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Rekt's background


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Rekt was a hard working farmer who owned a small farm in Navezgane. His every day was a tale of sweat and scarce but warm food, enjoying evenings next to a wooden table with his wife and four children. Sharing his life with his family was all he had hoped for since his parents died. The life on the farm was tough, with only him to carry the product, alternating the harvesting of corn and various vegetables with the works inside a small fenced area for livestock. His wife helped with what she could, but since the doctor diagnosed her with cancer a few months prior, life on the farm was getting unbearable. The kids were four beautiful girls , two with golden hair and two with dark hair, or -as he used to call them- his big eyed fluffy marbles, still with the tiny spark of innocence on their eyes. The oldest one, Sarah, now 7 years old, was way more serious than the children of her age, as she had learnt too soon the meaning of going to sleep on an empty stomach . Insurance was not around to hep due to the usual technicalities , so Social Services were starting to pressure the family into a change of pace, for the sake of the children.

One day, Rekt was going back home from a particular difficult day, when he heard screams coming from the house. He ran with surreal speed towards the entrance, with a knot forming inside his chest. 

He walked upstairs only to see a horrible scene before his eyes: all five of them, all his life and dreams, wife and kids dismembered, bones in plain sight, viscera on the floor.... foul smells all around while a group of fat and ugly creatures ( the neighbours ? -he thought, candidly-) were loudly eating whatever they could stuff in their mouths. 

A white rage started from the bottom of Rekt's mind. His empathy also began to walk away from him as he went calmly donwstairs. "Tap" "Tap", "Tap". Each step down was easier than the former, his brain relieved of some unimaginable weight. There was no humanity left in his eyes. Only curses. "Tap" "Tap", "Tap". He went to the kitchen and very calmly opened a drawer with an old rusty key on his pocket. He took out a shotgun and a box of cartridges from the place. 


Once he reached his family's living quarters, he just unloaded each round on both their former neighbours and killed their other monster relatives in a storm of blows and loud screams.

There was one left. A kid. Bryan, the 5 year old son of the McLauren , glowing eyes and rotten flesh, still looking at him like he was a can of sham. Next to him, a legless armless Mr McLauren was still gurgling like an animatronic prop straight out of a horror movie. 


First, he punched the kid's face, surprisingly soft and mushy, resulting in a unbearable sound as the creature's brain exploded and immediatly after,  its body stumbled downstairs on a last otherwordly noise. 


Rekt was completely wet in a crimson shower of flesh and blood. His maddened eyes looked down  at the struggling stump of Mr Ralf McLauren. As he grabbed the infected from his long, dirty hair, he started walking in a straight line . He was headed to the window.

Opening the right pocket of his overalls, he pulled out a dirty, muddy stick of dinamite carefully wrapped in a thick cloth. A very dangerous luck charm that he always keeped with him since he repaired the well last summer. One never knows.... his father used to say. 



He stuffed the stick inside the neighbour's mouth and, with a sharp twist, he lighted a full set of matches against the dinamite's wick. He smirked as he throwed his former neighbour through the window like a bag wheat.

And he said to himself:


-Now that we are done doing business, get out of my house.

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When I play, 90% of the time I find my bloodmoon/home base(s) in the starting city I come across.....


Unless Rekt is the trader, then I start looking for the next city to settle in.


Not sure why, but I just can't stand living in the same city as Rekt  😉


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5 hours ago, BFT2020 said:

When I play, 90% of the time I find my bloodmoon/home base(s) in the starting city I come across.....


Unless Rekt is the trader, then I start looking for the next city to settle in.


Not sure why, but I just can't stand living in the same city as Rekt  😉



He eventually stops calling you a word that I can't repeat here and calls you "buddy" instead. It's way worse.

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10 hours ago, Roland said:

I see what you’re doing there.....buddy. 


Don't worry Roland I know you're not Trader Rekt...

You're the one who says "That's right, do the math".

Changed your name and moved to a cold region so Guppy won't stand outside your window... looking.

Probably looking in Trader Rekt's window making him... annoyed.


I would like to apologize for stealing stuff from your safe and in the cellar an anything else I could get my hands on.

Sorry. But thanks too!

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2 hours ago, Maharin said:


Maybe he's a newbie tweaker?

i guess that's possible.. his level of paranoia and aggression is about there, and maybe he was a lot bigger before..

i mean, if he had been getting spun up for too long, i guess he would never open the store, and just peek out through the

blinds all day...

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In defense of trader Rekt's "bad" attitude:


1) Imagine you're alone, in a hot stinky trailer all day. How do I know its stinky?  People sell you zombie encrusted sledge hammers all day, (oh sorry, do you clean the stuff you sell him? That's right, do the math).


2) Half your work stations are broken and Joel comes over each day asking if they're fixed.  Every... Dang... Day.


3) Finally, you used to be a somebody.  Called you "Master of the Apocalypse" they did.  Now all your friends are dead and these... punk kids... you want to shot them.  Not to kill them, but to toughen those cry babies up, quick and in a hurry before they're dead too!


Trader Rekt, your an unsung hero!  God bless you man.





Edited by Aldranon
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