Saturday, 25 August 2007

Do You Have Your Z-Day Buddy?

You ever have one of those days where you just can't stop thinking about zombies?
Where everything you do and everywhere you go is judged by whether it will make you more or less likely to survive?

Question: Say you go to the pool to do a few laps and as you were splashing back and forth, the pool were surrounded by zombies - exactly how screwed would you be?
It would depend on whether they were enterprising enough to follow you into the water or just stood swaying at the edge. If they did get topple into the pool you should be able to outswim them for a while, considering how unwieldy those guys would be in the water, but they'd get you eventually through numbers.
The second scenario, persistent poolside swaying, presents its own problems.
How long are you going to be able to survive on nothing more than water that is equal thirds H20, chlorine and tinkle?
What are the odds of anyone running a rescue mission to the pool 'just in case'?
Eventually you will pass out and drift to the edge and that will be that. You can console yourself with the thought you'll be all pruney and will probably taste weird.
Answer: Yeah, you're pretty screwed. Your chances of being able to beat a path to freedom with floaties and flippers are slim to none.

This is an important thought process as it can be factored into your Zombie Survival Action Plan.

Buildings are assessed on the number and nature of entry points. Decisions have to be made on whether it's safer to be up high (top floor = less random marauders) or on ground level (easier escape if breach occurs).

Where will you get food? How much can you carry with you without slowing yourself down? Will you survive the initial chaos and so on only to die of scurvy because you can't find any fresh produce? That would be so lame, death by vitamin deficiency...
When the utilities break down because all the engineers have been eaten, where will you get water?

Do you band together with other survivors (extra eyes/skills = good vs big group/target = bad) or do you go lone-wolf (easier to hide/run vs being eaten when you stop for a nap)?
You must also be very careful who you team up with, just in case they're planning to 'sacrificial lamb' you the first time you run into trouble.

How do you keep your blunt and/or sharp weapons handy for 'removing the head or destroying the brain' in the pre-Z-day world without looking like a crazy whacked-out vigilante? Though all those bastards will be laughing out the other side of their faces when they're eaten alive trying to defend themselves with their house keys... *ahem coff coff*

Remember! Supplies, position, defence!

There are also best case/worst case scenarios.
For example, Army bases.
An Army base would either be the best or worst place to be when the zombies rise.
Either you are surrounded by a group of highly trained and disciplined soldiers with a lovely cache of weapons and foodstuffs OR you end up surrounded by an until recently very fit and healthy horde of ravening flesh-munchers. And that isn't even taking into account the possibility of all these big, highly strung fellas going what I like to call goo-ga-lally, anointing themselves from head to toe in camouflage paint and declaring themselves the Lords of Life and Death and you their Official Bitch (Please note that your gender is irrelevant at this point: 'Official Bitch' is an equal opportunities position).

Depending on a variety of factors, survival may be a temporary thing.
Shuffle zombies vs creepy-assed sprinting zombies.
Military/scientific solution solutions forthcoming (Y/N)
Zombies die out vs we're all screwed.

In the event the negative rule came into effect in each of these cases you're pretty much doomed unless you're some kind of MacGyver/Aragorn hybrid: able to live off the land, make weapons from the contents of the odds and sods drawer (or the glove compartment) and with reflexes like a squirrel on speed.

I suppose all you can really do is keep your wits about you and take up a sport or hobby that will mitigate any suspicions that people might have about the number of heavy, swingable objects you keep about the place...

Sunday, 19 August 2007


If you've ever almost done something monumentally stupid, you've probably had a quick vision of your averted doom flash through your brain.
Being the well-wired individual I am, in my case this is usually followed by a slow-mo replay and the equivalent of a 'five years later' extrapolation.

Last night, completely buggered, a little tipsy and a touch too carelessly, I gathered up my laptop and headed for bed. On my way out of the lounge room I stepped on a pair of shoes I had forgotten were there and couldn't see through my precious 'puter.
For a second I was on the verge of being flung forward and my only thought was "No! Laptop smash!"

As I recovered myself and breathed a sigh of relief, my brain considerately pointed out to me that the only way I could have protected my interwub-box would have been to hold it out and up as I arched my back, ensuring that I would hit the hard-wood floor groin first and would probably break my pelvis.

I envisioned myself in a 'death-by-snoo-snoo' style cast trying to explain to my friends and employer exactly what had happened and how I would need some help with my 'special needs'.
Not the fun kind.
I became bitter and twisted and eventually grew to resent my laptop, poisoning our relationship...

Somewhere in a parallel universe I look like a croquet hoop and have to pee standing up.
In this universe, I'm just mental.

Resuming Transmissions...

My children, I have returned from the desert with much wisdom!

The devil tried to tempt me with anything I wanted in the world and I gave him a very definite answer.

Being absolutely exhausted at this point I've had to take a hiatus from that whirlwind of enticements and have remembered that I started this little project as a way of making myself actually finish pieces and follow my ideas through to the end.

Being of an easily distracted nature I've found that the only way to get myself to buckle down is to give myself deadlines. Therefore I'm committing myself to posting at least one piece every weekend or may the nearest deity strike me down or at least give me most annoying of ailments - waking up every hour during the night thinking I'm late when the next day is actually Saturday.

Whether or not anyone ever finds or examines my lonely internet island, the only way I'll ever develop as a writer is if I actually, you know, write something.

So here I go.