Utterly Mad

I tried to stay as far away from that salt as possible, personally. I still play Cata every now and then, and have one of the nightlies from like 3 weeks ago loaded onto my computer at home. I think I might stick with that one if the nutrition system is getting overhauled the way it is; in a real apocalypse, I don't think I'd care too much about balancing my diet TBH.

My current strategy food-wise is to just hoard the meaty and drink-y stuff from vending machines, dumping the nasty drinks, and reusing the bottles for water. Weapons are currently... something. I dunno, I haven't touched Cata in a while.

Here's a pitchur of me



The Kevlar wasn't always there, that grew in around 13 or 14, but the green mask was there since birth. The beardanna was the most recent part of my growth. I tried to keep it hidden from my parents, but it ultimately grew to its full size and I was forced to come out to my parents as bi-pattern. This greatly disappointed my parents, who had thought they were raising a pure Woodland child, only to find out he was part Desert. Since then, I've struggled to make a decision whether to shave the beardanna permanently and adapt to become full Woodland like my parents, or to forever strip my natural Woodland Kevlar and announce my decision to become completely Desert.

Spoiler: Lol jk here's the real me (hover to show)

^{_{oh BTW that's not real Kevlar, though sometimes I wish it was}}

He has a 1930 Cadillac Series 452A V16 (http://www.conceptcarz.com/images/Cadillac/30-Cadillac-V16-Roadster-DV-10-MB_01.jpg)... A PTRS-41 anti-tank rifle in the back seat of his car, and ammo to spare.

How exactly does one fit, let alone conceal, a 2-meter-long anti-tank rifle in the back seat of a 1930 Cadillac?

Also, is it okay to PTW? nevermind this looks dead already

Oooh, I'll bite.

Name: LCpl. Will Zaijcek (pronounced ZAI-chek)
Gender: Male
Appearance: A tall, muscular young man of about 22, standing at around 6-foot-2 with dark brown hair cut to regulation length, green eyes, and a slight tanned complexion. Regular mandatory exercise and a previous deployment to Iraq has given him a more experienced look in his face and body, keeping him tough and capable.
Nationality: American
Uniform: US Marine Corps Woodland MARPAT battle uniform, w/ matching boonie hat and olive-drab shemagh wrapped around neck
Personal Sidearm: FNX-45 Tactical w/ two-tone tan frame/matte black slide, high-profile night sights
Traits: Career veteran, Combat Experience, Genre Savvy, Mildly Kleptomaniac, Damaged Hearing
Skills: Assault Rifles, Throwing, Pistols, Camouflage, Bayonet Fighting

Looks interesting enough. I guess I'll bite and make a char sheet when I'm not on a school laptop.

I recently managed to get my War Thunder launcher working again.

Considerable progress has been made upgrading the British line of aircraft, but little luck has been had with the US tech line, between getting the crap blasted out of me by MiGs, LaGGs, Yaks, and pretty much every other Soviet aircraft in existence, and on account of the American planes' (rather) poor dogfighting capabilities.

Cpl. Fleming watched briefly as the enemy advance rushed towards his trench. He watched soldier after soldier, man after man cut down by the machine guns in the trench, with the enemy ignoring those who fell. It almost horrified him, how quickly the life of another person can be taken like this on such a large scale. His awe was cut short by a rifle bullet just barely glancing off of his helmet. Fleming was knocked back by the sheer surprise, but quickly pulled himself back up and brought himself back to reality.

Fleming's first action, before even chambering his rifle, was taking a grenade from his web belt. He pulled the pin, and threw the small pineapple-shaped explosive over the trench walls and at the enemy. Five seconds later, *BOOM* went the grenade, and as soon as that happened he popped his head and his No. I Enfield rifle over the firestep and started letting off shot after shot from the smooth action. As he fired, he watched as each soldier he aimed at fall lifelessly to the ground, before drawing a bead on another man and pulling the trigger. When his rifle ran empty, he hopped down from the firestep and let another soldier take his place as he reloaded. Fleming peeked over the trench wall to see how much more violence ravaged, and watched with macabre amusement as an advancing enemy soldier tripped over the body of one of his fallen comrades.

Lawrence sat and wondered what compelled him to join the army. He's heard tales of his uncle fighting in the wars in Cuba and the Philippines, and he knew his grandfather was a Civil War veteran. But those were times past, when there were no such things as machine guns and mustard gas. When the worst that could happen was to get an arm or leg amputated from getting shot, and being sent home after that. He had left a bright young woman back home, whose only dream was to see him return safely, and he wondered how much more of this mud and blood and death he would have to endure.

Cpl. Fleming's wondering was cut short when a soldier patted him on the shoulder, bringing him back to reality again. "Your turn, buddy." He hopped back up the firestep and began picking targets for a second time.

Corporal Lawrence Fleming sat in the back of the rattling truck as it bumped its way down the mortar-ravaged road. His young, relatively clean face contrasted sharply with that of the driver, with short brown hair tucked underneath his steel helmet. Cpl. Fleming was trying his best to both keep his mind off of the hell they were about to get into, and practice his abilities to fight, pointed his rifle in the air, continuously working the bolt as fast as he can. *tk-chk-CHK* went the bolt as Lawrence opened and closed the bolt over and over again, hoping this will help keep him from getting killed.

((Are we playing as one country in particular, or can our rifles and gear come from a mix of nations?))