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Server time (UTC): 2022-01-21 01:18

WeatheredMachi

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  1. I admit I experienced the DayZRP decay mechanic personally with one of my doors decaying despite members of my clan being around (who also weren't aware of the maintenance requirement) - leaving planks and nails etc in every piece of construction work seems a little egregious; If someone goes into hospital, or on holiday, or loses their internet for a few days it's entirely possible that they would have parts of their base decay if they can't log in to put materials into the inventory. Flagpoles decay as well, obviously, which means that they would need to be kept raised by those with access to the poles - and if no one's around/inactivity reigns, then the base would still decay over time as normal, helping to reduce server stress. Leaving items on the floor that are in the 'inventory' of building items also increases lag (albeit minimally) because it forces the players to render those items (as they remain visible on the floor). I'd love to hear more reasoning behind why this mechanic is a thing instead of the vanilla flagpoles, and would hope that this conversation can remain pleasant and civil, thank you! If you'd be interested in having the vanilla flagpoles instead of the decay mechanic (or indeed otherwise, or have other suggestions) please vote in the poll!
  2. Suggestion: Adjust the Journals (and potentially other books?) in the game to be useable/writeable. Reason for the Change: For those of us that would rather keep our diaries, recipe books, stories and other lore specifically on the server for people to find rather than to read on the forums (avoiding paths of meta or just simply meaning that there has to be in character interaction, increasing roleplay), this would be a nice change. Obviously a pen would have to be combined with the Journal, but it would certainly give a bit more depth to the world (and be more immersive) than me sending someone a google doc link if they take my book (also, can't do that if someone raids my base when I'm not around to give them the links!).
  3. *The transmission comes from a Scottish-accented woman.* "See, I dinnae ken much 'bout this stuff, til yesterday... when Natalya an' some o' her buddies used me as an excuse tae beat th' livin' shit outta a pair o' PLIKT greenskins who'd joined up wi' PLIKT th' day before, who clearly dinnae ken anythin' 'bout wha's been goin' on either. Tellin' ye as I nurse me fractured cheekbone - caused 'cause her mate hit me inna face wi' an AK tae provoke th' lads intae tryin' tae protect me - 'im an' her drew their guns up in me face jes' cause I told 'em tae be quiet tae let me respond tae wha' they were sayin'. Fragile - back in Scotland we'd talk wi' words, nay guns. Fists an' *maybe* a broken bottle if it got tae far. If ye think PLIKT are these big ol' evil guys an' ye want th' common folk tae believe ye, ye ain't doin' tae good at convincin' little civvies like me tha' yer anythin' better than them. If them's th' big dictators, then ye gotta be better, ye gotta let us speak up fer ourselves an' nae threatenin' an unarmed woman 'cause ye dinnae like tha' she dinnae cow tae ye."
  4. Growing up in a survivalist/prepper camp in the valleys in northeastern Scotland, Lizzie was raised to be a practical and self-sufficient young woman. She was taught how to fish from a young age, and taught to maintain and repair items and equipment in order to survive out in the wilds by herself. Whilst her elders had established the camp in part due to their own paranoias about the world and its status quo - and the rumours of diseases spreading like wildfire - Elizabeth was a curious and questioning child, keeping the adults on their toes. She was nicknamed "Bunny" or "Rabbit" by her peers, for she constantly kept on the move and always needed to have something to do, whether it was feeding the animals, farming the land or helping around the camp. When she wasn't pestering the adults or working, she was reading books, practicing lockpicking or other small dextrous hobbies. As the world began to go to hell in a handbasket, Elizabeth - along with many others - would be sent out to gather supplies and explore the surrounding areas in order to keep the camp safe and fed. Foraying further afield with bicycles (rather than vehicles, not wishing to waste sparse supplies of fuel) the travellers took more and more risks to keep their homestead afloat. They quickly learned to keep quiet, and avoid using guns unless in the most dire need. One fateful day Lizzie was caught unawares in a marketplace by a young man that looked incredibly sick; lunging for her, the man fell and started scrabbling to reach her from the floor. Foolishly, Lizzie tried to kick him away and he grasped onto her leg, biting into her calf. Crying out, she desperately fought to free herself from the man's grasp and alerted her nearby comrades - who before long arrived to save her, beating the man into a bloody puddle on the floor. It wouldn't be the last time that Lizzie bit down on a leather belt, or smelt burning flesh, as one of her comrades cauterised her leg with the knife and treated it with the medical supplies they had found - they had no idea if the man was rabid, sick from the viruses or something else, but daren't risk blood attracting more attention. Knowing that trying to take Lizzie home with them would cause the group to be far more noticeable and make much slower progress - she was unable to use a bicycle, at least until her leg healed - Jonathan, the leader of the foraging group, made an executive decision to move homeward without her, essentially leaving her to fend for herself. Before long she limped her way to the city docks as a plethora of ships of all sizes were setting sail - and in some cases, capsizing offshore from overloading. In the bustling flood of folk trying to flee to more remote shores, somehow the young woman ended up on one of the larger vessels. Before long she passed out from exhaustion and pain, and didn't rouse until the ship wrecked upon Nyheim's shores some time later. Having found that all her belongings had either been stolen from her unconscious body on the beach, or washed away with the rest of the passengers, Lizzie set out by herself once again.
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