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Last Night on Earth: The Zombie Game» Forums » Sessions

Subject: Gas 'n Go! rss

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Jim Stevens
United States
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Last Night on Earth session report from boathouselooper.

I recently introduced an old friend to LNOE. This was his first game and my first game teaching. It was also about my 5th game overall and first time playing the zombies. A lot of game details had to be sacrificed so as to not intrude into the fictionalized nature of the session report.

The cast:
Sheriff Anderson
Father Joseph


Gas ‘n Go!

Sheriff Anderson peered out the police station window. The battered Chevy pickup stood alone in the town square and the dying sunlight cast strange shadows all around it. It mocked Anderson, as it was sitting safely in the center of town, a place he could not be.

He looked around the once clean and organized police station. It was littered with papers and dozens of boxes, nearly all of them containing confiscated items from various arrests and warrants. Anderson wasn’t concerned about the well-being of the evidence; he’d gladly face an angry judge instead of those damn things wandering around town.

The first one he had encountered was at the Johnson farm. He had to fire his revolver for the first time outside the range since becoming Sheriff, a fact that amazed him. The zombie was relentless and only a bullet to the head stopped its advance. Anderson found most of the Johnson family dead along with two more zombies inside the farmhouse.

That was only a few hours ago and since then the radio exploded into a flurry of similar reports, but had recently died off to nothing. Anderson felt as though he was all alone in town though he refused to believe it.

The thought just finished going through his mind when, from beyond the truck, Anderson saw Father Joseph. He was amazed that Father Joseph was unharmed and Anderson felt his spirits rise. Anderson opened the station doors and yelled to Father Joseph. The Father waved at Anderson, and then disappeared behind the truck. He emerged a few seconds later with two more townsfolk. Soon, Father Joseph, Becky the nurse, and Jenny Johnson were with Anderson inside the police station.

“I can’t believe you are all okay,” Anderson said. “I thought for sure everyone was dead.”

“That’s what we thought, too,” said Becky.

“It’s a nightmare out there,” said Jenny. “I need to get home and make sure my family is safe.”

Anderson grabbed Jenny by the shoulders. “Jenny,” he started. He was going to tell her what he found in the farmhouse, but decided against it. She could hate him later for holding back information from her. “It’s too dangerous to go out, we need to stick together.”

He released her and addressed the group. “I’ve got a lot of stuff here in the station,” he motioned to the boxes strewn about. “Stuff that might be useful. I’ll keep watch out the window, you all start searching. We can make it out of town in that old Chevy, but we need some gas for it. Oh, and keys too. I had them when I came in, but I put them down somewhere,” He looked down, embarrassed. “I can’t believe I forgot where I put them.”

Without much discussion the three newcomers tore into the boxes in search of items to use against the undead; most important was finding some gasoline. Jenny looked at the boxes and shook her head. She made her way to the back of the station knowing gasoline wouldn’t be in these boxes of contraband.

A few seconds later the Sheriff spoke and his news made their hearts sink. “We’ve got company, dirty, ugly company.” Becky had found a shotgun and joined the Sheriff at the window.

“Good God,” she whispered. She counted no less than 10 zombies slowly making their way toward the police station. As they drew nearer, Sheriff Anderson took aim with his pistol. “I have a bad feeling about this,” he muttered right before firing a round into the closest zombie. It collapsed and was immediately replaced by another. The Sheriff now found himself firing constantly trying to thin out the zombie horde.

Then the world exploded for all of them. The zombies were suddenly at the main door and pounding on the station walls. Father Joseph had found an old hickory Louisville Slugger and some packs of ammunition. He had managed to work his way along the station, moving farther and farther from the Sheriff. When he turned to bring the ammo to Sheriff Anderson, he was confronted with a zombie.

The preacher yelled out in terror as the thing took a swipe at his head. Father Joseph, possessed now by a primal sense of fight or flight, and knowing there was no where to fly, gripped the bat and pummeled the zombie. The aged hickory was no match for the skull of the former human. In a few moments, the preacher was drenched in sweat and spattered with blood. But he was alive.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Anderson barked.

“There!” yelled Becky. At the far end of the station, a small hole had been bashed in and zombies were wriggling through. Becky jumped in front of Father Joseph and blasted the zombie with her shotgun.

For the next 10 minutes Becky and Anderson fired shot after shot into the zombie hordes. Father Joseph continued rummaging through the boxes and would occasionally find something useful. Among the items were a blowtorch, a chainsaw, several pistols, another shotgun, some medicine and a flare gun.

Jenny returned from the back of the station and was nearly clubbed by Father Joseph.

“You scared the life out of me!” he chided.

“Look what I found,” she said. “Gasoline!”

“That’s great,” said Anderson. “As soon as we can get a clear shot to the truck, we can run and gas ‘er up!”

Jenny grabbed the Father’s bat. “Why wait?” Before anyone could stop her, Jenny bounded through the front doors.

“NO!” Anderson yelled.

Father Joseph followed Jenny out into the streets. The duo had not seen the large contingency of zombies coming from the nearby buildings. These undead moved unnaturally quick, and Jenny and Father Joseph both felt their legs stiffen, as though they were moving through murky water.

The zombies intercepted them. Jenny was able to fend off three while Father Joseph used his blowtorch to fend off the others. The sound of metal being tore and bent was followed by a scream of agony. Father Joseph turned to see Jenny collapsing, the metal gas canister spilling its contents onto the ground. He reached out to Jenny, but a zombie stepped in between them.

Anderson saw it all go down. “Sonofabitch!” he yelled. He regretted not telling Jenny about her family, but knew now that it didn’t matter. The zombies had gathered around the two former defenders and came away bloodied and seemingly satiated. Anderson never stopped firing at them, but he was starting to believe he’d never make it out of the station alive.

By now the zombies had managed to make their way into the station through a passage Anderson and Becky could not locate. Becky and the Sheriff had to fight hand to hand on more than one occasion, and a few times they were wounded by the combat abilities of the unceasing undead. The sun had nearly set and they both knew, deep inside, that if the sun went down the game was going to be over. The zombies would overrun the town.

Becky was moving an empty box to search for more ammo for Anderson’s pistol when a gleam of metal caught her eye. “The keys!” she exclaimed. “I found the keys!” She looked over to the window expecting to see Sheriff Anderson. Instead she saw his limp body being held between two zombies. Another zombie slowly advanced toward her.

Behind it, she could see the last sliver of the sun drop below the horizon.
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Christian King
United States
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Poor Becky cry. Good story, I've been tempted to do something similar.
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