The Days of NitsLoch

Day 1

Facing east, I saw the sun rising on the sprawling metropolis, CityI. I could only walk in bursts, maybe six feet at a time ... and as I headed that way, I saw a common Businessman. Then it hit me: the urge to beat him to death. Maybe get some money from him, too. I sure as hell wanted to get some brass knuckles from that Gun Shop I had heard about.

Day 2

A large pile of trash blocked the path between my opponent and me. I instinctively pulled out a grenade and blew the trash out of my way. With the path clear, I was able to charge my opponent with my shiny new brass knuckles. That rat never even knew what hit it.


Day 3

I decided to pass a few times. I just felt the need to rest. I was getting really anxious about a Coyote appearing out of nowhere again, and I drifted off to sleep. Before I knew it, I was once again falling into that black void, the unknown dimension whose depths threatened to suck away my soul: I was entering the Grave Grid.

Day 4

I stood over the headstone that appeared out of nowhere, which marked the 6x6 death zone of my latest kill. Idly plucking my fingers along the edge of his knife, I wondered what happened to all the other knives I had found in the last three days. The Gun Shop owners never seemed to buy them, yet I still only had one knife in my inventory. I made my way to the Gun Shop again, just in case the owner wanted to buy something from me. "Wow," I said to him, looking at the flamethrower. "That thing must come in handy." He only stared east, smiling at nothing. Maybe I could try to steal it...

Day 5

The two men stood there, all color draining from both of them, and suddenly a large cloud formed over one of them. From above it might have looked something like 'Pow.'

Day 6

I was hurt and needed to pass the time. I could have stayed alert while I repaired my wounds, but to save time, I decided to go into a sort of auto-pilot. Time seemed to fly by for the most part. Although I couldn't help but notice that every once in a while time would stop completely, almost as if the world itself were thinking about something. I wasn't paying attention when a Coyote came from nowhere and started beating the crap out of me. I didn't react right away, and instead just let him beat me repeatedly. I finally recovered and absentmindedly stabbed him in the face a couple times. I could then continue to pass the time.


Day 7

I was beginning to feel really strange. Killing all those people over and over, and my face hadn't changed. That all went out the window when I found the sawed-off shotgun; after that, I couldn't stop smiling.

Day 8

They say that the best way to escape from a crocodile is to climb up a tree. The second best way is running in zig-zags. Because the only trees I have seen are just out of reach beyond the walls of my hellish prison, I had to try the second method to escape from an enemy. I was hot on the tail of a sexy Innocent Lady, ready to have my way with her, when I ran a little too far into south-side CityI. I guess she was the girl of a particularly nasty Dawg. After getting my ass whipped a couple of times with his nunchucks, and getting my shotgun broken clean in half, I zigzagged the hell out of there, escaping, but with the horrible knowledge that he's waiting somewhere for me...


Day 9

All work an no play makes Jack a dull boy. I felt pretty good about myself. Sure, I still wanted my shotgun back, but I had plans. Until then, I wanted to spend some of my hard-earned dough on my second-favorite pastime: drinking. Beating up a couple of vandals who looked at me funny, I made my way into the dimly-lit Hospital & Bar that had tantalized me from afar for more than a week. Let me tell you, if bartenders could talk, they'd have some crazy stuff to say. Well, I guess they can talk, if you buy a drink from them.

Day 10

I found out where to find the leader of the punks who call themselves the Coyotes. The bartender had really opened my eyes to the secrets of CityI. By the time I got to their hideout, I was in no mood for drinking. One Coyote after another poured out of the entrance. The first met his end under the hellfire of a grenade explosion. As for the second, without even having to move my arms from their resting spot above my crotch, my knife pierced his heart - all of his hit points were gone. I tore my way through them, and there I saw a very muscular man. Forget the brass knuckles his minions used; this guy had a knife, just like me. Life isn't fair.

Day 11

Dreams swirled around in the toilet of my mind. I awoke drenched in blood; whose, I couldn't tell. The Coyote gang lay in pieces around me, their leader eviscerated beyond belief. "Well," I said to his flattened face, "Looks like I gotta move on." And it was true. I had six hundred spare dollars that I could use to export my ass to another city, but something told me I'd be better off finishing what I had started in CityI.


Day 12

I heard a crack as my only remaining arm hit the ground. I had slipped on the massive pile of blood that had collected around my feet. I was losing blood too fast and was too far away from a hospital, so I knew my time was short. Then I noticed it. A box of bandaids had fallen from my latest opponent. I managed to crawl over to it and open the lid. Maybe it was the massive blood loss or maybe it was the knife that had been shoved into one of my eyes, but it seemed to me like there was only one little bandaid in this huge box. After fumbling around with the bandaid for a short time, I was able to successfully cover up one of the many bullet holes in my chest.

I jumped up and dusted myself off. I had stopped bleeding, my arm was back, and I could no longer feel the cold steel blade stuck in the back of my eye socket.

Thank god for that bandaid.

Day 13

I had acquired a decent amount of money ever since I started moving into the more dangerous areas of the city. Wanting to spend some of my hard earned cash, I headed to the nearest general store. The shovel I had been using was a bit dented, and I could sure use a pistol.

"How much for the pistol?", I asked.

"That'll be about $80."

"I'll take it." I still had a good deal of money left though, about $500, and the box of bandaids in the corner caught my eye. "I'll take 5 boxes of bandaids as well. You can never be too careful."

"Sure!", he said. "That'll be $9000".

Day 14

I needed some money, and no one around seemed to be willing to pay me for work. So, I did what I had done so many times before in order to earn some quick cash. I headed over to the strip mall I had seen when I entered the city and visited each shop. One by one I killed all the shopkeepers like it was nothing.

There was a weapons shop I had not yet made my way over to yet, but I decided to stop by the bar first. The bartender casually told me that the man that owned the weapons shop was a good friend of the shopkeeper at the ammo shop. The man I had just killed.

After my drink, I cautiously headed over to the weapons shop. When I arrived, the shopkeeper smiled at me and asked what I wanted. Surprised, I took a look at some of his inventory. He seemed to have no short supply of brass knuckles along with many other kinds of weapons. Realizing this shopkeeper was incredibly laid back and seemly incapable of emotion, I waited till he was not looking and took one of the brass knuckles. As I turned to leave, I heard a bullet fly past my head. The shopkeeper was not at all happy I took one of his $2 brass knuckles.

Day 15

I'm not sure I can explain what happened to me today. I had just leveled up and got a brand new +2 shotgun. As I stumbled out of the bar, I reached for the weapon and knew I just had to kill some people around town. But another part of me really wanted to listen to what the townspeople had to say. There had to be some way of deciding who to attack and who to listen to.

After careful consideration, I decided it would not be right to choose based on the color of the person's skin. I also didn't want to choose based on what kind of weapon and armor they had. I was not a coward and had no interest in just attacking people I knew I could defeat. Age and sex of the person would not be a valid option either. No, the decision would have to be made in a way that was unrelated to the person or I just wouldn't have felt right about it.

I'll never know if the alcohol I had consumed was playing tricks on me, but as I looked around at the people on the street, I could swear a few of them had some sort of green exclamation mark floating over their heads. It was decided. I would talk to the people with the exclamation marks and kill everyone else.

I know I made the right decision.