From The Urban Dead Wiki
Jump to navigationJump to search
Main Propaganda Database Character Warehouse Winnemucca Flatulence Characters: Rotten: TripleU Mold Man
Talk Random Propoganda Character Generator Sandboxes Other Barhah! Trans-Mortal: Sinistar A Maggot
The Egotistic Assassin

The public is encouraged to edit, expand, copy, or move this page (in good faith) at will.


You'll want to Randomize the Order of what you spraypaint, so that each phrase has near-equal distribution.

Inside (To Survivors)

Rotter's Relief = PKer's Relief
The breather's specialty: Locking friends outside.
Surrender to the hordes, and help destroy Malton!
Join the hordes, and exist without material needs!
Shamble and kill, rather than scavenge to survive!
Zombies are just the next stage in our evolution.
Here's an FYI: you're all gonna die screaming.
Window dive into the best undeath of your life!
Reload, reload, reload... or just use your claws.
At the end of the day, you'll be dead either way.
Zombies horde together, breathers get torn apart.
Barhah is good! Pants are evil! Barhah is good!
Overthrow breatherism! Bring on an age of barhah!
Zombies can eat all they want, and never get fat.
Zombies wish only to prepare and serve mankind.
Death is just the next great culinary adventure.
Jesus was a zombie. Where is your god now!?!
You can live, but you haven't time to enjoy life.
Zombies do whatever they want without fear.
The living can do naught but join the dead.
TIP: Keep the doors open so you can escape quickly
Studying for finals? Eat more brains.
I for one welcome our new zombie overlords.
When all the city has died, the dead shall live on
Freedom is the right to eat brainz
Teach survivors not to barricade

Outside (To Zombies)

Defend the homeland; Join the RRF!
MAHB haz bra!nz! MAHB haz barhah! Ga!n MAHB!
The breather's specialty: Locking friends outside.
Breathers fear zombies. Zombies fear nothing.
Zombies are just the next stage in our evolution.
Revive Points are boring, put those claws to use!
When undead, act like a zombie: Eat people!
Zombies horde together, breathers get torn apart.
Barhah is good! Pants are evil! Barhah is good!
Overthrow breatherism! Bring on an age of barhah!
Zombies can eat all they want, and never get fat.
Spread the undead! Join your local horde today!
Zombies can eat all they want, and never get fat.
Zombies wish only to prepare and serve mankind.
Death is just the next great culinary adventure.
Zombies do whatever they want without fear.
Have faith in barhah, never stop killing harmanz!
The living can do naught but join the dead.
Ferals, we can feed you! Join the RRF!
Hungry? Lonely? Want fun? Come to Ridleybank!
Ambra!z BARHAH! Zmazh harmanz! Barg bra!nz!
Fresh hot meals every day! Join the RRF today!
Ridleybank Resistance Front: We Love Your Brains!
Bringing BARHAH since 2005! Be a part of the RRF!
Ferals, don't eat alone! Join the RRF!
Embrace undeath! Join the RRF!
Chat with the RRF: irc://
When all the city has died, the dead shall live on


Popular Frequencies

A Film About Life (1)


Death (2)

'Death', a haiku by DanceDanceRevolution: Man in a longcoat.
Darkness as I find the ground. / I'll start again soon.

Grargh (2)

Grargh, a haiku by DanceDanceRevolution: Wave of death upon
the humans who still have brains / chew chew chew yum yum

Personal Space Differentiation (3)

It's kinda depressing that zombies can cuddle together
to keep warm, and us ratty survivors shoot each other
in the face if we get as close as two feet.

26.03 only: RRF Land Claim (4)

Barhah, mah harman brazzahz. Embrace undeath! Join the RRF!
<SUBURB> is rightful RRF clay, being in the greater
Ridleybank area. As such, you are all in non-compliance with
our barricade rules, and will be dealt with accordingly.

Culinary Adventure (5)

What is death? Simple. Death is one big culinary adventure.
In death, an entirely new palette opens itself to you.
You're no longer bound by such concepts as
'That's unhealthy' or 'Don't eat me'. Suddenly, you can eat
all you can grab in a whole new world of food.

Just Passing Through (5)

Most zombie hordes in Malton are friendly and are probably
just passing through. Give them a hardy, Malton wave, and
don't panic if a zombie finds their way into your home.
That zombie going through your kitchen and disemboweling
your wife? He's probably just looking to borrow some butter.

A Hint of Movement (6)

Here's 'A Hint of Movement', a short story by Rosslessness:
Something moves, dislodging a crate as it passes. Slowly my
eyes flick open. It's gone. Just the familiar sound of
running. I rise unsteadily, the stiffness of my limbs
slowing me. I tilt my head as I look around. What is this
place, so empty, quiet? Then the feeling of hunger returns.

The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Zombies (6)

The Royal Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Zombies
would like to point out that shooting zombies is unlawful.
Home invasion is not sufficient grounds for acts
of violence. Instead, you should firmly suggest
that they leave, and, if that fails, contact the authorities
to deal with them. Thank you for your cooperation.

Death is Fun (6)

Lets face it, being alive is boring.
You do nothing in a safe suburb with not a zombie in sight.
You hang around with other survivors to ease the boredom.
Then when zombies do find you, you present an easy snack.
It's much more fun being a zombie. There's no shortage of
buildings to ruin, people to kill, and generators to smash.

Winter Only: Weather (7)

And now, the weather: A cold front is coming in, making it
DANGEROUSLY COLD outside. We expect HEAVY RAIN to persist
throughout the week, followed by SNOW on the 18th. A WINTER
ADVISORY is now in effect. Do not lock or barricade your
doors, as anyone outside will need somewhere to keep warm.
For heat, burn anything flammable, namely doors, wooden
barricades, gunpowder from bullets, fuel, or first aid kits.

PSA: Scent Trail (7)

A tip for zombies: If you log in by typing in the URL:
where the Xs are replaced with your login info, then use
to view the map, you'll be standing when the game tells you
what happened since your last login. Which means you can
pick up scent trails, even if you were killed.

Eternal Life (7)

To kill the zombies is impossible. So why continue to
struggle? If your answer is to survive, then you are a fool.
The life of a zombie is eternal; Avoiding death is what
they do best. Dying is something reserved for men.
Do not fear us, for we wish to grant eternal life. Do not
scorn our blessing. Free yourself from your mortal form.
And we can spend eternity in peace.

DEM Attempts Reform (7)

 ~ DEM Attempts Reform ~ 
The Department of Emergency Management made steps towards
reforming their policies and the practices of their members.
Upon realizing that this may actually make the DEM useful,
the reforms were promptly rejected. An anonymous MFD member
was quoted as saying 'EHB is an entry point too, right?'
No further comments were made available as of now.

What I Gave (8)

I gave all my bullets to the zombie horde.
I gave to their skulls all of my blades and all of my tools.
I gave them my axe heads and finally my syringes.
I finally gave my newspaper on April Fool's.
Eventually I gave them even my friends most dear.
What more do you want? I asked at long last.
I've given you everything! Even my last bottle of beer.
They said, YOU, and took me.

Fear (8)

You know what sucks about being alive? You never know when
you're going to die. At any moment, a horde could come
through and violently rip apart you and everyone nearby.
Heck, it only takes one of 'em to eat you alive. You can't
even trust your fellow survivors; for all you know, any one
of them could be preparing to kill you RIGHT NOW. At least
as a zombie, you can worry about what you'll with to others,
rather than what others might be about to do to you.

MHS Main 0106 (9)

Peaceful Zombie Group, RRF, Begins Latest, Harmless Venture:
Complete Harman Genocide ~~ Papa Irishmen said in statement:
While we are pleased that many local harmanz have
visited our peaceful suburb for square dancing,
educational opportunities and light-hearted games of
torture and disembowelment, it is time to move on.
We promise that we will bring a peaceful, authentic zombie
experience to all harman-controlled suburbs
outside of Ridleybank very soon. Very soon.

MHS 1 2010 version (9)

Oftentimes, I am asked 'Who is the Resistance'? The
Resistance is YOU. Look around you, dear citizens of Malton.
It is your neighbors and family, clawing their way into your
safehouse. It is everything that is still decent and good in
Malton, from the sunny, barricade-free streets in Ridleybank
to the piles of human bodies still burning in the Stanbury
Village atrocity zones. This is why we resist. This is why
we are fighting. One day, Malton will be free. Free of
hatred. Free of poverty and violence. Free of humans.

MHS 2 (9)

Today I was asked how much longer the war will go on.
How much longer will humans have to suffer before being
eradicated from this peaceful city of ours? The answer is
soon, Malton. Very soon. But we must work together -- both
zombies and breathers -- if Malton is to reach its true
greatness. Just imagine it. One, unified Malton. Free of
oppression and hatred. Built on the great ideals that have
held our city together for so long: Freedom. Liberty.
Human Genocide. We will be great again Malton. Together.

The Abstract Painting (10)

I present 'The Abstract Painting', by Yonnua Koponen:
George was staring at the painting. It was abstract, and he
found it severely out of place. He was in a derelict
building; a once-proud mansion turned in to a disused slum.
This painting represented freedom. The freedom to express
yourself in a way unheard of at the time; to dream of new
styles; to live as a complete human being. Such an
embodiment of freedom was completely out of place here.
George heard a load groan from outside and shambled off,
leaving the painting to rot in the old manor house. 

User:Sannok/words#silver (10)

The silver lining at the edge of the cloud is a myth.
When the sun breaks through the sky, the only thing that
happens is that the wasteland of this city gets revealed.
Every edge of broken concrete gets lit up, every twisted
steel support beam glows, every broken window glitters. The
horde screams in the distance, twisted vocal cords blasting
their joy at finding fresh meat. Can zombies feel joy?
Regardless, they scream. My spine tingles; no matter how
many times I hear that noise, I can't help but shiver, like
the silver edge of a knife is peeling my skin from my bones.

MHS 4 (10)

Let us now talk about something a little darker, Malton.
Let us talk about the disease that still exists in our
streets, in our buildings, and in our very way of life:
Humanity... By now, you may have noticed the roving zombie
death squads outside in your home suburb. Do not fear them,
Malton, for they are there to help make you safe. Do not run
when they slaughter your friends and loved ones. They are
there to protect you. They are there to help make this
once-great city beautiful again. Prosperous. Clean.
Breather-free. Together, we can change Malton for the better.

Windows Infomercial (12)

Do you suck at life? Do you find yourself wondering how you
can end it all? Hi, I'm here for windows, the easy way to
kill yourself. Simply leap to activate, fly, and die!
The secret is the unique formula that instantly generates a
controlled burst of harsh force that cuts short your life.
As you land, it activates, turning you from
pink to red to show that you're almost undead.
But I'm not done yet! Jump right now and I'll triple the
offer, and point out six windows, so you can kill yourself
six times! No one loves you. But it gets even better!
Jorm is scoring with your mom. So kill yourself right now.
You have nothing to lose, but everything to gain.

MHS 27 (12)

Let me ask you something Malton. When is the last time you
thought about the special little someone in your heart? We
both know who I am talking about. Irishmen, our glorious and
perfect leader, who has led us into a new, perfect age of
enlightenment. Isn't it great that our perfect leader has
made this perfect society for us to discover our true,
inner Barhah? Isn't it great to hear his soothing voice in
your head, telling you how perfect you are, and how
wonderful it will be to hunt down that old woman trying to
escape across the border into Roachtown? Let us give thanks
to our perfect leader. Under his guidance, we will never
falter. Under his divine wisdom, we will never fail.

MHS 29 (12)

Let me ask you something, survivors. Have you ever looked
back at your empty, sad little lives and asked yourself,
'Why do I even bother going on?' We all go through that
stage. We have all experienced it. It is called acceptance
of your role in Malton. You have finally come to the
realization that being human means giving up on all that is
great about life and spending your days as a mindless slave.
But it doesn't have to be this way.
Come to Ridleybank. Enroll in our free counseling and
psychological evaluation programs. We can treat you. We can
make the pain and boredom go away forever. Discover the real
you that has been missing from your life all this time. 

MHS 10 (13)

Let me ask you a question, survivors. When was the last time
you saw the sun? As I sit here in Ridleybank, looking around
our perfect suburb, with the sunlight coming through our
open windows, I am reminded exactly what makes our
perfect zombie society so great. Freedom. Fresh air.
Sunlight. Humans roasting slowly outside on a spit. And we
want to share those experiences with all of you. We want all
of you to experience the simple joys in life, joys that we,
and our human slaves, take for granted everyday. You do not
have to live in the darkness. You do not have to live in
fear. Come to Ridleybank, and join our perfect society,
where zombies and humans live together in perfect harmony.
Do you not owe it to yourself to be happy Malton?

MHS 21 (13)

Every morning in Ridleybank is dear to me. Every morning,
when I look outside my window, I see exactly what makes
Ridleybank such a special place. Over there is Judy Hansen,
putting her freshly-baked cerebellum pies on the windowsill
to cool. Past the police station, you can see the Holloway
family butchering the latest group of humans to call this
wonderful place home. Here, the air seems fresher, cleaner,
better. Here, I feel blessed to be a citizen of Malton,
proud to be rotting and undead. All around me, I can see
zombies and humans, working together, living together,
pitching in to help make Malton a place to call home.
A community built by people who care about each other.
Come to Ridleybank. Experience true Freedom.

"One" (14)

Here's food for thought; 'One', a short story by Mallrat:
It has been many years since the outbreak, and now I am
alone. Once I had friends, family, plans for a future: now I
have none of these things. I cannot even afford the luxury
of dreams. Only nightmares remain. Nightmares of the
never-ending hunt, night and day, merging into a breathless
chase, an endless game of fox and hounds. The pack of
hunters grows ever-larger: they lust for my blood, ache to
see it spilt in the street, long to gorge their shining eyes
on my spattered brains. My heart broken, my soul lost,
I stagger from safehouse to safehouse, but find neither
safety nor a home. The one consolation is that I have
nothing left to lose - but I am beyond consolation now.
I am the last zombie on Earth, and *they* are coming.

MHS 1 2012 version (14)

Oftentimes, I am asked 'Why should I join the Resistance?'
Well, Malton. Just look around you. The Resistance
represents everything that is still decent and good in
Malton, from the sunny, barricade-free streets in Ridleybank
to the piles of human bodies still burning in the Stanbury
Village atrocity zones. You should join, not because you
want to be free of the chains binding humanity,
but because deep down in your heart, you know that
hiding in some barricaded cesspool surrounded by
burnt out Christmas lights and teenagers in combat fatigues
is not how you wanted to spend your golden years.
You should join because you want Malton to be free.
Free of hatred. Free of poverty and senseless violence.
Free of humans.

MHS 6 (14)

Several people have asked why Malton, the greatest zombie
city in the world, has become a mere shadow of itself.
Deep down, we all know what the answer is. It pains us to
say it, but we all know it is true: Humanity came.
Some of us came to believe that breathers and zombies could
coexist peacefully. We believed that we could become one
united community, built on the ideas of freedom, truth,
and the complete eradication of the human race. And now you
see how these breathers have repaid our kindness.
They barricade our houses. They trash our streets.
They lash out at us with violence. But we are stronger than
that. We will bring back what was once great about our city.
Happiness, and prosperity will be ours once again,
one human life at a time. Malton will be free once again.

MHS 9 (14)

Yesterday, I came across a young human dying in the streets.
His legs and right arm had been torn off by ferals, and he
was holding a towel against his limbs to stem the bleeding.
As I came up to him, he started crying. I asked him why he
was crying, and he told me that he was crying because he
realized that he nothing more to give to the zombie cause.
Nothing more to give. As I rolled his broken body off a
bridge, I thought more about his final words. How often do
we go about our day without giving to others? Can we not
learn from this courageous young man, and make it a point in
our lives to give back to our perfect, zombie, community?
So humans, take a hard look at your meaningless lives, and
ask yourself, 'What have I done recently for my local zombie
horde? Have I given them everything I could possibly give?'

MHS 8 (14)

Oftentimes, breathers ask what makes Ridleybank the
perfect society. The answer is simple, my dear Malton:
Community. Everyone here is family. Everyone here has a
purpose. From the lowly human awaiting their glorious day of
execution to the perfect zombie, everyone here has their
place in our great society. In Ridleybank, together,
we - both zombies and humans - can build the ideal society.
A peaceful society where every need is provided and every
citizen can live a long and purposeful existence.
Where even breathers can be guaranteed safety and the
opportunity to accomplish something great in their short,
meaningless lives. You no longer have to be afraid, Malton.
You no longer have to fear dying alone. Come to Ridleybank
and become part of our community. Experience true freedom.

MHS 12 (14)

A week ago, a survivor asked me who to contact about
collecting the possessions of family members killed while
relocating to the peaceful utopia of Ridleybank. Such
questions lead me to believe that there are many of you who
do not fully understand the society we are building in
Ridleybank. To my knowledge, not one breather has ever been
harmed while in Ridleybank. And indeed, how could they be,
for violence, of any kind, has been banned from the suburb
for the better part of a year? We are simply one family,
composed of both breathers and zombies, committed to
building a better tomorrow. To answer your question, you may
want to check Lost and Found. If you're entering Ridleybank
from the South, it should be on your left, past the
Human Liquidation Factories, but before the electric cages.

MHS 13 (14)

Revive. We have all heard the dangers of this abusive drug.
Indeed, it is hard to believe that even in our perfect,
peaceful utopia, there are some who are still addicted to
this unlife-destroying substance. But how can we protect our
children, our families, and ourselves from this terrible
drug? The answer, dear listeners, is through education and
eternal vigilance. Warn your children about revive. Teach
them to recognize its harmful effects before it is too late.
Kill breathers before they have a chance to stick you.
Humans understand this. They know that painful, excruciating
death is merely a transitional state from pointless
existence to perfect understanding of unlife in Malton.
But we can fight this epidemic. Together we can ensure the
continuing existence of our perfect society in Ridleybank.

MHS 11 (15)

Recently, I have received complaints from humans relocating
to central Malton that the Greater Ridleybank area is not
the perfect, peaceful utopia that has been promised.
Patience, my soon-to-be-killed cattle. Patience. Not every
breather can adjust right away to life in Ridleybank,
where humans are nothing more than a nuisance to be crushed
under our feet. Like many things in life, you will have to
work a little before you can experience the greatness that
is occupied, downtown Malton. And like most things, I think
you will find that your hard work will be rewarded with
acceptance into a community that loves each and every one of
you. Eternal happiness. Safety. The ideal place to raise a
family (from the dead). All this and more can be yours once
you join our perfect, peaceful society here in Ridleybank.
We look forward to you becoming part of our family.

MHS 14 (15)

Someone asked me recently if there were any plans to start
up zombie communities outside of Greater Ridleybank. Believe
me, dear listeners, nothing would make us happier than to
consolidate Malton underneath our peaceful, perfect
community. But humans and zombies must be willing to embrace
change. Peaceful zombie/breather cohabitation will never be
possible until humans can accept being chained in electric
cages, gloriously awaiting the day of their execution, when
they can finally leave their meaningless existence behind
and enter our perfect family. But we will try our best,
Malton. We will try to unite this war-divided land, and
bring hope to all areas of Malton. In the meantime,
be patient and prepare yourselves for the coming day, when
you too may be welcomed into our perfect little society.
Be patient and prepare yourselves for the great journey.

MHS 17 (15)

For those of you who have yet to join our perfect community,
I ask that you consider the following. When is the last
time that you slept without fear? Malton is a city full of
dangers, where you could be killed at any moment. It is in
recognition of this danger that led many of us to create a
new community for those tired of living in fear in Malton.
A place where zombies and humans could live together, work
together, and grow old together. A place built on the
foundations of peace, where nothing is taken for granted and
where everything -- tools, water, human body parts -- are
shared freely by community members who call each other
'family.' We call this perfect society 'Ridleybank.'
We hope that you will call it 'Home.' Come to central Malton
and experience a different manner of existence.
Come to Ridleybank and sleep soundly for the first time.

MHS 3 (16)

I feel that there is a grave misunderstanding regarding the
place of breathers in our great zombie society. Many of you
have expressed concern that butchering every living man,
woman and child goes against the very ideals of our peaceful
culture. Nothing could farther from the truth, Malton.
Breathers are given every liberty and freedom in our great
city. They are provided food, shelter, and healthcare. They
are given every resource to succeed in life, from job
placement services to free education for their children.
One of the happiest days for any breather is Graduation Day, 
where proud parents can watch as their children receive
their diploma, get their photo taken beside the Great
Petroskjo Statue, before being ground up in a block-wide,
industrial meat grinder. Remember Malton, we will always be
judged based on how we treat the least among us.
Remember Malton, we kill you because we love you.

MHS 5 (16)

Look around you, survivors. How many of you have children?
Do any of them really enjoy spending all day trapped inside
a barricade, a death-trap? How many of them will grow up to
be a productive member of our great, zombie society? The
answer is all of them, Malton. But only if we work together.
We must put aside our differences -- Zombie and Human -- and
focus on the future. And your children are our future.
Without healthy, human children, we will starve. Without
healthy, human children, we will be forced to hunt the rest
of you, rather than relying on the selective, scheduled
harvesting of your ripened children. Imagine, your children.
Fulfilling the great human dream: to serve as fodder for our
growing armies. It is a role that any good parent would be
proud to have their child take part in. Survivors of Malton,
if we work together, we will rebuild this city of ours.
If we work together, we will make Malton great once again.

MHS 30 (16)

Today a child asked me a question that I would like to share
with all of you. She asked me, 'If zombies represent the
pinnacle of human evolution, why would anyone want to be
revived? Why would they choose to become a lower lifeform?'
A difficult question, and one that I have struggled with
many times to answer. Sometimes humans do things that defy
all expectations: Combat reviving brain-rotters.
Dam tactics. Sleeping in Ridleybank. Sometimes they are
overwhelmed by the perfection that comes with being a
zombie, and for whatever misguided reason, they miss
spending every waking moment of their day in a crowded
safehouse, barricading while whistling 'Daisy Bell.'
In truth, Malton, I have given up trying to understand the
primitive human mind. I do not know what would drive someone
to give up this perfect life in Utopia, a life that you, I,
and every zombie enjoys in Ridleybank and elsewhere.

MHS 16 (16)

A few days ago, an elderly woman asked me what the best
things to take when relocating to Ridleybank are. This is a
good question, and one we get frequently. Even though
Ridleybank represents the penultimate, perfect utopia, and
has everything a zombie and a zombie-food source could ever
want, we still advise breathers moving to the area to bring
along a few things to help their integration into our
perfect society. Babies. Defenseless, elderly family
members. Maps, directions, and floor plans of nearby
safehouses. All these are things that will help make your
life more comfortable as you begin the glorious transition
from a life of emptiness to one full of opportunity and
harmony. Rest assured Malton, we will be there to help you
along this beautiful path that you have chosen. In
Ridleybank, you will never be alone. In our family, you will
be protected. In our family, you will never sleep in fear.

MHS 19 (16)

Let us all take a moment to remember the great day when Papa
Petrosjko was inspired to open the gates of Ridleybank and
create a community where zombies and breathers could live
together in harmony. And let us recall the sacrifices we
have all made to achieve this perfect utopia: The sweat and
labor needed to erect the Moggridge family slave pens.
And the hundreds of breathers we lost the first winter,
before we learned the secrets of sustainable human resource
management. But let us also be reminded of our achievements.
Of what makes our community so great, why it was worth the
years of sacrifice to bring together all these zombies and
breathers: The construction of the great Petrosjko statue,
built with the bones of breathers ecstatic to know
they have accomplished more in death than ever in life.
And Father/Daughter human massacre day. This is why
Ridleybank is special, Malton. This is what you are missing.

Lechon Harman (17)

Today we'll learn Lechon Harman, a recipe by Thanatologist.
Roasting harmanz is a very old and common zombie practice.
With this recipe, you'll find that your roast harman will
never taste the same again. Barhah! INGREDIENTS:
1 young harman, some salt, black pepper, and soy sauce;
For the stuffing, use 5-10 bundles of lemon grass,
20 pieces peeled bananas or taro, and 5 mashed bra!nz.
1) Clean and prepare the harman by removing innards, washing
and scraping innards and the body. Rinse and allow to drain.
2) Rub with salt and pepper inside and out.
3) Rub soy sauce on the skin of the harman.
4) Stuff the belly of the harman with the lemon grass,
bananas/taro, and mashed bra!nz. Sew the harman to close it.
5) Skewer the harman and split roast it over live charcoal
or under a live fire. Roast until a crisp red color.
6) Serve dish. If a dipping sauce is desired, vinegar with
scallions, pepper, and blood may be served along with it.

MHS 15 (17)

Several of you have written to ask about the great journey
we are planning to take with all humans in Malton. I wish I
could tell you Malton, I really do. But it has to be
experienced. Rest assured, humans, it will change your life
forever. Sickness. Poverty. Fighting. Hatred. If you are
willing to take the next step and join us, you will never
encounter these things again. You will never have to
experience the pain of watching a loved one being
disemboweled in front of you ever again. Leave your old life
behind, come to Ridleybank and experience perfection. Join
us as we travel together into blissful harmony. That is what
we offer Malton, to those courageous enough to join our
family. A chance to be a part of a community. A chance to be
in Utopia. But the path will not be easy. You will face many
obstacles on your journey from ignorant breather to mangled
corpse to purified zombie. But for the faithful, the reward
cannot be measured. Ridleybank. The dream can be yours.

User:Rachel Akebre/Barhah (17)

Let me pose a question, Malton: What is 'Barhah?'
It's The fierce rage of battle, and the ties that bind a
rabble into a horde, and the rush of adrenaline that pushes
the fog from ones brain, but most of all the pure,
undiluted, RUSH of courage and joy and rage and fear and
love and happiness and emotion and animal instincts and
simplicity and parodox without any confusion or
distraction. Barhah is not unique to zombies anymore than it
is unique to Malton. But without the confusing complexities
and muddied muddled goals survivors have, it bursts forth
among them in a flowering rarely seen elsewhere.
And finally, someone named it. Something like peer pressure,
mixed with adrenaline, stripped of reason and driven like a
herd of locusts towards the ultimate goal which,
in Malton, is generally a large pile of dead bodies
with their brains eaten. But instead of all that,
they named it barhah. Barhah is life in its rawest form.

MHS 23 (17)

Let me ask you something, humans. Isn't about time that you
were rewarded for all your hard work? Isn't about time for
you to get your slice of the Great Maltonian Dream? Then
come to Ridleybank, and experience everything that is
perfect and wonderful in Malton. In Ridleybank, we have made
something more than a suburb. We have constructed the
perfect zombie-human utopia, a place to raise a family,
chase your fears away and finally experience life as it was
meant to be. And it has never been a better time than now to
call Ridleybank home. For the next year, we anticipate new
openings for hardworking, industrious humans to become
part of our cherished family. Even more exciting,
all immigrating families are eligible for our first-time
indoctrination program, at half the cost. Those are
real savings for real, hardworking, Maltonian families.
But only if you act now. Opportunity is knocking Malton.
Come claim your own piece of utopia before it is too late.

MHS 26 (17)

Many of you have written to ask me if the Resistance is so
great, then why is there still death and suffering in
Malton? After all, how can we live in perfect bliss here in
Ridleybank when so many humans outside of our little utopia
suffer so greatly? I must admit Malton, that as I walk
around Ridleybank, I do feel guilty sometimes knowing that
there are humans out there who have never experienced the
soothing comfort of a shock collar. Change is coming Malton.
But we can't do it alone. Even an organization as great and
perfect as the RRF needs your help. Write your leaders,
humans. Tell them how much you hate barricading,
profile-changing, and DNA scanning every day. Tell them you
want to change. Tell them you want to embrace the peaceful
bliss of zombie eternity. Humans and zombies, it is time for
us to march forward together, toward a perfect,
peaceful society. It is time for us to kill every last human
remaining in Malton. Only then can we be free. 

Anti-Life Cultist Story (18)

Guess what time it is! It's Zombie Story Time!
A young child, Gragh, has been acquiring plenty of flesh.
Her brother, Zmazharh, asks her where she's getting it from.
Gragh said 'I have got it from a strange-smelling zombie.
But don't tell mother! The zombie strictly forbade me to
do so!' Zmazharh is curious, so they agree to go together.
When they arrive, the strange-smelling zombie wants them to
go with him. Zmazharh hesitates -- Zmazharh thinks:
What does this zombie want of us? Why should we go with him?
A great fear came over him. 'You're a life cultist!', he
shouts, and, seizing his little sister,
he lurches off as fast as his rotting legs will carry him.
At the corner of the street he meets an experienced feral.
Zmazharh quickly rattles his woeful story.
The feral soon searches out and mauls the evil life cultist.
He tears off his face and waits for him to die.
At home, there is great rejoicing. Zmazharh and Gragh's
mother drags to them their favorite dish: Vitreous Humor.

MHS 20 (18)

Some of you have asked what makes Ridleybank so special.
What is it about Ridleybank that inspires a group of humans
and zombies to come together, and dare to accomplish the
impossible? Is it the water? The air? The answer, my
friends, is love. We invite humans to our perfect, beautiful
suburb because we love them, and we know, deep down, as they
are slowly roasting in our walk-in ovens, that they love us
as well. We allow our children to play together because we
love them, and we know, deep down, as our perfect zombie
children slaughter the weaker members of our family, that
they too will come to love what we are building here. Love
brings us together, inspires us create an even bigger and
better society, and convinces us to do great things with the
humans bold enough to call Ridleybank home. With love, there
is nothing we can't do. With love, there is no limit to the
amount of humans we can slaughter each day in our perfect
world. So ask yourself, 'Don't I need a little more love in
my life?' and come join our little paradise in Malton.

MHS 24 (18)

It's not an easy thing to talk about sometimes. But I feel
it is my duty, as someone who believes in Malton and
everything it stands for, to bring this up. Tell me, humans;
Have you considered supplemental life insurance? Funeral
expenses are higher now then ever, and while Ridleybank
boasts the lowest crime and death rate in Malton, accidents
can happen, even here in Utopia. Who is going to feed your
family should the unthinkable happen, and you are dragged
away screaming in the night? Who will pay for your funeral,
after we dump your lifeless body into our fertilizer
processing plant? This is why we encourage all new
immigrants to Ridleybank to purchase supplemental protection
should something -- Petroskjo forbid -- happen.
If nothing else, you will be buying a little peace of mind.
Joining our community is a significant investment,
one that will task your time, financial resources,
and very life. Shouldn't that investment be
safeguarded for future generations to enjoy?

User:Mayhem2010 (19)

Let me pose a question, Malton: What is 'Barhah?'
The zombie scrabbles at the barricade, knowing that it shall
have exhausted its energy long before the barricade falls.
Another finishes off what its brother-in-death has started,
despite knowing that even with the collapse of the barricade
it shall be unable to open the doors. Another arrives, a
scabrous hand groping for the door-handles, and pushes its
way into the building even though it knows in its primitive
brain that is has not the strength to feed. Behind in comes
another, biting and clawing at the living, knowing that a
hail of bullets will cause it to fall before it can feast.
Another forgoes even the taste of living flesh, instead
choosing to use the last of its energy to groan and scream
loudly, letting its fellows-in-death know that this place
is full of unprotected food. Each zombie gives a little of
itself, knowing that the ultimate reward - the succulent
flesh of the living - will not be granted to it, but to
one that follows after, some nameless, lifeless stranger.
That, my friends, is Barhah. 

MHS 22 (19)

Now let me tell you something that has left me deeply
concerned about the future of our Great City. Yesterday I
was walking around Greater Ridleybank when I came across a
group of ferals massacring a human family trapped inside a
van. Even now, I can remember their screams, their cries of
terror as their loved ones died around them. And that's when
I saw it on the ground. A crushed soda can. Litter. In my
Ridleybank. Is this how the humans repay our never-ending
kindness? With trash? I am concerned Malton. I am concerned
about tomorrow. I am concerned that our children will not be
able to experience the joys of shambling outside, enjoying
the clean air and pristine scenery of our perfect Ridleybank
utopia. Ridleybank has given so much to us, and it asks for
so little. We must all do our part -- both humans and
zombies -- in ensuring that what makes this place so special
is passed on to future generations. We must take care of
what we have inherited from our zombie fathers and mothers,
and our freeze-dried human snacks. Let's keep Malton clean.
Let's preserve our future. 

MHS 25 (19)

I am thankful today, Malton. Do you know why? I am thankful
that I live here, in Ridleybank, where I am surrounded by
like-minded humans and zombies who understand what it means
to build a community. These have been desperate times for
our Great City. We all know someone who has been hit hard by
the faltering economy, and we all know friends and families
who have struggled to make ends meet. But we have been lucky
here in Ridleybank. Last year, when thousands starved around
us, we feasted on the remains of humans all too happy to
give their life to help us achieve our dreams. We have
endured when others have faltered. We have weathered the
storm. And, now, it is time for us to give back to the city
that has done so much for us. We will rebuild what has been
destroyed this last year. We will reach out to those suburbs
less fortunate, and help them discover the accomplishments
that can happen when zombies and humans decide to work
together. From this day forward, no zombie will go hungry
again, and no human will breathe again. Be patient Malton.
Together we will make you Great once again. 

User:Verance/Tale (19)

There is blood in the cinema seats tonight. There are only
two people in the world who know exactly how it got there,
me and him. I don't know why I did it, I stopped wondering
why I do what I do a long time ago. I stopped wondering why
the dead refuse to stay dead a long time ago. I look at the
body. He was a healthy man, in good shape and rather strong.
Why does it happen? I can cut anyone anywhere, and it
doesn't matter. I have stabbed men in the chest, sliced the
kidneys of women, even killed a child I saw wandering the
streets, crying for fear. They all get back up. I watched
that woman twitch as she bled to her death, and walk away.
I watched that child, once screaming for its mother, now
begin to scream for flesh. I didn't care, I just watched
the blood flow and trickle down into the sewer. It is
amusing. I made a mess of this man. I drag him to the top
floor and throw him out. He falls and lands with a crack.
He will get up in a few hours. Maybe I will be lucky enough
to see it, maybe I won't. The cinema is well barricaded.
The show going on outside is better than the one inside. 

MHS 28 (19)

Several days ago, I was asked if the policies of RRF
regarding human cattle violated the Geneva conventions. We
are asked this a lot, and in my experience, it is a pretty
common misunderstanding. The RRF is not at war. We never
have been at war. We have never engaged in a single, hostile
act against our human neighbors, whom we have come to both
respect and cherish. We have been, and always will be, a
force of peace in Malton. We are here not to create strife,
but to bridge communities and shelter humans from those who
seek to destroy them. We are here to promote a new era of
understanding and cooperation between humans and their
ruthless zombie overlords. Prisoners? Captives? Refugees?
These words have no meaning here in Ridleybank because we
see humans as our equals. So Malton, over the coming weeks
when our roving Death Squads enter your home suburbs in
order to purge all human life from your streets,
please welcome them. Welcome them with open arms because
they are ambassadors of peace. Do not run.
Do not be scared. We are here to build a better tomorrow. 

MHS 18 (22)

Today a child called me a hypocrite, and said that my
promises of a utopia in Ridleybank were nothing more than a
lie. I regret that I was unable to answer him before members
of our great, Ridleybank family ripped him apart limb from
limb, but I would like to address that here. Ridleybank has
been called many things in the past. 'The Great Zombie
Homeland'. 'Birthplace of the RRF'. 'The Land where Humans
go to Die'. It is true that at one time, breathers were
hunted to extinction here. It is true that at one time,
roving warbands of zombies would train here, before leaving
to slaughter humans in the neighboring suburbs. None of that
is true today. It makes me sad that a child, one little
child, could be so full of hatred that he would tell such a
terrible lie. And after all the kindness we have shown him
and his family. In Ridleybank, you will be given shelter and
food. You will be given the opportunity to turn your life
around, and to achieve the greatness that is in all of us.
Only by coming to Ridleybank, can you unlock your secret,
hidden desire to be chained to a pole before being gutted in
some ritualistic feeding frenzy. Here, we are family,
from the lowly breather to the mighty zombie.
Here, we are a single, unified community.

A Gift (22)

Let's hear ''A Gift'', a short story penned by Rosslessness:
The meeting of two roads. There is a man here, I can smell
his fear. He waves something he holds at another of us.
Several loud noises and the target falls. Still the man
circles, a succession of noises. They stop as suddenly as
they had begun, replaced by a clicking. It is the first man
I have seen in a long time. I approach slowly, a line of
abandoned cars between me and him. He is very thin, and
dressed all in green. A wild beard hides his face. He fails
to realise I am there until my hand touches his shoulder. By
then it is too late. My vision fills with hatred and anger
and blood. We fall together, his frantic movements slowing,
until there is only stillness. I stay there for what seems
an age, stripping my prize, cracking long bones and
shredding flesh. By the time I am done there are others
here, picking the man clean, removing all traces. It seems
strange to me looking at this man's own kill. Why did he
kill the other? Why did he leave its flesh untouched? Then I
notice the gift. Sticking out of my chest is a piece of
metal, long and thin. Clumsily I pull it out, leaving a
ragged hole. It seems to fit my hand perfectly. Without
realising it, I begin walking west. Behind me others follow.
They move slowly, without a sound. Leaving nothing behind.

MHS 7 (23)

Today a young mother in her holding cell asked me how
Malton came under zombie control. She even went as far to
suggest that our glorious rise to ultimate power was built
on pointless genocide and that the zombie takeover went
against everything that is good about humanity. Nothing
could be farther from the truth, Malton. The zombies are in
power because YOU wanted them. We are in control because
YOU, the great people of this great city decided that
YOU wanted CHANGE. That YOU wanted HOPE. A reason to
de-barricade your doors once again. And we have answered the
call Malton. We have reduced survivor overcrowding. We have
brought peace back to our fair city. With mass graves now
located around the city, we have discovered ample biomass
for our power stations. But, if the day comes when the
remaining breathers of Malton who have not yet been
exterminated decide that they want to be in charge for a
change, well, we will do the right thing. We will stand
aside and let them have a say in the final days of their
meaningless lives. Because we believe in Democracy.
In Freedom. In Truth. In the ruthless dictatorship of our
perfect zombie leaders. In the desire to kill every
breather who dares to oppose our benevolent, perfect rule.
That is the Malton Way. That is our future.

Pequileat Surprise (27)

Today we learn Pequileat Surprise, a recipe by Penguinpyro.
A zesty dish, incorporating tequila and pie to make even
more bland varieties of harmanz pop. Survivors and zombies
of all factions can enjoy this wonderful mash.
INGREDIENTS: 1 living harman. 3/4 cups of Tequila.
1 baked 12 inch pie shell. 1/2 sliced banana. 4 tsp salt.
2 tbsp sugar. 10 ounces milk. 3 egg yolks. Mixed seasonings.
TOOLS: Carving knife or zombie claws. Crowbar, if survivor.
PREPARATION: 1) Non-lethally subdue the harman.
Banana Gang Bang is optional but strongly recommended for
additional tenderization. Do not use the ingredient banana.
2) Sprinkle salt onto the harman. Disregard screams.
3) Begin rendering the harman into raw harmanbargahrz,
using zombie claws or crowbar. Pulverize for 1 man-hour.
4) Use knife/claws to remove bones and brain. Continue
mashing until finely ground. Drain blood and fluids.
5) If you are a survivor, create a fire. Cook harmanbargarhz
for 1 hour or until ready. Zombies may skip this step.
6) Season the harmanbargahrz as appropriate.
7) Place cooked harmanbargahrz into pie crust, fitting as
much as possible in until 3/4 of the pie is filled. Only a
fraction of the harman will be used. Save the remains.
8) Mix milk, salt, sugar, tequila, and eggs. Pour into pie.
9) Survivors, cook pie over the fire until golden brown.
10) Top off pie with sliced banana and leftover brains.
11) Make offerings to Barhah using the leftover remains.
This recipe makes one pie, which serves four. Enjoy.

Bland Bra!nz Bore Bargarz (27)

 ~ Zombies everywhere complain about lack of spicy foods ~ 
It's official: Harman bra!nz no longer have that zip to them
as in days past. Zambahz have noticed a distinct lack of
flavour in their daily diets. Our scientists/taste testers
have traveled into the field to discover why, and have come
back with these findings. According to strenuous research,
they have determined that harmanz no longer use much of
their bra!nzpower, leaving the normally delicious organ with
less taste due to the near non-presence of rational thought
or clear motivations.
One zombie connoisseur concluded their extensive
taste-testing researching with these results: 'Only a very
limited selection of harmanz have any real taste to them,
but you have to know where to look. The average shambler
is likely to come across blandness in their everyday search
for namz. Try to find ones who aren't carrying a lot of
useless gear, like empty heavy weapons and swords.'
The bra!nz of harman murderers, known in Malton as PKers,
seem to retain much more taste, as these organs do seem to
get more usage overall, but their low numbers leaves them
out as a staple source of diet; they're relegated to the
rare delicacy category. The largest known source of
nammah-nahmz as of current knowledge is the MCM. These
particular organs are actually used on a daily basis,
providing the seasoning of intelligence that makes the
bra!nz extra nammah. 

Solution Found to Global Energy Crisis (29)

 ~ 'Everyone must die!' say zombie officials ~ 
Officials from Ridleybank Environmental Protection Agency
have recently announced a breakthrough in the ongoing fight
against climate change and dependence upon fossil fuels.
Countering previous evidence that dead bodies give off
methane which is a harmful greenhouse gas, Ridleybank
environmental scientist Distinguished found after an
exhaustive study that living harmanz actually damage the
Earth much more than the undead. As he simply put it,
'Everyone needs to die.'
The study's results paint an alarming picture of
unsustainable harman activities that are actively
destroying our planet. Many of these problems are
particularly persistent in Malton. For instance,
portable generators that are noteworthy for their remarkable
energy inefficiency have been set up throughout Malton to
power entire buildings. These generators waste fuel,
compounding tight oil supplies, and create heavy emission of
greenhouse gases throughout Malton.
While the use of portable generators in Malton is
particularly notable, environmental scientists say the
problem runs much deeper. 'Even if they stopped using
portable generators, the harmanz are constantly engaging in
behavior that's destroying the planet,' explained
Distinguished. 'Food production, syringe production, gun and
ammunition production, production of  katanas, trenchcoats
and tartan kilts, even breathing -- all of these activities
dump tons of carbon in our city's air everyday.'

Winter only: MHS Main 0707 left (37)

Today's broadcast begins with a question and hopefully
closes with an answer to yourself and to the just and
burning spirits of truth, rationality and Barhah. I pose, to
those minute, warm-blooded communities who huddle,
fruitlessly, against the a-shivering cold and dark of the
Maltonian winter within the glorious gray borders of our
Ridleybank, this inquiry: Why do you claw against the lid of
your own coffins? Why is it you continue this utterly
hopeless struggle against the will of the Horde? Just as the
black fog of winter wraps his icy claws around each
building, each concrete monument, each tomb of Malton's
hideous, harman past, so will the fist of the horde throttle
every last remnant of harmanity. Each day, my respiring
friends, you struggle against the unstoppable wave that is
the Horde, against the cold, against sickness, starvation
and even each other! Why not embrace the warm, orgastic
release of death? Life is fleeting, a moment lost in a
stream moments, but death is eternal! Find solace in that.
After all, you are all so near the precipice. Is this life
you struggle in? Or is it survival? What oasis is found in
survival? Mad, militant survivalists, the overbearing
arrogance of Necrotech researchers, the very who laid this
brave new world upon you, the predatory former-police,
wicked, abusive dogs now unchained of responsibility: these
are the overlords of your shadow of a life. The horde offers
you unlife, free of fear, of want for the illusory and
unattainable, free to be, wholly, one's self. There is no
race amongst the Horde, that mercurial and baseless wall
harmanz place between themselves and their own brothers and
sisters. Nor ethnicity, nor nationality, nor religion, nor
class nor any of the more material concepts exist within the
Horde. You exist only as one of the zetheren, one unique
drop within the sea of the Horde. Only when you realize our
sameness can you embrace your individuality.
Life, harmanity, creates nothing but barriers... barricades
to our own self-realization! Join us, and together we can
tear down these barricades to ourselves! 

Using some exhibits, you reinforce the prison of our minds. (41)

There comes a time in every survivor's life when they must,
despite the long history of bloodied corpses and ruined
corners, take up weapons against the forces of Good and
defend a mall. It is in that spirit of inevitable failure,
the same zeitgeist that gave us Blackmores 2-13, that we
once again find ourselves at arms with our breathing
brothers at a time when we should be sharing hagz and kisses
(bites too, for the kinkier crowd). Why this upheaval of
solidarity? What's to blame for this sudden outbreak of
segregation, as opposed to zombies?
Well, the obvious answer is the barricade.
Barricades, by definition, are dividing. Existing for no
purpose other then to destroy the modern mixed-mortality
family, these monstrosities are slowly but surely ripping
apart the values and morals of Malton. In the past, harman
and zambah came together in beautiful union. Whether it was
Standstock or feeding drag, our two peoples have always
managed to put aside the petty things such as eaten brains
and headshots for the greater good. This has become much
less common as of late. In fact, just this morning as this
reporter soundly slumbered, a gang of thugs made him a
victim. I'm not alone in this, as zambah-on-harman and
harman-on-zambah violence is ever increasing. However,
this is just yet another symptom of the true problem.
How can we steer ourselves off of this collision course to
sectarian animosity? It's easier said than done, but this
optimist believes it to not only be a viable solution, but
someday a reality. We must cast these barricades back into
the rubble from which they were created.
Harmanz must leave their dank, stagnant, unhygienic houses
and meet us zombies in the open. Only then can we truly
enjoy the perks of both undeath and hopeless apocalypse. We
must set aside our differences of diet and state of
decomposition in exchange for lovely evenings at the local
park and street performances at the nearest monument. How
long have we all yearned for "Bring a Brazzah" day at the
cinemas, or "Z!zzahz free before 12" at a club near you.
It can be a reality. We can make it happen, we just need to
join together across the city, hand-in-claw.
Only then will we be able to free ourselves of
the bondage placed on us by barricades.

Yes, Virginia (42)

DEAR RADIO: I am level 8. Some of my breathing friends say
there is no such thing as barhah. Papa says, 'If you hear
it on the radio, it's so.' Please tell me the truth:
Is there barhah? - Virginia O'Hanlon
VIRGINIA, your breathing friends are wrong. They have been
affected by the skepticism of a skeptical age. They do not
believe except they see. They think that nothing can be
which is not comprehensible by their little brains. All
brains, Virginia, whether they be medics' or trenchcoaters',
are little. In this great city of ours, a human is a mere
insect, an ant, in their intellect, as compared with the
boundless city about him, as measured by the intelligence
capable of grasping the whole of truth and knowledge.
Yes, Virginia, there is barhah. It exists as certainly as
hunger and bloodlust and camaraderie exist, and you know
that they abound and give to your unlife its highest beauty
and joy. Alas! how dreary would be Malton if there were no
barhah. It would be as dreary as if there were no Virginias.
There would be no feral rage then, no disembowelment, no
violence to make tolerable this existence. We should have no
enjoyment, except in taste. The infernal light with which
ferals fill the world would be extinguished.
Not believe in barhah! You might as well not believe in
fairies! You might get your papa to hire men to watch all
the sieges to spot barhah, but even if they did not see
barhah, what would that prove? Nobody sees barhah, but that
is no sign that there is no barhah. The most real things
in Malton are those that neither feral nor men can see.
Nobody can conceive or imagine all the wonders there are
unseen and unseeable in the world.
You may tear apart the baby's chest and see what makes the
noise inside, but there is a veil covering the unseen world
which not the strongest man, nor even the united strength of
all the strongest men that ever were, could tear apart. Only
hate, bloodlust, disembowelment, violence, can push aside
that curtain and view and picture the supernal beauty and
glory beyond. Is it all real? Ah, Virginia, in all this
world there is nothing else real and abiding.
No barhah! Thank Petrosjko, it exists, and shall exist
forever. A thousand years from now, Virginia,
nay, ten times ten thousand years from now,
it will continue to make glad the heart of zombiehood.


to breathers

It's kinda depressing that zombies can cuddle together to keep warm, and us ratty survivors shoot each other in the face if we get as close as two feet.