I haven't seen the item personally, but I'm all for more apparel options. When the 'clowns' were doing their thing, I didn't go. "Oh, it's those payday 2 guys at it again." It was more. "Uh oh, the crazy clown people." Is people running around with human leather masks immersive for everyone? Probably not. But at least it might be interesting.
I got on to play yesterday, and went to meet up with some friends in a city. Upon approaching the city, my game froze up from lagging out to the point that it was a still image. This happened at least 5 times, without me recording. Later on that day, I wanted to record something, and my recording software decided to act up. It wouldn't initiate recording when I wanted, and then after the fact began to spaz out causing me to not be able to record everything I wanted. These situations, have nothing to do with any hostilities, so I can only wonder how it would behave during a hostile situation.
Coming from someone who's played both hostile, and non-hostile characters. And is currently playing a non-hostile character, I'm gonna nope. -1.
Had a pretty fun time rolling with @Cid, even though we ended up getting Dayzed. And @Arcarius.
I have no idea who the weird sick guy I ran into on my way to Vybor Military was, but that was a pretty fun tense standoff we had going there. You've got three hundred sixty degrees of get the fuck outta my face, has got to be one of the funniest things I've probably ever said improvised. Thanks for being weird dude, wish I knew who you were.
Tommy sat there in his chair, mouth parted when Alex mentioned their 'fearless leader'. He was, mulling over some cheeky response, but. Could she really be referring to Alexander Sinclair? It had been such a long time since he even thought about that little bastard, he was honestly taken aback if only for a moment. He was about to reply to Alex, when Ivy chimed in. The whole thing seemed, suspicious, to say the least. These two definitely wanted him to stick his head out there, expose his neck for a clean cut? Perhaps.
"Huh...well, as pleasant as all this, tom fuckery is. You're gonna have to wait to get on your knees, and confess for me, Ivy."
Rubbing his jaw for a moment, Cupid continued.
"Why not? I'll go on and get packed, walk my ass back on over that way. Guess I'll see about making contact with you, Alex. Shouldn't be too hard to find you, I'll be sure to check all the public restrooms for any mention of a 'good time'. Till then."
Gritting his teeth, Tommy rested his eyes a moment before sitting up, and eventually getting off the chair. Placing his radio on the table, he tucked his pistol into his waist from behind. Walking over to the doorway, he leaned up against it, his free hand rested high above his head, hanging into the room while he pressed his face against the wooden frame. Peering in at the boy who sat on the bed, head cast down, clearly disgruntled.
"Hey~, come on now. No need to be, so, sad."
Cupid gave a coy smile, showing his teeth, while the boy remained silent.
"Alright now, go on. Get your suit case packed, or whatever the hell you'd call it. You're coming on a long, long trip."
Finally looking up, the boy avoided eye contact, and quietly protested.
"But...Mr. Cupid, the...the infected...those...things are out there."
Placing his free hand up toward his own face, Cupid placed his long slender pointer finger upward against his lips, uttering a drawn out "Shhhh." Before lowering his hand back down to his hip.
"No more of that, got it? I've already told you, I'm not gonna let those things kill you."
Tommy lightly shook his head, as if to further clarify his intentions.
"Now, pack, your shit."
With a nod, the boy got up from the bed, picking up a suitcase from the side of the room and laying it out on the covers. Opening it, he began to move clothing from his dresser into the case, his back turned to Cupid. The older man simply stood there, eyes tracing up and down the farm boy's body. Tip of his tongue pointing out from the center of his lips, tucking his lower lip under his front teeth and letting out a 'tsk' noise. The hand at his side slowly moved along his hip, resting on the grip of his gun tucked in behind him. Carefully pulling it out, and lingering at his side for a moment. Tommy eventually brought the barrel of his gun upward, poising it toward the boy. With the shift of his body weight, there was a small creek on the floor boards. The boy abruptly stopped packing, stopped moving, frozen in place and not daring to turn around or look in Cupid's direction. There was an instant that Tommy questioned, what exactly was going through that boy's head.
He didn't have to question what was going through it long, not after he pulled the trigger anyway.
In some relatively distant, unremarkable farmhouse in the country-side. About as run down as anywhere else in this god forsaken country, the one bedroom hovel spat smoke into the air from it's chimney. At its crusted, and likely infested core, sat the illustrious Cupid. A king all his own, sitting upon his old worn down armchair of a throne. His feet were perched up on top a footstool, watching the flames in the fireplace dance. His radio sat on the table beside him, occasionally sputtering out two familiar voices. Most of the time, there would just be silence, or static, this time however it would appear the thing finally served some purpose. And yet, eyes narrowed, tip of his tongue tracing from one corner of his mouth to the other slowly. Cupid couldn't help but feel a bit, uneasy, to say the least.
"...Mr....Cupid, sir...are, you going to answer...that?"
A timid voice interrupted Tommy's contemplation, his serpent eyes gliding over to take in the sight of his recently acquired 'property'. A young man, farmhand in another life, built sturdy and lean with his youth. Rough hands from the fieldwork, that didn't bother Cupid much however, soft spoken and tender body where it mattered.
"Did I address you, boy?"
Cupid's raspy southern accent eased out past his lips, the slow drawl venomous, dangerous in tone. The young man quickly remembered his place, and lowered his head hoping he wouldn't be reprimanded later. Sitting there, one hand caressing the ripped open arm of his chair, fingers brushing over the exposed fluffy stuffing. Cupid understood how easy it would be to simply refrain from giving a reply to Alex, or Ivy for that matter. He could continue living here, in this farmhouse, with his boy toy until he was either done with him or was forced to murder him for attempting to rebel. With a long, drawn out sigh. Cupid rested his eyes a moment before tilting his head to one side, reaching for the radio and holding it up to the side of his head.
"Well now~, is that, Alex? And Ginsu...sounds like you two been speaking, recently? Ain't that something..."
A coy grin crept across Cupid's expression, knowing full well that he and Ginsu hadn't exactly parted on good terms, he couldn't help but be a little suspicious of getting reacquainted with his former associates.
"Guess you ain't heard? Think I'm nice and retired at the moment, found myself a cute, young, supple little hidey-hold actually. I'm sure he's not as, experienced, as you Alex. But hey, maybe ya'll can have a chit chat sometime, give him some pointers?"
The boy got up and silently left the room, likely feeling a mix of disgust and resentment toward his captor and protector, Cupid. Bringing his hand away from the ripped open stitching of the chair, Cupid casually rested it on the grip of his pistol, carefully watching the doorway the boy left through before continuing.
"I know you both probably like thinking I'm duller than a duck bill, but even I can smell the bullshit from all the way over here. You either contacted me, cause you really~, and I mean really~~ need my expertise. Or...I dare say, you might harbor some ill intentions toward me. Which one is it, Alex?"
Taking his finger of the transmitter, Cupid would lean back in his chair a moment, waiting to see if there was an answer from the other side.