User:TripleU/Sandbox4

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Spraypaint

for groups

Annaz Harr!b!r!z ghan brang gaa mannah bra!nz! Annus Horribilis will tear down the cades for you! Annus Horribilis shall triumph in the bloody end! Annus Horribilis is the most efficient horde ever! Join Annus Horribilis, and become a death machine! Annus Horribilis- Opening doors. And skulls. Defend the homeland; Join the RRF! Silence those blundering breathers; Join SFHNAS! MAHB haz bra!nz! MAHB haz BARHAH! Ga!n MAHB!

in General

Zombies are united as one, survivors are divided. The survivor's specialty: Leave friends to die. Survivors are narcissists! Zombies are humbler! You cannot deny the pure light that is barhah. Survivors are more idealistic than zombies! Survivors fear zombies. Zombies fear nothing. Survivors are more shortsighted than zombies! 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: the final, superior stage of evolution. The dead are too astute to be fooled by harmanz! Here's an FYI: you're all gonna die screaming. People really don't taste too bad. Survivors taste like cock. You know, chicken. Zombies are proudly unified, survivors are tasty Revive Points are boring, put those claws to use! Prepare for barhah... Make it double... Help protect Malton from anti-barhah ignorance! They'll unite all harmanz within their stomachs! Commit suicide now, or prepare to be eaten alive! Window dive into the best undeath of your life! When dead, act like a zombie: Eat people! One day, you will die. Got Bra!nz? I ate my friend, to try it... I think I liked it. There's no point to life, but plenty to unlife. Attack a zombie, and you will gain nothing. Reload, reload, reload... or just use your claws. At the end of they day, you'll be dead either way. Live locked inside some mall? live at all? Gee, it sure is boring playing as a survivor... Dinner is served! Are you the meal, or the zombie?

Broadcasts

Anti-Life Cultist Story

Guess what time it is! Story time! A young child, Gragh, begins acquiring plenty of flesh. Her brother, Zmazharh, asks her where she's getting it from. Gragh said 'I have got it from a strange 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 zombie wants them to go with him. Zmazharh hesitates -- Zmazharh thinks: What does this zombie want of us? Why should we go with him? Suddenly a great fear came over him. 'You are life cultist!' he cries, 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.