I had plenty of supplies to survive on. I had food, I had water, I had ammunition and I had medical supplies. Why was I willing to risk everything to go into Stary Sobor?
At this point in my journey through this zombie apocalypse, I was looking for luxury items — a means to start a fire and a larger backpack. Neither of which I was in dire need of, but the military encampment was calling to me like a bitch in heat.
Here is the layout: several tents formed two long rows on the outer edge of the city. In each tent was the chance for supplies and goods that I could use to aid my survival. It wasn't long before I was under assault by infected. I did everything I could to survive. I bandaged when I could and took painkillers when needed, all the while watching my ammunition dwindle with the full auto stream from my assault rifle. I knew I had made a mistake.
A couple of times, my character blacked out, only to wake back up with zombies gnawing at me. My life force was draining, which caused my character's hands and arms to shake, making aiming near impossible. It was spray and pray.
Eventually, I was able to get to my feet and run out of the encampment.
Broken and bleeding.
Supplies all but gone.
Not more than 15 minutes ago I was set to survive for days. Greed and curiosity got the best of me. Where I was looking for fire as a luxury before, now it became a matter of survival. I had raw meat in my backpack and it needed to be cooked in order for me to regain strength. In 15 minutes, fire went from a luxury to a necessity.
Death was close. And when that happens, desperation becomes the game.
I found a small settlement with a house that looked open. I knew this was the end before I stepped onto the property. One of the infected caught sight of me and charged towards me. I had no choice. I had to fire my rifle.
The sound rang out like a dinner bell to all the infected in earshot. As I drifted in and out of consciousness, I could see that the horde had amassed great numbers. Finally, death took me.
So, there I was staring at a black screen with giant words that said, "You are dead." I became relaxed in a world where such a feeling is a death knell.
I'm back in DayZ now with a fresh character, struggling to find even the most basic supplies — a can of beans, maybe a soda and a simple weapon for survival.
After some time, I have found myself on top of a watch tower alongside an airstrip, just west of Cherno. Looking into my backpack, I have some food, some drinks and three magazines for my AK. I've also picked up a GPS device. From where I am stationed, no infected can reach me.
The airstrip and the fields that surround it are littered with infected. All around me are the bodies of fallen military personnel. Once again, I find myself in a precarious situation. I have few options and even fewer that don't involve me raining bullets.
It's beginning to rain and I know I'm going to have to make the call soon.