Forum:Tage der Albträume

Tage der Albträume is the Call of Duty Wiki's first official role-play, set in late 1945 following the outbreak of zombies throughout central Europe.

Quick guide to roleplays
Anyone may join if they have an account by signing in the "Participants" section.

You create your own characters, fill out some information abut them in the "Characters" section below, introduce them into the story, and post a new chapter (it doesn't need to be that long; usually a minimum of a few to several hundred characters) in response to whatever just happened in the story and wait for someone else to post a chapter of their own.

Before you know it, you have an awesome story that you and others helped to create. Booyah!

Plot summary
''Zombies started appearing in Berlin and nearly all of its pevious inhabitants appear to have just off and left. A few people have barricaded themselves inside the Reichstag and have to face off against sequentially heavier zombie attacks that come without warning, separated by deadly lengths of silence.''

Rules

 * Don't cause harm to other users' characters or generally use them without consulting the controlling user first.
 * Don't God-mod (to make something overpowered) your characters.
 * Post in context with previous chapters.
 * Mystery boxes, Ray Guns, points, power-ups and the like don't exist.
 * Don't ruin it for others.
 * Have fun, be creative, and try to have good grammar, okay?

Participants

 * 05:44, March 19, 2010 (UTC)

Chiafriend12

 * Name: Eugene Vicks
 * Faction: United States 101st Airborne Division
 * Rank: Sergeant
 * Weapon: M1 Garand, M1911
 * Previous experience: Dropped on D-Day, fought in Normandy, Market Garden, the Buldge and Germany until Hitler's surrender. Currently a member of the Allied occupying force in Germany.


 * Name: Michael Kuhn (placeholder; will try to include him when appropriate)
 * Faction: United States 2nd Ranger Battalion
 * Rank: Private First Class
 * Weapon: M1 Carbine
 * Previous experience: Replacement who arrived in Europe post-D-Day. Fought in Beaumont-Hague, the Battle of the Buldge and invaded Germany in Wallendar.

Prologue
Eugene sat himself down in the Berlin coffe shop he would always go to, ever since things really settled down after Germany's full surrender a few months prior.

On the way there, albeit before sunrise, he had noticed that he didn't see a single other person walking the streets. Normally he would see a few cars driving around during his walk to the shoppe, but today he saw none.

He didn't think much of it. "Maybe everyone has a hangover today." he mumbled, adjusting his posture in the wooden chair and looking around the shop for Wolfgung, the English-speaking entrepreneur he started to get to know after weeks of getting a cup of coffe every morning.

Sergeant Vicks started to get a bit impatient and tapped his knuckles loudly a few times on the also-wooden table in the shoppe. "Why wasn't I invited to this party?"

He finally got up from his chair—didn't even push it in—and walked to the bar-like counter where Wolfgung or one of his employees would work during the later hours of the day where he tapped his knuckles on the wood loudly again.

Wolfgung, or any of the other employees, didn't make a sound.

Eugene leaned over his edge of the counter and called out, "Wolfgung! You have a customer!" as he started to get a little frustrated.

He looked around for safety or whatever reason and jumped over the counter and walked along the other side of the bar to the hallway that it led to, where he had always assumed was an 'employees only' section, but he stopped short and started looking at the various filled bottles of booze that lined the wall.

"I hope you don't mind me back here, but, uhh," he started walking toward the entrance to the hallway, "I know you certaintly haven't forgotten your English or your manners for your customers."

The room at the other end of the narrow brick hallway had a refrigerator—assumably for employee meals—on the opposite wall, a calendar to its right, a window to the right of that and a table with associated chairs in the middle.

Eugene pushed upward on the window to open it to take a peek outside, considering that maybe Wolfgung was just taking the garbage out at that moment. Poking his head out into the alley, he saw no one (nor any garbage), but did hear some footsteps that came from the main street the shoppe was on. "Well apparently I'm not the only one who missed out on that party, at least."

He closed the window and went back out into the main room and went back over the counter, fed up at this point at the lack of Wolfgung to prepare coffee, from which he decided that he would visit the cafe across the street that he knew was also open at this time in the morning.

Outside, he latched the door shut with delicacy, giving respect to the commercial establishment, even if he didn't get any service.

To his left, down the road, was the Reichstag: the ruined building that was once a key building held by the Nazis that was eventually sieged and captured by the Russians, marking the point of complete defeat for the Germans about six months prior.

Those footsteps he heard earlier grew louder and the early morning walker violently grabbed Sergeant Vicks by the shoulder of his service uniform.

"Hey!" he shouted as he shook off whoever decided to grab at him, shoving them completely over on their rump momentarilly later.

Eugene looked at what he then assumed to be a drunk, but noticed that his face was unhealthily gray with eyes yellow enough to imply that he had been drinking every minute of his life, and then some. The drunk was in no uniform; just a tanktop and standard pants.

Eugene brushed off his shoulder, annoyed by the fact that his recently press-cleaned jacket was now dirty. "If you're a serviceman," he began, pointing at the other, "I want you to get your ass back to wherever you normally stay and sober up."

The drunkard moaned.

"And if you're not a serviceman, I want you to remember that I am, and I have the physical ability to shoot you, among other things, alright?"

The other tried to stumble his way to a standing position, and Sergeant Vicks left for a walk in the direction of the Reichstag. The gray, drunk man then caught up and grabbed at the back of Vicks's collar to which Vicks grabbed the man from behind and pulled him over and slammed his back on the ground in front of him.

"What is your problem?" he asked in a shout.

The drunk reached and grabbed Eugene's ancle and dug their nails into him.

Eugene slammed on the man's wrist extremely hard and freed his other ancle and withdrew his sidearm. "Seriously, what are you trying to do?!" He took a considerable step back. "Now, I want you to back off of me." Eugene started to aim vaguely at the man as he walked around him, once again in the direction of the Reichstag.

The drunk began to push himself back up in a manner to unhuman-looking that it creeped the veteran paratrooper out. The man's joints bent in the wrong way and he showed no pain or even acknowledgement to it.

Eugene stopped and held his .45 pistol at his side in a way that looked both casual and as if he was trying to make it obvious he was holding a pistol. "Private, whatever the Hell rank you are, whoever the Hell you are," he pointed to his situational forward and the man's reverse, "I want you to go home and straighten yourself out--"

He stood up nearly fully, moaned, slumped his head over to his right shoulder and limped forward.

Sergeant Vicks assumed battle stance and aimed for a killshot on the man. "Halt!" No one in Europe would go without knowing what it meant.

The drunk leaped toward Eugene who took a large step back and shot the man in the chest, downing him.

As the man was slumped over in the street, Eugene looked around frantically, now thinking others would think he was a killer. "What the Hell, man?" He approached what he thought was a corpse. "I said to back off, and you didn't!" He very lightly kicked the body, trying to get a reaction, but got none. "Oh, shit."

Still, not a soul was anywhere to he heard or found, and considering a gunshot just went off, it would make sense for someone to have gotten up at the sound, but it was as if everyone was deaf or moralless.

Eugene panicked, and ran toward the Reichstag for whatever reason, probably subconsciously trying to get help.

A horrifying crescendo of inhumane screams and moans started to be heard and Eugene only ran faster.

He reached the end of the road and arrived at the large set of staircases that led up to the Reichstag: a Roman-styled building several stories tall and many football fields wide.

Eugene spotted another man pounding on the apparently locked doors and loudly shouted at him to get his attention.

The man stopped his pounding dead cold, turned his head, saw Vicks, and started running down the final staircase.

Eugene also started up the stairs, but partway up noticed that the man also had dangerously gray skin and morbidly yellow eyes.

The other also-seemingly-drunk man lunged for Eugene when he got close, but he simply stepped out of the way and the man just fell down the staircase.

Eugene reached the larged doors, tugged on them but to no avail. Freaking out by this point, he started pounding on it. "Hey!" he called. "Anyone in there? I need help!"

Someone said something inside, and the sound of wood scratching on wood was heard.

He called again. "Is someone there? I need a doctor!"

The doors opened just a crack so that someone else to talk back. "Question: when did Hitler start the war?"

Eugene felt that this wasn't the time for trivia. "What?"

"Answer the question!" The voice growled from inside. "Do it or die!"

Eugene felt most definitely scared at this point and tried to mumble the answer. "Uh, September 1944, right?"

There was no immediate response, and he took a step back in thought that someone might pop out and shoot at him, but the doors opened and he rushed inside. 05:44, March 19, 2010 (UTC)