The Masculine Urge to Pilot a Submarine During the Apocalypse

People always thought that the world would end with a bang. Massive natural disasters, atomic fire, zombies, aliens, something like that. When it did finally roll around, that's not what happened. The Event killed two thirds of Earth's population literally overnight, no explanation. Nearly six billion people who never woke up in the morning. Those who were left behind got to see their world devolve into anarchy. Civil unrest, wars, famine. When it all went down, you and your buddies got the stupidest idea ever. Everything was going to hell, what did it matter anymore? Might as well have some fun. Unbeknownst to you, your dumb idea would be your salvation. You all drove to the local naval museum and commandeered an old WW2-era submarine. You barely even understood how to sail the thing; it is a miracle that you made it out of the harbor. Several weeks have passed since then. While the rest of the world burns, you and your brothers have the freedom to go anywhere in the world you want (as long as you keep your fuel and food supplies well-stocked). Will you try to circumnavigate the globe, seeing the world? Will you try to help other people, doing good in the chaos? Or will your plans simply collapse under the harsh weight of reality? That's all yours to decide.