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Server time: 2018-12-19, 16:43


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  1. Enjoyed RPing in that massive group just now with: Boris Zoe Jonas Pavlov Brody (Adrian) Lukas Mali The three other guys whose names I cannot remember. The flashbangs were the best part!
  2. Link to the source of punishment (report/post): http://www.dayzrp.com/t-killing-of-compliant-hostage-s4-3-20 Why the verdict is not fair: I do not believe the ban was fair because it deals with a rule that is currently under very hot dispute and that it does not consider the liability that the opposing parties took on by failing to even attempt to engage in RP. While the rule might technically have been broken, I believe that it was breached in a way that was reasonable and in good faith. Additional statements/comments explaining your point of view: As it is stated in the original responses to the report, the parties who began shooting did not even attempt in the slightest to engage in really substantive RP. They attempted no negotiation for the hostage, and even pretended to not be affiliated with the hostage. If they had tried to enter into talks that would have been one thing, but instead they chose to act like non-affiliated parties, avoid RP, and utilize their KOS rights at the earliest possible moment. In short, I feel like I was willing to RP in good faith, we showed that, and we were not given that chance to do so. The time between when the hostages allies arrived (pretending as they were to not be his allies) and from when the shots were fired took place in less than one or two minutes. We were given no chance to RP. My character saw his brother executed without a word of warning or reason, so it's natural for him to assume that the act was committed by the hostage's compatriots and for my character to exact revenge. Even then I would have been happy to RP more, but once again we were not given that chance. This is the first time I have ever been reported, I've been an active member of the community for a while now, and the fact that this was even brought up as a report is something that kind of astounds me. My primary problem here is that I am being punished for breaking a rule that is already obscure and likely to undergo changes in the immediate future. I don't think I have earned a ban strike for breaking an ambivalent rule that is currently undergoing debate. I'm willing to eat a three day ban for technically breaking the rules, but I don't want to have a permanent ban strike on my record for a rule that will in all likelihood be changed in the near future. I would also like to say that I do not believe the action taken by the original GM to be inappropriate. The mod is following the rules as written, and I greatly appreciate this community for fiercely guarding its integrity. That said, the differentiating factor here is that the rule in question seems to be one that is on the verge of substantial change or alteration. Regardless of the outcome, thank you for your time in reading this appeal. What would you like to achieve with this appeal: Removal of the Ban Strike. What could you have done better?: In hindsight, I suppose that I could have tried to communicate with the attackers after they killed my companion. That said, the entire series of events happened so quickly that I doubt I would have even had time to do so. Almost immediately after Donny was killed they came in with guns blazing, and as written the current rules encourage hostage allies to attack quickly and to give hostage takers very little time to react since they are required to jump through extraordinary hoops to execute a hostage.
  3. I agree with Maciuba. I think that we've said all that needs to be said on the matter unless you have a genuine question.
  4. Good morning, and I apologize that I couldn't post sooner. To start off, I'll give a brief account of the entire interaction both myself and Donny had with Jrod "Luka Volkov." Shortly after the server restart, Donny and I logged into Server 4 near the military base. I proceeded to head into the barracks to scrounge up loot before anyone else could pick it over too thoroughly. While I'm in the barracks, I hear footsteps and turn to see Jrod standing in the doorway and addressing me in chat. (It should be noted at this time that Donny and I RP as hunters. We wear hunter's orange raincoats, dress in hunting pants, and wear cowboy hats / mshkas. Naturally, I'm a little anxious considering that Jrod is in full military gear and has an AK with a 75 round drum. I'm sporting a magnum and a blaze and don't even have a vest. The vest you see in the picture was taken from Luka later on.) Nevertheless, I begin to converse with Luka. It's a bit intimidating considering the firepower difference and the fact that he seems to be intentionally blocking the door. After our initial exchange of "hellos" he immediately informs me that there is a tax being levied on everyone going through the military base by the "Street Rats." I talked to him about the tax for a while (buying time for Donny to hopefully find me) and asked him what he wanted. His answer was food, ammo, &c. I could hear Donny getting close so I asked Luka if we could step outside. He seemed a little reluctant, but he assented to my request and when we walked outside of the barracks Donny showed up. I noticed that there was someone else running around the base then and asked Luka if it was a street rat. Luka said no. At this point I formulate a plan to escape Luka's "tax" and possibly get some pay back on him for what is clearly robbery (A robbery is a robbery, whether you call it a "tax" or not). So, I asked Luka this: "You said that other guy isn't a Street Rat. How about instead of us paying your tax, we help you collect a tax from that other guy?" Luka said okay. At this point I run ahead to look for this guy, hoping he might join in to help "counter-bandit" the bandit but I can't find him. Instead I pretend like I've cornered the unknown man in the jail and we lure Luka up to the top floor, where we immediately order him to drop all weapons and comply. Luka did drop his weapons in a timely fashion. Donny and I proceeded to take his weapons, his vest, and anything on him that we needed. He proved recalcitrant when it came to taking off his pants (mine were ruined), but that's alright in my book... I mean, that does sound a little strange, right? Well, turns out he was hiding a 75mag drum in his pants (lol) and I think he was arguing to buy time... also just fine in my books. It's about this time that Luka's fellow Street Rats show up. It should be noted here that the guy who showed up in the jailhouse did not at any time say he was a Street Rat. In fact, he acted like he had no idea what was going on and asked if we needed help. We were very polite to the guy (we figured he was a bystander, but had suspicions), told him that Luka tried to tax us and that we had everything under control. I cannot stress enough how polite we were, with Donny saying something along the lines of "Nah, man, we don't need your help, sorry -- can't come up here, just get outta here, please." The guy, still acting like he wasn't a street rat, said "alright" and left. This is the point where we finally managed to get Luka to take off his pants so I could swap them out but before I could put them on, I heard gunshots and Donny was dead. There were absolutely no attempts to negotiate for the hostage's life, there was never any announcement that they were Street Rats, and never once did they try and chat with us in a meaningful fashion other than their attempt to pretend like they "wanted to help us." I do not understand why they would think that their hostage should have been safe from retaliation when they shot and killed Donny without any warning, with no announcement that they were all part of the same gang, and without even the slightest attempt to negotiate for the victim's life or belongings.... they chose not to RP, and instead chose PvP, so I responded in kind. I even said, "Sorry about this, buddy." I didn't want to kill him, but my "brother" had just been gunned down without any warning whatsoever, and to have expected us to give him some sort of accommodation after his buddy opened fire just seems counter to the whole idea of keeping a hostage: "You open fire, the hostage dies. You play ball, the hostage lives." The biggest problem here is that Donny and I were never even given the chance to engage in that RP, which we would have gladly done. I hope this answers any questions that might still be lingering. If there are any more questions / concerns, I will gladly address them.
  5. Just had a great interaction with Gareth "Gaz" Shaw, Graham Hill, and a trainee (sorry, can't remember the name) from the White Fangs as well as Douglas "Dougie" Jackson, Conor Samuels, and Mookoko. Coming back to find Dougie and Conor after learning from the Fangs that Dougie was B-17 was both hilarious and really fun, especially considering that just a few minutes earlier they listened to Viktor and I rant about how B-17 is full of scumbag criminals. As we were driving away the first time I heard Dougie say, "Holy shit man, those guys could have killed me!" and I couldn't help but laugh. Glad to see that the very tense situation was ultimately diffused. Fun times and glad to have made some friends.
  6. I was honestly taken aback by that little role play session we had and enjoyed every moment of it. I most definitely look forward to any future encounters we may have. For the most part Viktor and I have stayed close to the shore line and that was our first time heading further inland beyond Novy. We had no idea what to expect up there but we were not disappointed! We both had a great time role playing with you guys (if brief) and we hope that we can RP again in the future. Something tells me that we'll get a chance sooner rather than later.
  7. Day 4 Surely it is by the grace of God and God alone that I am still alive, a few inches of Kevlar brand microfiber probably have something to do with it as well. Ronald and I waited for a full day or so before leaving the pub on the south side of Chernogorsk. Whilst there we didn’t observe any survivor activity other than the nameless stranger who had helped us the day before. We did notice several “herds” of infected migrate through the city square, however. Observing them was fascinating, especially how some seemed to crawl or hop instead of walk. It soon became clear, however, that staying in the city was too dangerous and the previous day’s fire fight had consumed a significant portion of our ammunition. We decided to leave the city during the night but shortly after leaving the pub an unexpected group of infected split Ronald and I apart close to the town’s government building. I knew Ronald would make for some high ground so I began searching the city for a building that had an accessible roof. During my search I spotted a large amount of light emanating from the northern stretch of the city and made my way there to investigate. When I arrived I found Ronald, but he was with three other survivors. They were dressed in a variety of cloths, but it was clear that their intent was murderous when I saw one of them beating Ronald. I couldn’t make out what they were saying, but I watched them beat and question Ronald for close to half an hour. The whole time I could tell by his face that he was holding up, that he was refusing to give them any information. A few times I heard him yell that “his friend was going to get them” and I cursed. He’d let our real first names slip, a rookie mistake that I was supposed to keep him from making. Several times I came close to opening fire on the scoundrels, but it was difficult to get a clear shot due to the makeshift barriers they had erected around the main entrance. Eventually, and much to my surprise, they let Ronald go. Albeit absent all of his things and with “B-17” crudely carved onto his back. Right now I find myself wishing that I had pulled the trigger when the crosshairs lined up with that clover-diving mick’s head. I had killed scum like them back in Afghanistan, even more in Serbia and Croatia when I was a fresh agent. It didn’t matter where they came from, scum from one country’s boot was the same as any other. After Ronald managed to get away I decided to try and find a rooftop vantage point where I could signal him to move out. I came up to a factory close to the hospital but a small herd of infected forced me to make for the roof and in the strain of the chase my old wound from the days before opened up. I began losing a lot of blood, more than I knew I could live without unless something was done. I was stuck on the roof of the factory now, infected swarming the only ladder down. Ronald had no idea where I was and even if he did come he’d have to get past the infected without a weapon and even if he could manage that, all his medical supplies would be gone… claimed by B-17. At the time I thought I had only one choice, but in retrospect a part of me would have preferred to die on that roof than give those brigands the satisfaction that they ultimately found. I called for help. The probates from the hospital came, scurrying like rats to the scent of a fresh and easy meal. I told them that I was wounded, that I had lost a lot of blood, and that I needed a transfusion and field dressing. These men, the same who had moments before carved into my partner like he was butcher’s meat, acted with unusual sympathy. Perhaps they thought I might be more valuable alive, but whatever their reasoning they gave me a blood transfusion, dressed my wounds, and took me to their base in the hospital. For rats they were intelligent. They asked me my name several times but I’ve played this game long enough to make sure I keep a straight story. I told them my name was Alex, that I was an airplane pilot who had been forced to land by order of the Russian military at Balota, and whose plane had been confiscated. At first they seemed skeptical, but my showering of thanks on them for saving my life seemed to inure them and garner sympathy. I offered them anything I might have had on me in return for their help…. For I guessed that would rob be of it soon enough…. Yet they kindly refused my offers with only one of them taking me up on the offer for some painkillers. We spoke for a long time. They asked me about my background and we chatted. Assuming the truth, I discovered that their leader’s name is Paddy O’Connor, the same man who I had seen carve B-17 in Ronald’s back and beat him without mercy. There was a new recruit with them as well, named “Tiddles” and a woman named Jessi who Paddy seemed to hold in especially high regard. I imagine that there might be romantic interest on his part for the woman, but it didn’t seem as though she returned his feelings. I’d need more contact to be sure, however. For a while I thought that I might have gained their trust, but my estimate proved false when several of their number arrived from a raid deeper in the city. When the others came the mood in the camp changed considerably. While I still know little of this organization, but it’s clear that Paddy’s leadership, if any, is administered in the same manner of the despotic Serbian officers that I faced in the Balkans. His command was one based on personality and perhaps he was worried that he had been too soft with me in front of his foot soldiers. All those present turned their guns on me and ordered me to drop everything in my position at Paddy’s. I attempted to feign confusion at first, but my efforts gained me little benefit. I did what I could to comply quickly but the injuries I had sustained over the past few days were becoming increasingly burdensome and painful, especially the wound in my leg. The longer I took the more agitated they grew and before I could remove my backpack I felt a train collide into my chest, knocking me to the ground and my head against the hard linoleum of the hospital floor. I awoke several hours later in a garbage pile about thirty yards away from the hospital with Ronald slinging me over his shoulder. Whoever shot me put the bullet right in my chest and the thin layer of microfiber under my jacket was the only thing between that bullet and my sternum Apparently Paddy and his goons had been quick to dispose of me, however, and had failed to finish the job. Perhaps they realized their error and merely took pity on an old man. After I first woke I quickly lost consciousness again. That morning is something of a blur in my memory, patches of the city outskirts, farm houses, and the lonely road back to Elektro. Ronald tells me it has been a full day since he found me and now we are back in the small barn we were when we first left the safe house. While this isn’t the first time I’ve found myself wounded in a barn, I don’t think I’ve ever been so elated to be in a barn rather than a hospital.
  8. Background Born in Virgina in the winter of 1971, Frank Horrigan is the son of the wealthy and affluent Horrigan political dynasty. In his youth Frank's family expected much from him, and his upbringing proved to be strict, academic, and regimented. At the age of 18 he joined the Air National Guard, and graduated from Harvard in 1993 with a dual-degree in political science and business administration. Soon after Frank was accepted early to Yale's Law School and upon his graduation in 1996, served in the offices of several United States Senators before taking a position at the CIA under the Bush Administration. Exceptionally intelligent, disciplined, and industrious, Frank built a reputation as a serious career worker who lived for his work. During the 2000's, Frank served in Iraq and Afganistan running numerous covert operations aimed at targeting and eliminating local tribal leaders. Although his military experience had been limited until then, Frank garnered a reputation for bravery during his stay in the middle-east, even if none of his accomplishments were ever to be recognized back home. In 2006 he was transferred to Eastern Europe where he used his skills to establish several spy networks within the fragmented remnants of the old Soviet Union. As tensions grew between the United States and President Vladimir Putin, Frank's workload in the Eastern theater only increased. In early 2008 Frank's partner, Stan Collins, was shot and killed in Moscow during an operation. Concerned that Frank's experience might go to waste should he be killed, but reluctant to pull him off of front line duty, Langley decided to partner the veteran with a young agent named Ronald Smith, a military veteran and native of Chicago. Agent Frank Horrigan, Central Intelligence Agency Senior Analyst Day 1 Generator #2 malfunctioned yesterday, took the whole safe house down with it. We’ve done our best to keep it up over the past two years but the geniuses in Langley thought that setting up a GE generator instead of something local in the middle of Chernarussia was a good idea. I’d throttle Keith for not catching that sort of thing, but chances are he’s already dead unless he made it to the Oaks Facility…. …. …. [several ink blots line the rest on the page, as though the author began to start writing but decided against it several times.] My old journal is deep in the rubble, probably burnt to ashes so so I'm forced to start anew. Ronald continues to pester me on why I maintain this log. What he doesn’t realize is that writing, the keeping of records, our history, is one of the only things that makes us different from the biters. It’s why we’re civilized, it’s who we are all wrapped up in the humble and unassuming written word. If I stop writing, if we stop, then we might as well just be cave men and that’s a notion I refuse to entertain. In truth, it's also the only thing that's kept me sane over the years. I only wish Anna was with me again, just like we once were before this happened. We were damn lucky that I was working on updating our files when the fire broke out, otherwise all our work would have been destroyed. I lost most of the records that I had managed to piece together on the local groups over the years but I saved the POZ-12 file. It represents the last three years of my life’s work. It must be returned to the States if there's to be a cure: I’m convinced that this information can turn everything around, but I'll be damned if I let it fall into Russian hands. It has to get back to the U.S. It has to. File or no file, it will be of little worth if we can’t get out of here alive and that’s going to be hard now that the safe house has been destroyed. We’ve been hunkered down in a small barn outside of Elektrozavodsk for the night and we haven’t seen much in the way of what I've heard the locals call "biters" -the infected- or human activity. From the intelligence I was able to gather over the past two years from inside the safe house, the city appears to be fairly well traveled by survivors and the number of infected is usually kept to a minimum, at least as far as large towns go. While the city is relatively safe, we have been unable to locate any proper firearms other than a few old shotguns. There was a weapons locker back in the safe house but all we were able to get from it before the fire spread were a couple of makarovs with a few clips. This Russian equipment is about as reliable as a Frenchman in a firefight, but it'll do until we're able to locate something better. Given the information on the groups that have surfaced in the area over the past few years, we’re going to have to get some heavier firepower if we want to ensure that our mission stays on track. Ronald and I have decided to make our way to the military airfield at Balota. Hopefully we’ll be able to find some guns and ammunition there. Day 2 [The normally eloquent script is jarred and scratchy, yet still recognizable as written in the same hand as the entry before.] Elektrozavodsk’s condition gave us a false sense of security about Chernogorsk. It’s been nearly two years now yet somehow the number of infected is staggeringly high. The only rational explanation is that the infection was far worse than our analysts in Langley thought. Our last projections were showing infection at 20% with an estimated casualty rate around 45-50%, but those numbers must be wrong. There’s simply not a single living soul to be found and Chernogorsk is a labyrinth of the dead. The good news is that Ronald and I managed to make it to Balota without incident. The airfield had a high number of infected, most of which appeared to have been freshly turned and dressed in Russian military uniforms. This would seem to indicate that there are military groups operating in the area, but we’ve still yet to see any living persons. The last time I saw any survivors was six months ago when Ronald and I made a run into Elektrozavodsk in search of a belt for our water pump. Even then we avoided contact and quickly made our way back to the safe house. The condition of Chernarussia appears to have grown far more dire in the past six months since we ventured into Elektrozavodsk. Survivors are no longer moving about on the coast so perhaps they’ve moved inland as the number of infected has grown. Nevertheless, we managed to snatch several kalashnikovs and plenty of ammunition before heading back to Chernogorsk. If the Russians ever did much of anything right, it was make this hunk of metal. Turns out that the infected react with far more fervor to the sound of gun fire than we expected. A few of them came after us outside an old pub close to the center of the city and we fired on them. It took only a few seconds before we were swarmed. We managed to make it upstairs into this pub we’re in now and after a prolonged defense we managed to bring down over thirty-two of them. One of them managed to hit me even harder than Bradley Rehnquist back in my lacrosse days, knocked the wind right out of me and gave another one of them the chance to tear into my leg pretty good. I’ve lost a lot of blood but thanks to Ronald and some survivor I have managed to survive for the time being. I lost consciousness shortly after falling but apparently Ronald and some other man managed to clear out the rest of the horde. I wish I had had the chance to speak with this man, I partially owe him my life but he could have been an excellent source of information. Sometimes I forget that Ronald is a new agent, he still has a lot more to learn besides hitting targets from three hundred yards out. Right now we’ve got the pub partially boarded up and we’ve enough food and water to last for a day or so. Ronald says we’ll have to wait at least that long before I should move again and it will be a good chance for us to conduct some surveillance on the city. I'm exited to hear that there are other survivors and I hope to observe more while I heal in the coming days.
  9. Thanks for the warm welcomes! Just had the chance to meet some folks in-game last night and it was even more enjoyable than I expected. I look forward to seeing y'all!
  10. Good read! Having so more concrete lore for the setting really helps improve consistency in the player base. Thanks for taking the time to do this.
  11. Name: Frank Horrigan Alias: Alexi Lukov Age: 43 Nationality: American Height: 6'1 Weight: 190ibs Hair: Brown-grey Eyes: Brown Appearance characteristics: Short and greying hair with the beginnings of a survivor beard. Pre-Outbreak Profession: CIA Operative, airplane pilot, diplomatic attache. Demeanor in Three Words: Intelligent, industrious, stern.
  12. Thanks! I'm really looking forward to it. Also, I've always enjoyed Alice in Wonderland.... especially the Walrus and the Carpenter.
  13. Hello everyone! A friend of mine and I are joining and we are really looking forward to participating in the role play community that has been built here. I hope to get the chance to meet some great people and have a really fun time role playing in the apocalypse!