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* @author Jonathan HW Halkett
* @date August 2012
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Start at Part 1 here
My fourth life waking in Chernarus returned me to Balota. This time I swung clear of the town and it’s gorgeous scenic sights… the industrial complex.
Taking a massive detour this noob would cross the fields in an attempt to get to the local airfield.
Balota airfield was largely a disappointment, having raided the control tower and the hangers. The runway itself was covered in grass and the grounds were scattered with burnt out wrecks.
Glory came from the nearby military triage centre. A collection of medical tents surrounded by dear huts. An excellent place for military weapons.
There I was ecstatic to find not one gun, but a choice of AKM’s, AK-47’s, AKS-74 Kobras and M1014 shotguns. I left with an AKM, the weapon which won me the greatest quantity of ammo, and I headed North once more.
Barns were a frequent feature of my life (lives) in DayZ. It seems whenever I see one I need to head towards it. Today it would prove a brilliant choice when I spotted one south of Bor. As I approached the barn the unmistakable sound of death in DayZ buzzed loudly on its doorstep, flies feasting on a freshly slain survivor can be a welcome sound.
The barn yielded one corpse. A plucky fellow (in life) who was fortunate enough to happen on a M107 Anti Material rifle and now it was mine.
Or at least I thought so… the weapon bug struck again, swapping out the weapon between the AKM I was carrying onto the ground unfortunately meant that there was only the AKM once I closed the inventory. My fancy new sniper rifle had vanished before I had even held it.
Dejected, I travelled North still, taking time to raid every dear hut for precious AKM rounds.
In the town of Kozlovka is where I met my end, not due to my own impatience this time, but due to a loss of connection with the server. Logging back in I found the town reset, zombies respawning all around me.
Making my way out of the town and to safety I would look both ways before moving down a street only to look behind myself and find a fresh new zombie happening on my heels.
They broke my legs. Somehow one zombie managed to snap my bones as I made a break for the woods. Collapsing onto the ground I spun round and despatched the vacant eyed tyrant with my AKM. The dinner bell had been rung once more in my records and this time I was the prize.
Using up every round I had left I mowed down every zombie who showed up to the banquet…right up until the gun clicked empty.
Thing is, they just kept on coming. Round every house and hut new dinner guests kept appearing. Crawling, legs broken I couldn’t hide.
This time I would witness the horde kneeling down to eat me alive.
Part 5 here