It was 3:37 PM on a Saturday when the world ended.
You know this because you were on Pesterchum and you can remember the last thing you typed, and the time it sent, all too well.
15:37 TG: hey theres this weird rumbling sound outside
15:37 TG: sounds like somethings flying over the house
15:37 TG: no im serious im gonna go check it out
You stand up from your makeshift desk and take a few steps towards the window and-
the glass shatters and sirens are screaming and
and the last thing you see is the text blinking on your computer, before everything goes dark.
> Wake up.
You aren’t at your apartment in Texas. You are sleeping on the ground of an abandoned warehouse.
The world ended over six months ago, and you’d think the nightmares would be over by now. But apparently that’s a side affect of the apocalypse- not being able to get a decent night’s sleep. And eating doritos all the time.
God you really hate doritos.
You drag yourself up and walk out into the street.
Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and this city was formerly Los Angeles. It has now been renamed something probably along the lines of “Troll-Occupied Wasteland #4856.”
Although their annoying tendency of giving things long, complicated names can be frustrating, not to mention a pain in the ass to say in a hurry, the trolls would be right on the money with that one.
The sky is overcast and filled with thick grey clouds slowly crawling their way along. The air is sticky and humid, and your shirt clings uncomfortably to your back.
You’re hoping it will storm sometime soon, if not only for the relief from the heat, but for the convenient dramatic exposition technique as well. But that’s incredibly unlikely. The weather in California is even more ridiculous than Texas, and it doesn’t rain as a general rule. It suddenly starting to rain would be-
> BOOM CRACK THUNDER
..You guess this is as close to a shower as you’re going to get any time soon. Considering how awful you smell, you’ll take what you can get.
Thunder booms, and rain pours, and you look up.
And now to get down to the really important shit.
Your name is DAVE STRIDER, and six months ago you’d never have thought you’d be saying this, but-
But you think you might need to find SOME FOOD BESIDES DORITOS.
Along with HOSTESS CUPCAKES, they are all the food that you have been able to find for the last week. And considering the SOURCE OF THE APOCALYPSE, you are not sure if you actually want to eat anything that slightly resembles CAKE.
This a DIRE SITUATION. It will require careful thinking and planning before you attempt to choose a course of action.
> Dave: Think and plan in a most careful fashion.
> Dave: Find way into that run-down, abandoned building to search for sustenance.
But yeah, no. Even if at this point you’re soaking wet, you’re pretty sure the building that looks like it’s probably haunted isn’t a good place to go skipping into. That would just be asking for trouble.
What you actually need to do is find an abandoned supermarket or something, but you’ll do that later.
Right now you’re busy standing here thinking and looking up at the clouds and basically looking really fucking stupid.
> Dave: Beatbox.
Boom-tsh boom-tsh boom-tsh boom-tsh
> STOP. THERE IS A TIME FOR BEATBOXING AND THIS IS NOT IT.
You would argue that there is always a time for beatboxing, which is true, but you’re actually really fucking hungry.
Food is a serious business.