A story about an E-Stim, by AKDragonfly


JackTrysGames

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Reposting this story here because it's funny as hell. From the "Emergency Stim" section of The Long Dark's wiki. Originally by AKDragonfly, all credit goes to him.

 

Slept on these for years. 100+ hours of gameplay and I only used 1 in a last ditch effort to save my azz after I fell through the ice. I didn't make it, and wrote them off as useless. That is until I took a run at the first Old Bear challenge last year. 

I was ALMOST at the end - the railroad line - the very last leg before the Trapper's Homestead, but I could hear it behind me. The guttural, primal Mongolian throat singing of Death's beloved pet hellbeast. The animated remains of the illegitimate lovechild Zach Galifianakis would birth after he made sweet love to a giant, prehistoric ground sloth. The rancid breath spewing from the maw of a Super-Sized Zowie from Pet Sematary 2 accompanied a gargled Perish Song for an audience of one. I stared into the abyss and it stared back.

I knew he'd have my liver for dessert if he caught me (assuming he had room for dessert after he'd consumed my soul). I was clawing through my inventory for a Hail Mary at the speed of f!ck when I saw this thing. This pointless little paperweight I'd looted from a prior victim. I shrugged, having long since abandoned the idea of greeting Daddy Death with my dignity intact. At the behest of my primordial lizard brain who struggles to separate fantasy from fact whilst tits deep in "OH SH!T" panic juice, I hit 'em with the ole reliable:

"F!ck it."

Adrenaline. My. Azz. That shit was laced with more controlled substances than Robert Downey Jr.'s bloodstream pre-Burger King. I pushed that f!ckin' plunger down and I swear I saw the face of whatever Eldritch being sits upon the usurped and blackened throne of heaven. It was like ordering the sample platter at a St. Louis Applebee's, except the whole payload hits you at one time, and the corpse you took it off of was already dead when you got there. We're talking HGH, PCP, MDMA, the same concoction of concentrated Speed they give to f!ckin' fighter pilots, more caffeine than the average college student consumes in a year, and a shot of Bruce Banner's Incredible Gama-roids™ for good measure. I sprinted practically bear-azz nekkid (get it I'm hilarious) all the way to the Trapper's cabin like there was a lifetime supply of Taco Bell nacho fries calling my full legal name. 

When I reached the doorstep, I turned to face my thwarted Undertaker, vibrating at a speed that threatened to forcibly remove me from the visible spectrum. We stared at each other - the hunted prey and the apex predator - and I waited for that sweet, sweet rush of endorphins to bathe me in the thrill of victory.

But when my dime-sized pupils met the cruel, merciless, black gaze of a beast older than God himself, the rage and hatred melted away...

And all I saw was myself.

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