User:Anachomutualist/Journal
Introduction
This is a collection of thoughts, letters I never sent. I kept them through the shitstorm, and well, I've got to collect them together. I've also got a journal, written on newspapers or whatever I could find.
I grew up in New Arkham. Painter Street is where I went to school, in my relatively normal childhood. Lived in an upper-middle class apartment, went to the movies as a kid, went clubbing as I grew up, had parents working for the various banks. Damn, there were a lot of banks. Too many banks. Place was crawling with suits but no souls. Little fun, either, so we snuck out to Old Arkham when we could. There was an upside to this: no cops. The rich and their high fences kept most criminals out, which kept the town from building a police station.
That was before Miskatonic University. While the other students were dabbling in "alternative sciences" and internships with NT, I was part of the politically active minority. The hippies converted me to anarchism, and the punks kept me there. Punk rock was pretty fun. I toured with local bands, moshed with the best of them, tried to spread my propaganda to the audiences most willing to hear it. After a little vandalism at a concert gone wild, I moved to the Mockridge Heights anarchist cell. Thought the cops were after me, knew about my little revolutionary plot, and I wanted to lose them.
Turns out they weren't. But cops were the least of my troubles...
Letter to Willum
Dude, was that your organization? It's rumored that the incident at Cater NT was the work of your group.
Send me a call, Matt
Letter to New Arkham Cell
The revolution is here! The military claims that it's a "biological weapon," but we know better. The riots, the martial law... We must finish what the DNR started! Rise up against the state-corporate complex!
-Your Comrades, Mockridge Heights Cell
03:40, 25 January 2011 (UTC)
Now that my shock has subsisted, let me get this straight: THERE ARE ZOMBIES OUT THERE. I snuck back into the city after the evacuation, hoping to find my old friends. I didn't. At least it's not like in the movies, where you can't cure the infection. You can. All it takes is some basic first aid. That is, if you haven't become one of...those...damn, "zombies" makes me sound nuts, but, that's the only thing to call them. Well, a lot of survivors have figured out the old NecroTech equipment. Not even death is permanent here. I've been wandering between the hospital and the police station. Ironic, isn't it?
Unfortunately, the state is trying to make a comeback. After all we've worked for! And they're probably going to seize all the revivification equipment, make the revivers go by their rules. It would solidify their control. Anyone who they don't like would suffer a permanent death. Anyways, rumors get around fast. I've heard stories of rebel groups, but the resistance at the old army base seem the best. Fought, allied with and fought the local garrison.
22:06, 25 January 2011 (UTC)
Holy shit! I was not expecting that! Last anyone knew, the Fort was under attack. Under attack, but still safe. I make a beeline for Ft. Creedy, and guess what I find? A whole horde of them! The place was smashed, the walking dead everywhere. I just barely found a safe building before falling asleep. And when I woke up? I had been attacked by zombies. Picking up those first aid kits was a good idea.
