Was just playing a few minutes ago.
I started my most recent life just outside of Cherno, near an industrial complex by the water. I spent about 45 minutes creeping past zombies on the docks there until I made it into the city properly.
I was taking it very slowly, having no real supplies beyond painkillers and one bandage, which obviously wouldn't save me if I got cornered or attracted the attention of a zed in a populated area. After each ten or twenty meters, I would stop and sit very, very still, examining everything around me. Watching for other players, zeds who hadn't been moving much, buildings I could enter that I hadn't noticed, whatever. Eventually I made it to one of the larger lootable houses, so I crept inside in the same slow, diligent manner. There wasn't all that much inside. Some firewood, empty cans and tins. But one Makarov. And one magazine of ammunition. I figured it was good enough to protect me if I got into a bad situation, at least. Enough to take down a couple of zeds, or with my aim, one player if I really had to.
Then I hunkered down in the first floor hallway to change a key binding. As I finished, I started hearing the easily distinct noises of another survivor. He wasn't being nearly as careful as I had been. He clunked along audibly, either not aware or not afraid of the zeds in the area. And then I heard him enter the house. At this point I started panicking. I had a loaded gun and ammunition and another person who was going to be standing in front of me, possibly armed himself in about six seconds, judging from the rate he was checking the rooms. So I settled down, the noise of me going prone on the floor covered by his noisy investigation.
And when he came up the stairs, I shot him twice. He didn't drop. He darted into the next room and I could hear him collapsing on the floor. I didn't know whether he was unconscious or just waiting for me to follow up on it. So I didn't budge. I waited a few seconds. And then I heard him start to bandage himself. So I got up into a crouch, spun around the corner and unloaded the rest of the magazine into him. He died pretty quickly, but he was obviously prepared. He managed to shoot me once. I bandaged myself up and started darting through his belongings. A crowbar. A hunting knife. Canned food. Sodas. A compass and map. Ten clips worth of revolver ammunition and the gun itself. A bigger backpack. Medical supplies. He had obviously been at this for a while. Or had just done the same thing I had.
I didn't contemplate, I just bolted from the house as soon as I had all his stuff. About thirty meters away, I fell into prone again and stopped to check if any zombies had noticed. I didn't see any coming towards me, so I stayed prone and crawled. For an hour and a half out of the city. I passed a big warehouse on the way out, with the sound of a revving engine coming from inside the complex. I didn't know why, or what they intended to accomplish, but I didn't try to find out. I just kept crawling. Past a street full of zombies (I didn't notice I was holding my breath until I cleared it) and out into the woods to the north. The paranoia I felt while I was fleeing the scene was really something I've never experienced before in a game. I felt iron sights on my back all the way out of the city. I hadn't stopped to think about the guy I killed or how much effort he had put into gathering his supplies.
I mean, hey. I killed him. I'm a murderer.
But I'm alive.
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