- Spring 2009
- "The Alpha Game"
The first game to ever take place at Ohio State. Was a shortened game with a much smaller player base, but much of the ground work for the factions was laid here, as well as the organization of the organizers.
- Fall 2010
- "What the hell is a Brood Mother?!"
This game was of a much larger scale than the previous spring game. Major gameplay elements were added such as the Brood Mother. This game also saw the first appearance of Bro-tential, the game would never be the same. Overall game was fairly balanced throughout. See below pages for significant battles and events during game. Overarching storyline was as follows:
Some sort of outbreak has erupted at a special lab facility. The inhabitants of the facility must use any means necessary to survive and stop the virus from spreading.
- Spring 2010
- "The Human Steamroll"
After the close Fall game, the human factions became heavily organized, and although none survived the final mission, the entire game was humanity steamrolling objectives with the zombies unable to put up a coherent defense. Also of note was the lack of OZs, but rather the usage of Bro-tential as temporary OZs for the first night mission. Storyline as follows: After the loss of contact with the Laboratory, a group of mercenaries is sent in to figure out what happened. After finding out that Zombies have infested the area, and are making an attempt to break free, the mercenaries stop the Zombies from breaking out of the area, and "kill" DPS.
- Fall 2011
- "Revenge of the Zombies"
In response to the steamrolling of the humans last game, many players vowed to re-balance the game and play hardcore zombie. Of special note is the extreme damage the OZs did on day one of the game. Before the first night mission, zombie numbers were upwards of 140 zombies in a 500 person game. From that point on, humans were given large numbers of antidotes and cures to simply stay alive. Final mission ended with a single human player surviving and escaping the moon. Storyline is as follows:
Players were all Bonk employees taking part in a science experiment to test exponential growth (ironically enough, even though all previous games before hand had human growth modeling linear behavior, this one game actually resembled exponential behavior). It soon becomes apparent however that the AI in charge of the factory has plans of world domination, and is using the experiment to build an army of robotic zombie minions. However, DPS arrives, informs them that they are actually on the moon, and leads them to the escape pods. As stated earlier, there was one survivor. DPS is listed as missing in action.
- Spring 2013
- "The Orbital Friendship Cannon"
***If someone could type up something about the opening ceremony, that would be helpful. I wasn't there and don't know much besides the shrinking business. Also, double check these names for me, cause there's no database or anything***
***I got ya!***
The day began like any other. The anticipation was intense. We had all been admitted to Bonk! Industries as interns. We were shown a magnificent orientation video, in which Dr. Waltz and Dr. Anderson toured the facility and showed off some of their latest creations. But things went terribly wrong! Dr. Anderson had spilled a vial of virus earlier that day that adversely affected many of the test subjets- one of which escaped. Dr. Anderson assured the interns that everything would be fine and decided to show us his newest invention: The shrink ray! The device was turned on, but nothing happened. Or so it seemed...
Now, we must not only avoid the virus-infected test subjects but do our damnedest to reach Dr. Anderson and help him find a way to reverse our plight!
The evening began with a call from Dr. Alexander Anderson. He had forgotten his terminal password, and needed reminding. Due to a communication equipment malfunction, we could not relay the information to him, and so took it upon ourselves to input the password "LOVERP", despite our diminutive stature. Given a large cardboard cutout of the password and several maps detailing the locations of the keys we would need to press, we split up and set off to give the good doctor the access he so desperately needed.
It was around this time that Superstes, prophet of Onatar, realized that the cutout given to us was a holy relic detailed in the holy book as a harbinger of either great prosperity or great doom (the text is difficult to decipher). Observing the zombies around us, we realized it would surely be a symbol of great doom unless we consecrated it quickly.
Superstes quickly paged through the holy book, finding the prophecy he had been searching for. He discovered that the prophecy could not be completed until the Conduit had been found, and the 57.5 nanites collected in the Nylus capsules.
We knew nothing of this Conduit, but began taking the relic on a great journey to recover the lost nanites. Most of the nanites had attached themselves to persons of significance or alien artifacts, so they were not difficult to find once we learned to utilize the machine that goes "bing" when there's stuff.
As we began to fill our capsules with nanites, one of the men in our group, Jacob of Cheektowaga, claimed that he believed the nanites would make for a delicious treat. Superstes, through the will of Onatar, saw this immediately as a sign of the Conduit, as the Elder Scrolls had foretold that the Conduit would be the only one who could eat all of the nanites. Our Conduit had been found, and we were one step closer to fulfilling the prophecy.
Our great journey took us from the plains of Ramseyer to the fields of JO North, from the great halls of Fisher to the castle Scott. It was there we suffered great loss, losing our glorious commander, Louise M.F. Jones. We retreated to the grasslands of Oval, seeking the final nanites and putting ourselves closer to Mirror Lake's cleansing waters where we would perform a holy baptism upon the relic, turning its great power to the forces of good, justice, and forgiveness.
After retrieving the final nanites from a mysterious blue box, we gathered around the waters of Mirror Lake as Superstes conducted the ritual of consecration, forever binding the cardboard rectangle to Onatar's justice.
We quickly returned to the Oval, seeking to fulfill the great prophecy by consecrating the great statue of President William Oxley Thompson, first of his name, Lord of the Buckeyes. Ben and Scott, drawing upon their many years of fusion training under Master Goku, fused with the statue, releasing the raw power of the nanites. This power was quickly devoured by the ravenous Conduit. As he consumed the raw power of friendship, he declared that he would become the God of Friendship, being loved by all and loving in return. This new power allowed him to consecrate the area and power up our orbiting friendship cannon.
The Orbital Friendship Cannon (OFC) is likely our only hope in staying the apocalypse that threatens our tiny world. Our end goal is to utilize the cannon's powers of friendship to allow the zombies to be sustained on hugs rather than brains, hopefully allowing for an understanding between us and a lasting peace.
However, we ran into problems with the OFC. The Conduit did his best to power up the satellite arrays, but only was able to bring them to 99% power. Superstes utilized the machine that goes "bing" and our worst fears were realized. The zombies had gained control of ten of the nanites. Upon falling in battle, Commander Jones had some of the capsules on her person. Due to our expedient retreat, the nanites remained with her body upon reanimation.
We attempted to recover the nanites, but to no avail. They were destroyed, and there were no others like them in all of the universe.
But all was not lost, for while doing battle with the undead Jones and her new crew, we discovered a Unidyne Arcane Forge: a tool which could rebuild the unique nanites we required. We made plans to bring the forge online the next day, but then received an urgent message from OU, our allies to the southeast. They had heard of our plight and were sending a detachment of nine of their finest wizards to bolster our ranks and aid our powering of the OFC. We immediately dropped our plans to power the forge. These sorcerers did not know the extent of the evil in our lands, and would surely perish if we did not protect them as they entered our borders.
Now that Dr. Anderson had remembered his password, Dr. Waltz needed help too. It was one thing after another with these scientists. Waltz needed some muscle to go plug in his centrifuge for some kind of experiment, and we decided to just go along with it.Scouts reported that one of the outlets was in the northern sector, near Hitchcock, so we took hold of our giant extension cord and moved out. We did so with a heavy sadness, however, for we had just heard news of the Conduit's demise and reanimation. Without the Conduit, few besides Superstes had any hope for the salvation of man.
On our way there, mere minutes into our first objective, disaster struck when the horn of Gondor was heard ringing in the distance. We wanted nothing more than to answer the call, but we had committed to fulfilling this objective before moving on. We prayed to the divines to let Gondor hold the line for just a few minutes longer.
Upon arrival at the outlet, we were shocked to see a new mutation of the virus, some type of creature I will call the "King-Noodler Brood-Mother Hybrid" or "CARMEN" for short. It plagued our efforts to bring power to the centrifuge, but luckily it seemed more focused on performing its spectacular dance than harming us. We finished the power collection and began to return south to the centrifuge.
Deep tones once again were heard ringing throughout the north. It was the horn once again, this time much closer. We looked down, and our hearts began to ache with sorrow at the terrible sight. We were too late. There before us with the mighty horn were several wizards from OU, already zombified. We had not answered their call soon enough, we had failed them.
They charged us in full wizard regalia, their hats shining breathtakingly in the dim street lighting. We were forced to fire on those we had hoped to call comrades. We attempted to administer a treatment of full-on hugs, but our level was not yet high enough to cure an infection this deeply seeded. We turned and ran at full retreat to the centrifuge.
The centrifuge was already in motion upon our arrival, so our squad determined the best course of action would be to remain in its center and play reaction to any zombie incursions. But before we met any zombies, we received the most peculiar message.
Ben "THE RAVE" Loughridge's communicator received a message, and it was from the wizard battalion! By the power of Onatar's glorious name, some of the wizards had survived the onslaught and escaped to the west. They declared Ben to be the Chosen One, a man who could serve in the place of the Conduit. To reach these wizards and have them perform the ceremony of power transfer, we would need to travel north and west, removing wards that were holding back the zombies, but also keeping the wizards trapped.
We immediately set out on this quest, determined to reach these few surviving wizards before something happened to them. We left our fellows to guard and operate the centrifuge, which they had well in hand.
Our journey north took us back through the territory of the CARMEN, but it appeared as though she had left to find more suitable hunting grounds for her underlings. We finished praying for the safety of the companions we had left when we came across the first ward.
It was quite fragile for a ward, just a simple piece of paper with large penciled words on it. It simply said, "FOLLOWS", and next to the word was a drawing of a tree and tall, slender stick figure. It was odd, but at a touch from the Chosen One, the ward disintegrated and we could continue.
As we collected the wards, the odd messages continued. "CANT RUN", "LEAVE ME ALONE", and another picture of the man, with "NO NO NO NO NO" written on it. Soon we began to hear the oddest sound. It was the sound of drums. Drums in the deep. Several zombies had followed us and we quested, looking for the opportune time to pounce and take us, but as the drums grew louder, I saw emotion for the first time in the eyes of the undead. It was fear. The zombies began to disappear one by one, until our squad was alone in the dark.
Our journey took us west to the river, and as we entered the trees, we began to feel a sense of uneasiness not brought on by the undead. This was different, some elder evil that did not appreciate our removing of these wards. I began to see the figure from the drawing out of the corner of my eye, though just for a second before it was gone in the dark. Of course, I told none of this, it was not the time to be falling for tales of ghosts with such an important mission.
Finally, after what seemed an age, we spotted the bridge of Khazad Dum. As we approached, the drums grew louder and louder, and we knew something was coming for us. Everyone broke into a run, we just had to get to the bridge, then we would be safe. We sprinted across the bridge, and as the Chosen one touched the eighth ward, the drums fell silent.
As silence fell, we noticed a new sound. It was the sound of argument. We pushed forward into a clearing and found our remaining wizards in a huddle. Of the nine wizards sent, four remained. Standing before us was *** Shit, can anyone remember their names? I remember Honeysuckle and Gingerbread maybe?***
After introductions were made, the wizards asked us for several offerings. They demanded Peanut Butter, Jelly, Bread, The Knife of Buttery Justice, Prostitutes, and the Lost Paratrooper of Lincoln Tower. Unfortunately, we had earlier attempted to offer these items to the zombified wizards, hoping the offering would return their deranged minds, but to no avail and many items were lost. As it was, we had Peanut Butter, a single Prostitute, and the Lost Paratrooper of Lincoln Tower to offer them.
The wizards were outraged, and Honeysuckle immediately demanded that two additional sacrifices be made. The Lost Paratrooper was immediately taken and his body used in one of their terrible rites. But it wasn't enough. To conjure the kind of power needed to open the Chosen One to the power of the Nanites, drastic measures were needed.
Superstes looked at the brave men and women of his squad and asked for volunteers. Immediately, Rachael and Santa Claus-meyer stood up, and offered their lives for the sake of humanity. They were taken to the center of the wizards circle and forced to perform terrible rites as their bodies were transmuted into the energy the wizards required. Rest in peace Santa, we will never forget.
After their energy was collected, five of our number formed the pentagram around the Chosen One, performing the intricate twister dance of power transfer. The rest of us aided by adding our own rave energies into the mix. A few minutes of chanting went by, and the Chosen One stood, more powerful than any before him.
Their duties complete, the wizards began their journey home, but not before Superstes asked one further favor of them. He asked them to cast a divination, determining the present location of the Declaration of Independence, which we would need to focus the energies of the OFC. Honeysuckle stared into the energies of the Warp, looking into the future and past and all points of space.
"No." he told us. "I cannot tell you the location of the Declaration."
Superstes' heart fell at this news, knowing he would once again send his troops into the unknown to find this prize.
"However," Honeysuckle continued, "I can tell you the location of Nicolas Cage."
Everyone knew if we found Nicolas Cage, he would lead us straight to wherever the historic document lay.
"Nicolas Cage is actually Pat Webster." he finished dramatically.
"But where!? Where can we find the real Pat Webster?" Superstes shouted in frustration.
"Never fear, for he is close at hand. The real Pat Webster is currently hiding within the eye of the Pat Webster you've seen today. Bring me this other Pat Webster, and I know a spell that shall force him to show his true form."
As the wizards teleported away, we had our next mission. We were going to need to find
The REAL Pat Webster.
We lost many brave men and women today, among them our Superstes. His loss has driven me ever closer to the brink of insanity, wondering if anything we do has any effect. The rest of the squad has been pushed to the limit as well, and few showed to attempt Pat’s capture.
The rest of the humans with us had been tasked with restoring power that we could utilize in energy shields, but our small squad had more important things to deal with. Nicolas Cage had taken over Pat Webster’s body, leaving the Real Pat Webster trapped somewhere inside. We needed to capture him alive, but he had somehow been killed and reanimated in a terrible new form: one of the undead brood-mothers. Our task was to find Pat, destroy his brood, and use the holy symbol of Axe to purge Nicolas Cage from his body, restoring to us the Real Pat Webster.
Our mission was plagued from the beginning by a different horde, not containing Pat. It did, however, contain an old enemy, the feared CARMEN. We no longer had the numbers to meet her in open combat, and took off, still searching for the elusive Pat.
This running and searching continued for some time, until we suddenly crossed paths with our quarry. We held off two attacks from his brood, falling back as they came. On the third charge we made our counteroffensive, taking out the brood and setting our phasers to stun for Pat. The stunned Pat was impossible to move to a sacred site, so it was deemed necessary to complete the ritual on the spot before other zombies showed up. Taking up the holy can of Axe, I whispered a prayer to the divines and sprayed the Axe all over his body, taking special care to get plenty in the eyes and mouth.
Unfortunately, the holy symbol and my prayers were not enough to rout Cage from Pat’s body. As he began to regain consciousness, the decision was made to run like a little bitch. And run we did, far from the horde to where we hoped to find safety enough to think about our next move.
Our squad had fought bravely to make this attempt, but sadly we lost several good men and women, including First Mate Schutte, a devastating loss. Our number was now down to four, so we decided to forget about Pat. Nothing could be done to save him now that Cage was wary to our attempts at exorcism, so we vowed to help the other humans in generating power.
It was about this time that I received a message on my communicator. Somehow, the undead Jones had learned to use a discarded communicator, and was asking that we parlay. She knew I was looking to exorcise Cage from Pat, and said she could help if I would meet with her. Of course, I smelled a trap, and so went alone to the meeting place, not willing to risk my remaining comrades’ lives in a fool’s last desperate hopes.
Strangely, the undead Jones had kept her side of the bargain. She only had three other zombies with her, and made no attempt to attack. I let my guard down and we spoke: a terrible mistake.
She brought something from behind her to show to me. It was a different holy can of Axe, a can of ladies’ Axe, a symbol that would be certain to drive Cage from Pat’s body. As I stared at the can in awe, she pointed it toward me and sprayed.
The can did not contain the advertised product. Undead Jones had craftily replaced it with the nanites she had taken earlier. Exposed to the raw power of the nanites without the help of wizards, I began to choke as the nanites took hold and began to multiply in my body. As I finally regained control of myself and stood, undead Jones and her troupe were long gone, their mission complete. They had not lured me there to infect me with a virus, they had lured me there to turn me into an even more powerful weapon against mankind. I had seen what happened to common men like myself after exposure to nanite clouds. I estimated with the low number I had been exposed to, I had until Monday at midnight until they had replicated enough to take complete control of my body and turn me into the ultimate killer: a Terminator. If I could not find a cure by then, I would stop at nothing to disobey the first law of robotics to my full potential.
The wounds I had suffered in the field were enough to keep me in the medical tents tonight, and I could not aid with the mission. As the soldiers left the encampment on the night’s mission, the Chosen One told me that he would find a cure, and I would be saved. I tried to keep my spirits up, but knowing the potential of my infection, fear had gripped my heart. However, hearing that the Chosen One, Lowride McClyde himself, was on the case, I felt better than I had in the last 24 hours.
I had only been asleep for about an hour when I woke up and noticed a dark figure at the foot of my bed. A figure dressed in black was standing there, staring at me. As I open my mouth to speak, a voice came from the figure first.
“Do not take the antidote.”
“Of which antidote do you speak?” I asked. “I have here one of Jacob’s strongest potions, but I am also to soon receive one from the Chosen One.”
“Ben’s. Do not take the one from Ben. You must trust me. I cannot tell you why, but you must not take the antidote.”
And then, the shadowy silhouette suddenly disappeared. Now I was at an impasse. This shady character was undoubtedly privy to information I did not have, but the Chosen One was the only man I knew I could still trust. And even if his antidote wouldn’t work, I had to at least try it. If I did nothing, I would turn into a literal killing machine, and humanity’s last sparks of hope would forever be smothered. I made up my mind, then and there, no matter what happened, I would take the antidote from the Chosen One, and hope that the divines would be merciful. It was at that moment a scout burst into the room with an important message: The Chosen One was dead.
Day 5: Well, he was undead anyway. Regardless, this was a loss that words cannot describe. I knew of no way to make an antidote and had only 24 hours before my mind was no longer my own. Besides that, the undead had made large strides in their campaign, taking our lands and horses as well as infecting much of the population. But then the strangest thing happened. Easter Sunday. We had no plans of being able to celebrate the traditions of our fathers this year, but strangely, the zombies did. As they took part in their general celebrations, they did not bother us at all.
This led me to believe that not all of their humanity is gone. Not only are they celebrating a holiday the same way they did when they were human, but now I look back on their behavior to this point. Undead Jones was able to use a communicator. She was able to think of a way to trick me. She had devised a way to damage her enemies without simply infecting me, in fact overcoming her natural desire to spread the infection. Even while infected, Nicolas Cage retained enough of his own mind to fight off exorcism and retain control of Pat's undead body.
The zombies obviously still had much of their humanity left. This meant that there may be hope yet. If they still had some sort of emotional response, it is likely that they will not need a full blast of the Orbital Friendship Cannon's power. A light exposure to it's energies may be enough to allow them to feed on hugs rather than brains. If this theory is true (and I hope to every Pantheon it is), we will not need the arcane forge or the declaration of independence. Without the forge, the OFC will remain at 99% power, but this will hopefully be enough, since their minds are not completely lost. Without the Declaration of Independence to use as a focus, the beam of the cannon will be weaker, but also wider. Wide enough to cover our entire city if we can target it correctly.
It's a fool's hope, I know, but what else can be done? This is our last chance to put a peaceful end to this infection, so I will try my hardest to make it happen. What we need now is three things.
First, we must deliver the power contained within the Conduit and the Chosen One to the OFC, utilizing a currently unknown delivery mechanism. Secondly, we must generate targeting data from three sites in the city and process that data into a form that the OFC can use. Then third we must lock on and fire, hoping for the best.
Obviously, my main priority though is synthesizing an antidote. I've been resting in my bunk allowing my wounds to heal for too long, while my fellow soldiers continue in glorious combat. I will head out immediately and cure myself, for humanity's sake and my own.
Hope dwindles for the human race. Around me, familiar faces fade away one by one as my dear friends are taken from me as I watch. I've seen so many people I've cared for dragged away by the clawing fingers of the horde that even the thought of ending it has faded. I must start up the Orbital Friendship Cannon. It is the only way we can save everyone. And we must save everyone. We simply must.
But there were surprisingly more pressing matters tonight. If I could not find a cure for this nanite infection, I would become the straw that broke humanity's back, and send our people straight to Oblivion. My small remaining number of faithful scouts reported that the Chosen One completed his antidote before falling, and it remains on his person. However, it is likely the taint of his draugr form has poisoned the antidote, so I must also bless it with the holy word of Onatar. Curses, if only Superstes had not been holding them upon his death, they might still be within reach. But alas, it would seem I had to seek both of these cursed creatures and obtain their valuables before my cure could be at hand.
The mission given to us tonight was to collect an epipen to revive Dr. Alexander from his drug-induced coma. Why this pen was split into pieces, we may never know. But we knew what must be done, and began our newest quest with much gusto. I kept a wary eye for my quarries, but to my dismay did not see them.
After collecting most of the pieces of the epipen, we came across the sight I had been searching for, yet had no desire to see up close: the horde. There in front, leading the revenant mass with loud voice and the holy scriptures was Superstes. He spoke aloud from the book, egging on his comrades with the scripture's gripping dialogue. I shed a single tear for my once-closest ally, and let my crossbow bolt fly.
It was at this point that I realized my fatal mistake. He had gone down on my shot, but now was surrounded by several zombies who had come to his aid as his sermon abruptly stopped. As I panicked, I searched my pockets for something that might be useful, when my hand brushed something wooden. It was the Infernal Whistle, unholy relic of the Infernal Train and its Engineer of Ruin. I drew back my hand from its cold touch instinctively, but I knew that drastic measures were needed if I were to succeed today. I brought out my Infernal Whistle, and as I blew it, the sounds of a thousand fiendish whistles echoed in the courtyard of Scott. Superstes immediately stood and walked to my side, mind dominated by the unholy powers of the Whistle. I asked him where I could find the Chosen One, that I might collect both pieces of my puzzle, and his undead arm pointed to the center of the horde, where I saw him, slack-jawed with bottled potion in hand.
“Gentlemen,” I called to my companions. “I must go and meet with Destiny. Should Onatar grant me the power to collect my cure and survive, I shall return to you and make certain our victory. If not, then fuck it. Be excellent to each other and party on.”
The horde formed up and eagerly waited.
“Superstes, preach for me,” I commanded. “I desire the words of Onatar in my ears and on my lips as I meet my end.”
As Superstes opened the Holy Word of Onatar and began to preach, I kissed my wife for the last time. We charged our foe. I drew forth the Great Lightsaber of Destiny, and with it slew ten hundred thousand hundred draugr, honourably. In the midst of the sounds of battle, behind me I heard the unmistakable sound of a lightsaber. I turned around and saw the Chosen One, waiting for me.
“You're finished, Chosen One!” I shouted. “The power of Onatar is with me!”
“I have only one thing to ask you sir.” He replied, voice suddenly soft and serious. “Do you... get to the Cloud District very often?”
“I'll kill you!”
And with that, I leapt into battle. The sounds of our lightsabers clashing could be heard echoing for miles, as the undead stopped, in awe of the great fury of my Saber of Destiny and the Chosen One's Saber, Everblade. Our dance of death continued for nearly a minute when I received a blow to the jaw. I was knocked off my feet, and continued to parry from the ground, but the fight was over. Blow after blow came down on me, until finally my hand was severed, and the Lightsaber of Destiny was knocked to the ground.
The Chosen One picked up my saber, and held both blades to my neck. But he couldn't resist one last sentence before ending my life.
“I'll have you know... that there's no pusssssiieeeeee!”
And at that moment, I died of disgust before the sabers touched my neck.
And then I awoke. I could feel the corruption inside me, but it was not how I thought it would be. It was very calming. My brethren gathered around me, and welcomed me to the horde. As I looked around, coming to terms with my situation, Superstes blessed the antidote, and the Chosen One gave it to me. As I drank, I felt the power of the nanites fading away within me. This all was very odd of course, but I felt a strange connection now to these zombies I had once called enemies.
I also suddenly knew what my new mission was. First of all, brains. Secondly, fire the Orbital Friendship Cannon, but after alterations had been made to allow it to spread the virus, rewriting DNA from its perch in the heavens. We would unite humanity under the new banner of zombification.