An HvZ Survivor Story

Hello Readers!

I realize it has been quite some time since I have last written. I also realize that up until this point this blog has been rather serious. However, a  journal of my experiences playing Humans vs Zombies at Oklahoma State has been requested by many, and I honestly have no other place to put it. Therefore, I give you the HvZ Survivor Story. (Please keep in mind, some details have been embellished and names have been changed.)

For those of you who do not know, Humans vs Zombies is a game  that was invented by two college students (from somewhere on the east coast, I believe) in 2005. Seven years later, it has gained huge popularity on college campuses across the U.S. What is the premise of the game, you ask? Essentially, it is a glorified game of tag. The "human" team wears green bandannas around their arms and carry around Nerf blasters. Their objective is to survive the 5 days that the game is played. They must get to class safely during the day by hopping in between "safe zones" (my apartment counts as one, thank goodness) on campus, and are given "missions" to complete during the evening hours.  The "zombie" team wears green bandannas around their heads. Their objective is to tag humans (also called "feeding") without being shot by a Nerf blaster. If a zombie is shot by a blaster, they are "stunned" for 15 minutes and may not participate during that time. If a human is tagged, they have been "eaten" and must wait an hour before rejoining the game as a zombie. Simple, right? Yeah, that's what I thought.

Before I begin my story, I would like to make at least one comment regarding my own particular disposition. I regard myself as fairly cool-headed. Not much gets me excited, and I pride myself in being the logical thinker in most situations. This game is apt to challenge every cool headed thought I have ever had.

My first experience began with the Human Briefing the night before the game was to begin. We were all gathered into one place, and given a briefing for the "plot" surrounding the game. This did not interest me, so I will waste little time writing about it. Suffice to say, the bad leader of the zombies is wreaking havoc upon the good human colony and we must stop them.. blah blah blah. One thing of note that I did learn from the briefing is that for the first day, there were going to be three "original zombies". These zombies are disguised as humans until they eat 10 poor souls, when they are finally revealed as zombies. In other words, we have devils among us. Kyle = already paranoid.

Cut to Morning numero uno. This is a Wednesday, and I have four classes, one right after the other, from 8:30-12:30. I have a lot of ground to cover. For those of you who have never been on OSU campus, they tell you during freshman orientation that you can get from one point on campus to any other point on campus in 10 minutes. Whoever determined this must have been an Olympic sprinter. Anyway, all that to say is that four classes covers on average 40 minutes of walking time and lots of distance. Kyle = getting more and more paranoid.

As I take off Wednesday morning leaving the safety of my apartment, I begin to see the "original zombies" around every corner. I determine that I can trust no one, and keep my six shot Nerf pistol close. It is loaded and ready to rock and roll. I am determined to be cool headed, and think my way through this. I will survive. All of a sudden I see a girl with a green bandanna around her arm approaching me on the sidewalk. She is human, but not to be trusted. There are devils among us. She could be one of those tricky original zombies. I begin to get agitated, but remain calm. I am a mere 200 feet from my classroom. I need the safety of that building. She gets closer. I am a cool headed individual. I will survive.

She stretches out her hand and smiles, "Hey there! Human, right? Want a high-five?"

"GET AWAY FROM MEEEE!!" I screeched in her face.

Pop. Thwap. I shot her just in case.

I continue on my calm, collected way. Class proceeds without any other incident.

Cut to Mission numero uno. All of the humans who had survived school that day were instructed to meet at a set place to be briefed again on mission objectives for the evening. I was encouraged to see that there were quite a number of us left. I wore a simple long sleeved Mossy Oak camo shirt and a baseball cap. Some of us, I observed, were prepared not only for a game of Humans vs. Zombies but for the apparent invasion of the Communist Chinese Army. These particular individuals had everything from body armour to tactical radios and headsets. I half expected to see them packing a couple of fragmentation grenades and a Beretta for a sidearm. As one of my friends, Jack, remarked, "Some people take this way too seriously."

Our mission, was, once again nothing of very much consequence. Some baloney about reactivating the power generators or something similar. The human team completed the mission in hardly any time at all, and my squad did our part without seeing a single zombie. We met again as a huge group, were debriefed, and told to be safe and not get eaten. I have to admit, at this point I was quite disappointed. After all, I joined this game to shoot zombies, not activate power generators. Little did I know, my boredom was to be short-lived.

Considering the fact that we had not even seen a zombie during the mission, much less discharged our blasters, my squad was of a like mind when it came to the disappointment. In order to relieve this disappointment, we decided that the remainder of our evening would be spent "zombie hunting". This proved to be a very bad, albeit not boring, choice. We set off in the direction of the most recent zombie sighting. We were led by our unofficial squad leader (I shall refer to him as Mullet) into the darkness of campus. Our squad was composed of about six members including myself. Jack was apart of this squad, as well as an enormous man I shall refer to as Hulk. Hulk seemed to have a temperament more in common with a mouse than a hulk. He was jumpy, to say the least.

As we walked across campus, searching for zombies, I happened to sight a lone brain eater walking away from us. "Hey guys," I said calmly, "not to freak anyone out. But there is a zombie about 100 yards away to our right."

Hulk dived into the nearest bush.

"He doesn't even see us," said Mullet.

"Yeah, we are fine." I said.

"Is he gone?" the bush said.

After much walking and very little zombie-sighting, we were again very discouraged. OSU seemed to be entirely devoid of zombies, and our Nerf blasters were practically breaking from no use. Just as we were about to call it a night and retire to the safety of our respective dorms, someone called out, "Guys! Huge group of zombies. Right to our front. I don't think they see us."

Hulk dived into another bush.

"Well, what do we do?" Jack said.

Their was a red fire I could see glinting in Mullet's eyes. I wondered briefly if it was the redneck blood boiling over, or if it was simply solid heroism in the face of terrible odds. I then wondered briefly if there was any difference. He gave me a crazy smile.

"We ah gonna chahge 'em!" Mullet cried.

Before any of us could react, Mullet took off. It seemed to me for a brief moment he was clothed in a Confederate flag. I could have sworn he let loose a Rebel yell as he ran. Not thinking, we all followed. Even Hulk extricated himself from his bush to join the glorious "chahge".

The ensuing melee was terrible. Jack was one of the first to go down. I saw Mullet meet his demise under a horde of zombies, laughing maniacally and yelling as if his voice alone would make the South rise again. I myself managed to slay 3 zombies before my Nerf pistol jammed. Looking to my left I saw Hulk. Our eyes met. Instantly we communicated almost telepathically. It was clear what we had to do.

We ran like little girls.

And when I say little girls, I mean like little Olympic sprinter girls.

With Nerf blasters and Mossy Oak camo.

As I sit here safe in my dorm room, I reflect. I realize I have learned two things this day:

1. Trust no one. There are devils among us.

2. Do not follow the leadership of Confederates. Their obsession with glorious "chahges" is hazardous to your health.

I have survived the first day.

And they are still after me.

Long Time No Write

Well, it certainly has been a long time since I have last touched this blog, which seems to be the way I start about 90% of my posts: commenting on how much time has passed since the last time I wrote. A new friend of mine made the comment recently that it was "no bueno" that I hadn't composed anything in so long, and I would like to thank him for inspiring me to once again take up my keyboard. Writing, like many things, is a skill that needs to be constantly practiced. As my friend said, you use it or you lose it. Now, in the interest of preventing the ironic situation that I should lose the very skill I am currently going to school for, I write to you again, dear readers. I shall endeavor with my best efforts to commit once again this summer to my writing, and to not only keep this blog fairly updated, but to compose some fiction which has been running around in my head for the past few months.

This morning my thoughts have turned to... well.. coffee. I started drinking coffee at approximately age 17, and my experience has been unoriginal in the fact that college has exponentially increased the amounts and the frequency with which I partake. I love the taste almost more than I love the caffeine. I rarely add anything to my coffee, occasionally mixing in a little bit of milk. I prefer it black, and the darker the better. I think that anything but the straight brew, untainted by flavor shots and sugary sweetness, is a travesty. I'm convinced (probably unjustly and, I admit, very cynically) sugar is an American pop culture twist; an addition of sugary sweetness and glitz to a rich and deep beverage. One of my pet peeves is annoying platinum-blonde high schoolers who are proud of the fact that they "drink coffee". No, what you drink is a soda that tastes about 0.1% like coffee. Drinking coffee flavored sugar and bragging about it does not make you mature or cultured, it makes you an idiot. Yes, dear readers, I am a coffee snob. By the way, I am also proud of it.

The smell is so hard to describe, as many smells are, but it brings me undeniable joy. It is a relaxing, rich smell, full of body and smoothness. I am of the opinion that there is no other smell in the world as relaxing as fresh brewed coffee in the morning or evening hours. I think a cup of coffee in the morning gives one perspective. Coffee is strong enough that, if you drink it correctly, it has to be consumed slowly. It offers the consumer the chance to reflect and think, which is a often neglected in the morning. I have often had bad days, realizing later that the reason why is that I got off to the wrong foot. I was thrown into my day and my routine suddenly, without much warning, and without time to prepare myself. Coffee gives me a chance to plan, a chance to prepare, a chance to get ready. Starting correctly improves your chances of finishing strong.

More than the cliches, I ENJOY coffee. I often wonder, in our obsessive health freak culture if we ever take the time to enjoy things. Yes it may not be the best for me to drink coffee. Maybe there are things that could do differently to increase my life expectency by a couple years. I would ask, what doesn't kill you nowadays? Life kills you. The boogeyman is going to get me eventually no matter what steps I take to prevent it. I'm not advocating for a completely reckless lifestyle, but for goodness sake, let me enjoy some simple pleasures. I enjoy coffee, and anyone that knows me know that I enjoy my tobacco pipes too. Even further, the combination of a relaxing smoke and a good cup of coffee can turn an evening into an extremely enjoyable and enlightening discourse. I pity anyone who has not experienced the subtle flavor of a good English blend, or the oaky bite of  Latakia. I would like to write a book someday about a futuristic society that smells of hand sanitizer and tofu. These people would live tobacco-free lifestyles, go to the gym everyday, never eat meat, and their children would play in McVeggie's Super-Safe Playlands enclosed with padded walls and wearing full body protection. The irony would be that depression rates among this society would run rampant, and the book would end with the main characters committing suicide by overdosing on salad and Purel.

-sigh- One day I will write a rant-free blog... I apologize, readers. My original vision for this blog was to provide a look into my own mind, both for myself and for those who would be interested. In that I feel some measure of success. These are my opinions and my perspectives, even if they may descend sometimes into cynical rants.

Until I take up the keyboard again, I shall finish off this cup of coffee. Tonight, I may also have a cancer-inducing pipe-smoke. It has been a good month since last I smoked, and my smoke rings need some work. One day I hope to be able to blow smoke in the shape of ships like Gandalf.

(An idea is forming in my head for a blog about the relationship between writing and pipes. JRR Tolkien himself was an avid pipe smoker, and of course world renowned for his writing. For another time, readers!)