The Walking Dead

The Walking Dead

Plot: You and a few other people, some strangers and some friends, have unfortunately found yourselves trapped in a Walmart during a zombie apocalypse. Will you survive or become a zombie yourself?

Rules: We know all the basic ones. Doubling up, or tripling if you can handle it, is strongly suggested, since it's very possible that one of your charries will eventually become a zombie and/or die.

Bios: Name (first & last, middle optional)
Age (any)
Appearance (image, link, description, whichever you prefer.)
Personality
Background
Weapon of Choice (what they prefer to use to kill zombies)

I'll have my bios up sometime tomorrow, after I get home from the decorating party.

Bio #1 of 2
[[Btw, this all takes place in New Jersey]]

Name: Bill Portman
Age: 22
Appearance:
Dresses like a total hipster - beanie hats, overly tight skinny jeans, obscure band t-shirts - everything. He even smells like a hipster. His aroma is that of cheap Stetson cologne and Pabst Blue Ribbon.
Personality: Bill, being the hipster that he is, is horribly arrogant yet still somewhat likeable since he is oblivious to the fact that he actually isn't better than everyone else. He has an adorable preoccupation with cats. He tends to flirt with anything that has a pulse, and some things that don't (the occasional hot zombie). Except, of course, people he considers "too mainstream." Anyhow, he tries to be somewhat open-minded when it comes to the people he hangs out with - he takes pride in having one Republican friend, one black friend, etc. He thinks it's cool to seem unfazed by the zombie-killing going on around him, so he tends to act apathetic about it. Well, that and everything else.
Background: Bill lived alone in a small apartment in Trenton, New Jersey before the zombie apocalypse began. However, even an influx of starving zombies would not push him to leave the eighteen cats who lived with him. He boxed up his worldly possessions and cats and escaped the apartment, placing all his belongings and cats in his creeper van. Since then, he has been driving around Trenton, living in his car, in search of companionship (and cheap beer).
Weapon of Choice: Vintage Civil War bayonet he stole from a museum. Somehow it's still functional.

Bio #2 of 2

Name: Miranda Butler
Age: 17
Appearance:
Miranda wears high-end clothes that she takes from abandoned shops in Trenton. Since she looks much younger than she really is, the way she dresses causes her to look like a little girl trying on her big sister's clothes.
Personality: Miranda likes to surround herself with people who love her and be the center of attention as much as possible. She shakes off any criticism that comes her way but also tends to criticize others fairly often. She may come across as cold to people she doesn't particularly care for. Her confidence is overwhelming yet worthy of respect, unlike Bill's naive arrogance. She's the kind of girl who likes to rub it in your face that she can eat as many hamburgers as she wants and never gain a bit of weight.
Background: Miranda lived with her parents in a one-family house in the suburbs of Trenton before the zombie apocalypse. She's the only surviving member of her family. The others became zombies while she was hanging out with her boyfriend, who also later became a zombie. Having no friends or family members left, she hides out in a small apartment in inner-city Trenton. During the day, she walks around, wielding her weapon, and searches for other humans.
Weapon of Choice: A hunting rifle she took from the gun cabinet in her house before she fled.

Bio #1 of 2
Remember, 1rst RP in a LOOONNNNG time. Go easy on me.

Name: Chandra Long
Age: 19
Appearance: A very simple girl, brown hair, blue eyes. Most people would see her as pretty, easy on the eyes, etc. She dresses very simple also, mostly tank tops and shorts. Guys love her.
Personality: Most people love to be around her. She's a very nice girl, and loves being around people. She can have her days though, where she just wants to be left alone. Don't get on her bad side!
Background: She comes from a very good family, her father was the mayor of the town they lived in before they moved. After they moved she didn't get through very well. Normally, her grades were always a low to high A, but after the move her grades jumped down to C's and B's.
Weapon of Choice: A crystal knife that used to be her mother's.

Bio #2 of 2
This one should be a little better. I put a little bit more thought into.

Name: Robert Cross
Age: 15
Appearance: The people at school would describe him as emo or goth. He has straight, black hair, bright purple contact lenses, and wears mostly black clothes. Tight jeans, ugly, itchy wool sweaters, scarves and LOTS of make-up. His fingernails are always painted with a thick, black coat of polish and his mascara is always running. You're typical apathetic emo kid.
Personality: Well, most of his school life he's been a loner. Sits alone at lunch, sits in his room after school, never talks to anyone, not even his parents. Then again I don't blame him. Everyone at school has always made fun of him, and his parents practically abandoned him on the streets.
Background: Like I said before, he was mostly a loner, not many friends, and his parents practically abandoned him. His parents left him outside an out of town library about 13 miles from his house, but he found his way home. His parents then got divorced shortly after that incident. Custody went to his mother and his father was allowed to visit on weekends.
Weapon of Choice: A bent up, old musket that he found in his basement. No clue how it still functions properly.

Well, there ya go. Hope ya enjoyed.

Sweet bios! Sarey will be posting her first bio shortly, and she'll make the opening post tomorrow morning. (:

Name: Holly Greene
Age: 20
Appearance: Holly prefers to wear clothes that almost match, but not quite. A favorite outfit combination of hers is a relaxed beanie hat with a tucked-in band tee shirt or ugly Christmas sweater, floral shorts, and some battered vintage dock-shoes from eBay. She keeps a knapsack with her pet chinchilla, Mister Heavenly, and the rest of the essentials, like her laptop, a small collection of indie films, and iPod with her at all times.
Personality: Basically, Holly lacks a fair amount of empathy, which enables her to be logical, for the most part. She doesn't really care about zombies taking over, or her favorite bands being killed off - all that really matters is that Holly stays alive with her character intact. People that display their emotions "excessively" may think that she's a snob, and it's most likely because she is.
Background: Holly was breezing through film school, staying in a small apartment in New York when the zombie apocalypse began. Since then, she's been driving abandoned cars - only the cool ones, of course - all the way to Trenton.
Weapon of Choice: A Weatherby rifle she found in a bar.

Name: Kale Roberts
Age: 16
Appearance: Kale always wears multiple piercings, a tight white tank top, his sister's eyeliner and black skinny jeans, checkered Vans, and a pouting expression.
Personality: Kale's most enjoyable hobby is pitying himself. Constantly, he whines about the world and how much he hates himself. It easily gets annoying for most people, explaining why his parents tried to push him in with the zombies at meal time. Kale acts like nobody understands him, but in reality, a kindergartner could guess at what he's thinking.
Background: Kale lived lavishly with his fed-up parents until they fell into their basement with the zombies while trying to push him in. He now mopes along the streets of Trenton, hoping for a zombie to eat him. That is, until they actually get close to him; he runs away then.
Weapon of Choice: His green eyes full of burning passion. And his lack of dignity.

Bill parked his creeper van alongside a street in residential Trenton. Several cats meowed upon noticing the stoppage. "Shhh," he whispered to the cats in an attempt to lull them. Eventually, the cats calmed down and went back to annoying each other, eating, scratching the boxes they were in, or whatever other cat things they may have been doing. Bill pulled a Pabst Blue Ribbon out of the cooler he sat in the passenger seat (having beer that was gross and warm would be a little over-the-top) and a pack of cheap cigarettes out of his back pocket before stepping out of the van, making sure not to let any cats out in the process. Leaning against the hot exterior of the van, he sipped his beer and kept an eye out for any people or zombies who might stop by. Maybe he'd find someone attractive who wasn't too mainstream. Meanwhile, his chin, neck, cheeks and whatever else may have been covered by his thick beard sweated profusely in the New Jersey sun.

Miranda walked on the cracked sidewalk lining the road leading into residential Trenton. Each step was graceful and confident despite the frequent cracks that threatened to grab the thin heels of her shoes at any moment. The hunting rifle she held at her side may have contradicted her beauty, but not her confidence and finesse. It didn't take long for her well-trained eyes to take notice of a trio of zombies exiting a one-family house similar to the one she had once lived in. As she effortlessly shot each zombie in the head at a distance far enough away that the blood would not stain her clothes, she wished she didn't have to kill every being she saw. She missed having people around who would adore her no matter how many times she told them they were worthless or that they would never get anywhere in life.

Holly tapped the Weatherby rifle against her leg as she searched for an interesting car to snatch off the street. Unfortunately, the little suburb was crowded with only Camrys and mini-vans, so Holly would have to look around for hours. The car she was going to drive had to be cool - maybe even retro or vintage! - or it wasn't even worth stealing. A stereotypical emo Leonardo DiCaprio look-alike appeared in her peripheral vision, running away, arms flailing about from four or five zombies. "Idiot," she muttered with a disapproving shake of her head. Holly adjusted her glasses and shot one of the decayed droolers with careful precision. It croaked and fell to the sidewalk on its knees, soon to be trampled by the others of its kind. The boy shrieked and gained speed until he tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and began crawling away. With a theatrical sigh, Holly picked off the last of the zombies and casually walked over to the potential victim. "Y-y-you saved me! I thought I was a goner for sure, and now I have zombie juice all over my tank top, and my hair's messed up - " Holly wasn't paying attention to the whiny kid. Because there was a totally obscure van down the street with her name all over it, and she had a sudden craving for Pabst Blue Ribbon. "Are you even listening to me?" the kid asked from behind her as she made her way towards the van. "Nope," she replied, "I've got a van to drive and some beer to drink." The boy followed her like a pitiful puppy over to the piece of absolute perfection.

As Robert rounded the corner, he tugged at the collar of his sweater. Ugh! It's way too hot for this thing! He thought to himself. He was quite happy that he remembered to put on an old t-shirt underneath. He pulled off the sweater and stuffed it in his backpack. Slung across his back was his Perkins Musket that he found in his old, rotted basement. The heat radiated off of the street and the sidewalk, and he felt like he was melting in the hot, summer, Trenton sun. He walked past a couple old, dirty cars, but then came across a fairly new model. Most importantly with keys. It was unlocked so he jumped in and started it up. Ahhh. The purr of the engine. He thought. It was these times that he was most content, the times that he could just sit, alone with his thoughts. Sometimes he thought his thoughts were his only friends. Well, at least after the Zombie Apocalypse. He eased his foot down on the petal and the car pulled forward.

Chandra bent down and pulled her leather boot back up. When she stood back up she noticed the fat, slobbery, zombie standing closer than she was comfortable. Luckily, this one looked about in it's last stage, very, VERY slow. Not fast enough to stop her from plunging her mother's old knife through it's neck and slicing through. The body slumped over and a satisfied grin appeared across her face. Even if there wasn't anyone around to admire and adore her anymore, she could still get her amusement through walking in the most infested parts of Trenton. Mostly the suburban areas, they tended to like those places more than others. Chandra sighed and looked around, suddenly she noticed an old creepy van, which looked like it had the figures of cats in it. She walked around to the other side and noticed a man leaning against the car, drinking a beer.

Bill took another gulp of the nasty-smelling, nasty-tasting beer before belching loudly enough to prompt a tortured yelp from one of the cats. Pretending not to care, he itched his scraggly beard idly. For a moment, he wished the radio in his van didn't disturb the zombies so much so he could blare some obscure music. Just as he began to hum "New Slang" by The Shins, a song he found mildly inspirational, he noticed three women approaching him. Then, as they came closer, he noticed that one of them was just a very sissy dude. He tried to look as nonchalant as possible, continuing to lean on the van as if nothing had happened.

Miranda, meanwhile, continued down the sidewalk into the suburbs. Now that she had killed all nearby zombies, or at least the ones she'd encountered thus far, no sound filled the still air. She stopped in her tracks and looked pointedly up at the clear sky. Nothing. Taking out a hand mirror she carried with her at all times, she considered breaking it and slitting her wrists with it. What was life if no one was there for her to criticise but herself?

Chandra looked around and then looked back at the man drinking his beer. She began to walk closer very cautiously, since you can't trust anyone or thing anymore. Seeing as how almost everything and everyone is infected. She squinted at the man and decided to say something. "Uhm.....Hello sir?" She asked.

Robert continued driving until he began to drive into the suburbs. He slowed down to admire the fancy looking houses that, sadly enough, had no one living inside anymore. Only the sad remains of families that Robert never had. He stopped the car, climbed out, and shoved the keys into his pocket. He walked along the side of the road, looking closely at the details of the houses. The over-grown lawns, some doors splattered with blood, and the smashed windows. This is so sad, he thought, I wish I had lived in a house like this. But no, he didn't, he lived in the city projects with his drunken parents. Suddenly, he noticed a gorgeous girl walking on the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. He waved to try and get her attention, but he didn't think she saw him. Her high heels accented her long legs nicely and he really wanted to talk to her.

[[Hope it's not too soon to begin mingling with other charries yet. ]]

Hearing an uncertain voice coming from the closer of the two women approaching him, Bill looked up slowly and let his lazy gaze drift from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. His natural instincts told him she was pretty, but the rest of his strange, forced personality told him she was generic. Mainstream. Yet he was so desperate for companionship that he decided to answer her anyway. "Hey," he said, trying to sound as disinterest as possible as he lit up a cigarette and discarded his empty beer can.

The air was so silent and empty that Miranda could hear someone's steady footsteps on the other side of the street. Feeling a rush of excitement pulsing through her veins, she shoved her hand mirror back into her pocket and looked at the emo boy walking on the other side of the street. Grinning widely, she waved at him. "Hey you," she said in a flirtatious tone, as she continued to wave. She topped it off with a wink. Though she didn't find him particularly attractive, she figured he'd be more likely to come over if she flirted with him.

Giving him a once-over, Chandra noticed his beard and beanie hat. Geez, it's like 95 degrees, what's with this guy?! She thought. "What's with the beanie hat dude? It's like 95 degrees out here." She said, confused. She looked at his cigarette and coughed, then looked at the empty beer can discarded on the ground. She walked over to it, picked it up, and threw it away.

He couldn't believe it! A girl was actually flirting with him. He ran over across the street and introduced himself, "Hi. I'm...uh...Robert. Robert Cross." Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Why did you say that? He thought. He looked at her face and she was beautiful! Just glorious. He squinted at the sun and shook his head. Why would a girl like that, flirt with a guy like me? He thought again. "Uh...What's your name?" He asked.

Bill reached up to adjust his hat, though he realized soon enough that he was about to use the same hand that was holding the cigarette. Startled, he flicked the just-lit cigarette away. "Damn," he muttered under his breath. Looking back up at the girl, he said, "Oh. I wear it all the time. Looking cool is more important than being... cool. Isn't that ironic." His voice was almost unbearably dry and monotonous.

Miranda continued to smile, flicking a lock of her reddish hair to the side with her thin, delicate fingers. The boy's obvious awkwardness and insecurity made him an even easier target, it seemed. "Miranda Butler," she said in a voice as sickly sweet as strawberry cake with strawberry icing. "Nice to meet ya, Robert. What do you say we walk around awhile? I haven't seen anyone but zombies in forever."

Chandra winced when he flicked the cigarette away, she hated it when people littered, but then again, the world was pretty desolate, it didn't really matter anymore. She flashed a smile and introduced herself, "Um...I'm Chandra Long," She said as she bowed, "You are?" She felt odd, he didn't seem like her type, but he had something about him that made her feel safe. She shook her head, she just met him. Doesn't even know him. She looked down at her feet awkwardly, she forgot how awkward she used to be, with her dorky, old glasses and her ugly sweaters. She spent all of middle school, and most of high school perfecting her new self. She looked back up at the man and smiled.

Robert look at the girl and smiled awkwardly. This was stupid, he was falling for a girl that he didn't even know. STOP IT ROBERT! YOU JUST MET HER! His conscience screamed. He shook his head and looked down at his feet, "Well...uh...sure I guess." He said as he turned around, practically tripping over his feet. He was making a complete fool of himself and he knew it. "So...um...Where are you from? I grew up about 6 miles away from here." he said.

Bill smiled, exposing his lightly tobacco-stained teeth. "Bill. Just Bill. Last names are so pre-apocalypse." He, too, had the feeling that the person standing opposite him wasn't quite his "type." Compared to the girls he was generally interested in, she seemed simple, generic, the sort of person who enjoyed listening to Lady Gaga. But maybe that was alright, at least for now. "I have eighteen cats," he said suddenly.

Miranda's heels clicked on the crumbling concrete. "Not far from here. I was actually planning on going back home to see if anything's left. I've been staying in the city," she said smoothly, making sure to meet his eyes the whole time. She tugged at the edge of her short cashmere skirt. "You headed anywhere special?"

Holly's eye caught the man with the beard and the beanie hat. She unconsciously fixed her own hat, continuing to tap her rifle against her leg to the beat of a Beirut song she couldn't put her finger on. A subtle raise of her hand in his direction signaled a greeting. "Hey there," she said, expressionless, "You were humming a Shins song."

Kale paid no attention to the hipster guy or his own savior, but watched the pretty girl talking to the guy. She wasn't extravagant or over-the-top, but still had some nice features on her. He tried to sound manlier than he really was, but the words came out in a squeak: "Huh-lo there!" Silently, Kale cursed himself out for looking so incredibly childish in front of a lady, thinking suicidal thoughts as he did.

[[Know it's short; just wanted to catch up a bit before school... ]]

Suddenly, Bill heard someone else greet him and looked in the direction of the sound. To his amazement, the girl standing there seemed exactly his type. Nodding back at her and returning her expressionless gaze, he replied in a monotone, "The Shins changed my life. Want to see my cats?" He unenthusiastically beckoned her with his hand.

Holly nodded her head and asked, "Got any Pabst? And uh..." she pulled Mister Heavenly, her chinchilla, out of her satchel casually, "Is he gonna be alright with you?"

Bill looked at the chinchilla, nodding slowly with approval. "Yeah. And I'll get a Pabst out of my van if you wait here a minute," he droned, winking halfheartedly. He wondered if she played any obscure instruments, like a hurdy gurdy, or maybe even something he'd never heard of.

Candra looked back down at her feet, but something compelled her to look back up very quickly. She followed that instinct and looked up at the guy starring at her. He had a lot of eyeliner on and blonde-ish hair. She stopped thinking and spoke up, "Hi there. I'm Chandra. You are?" She hoped he would like her. She just met him, but she realized this was some of the only human contact she had since before the zombies.

Robert looked at her and admired her facial features. Her small nose, compared to his big one, her eyes, and especially her hair. He loved her hair, it was like a bright fire. "No, not really. I just found that car back there and decided to drive until I found some zombies to kill or a person to talk to. I'm usually a loner, but having no one around to talk to for this long has made me need some human companionship." He said. Stupid! Stop being so personal! He thought.

Holly stroked her chinchilla mechanically as she waited for the man to get her a Pabst. She couldn't remember the last time she had one. Probably not too long before the apocalypse. She leaned up against the van and sifted through her satchel. "Laptop... CD's... films..." muttered Holly until she found what she was looking for. Her headphones fit on her head perfectly, and the iPod felt familiar in her hands. She went through shuffle, not having to look long until a song she liked came on. Her dock-shoe tapped the side of the van, waiting for the Pabst.

A hint of a smile crossed Kale's face. The pretty girl was actually talking to him! "Kale," he answered with confidence, and asked, "And Chandra is an absolutely lovely name." Pride swelled up in his heart, and for once, he had nothing to complain about - besides the zombies, his bloody shirt, the creepy guy next to the equally creepy van...

Chandra laughed, "Why, thank you. I love your name. Kale, right? Well, it's nice to meet you Kale." She extended her hand and smiled. She saw his bloody shirt and remembered that she had an extra white tank-top in her bag. She rifled through it until she found the shirt, then handed it to him. "Here ya go. Thought you might like a new shirt. One without a bloody mess on it."