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Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Sat Jul 02, 2011 1:30 pm
by shivam13
no need to thank dude.... :) u deserve way better then this 8) .....
i think u should start a book based on will surely like it.... :D

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Sat Jul 02, 2011 2:29 pm
by dez
yup, this story sounds cool, if we will have time, we will add it in, just need to modify it a little, since we dont have mutant museum on any map yet, but that can be changed later :)

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Sat Jul 02, 2011 5:30 pm
by vintar
very cool story. Actually i have some ideas with this :)

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Sun Jul 03, 2011 12:48 pm
by unclevinnie
Dezodor, Vintar,

Cool that you like it!
By the way - it is not necessary to make a museum special for this story only - because the story is more about opening some aspects of CS (prequel's) times. Until the period of SoC - a lot could have changed (like - duty guys could have just thrown all museum away, or lost it).
Maybe, it will be interesting to have a museum in game - in case if you would like to make certain quests, which will require making something right within this zoo, right?
Anyway, you are free to modify it as you like (or - you can give me some understanding of what you want to modify - and I can offer you some ideas of modifications)

Vintar, what ideas do You have? Or, you will keep it in secret, to make a surprise for fans?

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Mon Jul 04, 2011 2:04 pm
by Psythrandir
Ok, here is my small one:

Once I lived in Pripyat. Yes it's true! I was a child when the first accident happend.
I can hardly remember of what happened back then.

My father was working at the Jupiter Factories.
It was one of the "top secret" factories in the Sovjet union. They designed some stuff for the military there.
No idea what it was exactly... my father never told me...
maybe some kind of weapon or some technoligies for the "Woodpecker" antennas in Tshernobyl II,
I don't know... perhaps you should investigate the factory sometimes...
He could tell us nothing. I would not even know whether he himself knew anything at all.

Howsoever... It was deep at night when the reactor explodet. I was laying in my bed as a loud bang ripped my out of my dreams. I saw out of my window and watched to the burning and smoking power plant. there was also such a glow. ... green... red and i think violet. It looks beautyful... but it was hell on earth! Thousands of so named liquidators were contaminated. Many of them died a slow painfull death and those who survived diagnosed with cancer. All of them sacrificed themselves for their home country ... for us!

Next day nobody told us what really happend. They sayed "all is under our control. It's safe". Then came militaries went through the streets. They sprayed everything with some such stuff, which then ran down the streets into the sewer. But they told us nothing! then we were evacuated... we had to leave everything at our homes.
It was a huge convoy of buses. I will never forget that day I have to lost my home!

Now Pripyat is lost. Forever maybe... it was such a beautyful place... about 50.000 people lived there. It was a modern, cultural city full of young lives... now it's unreachable and even if you could reach it ... you would probably find nothing more than death!

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Mon Jul 04, 2011 2:27 pm
by vintar
Yep another good story, keep them coming.

Dont worry if it is a short story, I prefer shorter ones, they are actually easier to integrate if we choose to.

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Tue Jul 05, 2011 8:02 pm
by unclevinnie
vintar wrote:very cool story. Actually i have some ideas with this :)

Vintar, what ideas do You have? Or, you will keep it in secret, to make a surprise for fans?

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Tue Jul 26, 2011 1:35 am
by AfterburnzzPX
Here I present two chapters of my nigh-abandoned story.


Chapter 1

" And off they go... Do you see anything, son?"

A rustle came from above, followed by the battering of heavy boots, scraping against the cracked, aged concrete. Quietly, a young, hooded fellow with a tuft of blond hair peering underneath a dark green hood descended from the ledge above. He was clad in a grimy, stained hunting jacket and torn, worn-out trousers with a woodland pattern, ending in a pair of very heavy, mud-ridden brown boots that had certainly seen a lot of trudging. The man was somewhere in his late twenties, though his gaunt face gave off an impression of someone who had been through hell and high water for an entire lifetime. He wearily took the swivel sling off his back and propped the rifle just below the window. It was a Mosin-Nagant, a remnant from a bloody war far, far away in the past. The young fellow seated himself on an oily rag just next to his rifle and calmly whispered:

"No, dad."

His father was sitting just across the fire. He was a man with an ever-gaunt face on whom age had taken a sixty-three-year-old toll. The man's heavy, fur-lined vest was stained with God-knows what; his clothes seemed to be nothing but rags; even his grey ushanka with its ear flaps hanging low looked like an aged remnant from the glorious charges of the First Siberian Cossack Brigade.

"Good...Good. They'll reach the Bar by tomorrow morning...Listen, son, if you want to go with them, I'm not stopping you...In fact, I'm weighing you down, son. I'll get to the Bar on my own tomorrow. You can still catch them if you hurry up. Here, let me-"

"No, dad. It's quite alright. Get some sleep. You'll need the sleep for the trip tomorrow."

The father sighed, leaning back. For a while now no pain had ailed him...Could this be a sign of recovery?

"I heard Freedom and Duty signed a ceasefire... Personally, I think it's good news. Fighting over petty crap...Politics. I can't say I'm a fan of either. For one, I didn't support our aged regime much, son...The last thing I need is another quasi-fascist government pulling my strings. But I don't like Freedom's stance either. Chaos's never good. I came here to escape everything. Anarchists and fascists... I'm glad you're here with me. We'll make it to the Bar, don't worry. With a bit of luck, this crap might be worth a few rubles."

His son cleared his throat as he tossed a twig into the merry little fire. They were sitting on the last floor of the so-called "Flea market", an abandoned, ruined building overlooking most of the northern parts of what people called Garbage. A group of stalkers, heading north stayed with them for a while as they planned their trip. Without much ado they offered the stalkers a safer trip to the Bar, though the old man staunchly refused for no apparent reason, though he still thanked them for the offer. His son kept quiet for the most part, speaking only when spoken to.

"Listen, son...For me, there's no hope. I came here to die . I don't know what you're doing here. You're still a young man. You've got a university degree, for Christ's sake. The world is your oyster, you're free to go. You can leave tomorrow, when dawn breaks, at least. I'll stay here. You needn't have come here, son. What were you thinking when you accepted my offer?"

The old man's eyes filled with tears as his last words barely they departed from the tongue. His son's expression remained stone-like. With an almost inaudible tone, he uttered:

"Go to sleep, dad. You need some rest."

The man sighed and slowly placed his head on one of the rucksacks. Just across the fire sat the young stalker, staring absent-mindedly into the burning logs and listening to the fire's playful crackling. In the distance, a lone, young wolf cried for his pack.

Chapter 2

He was standing alone inside a chilly, dilapidated old room. The walls were graced with peeled paint, the floor was drowned in dust and a large hole in the ceiling revealed a patch of the overcast sky above. The room was barren, apart from a single table in the middle with a glass of murky, reddish liquid. Most of the filthy, lime-covered windows were either broken or gone completely, though the young man saw nothing but the gloomy clouds looming outside. The air felt particularly arid.

Suddenly, behind him came a creak. A weathered old gurney, squeaking as its flimsy wheels rolled over the messy floor appeared in the doorway. Lying on the gurney was an almost skeletal figure, bearing almost no resemblance to his father, yet…It was him strapped to it. His face was deathly pale. A claw-like hand appeared from underneath the covers, reaching for the young man. Slowly, the figure rolled towards him and the figure grasped the young man’s hand. He felt stiff, unable to move but a muscle. As the sick man opened his mouth, the young man recognised his father’s voice, albeit this one was barely audible, bearing no resemblance to that rough, familiar baritone the young man was accustomed to.

"Son...Son...I am sorry...I am so, so sorry. I'm sorry I did this son. I am sorry, my boy, I am sorry, my son, my son, my son...Son, son, son? It's five o'clock, no slouching in bed ‘til we get to Rostok, alright?"

The son opened his eyes abruptly, only to see the edge of father’s thick boots nudging his shoulder. The young man sighed with relief, trying with all his might to shut his mind from yet another nightmare. With every night in the Zone, they seemed to be growing in both intensity and lucidity. Luckily, the old man always woke him up on time, always before that moment… As he staggered back up, the cause of his troubles appeared just underneath that rag of his – the barrel of his shotgun, its mark now lodged somewhere in his spine. Leaning on what used to be the window sill, he closed his eyes and took in a very deep breath, before opening his eyes yet again. The day was overcast, though it seemed like the clouds would disperse any time now. As he leaned away from the window, his dad started to hum something as he stuffed the leftovers from last night into his backpack.

"You got enough of the sights? It's time to move. That guy in the hangar told me we shouldn't linger here. There's something nasty about this place."

Truly, there was something nasty about the Flea Market. Since there was no one controlling the Garbage nowadays, the surroundings were prone to escalating into chaos at any given moment.

The father had slowly made his way down the debris and was now standing under the whole half-dilapidated structure, stretching his arms. The sun should have been over the horizon by now, but there was nothing in the distance yet. The gloomy clouds had barred the sun from rising. Was this going to be yet another rainy day?

As the gravel cracked under their feet, they made their way onto the main road, leading towards a rusted, open gate and an empty container on the side. On the way, the old man kept checking a little piece of paper every now-and-then. If the map was correct, the road down here took them to one of the settlements in the abandoned industrial town of Rostok. His son’s face remained stone-like as ever. As they passed a curve on the road, a gust of rather unnatural wind brushed past them.

"Eh, now. You've got the ribbons?"

The son barely nodded, reaching for his pocket. In his hand were now a couple of short metal sticks with colourful ribbons tied on the top. As he passed his father, the old man quickly turned his head away.
Without any distortions on its way the stick landed into the grass by the side of the path somewhere ahead of them. Slowly, they continued, the son now leading in front and the father following in behind, throwing a glance over his shoulder every now and then. That bizarre routine continued on and on. Sometimes, the sticks would fly in a normal arc and land in a clearly visible spot. The two would then normally proceed, and continue with their path. Sometimes, the stick would suddenly stop, or change direction in mid-air, or even disappear altogether. The two would then carefully work out another path around the strange spot until they found a safer alternative. These spots weren’t all too common, but just knowing that they were there felt eerie enough on its own.

As they walked on, the father heard a rustle coming from his right. Without much hesitation, the man’s rifle found its way in his hands. He was now aiming at what turned out to be a mangy dog-like creature. The dog had unnaturally white hair and its eyelids seemed to be fully shut, but the worst thing of all about the creature’s appearance was a rather nasty-looking bite-mark on its flank. The dog seemed to be whimpering as it limped towards them. Just as the old man raised the barrel, his son suddenly appeared right in his face and pushed the barrel away.

"Leave it. The professor clearly stated that these never attack alone. We outnumber it and we're bigger than it. It's not going to harm us in any way and I doubt that it can even run any more. The bite marks on its flank seem to be infected and its limping. That dog is a walking carcass here, dad. Do you think it deserves death? Doesn't it remind you of anyone?"

Once again the father turned his face away from his son, furiously stepping forwards in the direction of the next “ribbon”. Just as his son stepped forth in his tracks, the old man turned around. For the first time, his eyes were clearly visible. His face was sunken and pale whereas his eyes were now a nasty shade of yellow.
" dare? You smack-talking little...All of the pain I've been through, all the sleepless nights dare? You're worthless! You should have never come here with me! You were supposed to stay and study! You were supposed to make a future for yourself, not…The pain…You don’t …You can’t understand, you worthless...”

The old man raised the barrel of his gun and squeezed the trigger. The dog started to whimper as it limped away, the shot having missed it by a hair. The son's face did not change. Instead, he quietly continued his trudge towards the ribbon. The father remained almost petrified in his spot for the moment. What in the right mind was going on with him? What the hell was he thinking?

All of a sudden, something began to boil inside his body. It was the pain from before. The bastard never really let him go. The man twisted in agony as the pain rampaged through his weakened body. His stomach felt like someone was hacking it apart with a red-hot blade. With a shriek, the old man collapsed on the ground and slowly his consciousness drifted away.

God knows how much passed until he finally opened his eyes. Before him was the face of his son, ridden with a stream of blood coming from his eyes. The boy was crying bloody tears again…It never really let him go either, did it.

"He....I...I...I...Son...I don't know...What is going on... I am sorry, my boy…

Just as the old man uttered those words, the son felt like he was no longer there. Yet again, in front of him lay a skeletal-thin figure with jaundiced eyes and a ghost-like expression on his face, strapped to a filthy gurney inside an abandoned room. The man's face showed nothing but grief as he gasped for his last breath.

"It’ll…pass, dad…It’ll pass. You’ll be alright…”

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Fri Aug 12, 2011 6:26 pm
by DokoMaster
Heey afterburner! I did not know you hang around here.

I will write some of my stories too, I use some of the stories I write to my STALKER RPG.
Need to change them though.

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Wed Aug 31, 2011 9:50 pm
by basist
unclevinnie has surely written a nice and interesting story. And it would be great if we could see it in the LA with cut scenes when the long parts of the story are told.

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Mon Sep 12, 2011 4:29 pm
Not particularly good at writing but perhaps some more experienced people might manage to make it fit as a camp-side story or something like that

You have all heard about controllers, what they are and what they can do to you. Well listen up younglings, here’s a tale the old ones pass around once they’ve had a few rounds. One day a strange fellow appeared in the ZONE. On his first day miraculously survives a controller assault and somehow ends up at Old Sileys place. The next day after waking takes off, heading north, only saying that he’d better bunker down cause there’s a big storm coming. Few hours later all hell broke loose. About a week later he’s seen in one of the major stalker settlements of the time. This time he’s got quite a bit more gear then when he first showed up. Going from a torch, a lighter and a knife to a stalker suit and a firearm within a week is quite a feat. So he stayed there a while, going on raids, learning about current state of affairs and such. Strange thing about raids he was on, people said that no mutant came within a 100 meters and not a single person fell to a anomaly. He didn’t talk much, kept mostly to himself. After a year he had earned the nickname Prophet, knew all the big shots. He went and came like a ghost, no-one knew when, where or how. One day, as usual, left without a trace, presumably to find the golden sphere to get his wish, “To be free” as it is told. Allegedly he got his wish but as always the wish and what is granted were two different things. He was freed from the constraints of the world he left behind but because of what he was, he became an eternal servant to the ZONE. Thing is, he was actually a freak of nature, a naturally born controller unlike the ones from the labs. If you are to believe Siley that is. The old blabbermouth says that one day he managed to get the stranger to talk. Allegedly his grandparents lived in the area before the ZONE even existed and refused to leave once the incident had occurred, also his parents worked shortly after the second incident in the exclusion zone. Supposedly he was already in his 60’s when he first came here, even though he looked like he was in his late 30’s, if that’s true then he must be a little over century old. Siley’s still convinced that he’s somewhere in the depths of Red Forrest, behind the anomaly barrier, occasionally venturing to this side and accompanying some loners.

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Thu Sep 15, 2011 11:19 pm
by diablo
AfterburnzzPX wrote:" You saw a single egghead lately? Seems they barricaded themselves inside. Tried getting in, got a few artifacts to cash on, but...No dice.

Stilov says they're all dead, but... Stilov couldn't tell an artifact from an old boot. Anyhow, last night, when we decided to lie down for a bit, a group of five or six stalkers were coming down the road, possibly from Rostok.

Duty uniforms.

Fired of a warning shot, but registered it, probably to avoid another gunfight. Anyways, they go inside the lab. Yeah, you heard me, inside.

Not a single peep for four whole hours. It was around...midnight, I think.

All of a sudden, these two guys come snooping out of the lab, checking if anyone was there.

I put out the fire, tell the guys to hide in the bus and lie down myself.

They must have thought noone was here, so they mumbled something and the others came out, wearing some high tech stuff, SEVAs or something. Their leader (at least I think he was their leader, he had a PKM on his back, could spot him from a mile away) signals the others to move on.

Guess where?

That's right, the damn factory.

Haven't heard anything for a few minutes, when all of a sudden...One torn up corpse, holding a damn PKM, walking towards us.

God have mercy on his soul now. "

wasnt this one of the cut out original SoC stories in the pda thingy

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Thu Sep 15, 2011 11:42 pm
by diablo
I believe these stories were cut from the local folklore in PDA in soc.Like you know the local folklore ones.I know its alot of text, lol. but taken directly from:
E:\Program Files\THQ\S.T.A.L.K.E.R. - Shadow of Chernobyl\gamedata\config\text\eng\stable_stories.xml


Once we had this one retard tailing along… So we’re going our way, stopping every now and then for a brief rest, and as soon as we do he drops on his butt and starts snoring. And when it’s time to go he’d be the last one to lift his ass off the ground. Well, once he finally did it… He fell behind, and that’s when the controller got him - zap! - and brain was gone. You rookies better pay attention. Any rustle, any movement… Even if a fricking bunny darts by… Though, Lord save you from running into any of the local bunnies… Anyway, you have to be alert every stinking second. Clips and grenades at hand, finger always on the trigger. The moment you spot something, fire off half a clip right away. There's something behind the bush? Shoot first and ask for credentials later. That’s the basic training around here: think too much and you'll be dogfood in no time! And about the controllers, now this is a different story. You burst a fire at the rustle and drop down right away, that very second! On your back or face down, it doesn’t matter. The controller grabs you if he sees you, he needs to concentrate or something. So you lay low and listen for any noise, checking if any scum is heading your way. You may quietly recharge your gun, take out your grenades… Anyway, if all is quiet, count till three and… Get your ass out of there! As far away as possible! You all got it? You yardbirds… Be on guard every second, that’s the only way to survive…


You know, I’ve been thinking… Well, not really thinking, just had this idea… What if all this, everything around us I mean, is some sort of an experiment on us? You know, like little green men… I mean, why not? It’s as good an explanation as any… I'm thinking: if it's really a training ground, what exactly are they trying to prove here? To see what artifacts we are slobbering over the most? And what if them artifacts are like some sort of bombs, eh? They must be all over the world now, in all sorts of laboratories. The rich cough up for them big time, right? Like, wow, cool stuff! Now that’s what I want… Hell, you wouldn't believe what sort of useless shit they'd buy from you, as long as it's from the Zone… You know, all this "now ain't I cool" stuff, make everybody jealous… and one day - ka-pow! Think of it, man! Wouldn't that be something? Ha! But hey, who really knows what it’s all about… Well maybe those who’ve been behind the radar, they would probably know… Then again, they may know something, but they can’t say a word except dribbling and mumbling now. Or maybe that’s precisely the reason they’re all dribbling and mumbling… Oh well… Can't help thinking about this stuff, you know… It’s all pretty sad, really…


Yeah, so I got as far as Pripyat outskirts that time. Well, I thought I’d look around first. Found the highest spot, this huge boiler-house with a chimney. I walk in there on tip-toes. Seems alright, dust everywhere, no footprints… So I crawl into the fire-chamber and start clambering up the stairs inside the chimney. So I’m climbing up, and the soot is not even smudging, hard as a rock! I get to the top and peep out… Beautiful view! Half the city spread right there before my eyes! So I take out my binocs and look around. [small pause] And then… I was about to climb down, when suddenly I realize that I’d completely forgotten to check out what’s going on right under my nose! So I bend over slightly, look this way, look that way… Holy shit! That would’ve been some mess! There's this dwarf strolling around the courtyard! And I had almost climbed down! It’s a good thing he didn’t see me. But I couldn’t knock him down either: the Akm hanging on my back, and the chimney way too narrow to stir in it. The Makarov under my arm wouldn't be of much help either, it was about fifty meters, plus the height of the chimney… if I didn’t get him the first time, he’d do me in. So I’m sitting there, thinking. And watching what he’s up to. And he was up to something weird, I’m telling you. First he was rummaging in a pile of lumber, rubbish flying left and right. And then suddenly he stood stock-still. Sort of listening to something. And then it all started. The garbage in the pile started stirring. The dwarf sprang back, stood up straight, put his hands to his head and twisted them somehow weird… and all of a sudden that rubbish goes flying at him! From everywhere!.. Bits of iron, bricks, rubber, tree branches, crap… Covered him from top to toe. Holy shit, I thought. The little guy's dead and buried. End of the story. But no! For about two seconds the rubbish lay still, and then wham! It goes splattering everywhere! There were iron pipes there, those stuck right into the concrete fence. The dwarf stood there for about a minute, thought something to himself, then turned around and trotted inside the building. It took me a while to catch my breath. "Well, I thought, time to save my bacon". And then, I smell smoke. And it starts getting hot. Holy shit! Someone made a fire down below! A minute later I couldn’t breathe anymore. I managed to climb out to the edge of the chimney, but there was no platform or anything, so I just perched there dangling my feet… The smoke was really eating my eyes out by now, I was choking for air… Anyway, I needed to get my ass out of there! Thank God I always have about forty meters of rope with me, just in case, you know. So I folded the rope, it wasn’t too thick, barely fixed it to the chimney, tore my necktie in half, wrapped around my hands and started climbing down praying to all gods in heaven… All I could think about was: don’t let me fall down! No safety rope, right? Nothing! The rope was really cutting into my hands… and sure enough, as bad luck would have it, it ended about five yards above the ground. Had to jump. I had no choice, did I? And I went crashing down! I was lucky not to break a bone, though I did get quite a few bruises and sprained my right leg alright! Hurt like hell, all over my body. And yet, I took off so fast I could’ve probably won a gold medal in racing


They say there’s this one gang... People call them Shamans or Druids. So it appears they don’t use any electronic equipment at all, say they want to stay close to the nature and stuff… Well, they reason the Zone reacts stronger to equipment… To all this electromagnetic emissions or something… They say it attracts monsters. Basically, they believe the Zone is like a living being, you know. Like, it’s no good going into it with all these gadgets. If you’re right in your mind you’ll get by fine without ‘em. Doesn't stop them from carrying assault rifles, though… Guess the old teeth and nails are not up to the task, eh? But then again, you don’t hear a lot of stories about one of them kicking the bucket. Well, at least no more than about us… So, who knows, maybe they are on the right track there… They seem to be coming more from the Belarussian side, though… I’d like to have a look at them one day and check out their pockets for some artifacts…


You guys heard about "Interception" yet? Rumor has it they’re real pros, top notch, like! Man, you should have seen them at work! The things they do! Nothing like those old farts at The Cordon! Not only do they go into every stinking hellhole, they stay in the Zone for months on end! Swear to God! They’ve got bases, and many of them, and some nice hideouts, and choppers dropping food for them right by the perimeter. Their commander is some guy named Gromov… now I reckon the name’s fake, they call him "Major" or "Grom". You don’t believe me?! Pakhomych taped them once! He taped them and buzzed off a minute later. Didn't want to catch lead poisoning, if you know what I mean... Top secret stuff, damn it! Y’all know Pakhomych, eh? Yeah, that's the guy! Real thing, these guys. True elite. Who knows what the heck are they really doing here? And the loot they get! If I could just get one third, no, ten per cent of what they have! I’d already have a mansion in Sochi and live in clover… They say they’ve got this one gadget that detects monsters from two hundred yards away. Any stinking creature! If I had such thing I’d be picnicking left and right in the Zone… And you know what else they say? There are these other chaps, not dogs of war, but sort of like stalkers… Anyway, some of them got through to the center of the Zone. And not only did they get there safe and sound, but they say they learned to tame them beasts! They never even go past the perimeter, to the Big Place, and no one ever goes to them… well, except maybe those who’re destined to reach the Sarcophagus… And some artifacts they’ve got, too!.. Duty know about them alright… those slimeballs, they know about them and fight them, but won’t leak a word! You try asking one of them, and they just say "horsefeathers!" Some bastards, eh?


Does anybody know the score on these top secret labs deep in the Zone? They’re still functioning, aren’t they… Well, yeah… How the heck does anybody manage to survive there at all… No food or energy… So the question is: what if it’s not even people working there? I talked to this one guy… He didn’t see the labs himself… …No, he didn’t see them with his own eyes, but his scanner tapped some weird talks in Yantar. They were talking about some laboratory. And the other guy was swearing to the first one that he had run into this figure dressed in a suit like the stalkers wear, but much fancier… And this translucent figure as if told him to piss off. Something like, be gone, we’re working here. Scared the shit out him, I’m telling you! I mean, have you seen anything like that before?.. But on the other hand, it all sort of happened not far from the Red Forest… You know what I mean… Right. So it probably ain’t true… But then again… mutations, they take different forms, right? So, maybe those are not people any more, but some sort of energy entities? Could be, eh? C’mon, what are you laughing at… Cracking up over nothing…


So we're creeping into this hangar, right? Dust and cobwebs everywhere. Filth up to the rafters. The detectors are dead silent - like, not only there's no-one around, but even we seem pretty much non-existent. So we're getting into positions along the perimeter: Sanyok leading the way, the rest covering his back... then all of a sudden: WHAMMO! There were these huge iron joists rusting under the ceiling, so one of them breaks off and goes plummeting down! Somehow, Sanyok managed to dodge, and the shit slams into the floor right where he had been standing a moment earlier. Well, Sanyok dives down, rolls over, doesn't even get up to his feet and, still there on the floor, starts blasting away! So we all freak out and start off firing like crazy. Then Sanyok starts screaming blue murder, something about a creature in the corner. I look over there, and don't see a thing... That's right, the entire operation is ruined, total clusterfuck... So we go looking around the ruins for about five minutes, stepping carefully, making sure we don't get under any joists. And it was really creepy, man, one after another sees something and lets bullets fly at sweet Fanny Adams. Two of our guys got completely screwed: one fell into a pit, and the other got bashed by the door that flew off its hinges. Now we really got worked up, it's plain some bitch is fucking with us! So we spark off our psi-protection, toss a gas grenade in each corner and wait, fingers on the triggers. So we're waiting, and waiting... Turns out the motherfucker was flying or something like that... So while we were all running around on the floor it was lurking on the ceiling and having itself a ball... It dawned on us too late, and by pure accident. That piece of shut shook loose some more joists, so half the roof comes crashing down to the floor, dead right on our heads, four of our guys get squashed flat right there... But we got that son of a bitch! As soon as Sanyok heard it rustling on the ceiling, he blazed away by reflex -- a damn good reflex, I must tell you! You should've heard that thing yelping! We all jump up firing with every gun... That bitch tumbled down squalling so loud my ears almost stated bleeding. Man, we gave that thing hell, clubbing and kicking, and Sanyok, he flicked out his knife to slit it open... Well, the commander dragged us all off, otherwise we would have shredded the motherfucker to pieces...

Transcriber Notes: Fanny Adams, FA, euphemism for Fuck All? Also, psi-protection? There are some other references to this in game before the plotline (eg some armor descriptions), but it really seems to be a feature that got canned early. ... 00&page=3#

taken from here

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Sat Oct 01, 2011 12:45 am
by diablo
AfterburnzzPX wrote:S.T.A.L.K.E.R. : Strelok's mutated housewife.
RATED: R for Retarded
Back on topic.

What the heck are you doing with that bucket, boy? You don't think..Ahhaha, this newbie believed the goood old bucked-on-head-makes-sleeping-easy story...Heh, son, sit down, you don't want to end up like Korzov. What hapenned to him? Well, being a stalker, I don't know much 'bout electricity, but I do know you shouldn't be sleeping under a tree with a bucket full of wires during a thunderstorm. Unless you plan to cook yourself for the mutants, of course. That's, unfortunately what hapenned for Korzov. One quick flash and there's burned stalker smelling up the place. The smell lingered on for quite some time...

so are you gonna add this story to LA?it sounds funny lol

Re: Your stories for Lost Alpha

PostPosted: Sun Oct 30, 2011 12:57 am
by DokoMaster
Story Teller:
"Hey comrade, Did you... hear the sound of the foghorn?"

Player: Yes/no

Story Teller:
No - "Well then I must be hearing things, too much vodka I guess...who am I kidding, you can't never have enough brother HA!"

Yes - "Well brother, let me tell you a story of this strange and dangerous creature this one old stalker encountered in The Zone...

Player: Like a fishing ship or something?

Story Teller:
"Ha! No no no, well at least... It SIZE is around a big as a tanker! now listen and listen carefully! I say... It could save your life comrade"

"Iron Devil... that's whats it called... No, not "red pointy horns" demon like in children cartoons. I am talking about a monster made of metal, iron, everything with these two things in it. It pulls them into itself, not sure does it do that on purpose or is it just an anomaly itself. It looks like a big ass metal worm made of scrap metal, cars, weapons, fridges and dead bodies of unlucky stalkers... It is said that if you get too close it sucks iron from your blood in to itself... must look disgusting am I right?, I mean does that blood just fly out of your nose and eyes? or from your ass?"

Continue story - Well shit, how big thing like that haven't been mentioned? this is first time I heard about this creature
Cancel story - Sound like a bad fishing story, You must be drunk. See ya

Story Teller:
Continue story - "Well, the thing is, It randomly appears in zone, you can hear it from afar. It sounds like thousand foghorns screaming, maybe its looking for a friend or screaming in despair. Who knows... But one thing is sure, if you ever encounter one, just drop everything metallic and run, it isn't hostile mostly. But if you attract too much attention it will crush you, bullets, rockets... nothing works on it. It's not fast so you should get away by running. But it will get you try to hold on something metallic, like your gun. Have a nice day running naked on the zone!, its ether that or death... pick your poison!"

Cancel story - "Bah, off you go then. I just go and drink my brains your ass out there"

Player: "such is life in the zone!, so whats up with the name?"

Story teller:
"Well the old stalker said,That DEVIL TOOK MY GUN, MY FUCKING GUN... imagine that when a unarmed and naked old man rushes at you! hahaha! So... after that it people started calling it Iron Devil. This just did happen couple weeks ago so no wonder you haven't heard of it."

Player: "Ha ha, poor gramps. cheers! for the old naked guy!

Story teller: Cheers!


Aaaand thats it, I can write some more and shorter ones. If this is for your liking.