The last thing I remember was a flash of what I thought was lightning. I sat up, and found myself in a puddle of water and mud. This definitely was NOT my bedroom, where I was seemingly just a few seconds earlier. I smell ozone, and I have a bad headache.
I realize I'm in a forest clearing. It's late fall, appears to be mid-afternoon, the temperature is in the high 30s Farenheit, and a hard rain is falling. Somewhere along the way from my bedroom to "where the heck am I," I lost my clothes, except my eyeglasses, socks, and underwear. I'm cold past shivering, and I need to get under cover. About eighty yards away, I see a building that looks like a large garden shed. I eventually get there. By the time I do, I'm covered in mud. I feel like I'm in a scene from one of the Rambo movies. I touch the door, and it swings open.
On the floor in front of me is a D-cell battery lantern. I turn it on, and there's enough light to see that my last name is written on it in black Sharpie...it's one of my father's lights.
"Is this another High Road forum game?" I ask the empty air. Apparently so, because then I notice a manila envelope with my forum name on the front! I shrug, and open it, figuring that the only way I'm going to be able to wash up and get a change of clothes, is to play the game! This really is straight out of those text-based 1980's computer games!
I extract a single sheet of paper and read:
JRMIDDLETON425:
Thanks for playing, and welcome to Wasteland! The rules for this game are fairly simple. You might have noticed that you are in a map called "Moonshine Shack."
"I think I preferred the moving to Romania game," I grumble. "At least there I had a passable place to stay for a few days. And a nice London gun room showed up in the game map!"
Anyway, the letter continues, you are tasked with surviving for one year. Your resources are limited to what you can find in this moonshine shack or scavenge from the world outside.
Now, the whole point since THR is a gun forum: you have to pick four (and only four) guns. Your "armory," such as it is, is through the door in the back of the room. From the time you open the envelope, you have one hour to make your choices before the room closes.
Good luck to you.
Sincerely,
The Game Master (357 smallbore on THR)
I open the door in the back of the room, and find that I'm in a room that amounts to a pole barn. On either side of two aisles are Army-style locking racks, some shelving, two safes, three Pelican pistol cases, three rifle cases, and two stacks of .50-caliber ammunition cans.
It takes me a few minutes to get the safes and cases open and find the keys to the racks, so I have about 30 minutes to make my pick. The first thing I need for working around my newfound moonshine shack is a pistol. I settle on 9mm as caliber number one and .45 ACP as caliber number two. I find any number of pistols, several each of Glocks, SiG-Sauer, HK, Colt, CZ, and Beretta pistols.
Because I can, I choose a CZ 75 SP-01 Custom (stock #91765, for the CZ devotees on the forum). I find 1000 rounds of TulAmmo 124-grain FMJ, 500 rounds of Federal HST 124-grain hollow points, a Lee double-cavity 120-grain truncated cone mold, 1000 pieces of Federal brass, and a sleeve of 1,000 CCI 500 primers.
For pistol number two, I select a Glock 30. I find 1000 rounds of Remington UMC 230-grain FMJ, a Lee double-cavity 230-grain round nose mold, 1000 pieces of Federal brass, and a sleeve of 1000 CCI 300 primers.
I also find 50 pounds of linotype lead, 8 pounds of Alliant BE-86 powder, a melting pot, and reloading press, dies, and all the pieces. Now, I've piddled around with reloading a bit, so I know my way around it, BUT NOW I MIGHT HAVE TO DO IT! THIS COULD BE BAD!
Almost as an afterthought, I think to pick up five sets of woodland BDUs in my size, find six pairs of black Wigwam at Work socks, and a five-pack of boxer briefs. At least now I have clothes.
I wish I had an Eddystone M1917. I have one at home. I named it after a grocery store cashier I thought was sorta cute...but I digress. What the heck...one of them served Alvin York well in the Argonne.
And just, like that, I find one! And wonder of wonders, there are six spam cans of Greek surplus M2 ball on Garand clips. Now we're cooking with gas...as long as the biggest thing I encounter in the next year is a lion. I throw a sleeping bag, some fishing gear, a platoon first aid kit, and a garden hose on my pile. I also take a Hoppe's #9 cleaning kit. That should suffice for a year. I can select one more gun.
Could I use a shotgun? Why not? I pick a 20-gauge Remington 11-87, find some spare parts and a cleaning kit right beside it, 100 rounds of Lightfield slugs, ten boxes each of #6 and #7 1/2 shells, ten boxes of #4 buckshot shells.
I go back into the moonshine shack with about 30 seconds to spare before the door closes. It stopped raining, and got light enough to see in here. I have the tools and equipment to build a ram pump. When I'm done tinkering, I hook up the hose. There's a spring just a few yards away, so I wash up, decide that at some point I need clothing, and go back inside to dress.
I look around my home for the next year...everything I need to use this shed for its purpose is in here. I don't know if I'm going to survive in
Wasteland, but I know enough about running 'shine to be dangerous. I'm fixing to make me some rocket fuel!
I think
@NIGHTLORD40K might like a little light reading.
