Now Playing Tracks


Moments after spawning, before I’ve even collected a single item, I encounter three heavily armed players on a beach. They tell me to put my hands up, then to kneel and not to move. They handcuff me and collect blood from me. Then one shoots me in the back of the head.

This image is the moment of my death: you can see the shell casing from the rifle shot as I’m executed.


I dropped one of my two cans of beans on the ground for my new friend, and we engaged in the DayZ tradition of staring at the ground and hoping it would eventually appear. It didn’t.

We’d met near a construction site a few minutes ago and decided to explore together. On the roof of the parking garage, we found a blue backpack. I put my last can of beans in the pack, hoping he could then take the pack and find the beans inside, and open them with his machete.

While he waited hopefully for the beans, I ran off to loot a couple warehouses. We agreed to meet back at the site in five minutes. When I got back, I found him at the bottom of the site, dead, most likely from a fall.

In his pack were the beans. He’d opened them but only eaten half. He’d saved the rest for me.

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