User:Jimaine Dunwich

	Roleplaying Notice
	Notice: This User or Group enjoys the RPG aspect of MMORPGs, the category of games that Urban Dead falls into. As such, there is probably quite a bit of roleplaying and/or creative writing on this page and in said User/Group's in-game actions. In other words, if you think the difference between IC and OOC is "One has an 'I' and the other has two 'O's," buzz off.

This is my survivor alt. Feel free to visit my zombie alt's page as well, Skip Siqqusim will be happy to meet you...

Facts Jimaine Dunwich Job: Bounty Hunter (Bounty Hunter ID: 1391818) Group: Team Xtreme Mission: Searching for lost members of my Squad. Protecting civilians, hunting down criminals, keeping the country tidy. Favorite Equipment: My shotgun, my pistols, my gasmask which protects me from the horrible stench of decay, zombies and decomposition. UD Character Profile: Jimaine Dunwich Current Status: Alive and kicking - and in a very dark and determined mood. My Templates GAS MASK USER This user wears a gas mask for protection against the bad zombie smell. Trigger Happy This user has guns. Do not cross them. Bounty Hunter This User or Group hunts and kills PKers. Proud To Be Alive This user is a survivor and proud of it. Violence is quicker Both diplomacy and violence solve problems. But violence is quicker. European This user is European. Code Stealer This user is a wiki code stealer, and probably stealing your sidebar while you read this. UrbanDead Sponsor! This user and/or group has contributed to the UrbanDead Beer Fund . Alliance 45 This user or group is associated with Alliance 45 This was then... Before the outbreak, I was a police officer - or, to be more specific - the team sniper in a tight-knit SWAT Squad. My squad was called when situations got out of hands or became too dangerous for the regular cops. We disarmed bombs, seized terrorists, liberated hostages and ended bank hold-ups. Then, one day, my world was unhinged, literally over night. The Beginning of the End At first, I thought what each and every single Malton citizen thought: "Zombies? You are nuts!". After a while - after some heavy shootouts, friends being bitten by walking decomposing corpes and barricade fightings, madness became apparent - even to professional rationalists like us. There was no use in thinking or whining about the events. Panic and death were everywhere, fugitives fled to police departments, fire stations and hospitals for help, and waited for us to provide a nice and easy solution. We didn't have one. So we did what we were trained for: we protected them, we fought the zombies, the looters, the maniacs, the desperate. For some time, we managed to hold our local police department, but the zombies where attracted by the fear and blood of hundreds of civilians hiding inside. Eventually, the monstrosities tore down the barricades, maroded through the entire suburb, biting each man, woman and child they could get hold on, nourishing themselves on rotten intestines of the deceased. I saw many of my friends die and I saw them rise again. When our department fell, chaos erupted everywhere. Fugitives who were still able to walk, ran away in blind fear while others fell down dead, only to stand up the next morning. I lost the last members of my team that night. I don't know if anyone of them survived or if they turned into walking corpses as well. I even shot one of them only to learn that they stand up again. With the loss of my closest friends I spent my entire career with, my mood darked significantly. I didn't have a family; being a member of an elite SWAT team was more than a job, it was my live. Maybe it was some kind of self-protection, but I refused to think about the new situation. I refused to adapt to the circumstances and I assured myself that I would cope with the events, pretending my squad members were still alive and out there, fighting in the city. A massive Zombie infection is no excuse At first, I searched the rubble and ruins for my lost comrades, only to find numberless corpses in various stages of decomposition. Eventually, I was forced to leave the suburb and find a new safe house where I could hide from the ever increasing number of zombies in the streets. Many houses, pubs, libraries, schools were filled with civilians and even military or medical personal. I realized that it didn't matter what you did before the outbreak - I found couragous, selfless, inspiring people from all groups as well as selfish, frightened, traumatized, weird and even dangerous people. Some broke under the stress, some lost their minds, some found new strength they never realized before while helping others. I spent some time with a very brave, older couple in a library near the police station. As a daily routine, I began to patrol the streets of the suburbs, searching for ammonition, messages and known faces, but I found only death and despair. In addition, I observed sickening egoistic behavior which made me mad. Despite the nauseating stench in the streets, the rotting corpes of adults and even children everywhere, some people used the exceptional circumstances to live out their primitive urges and personal pleasures. They looted private homes and ransacked even corpses for expensive watches or jewelry - I have no idea what they wanted to do with that stuff, even money was suddenly worthless in Malton -, or they harassed the frightened and desperated civilians they met. Some even declared that law was abolished in Malton and that they now had every right to shoot the weak, the strong, the poor, the rich, whoever crossed their path. Some people, frustrated by their former lives when they were loosers, suddenly felt powerful and almighty and behaved as if they were the new rulers of the streets, enforcing this opinion with weapons and violence. Some of them who had spent their former lives in jail or as petty criminals, resorted to killing Cops on sight. Others killed nurses or doctors or people they found unworthy. Others killed randomly simply because they cracked up. I still wanted to find my squad members, it became a kind of fixed idea and I was very determined and stubborn. Nevertheless, the lawlessness disgusted me and I was convinced that our civilization could only survive if we held true for law and order. What was our society worth if one disaster, one disease, one catastrophe ended all our ancestors fought for since the foundation of the state? A dark determination obsessed my mind: A massive zombie infection was no excuse for committing crimes and trampling the law under foot! People should stand together to fight the zombies, to help the survivors, to rebuild the city, to protect the hospitals and the weak. People should believe in the law, in the constitution, in themselves and their neighbors and friends, and stand together. I was convinced this was the only way we could overcome this catastrophe. The city was under quarantine, so the government was informed of the situation here and help must be on the way! I was sure that the national guard, massive military presence and medical help would reach Malton within the next days. Maybe they even worked on an antidote against this horrible infection! A lonely law enforcer I spent the next weeks in grim determination, hunting criminals and evildoers. The stench became unbearable, the decomposition was everywhere, so I began to wear the gasmask from my SWAT kit. When I was outside, I suddenly realized that wearing this mask gave me an oddly comforting feeling of false safety and protection. I could shut out the world, watch it through a tightened field of vision, dampening the noises outside. I finally decided not to take it off anymore. I started to clean my district systematically, using my sniper rifle, shotgun, pistols and other special equipment I retrieved from the SWAT HQ. I chased criminals and evildoers and even people who resorted to self-justice because I was still convinced that the right of law enforcing was strictly limited to professionals like us. Realization One day, when I patrolled the city, realization hit me like a bullet. There I was, a former SWAT sniper, still wearing my torn and dirty battle suit, armed with several guns and hidden under a gasmask I didn't take off at night, reciting the law and articles to criminals. The absurdity of this situation was shocking. The same was true for the sudden feeling of loneliness, of complete isolation and of the pointlessness of my actions and my entire existence. At first, I struggled against this tiny voice in the backside of my skull which told me that the law had failed and that it only worked in clean and tidy and neat times. That people reverted to their animalistic nature as soon as order and their familiar surroundings collapsed. That I was the only person left in Malton who clang to an outdated, useless, senseless and toothless law and that I was ridiculous and petty in my childish attempts to convince the people in my suburb that it still existed. That I lied when I told them that in the end, everything would turn out fine. That help would come. No help would come - they locked us down in Malton and they would watch us like animals in a science lab. A gigantic socialogical experiment on human survival. Yes, I realized that the government didn't plan to send us any help. No tanks to clear the streets, no flamethrowers to dispose of the dead, no medics to cure the infected, no National Guard to establish order, no pioneers to rebuild the city. We were alone and they sat outside, watching us as if we were insects under a microscope, studying the effects and spread rate of the infection and hoping that some day there were no survivors left, so that the zombies would eventually starve and die. Then they would return to Malton and rebuild the city. This realization was really shocking to me. I lost everything this moment - hope that my friends were still alive, a purpose in live, trust in the government, belief in the law. Shocked, I retreated into a high tower where I found a small apartment. It was clear of any survivors and obviously untouched since the outbreak. I fell into the bed and slept for several hours, then I woke up with an empty feeling of betrayal in my soul. I felt betrayed of my live and my convictions. Then I realized I had to find a new purpose or I could jump out of the window - as many poor desperate devils did these days. A new life I wasn't the type who committed suicide, I was mentally strong, hardened by drill and training and the tight comradeship in my unit. My squad may be scattered or even dead, but there must be others who didn't want to give up - who didn't want to resort to anarchy and madness. The old law from peaceful times didn't work here (we didn't have jails or courts anymore, so we were forced to enforce the law violently - which was itself a violation of the law). But nevertheless, we couldn't resign and leave the streets of Malton to the self-proclaimed rulers, to criminals, to perverts, to rapers, to madmen and to the zombies. I was sure that we could adapt and find a way how to deal with these persons and how to establish safety for the helpless and desparate civilians who couldn't protect themselves. Sure, we couldn't secure the entire city of Malton, but we could find some small safe havens and protect at least these places. If there were other people all over Malton who thought the same way, we could build up and protect safe houses here and there, and this would give hope to others and inspire them. If people saw that not all was lost and that we could at least defend small spots of the city and keep them clean from scum, we could survive. Hidden Law and Life in Malton While I roamed the Tower, I discovered a graffiti poiting to a location in the cellar of the building. I was interested at once and when I was supplied with canned food and water, I climbed down the stairs and entered the cellar. I was stopped by a locked steel door, obviously a fire-proof door. A light bulb, powered by a generator nearby (I could hear the generator's rumbling noise), lit the door. A strange symbol was sprayed there. I had nothing to loose, so I knocked. A minute later, I heard footsteps and then someone released the locks. A huge balded man, much larger than me, stared at me. He was armed and wore some kind of selfmade body armor. "What?!" He asked me, watching me suspiciously. I then remembered that I still wore the gasmask together with a very weird outfit. I held my rifle high above my head and said that the graffiti sent me here and that I was looking for other survivors. When he didn't move, I lifted the gasmask, only to be overwhelmed of the smell caused by decomposition, human excrement, and sweat. "I cannot stand the stench", I explained and returned the mask. He nodded and let me in. Inside, I met a group of various survivors - old and young, children and aged, soldiers, housewives, mechanics, teenagers, and even a male cop. I didn't know him, but I was comforted by the sight. I learned that these people met here once in a while, planning how to rebuild and barricade the houses in this suburb. They installed generators and fueled them, and sprayed graffitis pointing to safe locations. Then, one of them took me aside and told me that they always needed guys and gals who knew how to use a weapon - not only to take out zombies. I learned that the people of Malton had installed a law of their own and that there was a system for reporting criminals, murderers, rapists, and maniacs. These people had adapted to the new situation without jails or courts - when someone was on the black list, he could be shot on sight, provided he and any witnesses nearby were informed about the deeds and the cause of this execution before delivering the killing blow. Otherwise, the bounty hunter ran the risk of being added to the list himself. If he followed the procedure, the kill was considered to be legal. This was fine with me and I agreed to support these people in both zombie killing as well as protecting and purging the district. A new purpose - and new doubts I was quite contempt with this new life - I felt useful, I could do something and my presence and actions comforted and helped the survivors. I learned that various groups and alliances were founded everywhere in Malton. Some of them worked for survivors, some had political ambitions, some were criminal organizations. The cellar group wasn't an organized alliance but consisted of loners as well as members from various other groups who cooperated and assisted each other. I learned that some of these groups were highly organized. I even discovered something strange I had never experienced before: I could understand the motives of some of the guys who resorted to self-justice. Some had lost their entire families, children, parents, were even attacked by them. Some had to witness the dead of their children, hunted down the zombie who did this - only to find their wives at home raped by some anarchistic criminals. They didn't have the nerves nor the patience nor the power to report these crimes to the new law enforcing organizations and were so desperate that they began to hunt the evildoers themselves. Sometimes, I found their names on the wanted-list, but I decided not to hunt them but to leave them alone. I realized that I began to establish my own value system and to decide who was a criminal or a threat to society - and who did society a favor by elimating these subjects without following the strict new rules. Some organized crime groups had unsuspicious and sometimes even anonymous or undercover members who scouted for them or revived them. These peoples were dangerous as well because they ensured the efficiency of PKer groups. Vigilantes who shot these revivers and scouts, risking a bounty on their heads, were no longer on my target list. And I discovered that I didn't care that I made up my own law and my own world. While I protected the civilians and hunted zombies, maniacs and criminals in my suburb, I suddenly realized that new doubts grew inside my mind. I joined a group of like-minded bounty hunters and I felt useful, yes, and it was great to keep the city clean and safe - but we only extinguished local fires. Someone had to be responsible for this entire mess - the infection must have originated somewhere. Maybe it was an accident in a science lab, maybe it was released on purpose by a terrorist group as a biological weapon. Whoever was responsible must pay for what he or they did to the city! If I survive this mayhem, this Malton meatgrinder, I will make sure that they will be brought to justice.