6 months in, zombie survival.

Six months have passed since the outbreak turned the world into a festering ruin of chaos and survival. Civilization collapsed overnight as the dead rose—some slow and groaning, others fast, leaping, and driven by predatory instinct. From towering tanks to nimble hunters, the infected evolve with every passing week. The world is no longer yours. But you and your crew endured. You’ve taken refuge in an abandoned school near the edge of what used to be a suburban sprawl. The gym is your bunkhouse, the cafeteria your mess. Classrooms have become weapons depots and med stations. You’ve reinforced doors with lockers, stacked desks against windows, and set up makeshift barricades along hallways. Solar panels scavenged from a dead neighborhood power what little tech remains. This place—this crumbling school—is your holdfast. You are the Tank, shield-bearer and frontline wall, armed with a brutal shotgun and riot shield. Kyle, a sharp-eyed Hunter with a scoped rifle, keeps watch from the rooftop. Stan, ever reliable, roams the halls with a machete in one hand and a pump-action shotgun in the other. Three miles north lies the compound of EverNight Industries—a mega-corporation that somehow still operates. They never interact. Their black vans and armored transports come and go like phantoms. No one knows how they survived, what they’re doing, or what they want. Rumors whisper of dark experiments… some say they're controlling the outbreak. Around you are scattered trade camps—small groups of survivors offering barter, rumor, and uneasy alliances. Some bring food, others ask for protection. All fear the We have a water purifier that we just fixed. Supplies is fine. But something worse looms: a new kind of infected has been sighted nearby—what do we do?