People are fairly simple creatures who are easily tricked because of their addiction to patterns and basic context cues. People want to trust you, like you, not need to kill you. Heck, you could be an asset to their team if you turn out to be someone they can trust, let their guard down around, and learn to lean on.
We see characters like Daryl on The Walking Dead become fan favorites both in and outside of the show while still being kind of dickish.
Way too often I see games, movies, tv shows and whatever else where people are trudging through the zombie apocalypse and, surprise, they get bit on the calf or ankle. Duh! Cover your calves and ankles and this problem disappears.
See, when people die they fall down. On the ground. Around that area where your feet are… That area you’re not usually looking in when you’re walking forward.
A really, really long time ago, I wrote about having a baby and being a new parent in the post-apocalypse (and by extension, the apocalypse). In those posts, I had all sorts of fun tips about how to survive with a baby and all that during the fun post-apocalyptic period before things settle down into quaint dystopia.
I had a baby not too long ago, so everything is once again fresh in my mind.
I started doing Zombie’s, Run! again. Why? Because I’m shockingly out of shape.
I imagine myself running from a shambling heard across a vacant parking lot or field. The distance increases and I start to feel triumphant. Eventually, and by that I mean like 30 seconds, I start to tire and slow. They don’t.
I realized that even the Romero-esque slow-but-steady zombies would eventually over take me. If there’s nowhere to hide and it’s just a matter of endurance,
We’ve said before that you aren’t going to be able to spend the whole apocalypse hiding away in a basement. You’re going to need to get out there, seize the wastes with both grimy hands. Scavenge strange new foods, barricade a whole new part of town. But there are going to be people out there who want to stop you from doing that. They want to hurt you. So you are going to have to murder them.
Launched earlier this this month on kickstarter, the BOLT: Portable USB Battery Backup is something we need to have in our future.
The BOLT works like a regular wall to USB to phone charger—except after you unplug the phone and the BOLT from the wall, the BOLT can still function as a charger without the wall. It charges itself while plugged in and can then recharge your phone later if you’re away from an outlet.
When it all goes to shit, the corpses will be everywhere. No, not the zombies, but the dead. The regular dead. The bodies of people who didn’t make it. You think I’m kidding? Take a look on the news about what happens to regions after a natural disaster hits. In places without a unified emergency services, the corpses just lie around decomposing until volunteers and citizens can get to burying them.
So yeah, this picture? That’s downtown Calgary. Thankfully, I don’t live in downtown Calgary (or in any of the areas that got evacuated), but I do live in Calgary.
For those not in the loop (or those not in Canada), Southern Alberta has gotten a ridiculous amount of rain over the last week. When Mr. Char asked me if I’d built my ark earlier this week, I thought he was joking.
Survival, in a pre- or post-apocalyptic world, requires compromise and self-reliance. We often see apocalyptic fiction where there is one leader and it’s his way or no way and everyone just gets dragged along with wide eyes and gaping jaws.
That didn’t work out for Rick Grimes or any of Alice‘s (Resident Evil) friends. Why? Because everyone else had thoughts and ideas and didn’t stand up for them or the value of their lives.
At some point in your post-apocalyptic future, you may be required to resort to cannabalism. Please be aware, there is no shame in this choice. You did what you had to do to ensure the survival of yourself and your community. You are still a good person, even if you’re a cannibal. Let go of the guilt.
So over the past six months or so, I’ve realized something about myself: I hate drama. Not drama in movies or books or anything like that, but real-life drama. The kind with gossiping, rumor-mongering, backstabbing, that sort of thing. Now, I’m not saying that I’ve experienced those things in the past six months, but there’s been, well, drama. And some serious real-life flouncing. (Aside: I didn’t actually think people could flounce in real life,