild. Suddenly, the sound of gun fire broke through all the noise. The police and military went from street to street clearing rioters. Some rioters and crazed people managed to fight back and take some weapons. Soon, all hell broke loose. Bullets flew through the air. Indiscriminately hitting armed forces and civilians alike. Bonnet and his group quickly threw together anything they could find and ran away out of the city as fast as possible. Amongst the chaos, he was knocked over and trampled. Everything went to black when his head hit the pavement. When he woke up, he found himself on a field, laying on what seemed to be a makeshift stretcher. Wincing in pain, he got up and looked around. Corpses littered the ground. Guns and supplies strewned all over. He looked south and saw a city in ruins.