Community Spotlight – October 2023
Welcome DUG gamers to the October 2023 Community Spotlight! This edition will contain some fantastic written and video content created by our talented community members last month. From detailed character development to insights on faction conflict, this article contains it all. As a new DayZ update and DUG wipe approaches, we hope that this spotlight will serve as a reminder that story-building and roleplay doesn’t need to take a back seat in times of change. In fact, it is all the more reason to adapt and push your stories forward despite the ever-changing DUG world. Check out the DUG Mod Update Overview for more details on what is coming on November 7th!
No story is too big or too small on DayzUnderground, so get out there and make your mark!
“Forsaken” by Cpt. Painkiller
This video showcases a fantastic combination of edited and real in-game footage to tell the story of Vane, a character who made his mark on many factions across Chernarus and had factions make theirs on him in return. With the story-telling of Cpt. Painkiller and the original soundtrack created by Rock’N’Rolf, this video is shaping up to be a classic!
Video by Cpt. Painkiller
Soundtrack by Rock’N’Rolf
“The Coalition” by Ego
This season of “Ego on DUG” has finally wrapped up to the finale! This final episode of season one sees Ego finalize his mission of bringing many of the factions together in common cause; ending with the first historic conference of the Upfront Coalition. Hopefully leaving the lands in good hands, Ego takes his leave to focus on pressing personal matters. In addition to a quest for vengeance, he also needs to find out more about the strange visions he has been having. Will he ever return? Only time will tell.
Video by Egobyte83
“Welcome to the ORCC” by Jimmy
Check out this awesome animation and snippet into the life of Jimmy – one of the newest members of the Outrider Caravan Company. Despite Jimmy being a newer addition to the group, he has already experienced the complexities of operating a trade post and merchant service in the whirlwind of an apocalypse.
And so there it was, just off the northern highway and east of the small town of Sinystok: the ORCC compound, a group of traders who had recently moved their home to a farm that was in the northwest corner of South Zagoria, or so I heard, some old maps still marked them living in Green Mountain… I was never much of a fighter, I can defend myself if I have to, but I always thought there was something else I could do in these lands, something with a bigger purpose, and trading is something I really enjoy doing, not only does it allow you to help someone with things they need, but it also gives you a chance to meet new people, to make friends, maybe even make a difference… And when I heard the ORCC radio broadcast looking for more members who wanted to join, I knew it was time. It’s been…108 days since I joined them, hundreds of things have happened in my time here and a whole bunch of other things have changed, I don’t know what the future holds, but I hope I can face it the best way I can…
Animation by Jimmy
“Hordes, Hubris and Heroes” by Beauford
This nail-biting tale gives some insight into the ferocity of an infected horde – a true testament to the brutality of the apocalypse. Enjoy the gruesome detailing of the events that took place between Odyssey and a relentless wave of rotten monsters.
Beau’s breath was heavy as he ran up the hills towards the tracks in Svergino, the sounds of growling echoing throughout the small forest around him, the gunshots of his Odyssey companions ringing in his ears.
“Get to cover in the nearest building!” A voice cried from the radio. “They are turning your way!”
Beau couldn’t hide. he had to make it to Lewis who had radioed moments earlier that he was pinned by a large horde to the north. If he could make it through the rear of this horde and up beyond the tracks he should be in the clear. He glanced back to see Dr. Emerson and Johnny from the 506 retreating with a good ten to twenty infected on their tail. To his right he saw Trap, Jack, Forest and Shifty fighting an equal amount near the garages.
“Just a little bit further” Beau thought. His calves hurt from running up the steep hill, and his muscles screamed in a cramping pain as he breached the top. Before him train tracks and beyond…hopefully Lewis. “Oh fuck me…” Beau’s eyes widened in fear.
Beau counted at a minimum ten, and he could hear the ones that broke off from his troop clawing their way hungrily up the hill behind him. Their garbling cries filling his ears with the lost voices of the dead.
“I HAVE TO BE GOIN LOUD HERE, KINDA BE FUCKED!” Beau yelled over the radio as he pulled his pump action and readied to begin firing into the horde now closing upon him with a purpose only meant for beasts. “Where you at Beau!?” Jack yelled over the radio.
“OVAH HERE!” Beau screamed in response, unleashing a shot into the closest infected; bits of rotted matter sprayed upon Beau’s face as the first fell.
“I hear you Beau! I’m coming!” Jack responded. “Keep firing!”
The second infected dropped and Beau pumped his shotgun once again. The third shot missed, and bits of bark flew from a nearby tree, raining splinters upon the approaching horde. The forth missed as well, finding rest within the gravel of the tracks.
“Fuck Beau, ya need be ah focusin.” Beau winced.
BOOM! The fifth shot found its mark, followed by another pump. BOOM! The sixth shot taking one down that was creeping upon him from the right.
“SHIT!” Beau yelled aloud, his anger boiling up from the inside. “RELOADIN’!!”
Beau reached into his ammo pouch and grabbed whatever was at the top, whilst back pedaling himself away from the horde and finding his back against a nearby tree. He then quickly put six more shots in the chamber, whilst trying to get a count of how many remained around him. Ten…Twelve…Fifteen.
“DEY BE AFTER DA BEAU, DERE BE TONS OF DEM!!!” Beau yelled once again over the radio, his heart beat pounding within his head.
The chorus of gurgling, growling and howling around him drowned out the threat that was quietly approaching from behind, and before he could react the hand that was reaching around the tree had grabbed him. Ripping open his greatcoat with long rotted nails that dug deep within Beau’s chest, the infected claw took flesh and drew blood in one single rip.
Beau cried out in pain and stumbled forward, turning around with his shotgun and firing at the lurking infected woman that had wounded him.
BOOM! The seventh shot rang out turning the woman’s head into a crimson putty. Beau spun around to get eyes on the rest of the horde, only to find another infected two feet from him lunging with long boney fingers. He didn’t have the room to fully raise his shotgun, and the infected managed to take another piece of him, this time his shoulder. “AHHH YOU MUDDA…” Beau raised his shotgun and bashed the infected with the butt end sending it stumbling backwards into another.
“TICK TOCK” A familiar voice cried out through the chorus of the dead.
“Shut da hell up you, not da time.” Beau responded.
It wasn’t until Beau attempted to Pump his shotgun once again that he realized things were worse than he thought. He couldn’t pump it, his arm was weak.. his whole body was weak. Beau looked down at himself, blood pouring from four massive gashes in his chest, and two upon his shoulder. The entire lower half of his great coat was stained a deep red.
“Oh…” Beau slurred, as his vision slowly began to blur. “Shit”.
“TICK TOCK” the voice yelled in jest. Then blackness.
“WAKE UP BEAU” Jack yelled whilst he slapped Beau across the face. “Wake up damn you!”
Beau roused; eyes blurred, he looked up to see Jack’s familiar face looming over him. “Ah there ye are. Up ya go now, we have to move.” Jack hoisted Beau up to his feet by his collars, turned and grabbed both arms in a fireman carry, and began rather effortlessly running back down the hill gracefully stepping over the throngs of infected corpses. Beau knew that Jack was strong, and if he was struggling to carry the weight he wasn’t showing any sign of it.
“Lewis..” Beau murmured, his head still spinning.
“Safe.” Jack responded. “And Joey’s on the way with some saline, we’ll have you back on the move in no time.”
Beau could only think of recent events as Jack carried him towards the garages he saw earlier. Things had gotten him heated in the last few weeks, issues abound with the Masquerade and the much more recent skirmishes with DAMN had him on edge…but this. This one was something more, something darker. What were the Wolves fucking thinking?
The garage doors rattled as Jack kicked one side open and pulled Beau within.
“Joey’s approaching now, but I have to go help the others. We will funnel in behind you once we regroup. We will rendezvous at Brixton.”
Jack loaded a fresh magazine into his KA-47 before disappearing into the blinding light now emanating from the exterior of the garages. Beau’s eyes were struggling to make any sense of his surroundings, his vision still blurred from the loss of blood. The blinding light was soon overtaken by another shadow, and for a moment Beau’s heart skipped as he saw a hooded silhouette standing in the doorway, his eyes unable to make out any color…only black in a field of white.
“Hey there Mr. Beau” Joey’s honeyed voice broke any fear or illusion that Beau might of had. “Just rest there I’ll fix you up.”
Joey approached, knelt and inserted the IV into Beau’s arm, and held the saline bag high to let it drain into him. “You are going to be okay Mr. Beau. Just stay awake. This will keep you hydrated until we can get you some blood.”
Beau didn’t respond, he just stared at Joey. Though at this moment different shades of gray, Joey’s blue poncho and playful cat mask revealed nothing but the glittering eyes deep within. Joey had always been an enigma to him, Beau couldn’t even recall if he’d ever truly seen Joey’s face. Was Joey crying? Smiling? Fearful? Beau didn’t know. However, he did know his voice, and the tone that it currently carried was all Beau needed to know that he was going to make it. Joey was a unique sort, constantly venturing out on his own, taking down countless infected only to return with plentiful supplies to assist Odyssey. He always seemed to have the right tool in any situation, somewhere within his many pockets or pack, such as the saline he now fed into Beau’s arm. Most importantly when Joey set his mind to a task, Beau feared for anything that got in Joey’s way. He knew Joey would get him home, nary a doubt at this point.
“When you are ready to go Mr. Beau, we will get moving, not a moment sooner.” Joey said once again, flicking the saline bag with his finger. “I will be your eyes.”
“Just a moment of rest Joey” Beau whispered, leaning his head back and listening to the gunshots sounding down the road. Odyssey was clearing the horde; and from the shots they seemingly had regrouped into a single unit… as families should.
“BULLSHIT” Beau yelled. Clutching his freshly stitched and bandaged chest. “I cannot abide dis hubris any longer. Dey be toying with tings dey have no business sticking dey nose in. You ever heard of da power of da thought? Da less people tinking about or lookin’ into dis stupid Cult be less power da Cult has, best dey be forgotten. Fuck da Cult, let dem be die.”
“Do you wish to stop by there tomorrow? Remove the wards?” Forest’s voice soothingly said as he helped Beau up onto a cot.
“Damn right I do, it be obvious now dey not be workin’. If anytin dey just be pissin da Cult off more, and grantin’ dem more power wit der naive investigations, dey be pokin’ da bees nest and we all getting’ stung for it, eh? Der has to be somtin’ connectin’ dese wards wit da recent cult attacks. We gonna be losin people if we don’t do sometin about it, and Beau won’tah be standin ah’by whilst people he care for die in da streets to fuckin hordes of infected led by impervious black robed spirits! Dey comin’ down tomorrow, better Beau to be askin for dere forgiveness den seekin dere blood if someone he care for dies. Beau be havin some old cleansing rituals he learned from his time in Haiti dat should do da trick. Maybe if we do dis da infected will calm da fuck down and we can focus on more of da tangible threats..like DAMN’s return and catching that bastard Thorn.”
“Well, we have business there tomorrow anyhow, we can stop by on our way to see the 506. For now though…” Forest yawned, his eyes bloodshot and the fatigue starting to show. It had gotten late at this point and Joey had stayed at his side whilst Forest stitched up Beau’s wounds.
“Get some rest Beau, we will get you fresh bandages tomorrow before we leave.” Forest said as he vocalized a second yawn while moving up the stairs to his quarters, his wellies causing each step to sound like a heavy thud.
“Tank ya Forest, I be restin” Beau replied as he looked over to the nearby corner where Joey now sat facing the door, crossbow in hand.
“Don’t you worry Mr. Beau, nothing is making it through that door alive or dead, not tonight at least. Sleep well.” Joey stated without even glancing in Beau’s direction his eyes locked on the door.
“Goodnight Joey, and tank ya for gettin’ da Beau home and… tank you for bein you.”
Beau laid his head back on the cold blanket acting as a pillow. He stared up at the ceiling thinking upon the last few days. The thought of Bobs and the therapy sessions they shared came into his head.
“Is this how he feels? The pain? The helplessness?” Beau paused for a moment thinking deeply about their conversation. “The suffering?”
With these horrific thoughts did Beau finally drift into a sleep, hand gripped tightly around the silver watch in his pocket… albeit not truly alone.
“Animosity and Ambivalence” by Cob
This story gives a glimpse into faction politics and that hardships that come with it. Dive into this journal entry and watch as the water boils over in the Southeast between the Golden Peppers and the Boys of Brena.
Has it really been that long? I haven’t had mind to put pen to paper in over 5 months. In truth, I haven’t had the heart to.
Lucas set off to be a part of something new and my heart sank at the way in which we parted just before the storm blew in it feels like ages now. While spending time in the North we heard murmurs of him here and there and we wondered, and hoped, he was alright. He always brought a smile to my face and his intentions were usually good, I forgave him for that DAMN mess long ago…but still a melancholy lingers as I’ll never truly stop wondering.
While up north, there were a series of shootings; confusion abounds at Merry Men’s Sherwood Point. -A place often targeted by those wishing to do harm. We got past it, save for a distasteful encounter with a woman named May. A self-proclaimed former member of the NFA whose influence has seemingly spread to every corner of this place. Rowan righted that transgression without hesitation, it was impressive to say the least. I have more thoughts sequestered away on this…but they are for another time.
I wished to spend more time on these topics but the most recent of events need to be purged from my mind as their absurdity and severity have now become equated.
We had taken notice that a house north of Balota had become a bit of a sticking point for Vigil and the Boys of Brena; a territorial dispute waged through notes. Regi had family that owned that home back before the fall, which he had left when joining us. Notes were left to that end and notes from BoB were left in response. So, we took it upon ourselves to swing by BoB’s place in Komarovo called The Boredwalk. We were greeted by Tophat and Jim, a self-stylized partial nudist of sorts. Now, this wasn’t our first meeting, as we’d had talks with a number of their members in the past, all of which were sound and seemingly positive. Herein we talked of the house in question, poking a little fun about it all, keeping the mood light and reiterating it’s not a GP territorial dispute but a familial claim. When Tophat and Jim couldn’t come to a decision they called in the Mayor of New Brena, someone they referred to as Farmer Mayor Zach. While speaking with him, much to our surprise, he sided with Regi and ruled that the home was his. Jim immediately and repeatedly began shouting “No!” pulling the Mayor aside and ejecting us from their territory.
An odd end to things that had seemed to be going well so far but, mental stability didn’t seem to be in vogue at The Boredwalk; as just prior to that, Dan who we’d spoken with before, wandered around on all fours claiming to be a man-wolf and we were regaled with tales of Rick suffering a head wound and becoming convinced he was an automaton.
So we left, locked up Regi’s home, and pinned a note thanking the Mayor on the door. Thinking nothing more of it. In the days that followed BoB laid a similar claim to a home in Pavlovo with a litany of misspellings and even a wholly different name regarding the ancestral owner they alleged relations to. In conjunction with that we found Regi’s home was taken over by none other than that poor man who believed himself a wolf. This being theft, we left word regarding a form of repayment that would suffice. Shortly thereafter we employed the services of a neutral third party, Oswald, to conduct a land survey. Much to our shock, he was shot almost immediately when attempting to peacefully conduct his work.
This was exceptionally puzzling and concerning as we hadn’t believed this matter required force let alone violence and especially from the Boys of Brena… we had held them to a higher regard.
During that better part of two weeks, we attempted to meet with The Daily News reporter Silver. Catching an article they wrote regarding the Mayor being deliberately excluded from a Brena meeting, and given our experience with the puppeteering we witnessed, felt it would be important to share. Despite our best efforts via radio and in-person attempts, it appeared that Silver was avoiding us or being forced to do so. We resorted to writing down these events on pieces of scrap paper and hurling them through the office window in hopes they’d be seen. Alas it was not to be.
After Oswald’s shooting and further notes being left on Regi’s home from BoB stating any trespassers would be shot on sight, it was apparent that repayment would only come if it were taken. Being ever-supportive of my people, I agreed with Regi that the Balota depot would likely house something of equivalent value.
The plan was executed with the understanding that bloodshed was to be avoided as the citizens of Balota were either unaware or misinformed of the manipulation taking place of their Mayor and potentially their news service. Despite townsfolk being nearby and a minor interruption, it went off without a hitch with not a single drop of blood being spilt.
Regi felt good about what was recovered and while the home of his family was forcibly taken for now, he didn’t let it sour his memories of being there as a wee lad with his mee-maw, sharing tales of her cooking and hunting prowess.
The next day I found my mind wandering, thinking of the odd series of events and how we ended up here. But it was cut short when Rowan radioed bumping into a fella named Chauncy asking for a bit of line to repair his clothes, Trev shot back affirmations that he knew of him and he was solid. While Rowan searched himself for a needle and thread, gunshots rang out leaving Rowan bloodied and on the ground.
With no armband on, we weren’t sure what to make of this situation or even if this person was really Chauncy. After a time though, the motivation revealed itself. We watched as a number of Brenans we hadn’t seen together in nearly a month swept through our compound. Practically tripping over themselves there were so many. You could see it in their movements, trigger fingers itching, their eagerness to take lives. Disgusting. Our flag was lowered. Dishonorable. Then I saw what I can only assume was Rick. They had a metal bucket on his head. The man, speaking in a jolting way, with a voice altered, I could only pick out bits and pieces but he was not the Rick I had spoken to prior. What had they done to him, what did they convince him he was? I watched them put a hammer in his hand as he went to work on our lock…it was bizarre. At any rate the ebb and flow of the battle took with it losses from us and from them. We held up well given their number and I’m reminded again that my people are the few worth caring about, the few worth being proud of. We lost the truck and its contents of which are inconsequential compared to the blood needlessly spilled.
It was only after the fact that we heard word of a radio broadcast going out about war declarations on us, followed shortly thereafter by a series of supporting articles from the printing press. I wondered, do the folks down there really rest all of their hopes and dreams on the shoulders of a nudist, a delusional were-man, and someone who’s brain injury is being taken advantage of? We’re not liberators, it’s not our place to intercede, I just hope that they are at least not being exploited to that degree.
The references to diplomacy in the propaganda being handed around make me think back on Lucas’ parting words about my skills there…but I don’t feel them coming to life, I don’t feel anything really. There is no seething rage like times of old.
A “war” fought over the most inconsequential of things. Just as any other in this place.
I see faces of the unfamiliar and I no longer wish to say hello.
Thanks For Reading!
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