#survivor things

[strxnged]

if j.d. gets voted out i am going to cry

[robinsarm]

If you’re like me you have multiple survivors you like to play in DBD but can never decide who you should play and then just end up playing one person for 50 matches straight. Well, I’ve come up with this easy way for my to change up my character selection.

Each of the survivors I play have a different role. Not like a different perk build, that changes as frequently as my mood, I mean they do different things altogether.

I play five survivors. From most to least frequent it’s Ace, Felix, Jeff, Quentin, and Zarina. Each of my survivors are designated a different item. 

Ace is the key wizard: 

(We don’t accept green keys in this household)

Felix is that dad who only uses maps:

(you wouldn’t believe how hard it is to get maps)

Jeff, ironically, is the light bringer:

Like the druggy he is, Quentin is the pharmacist:

(Nice)

And Zarina hoards all the flashlights:

While all my characters have all the items, but each specific survivor I play carries a large amount of said item and add-ons. While my Felix has a key here and there with a few weaved rings, he mainly has 30 Rainbow maps with 50+ of each map add-on. Does that make sense?

I find it fun to diversify my character selection like this. It keeps the games interesting and makes me rethink how I’m going to play. Not to mention it helps with the Archive challenges. 

“Oh, I need to heal 6 other survivors? Time to play Quentin.” 

“Oh, my next challenge is to flashlight blind the killer 4 times? Time to switch to Zarina.”

I’ve only started doing this, so that’s why I have a small amount of items on each person.

That’s kind of how I view it. I get bored of playing the same survivor over and over again. I also kind of get tired of seeing the same survivors over and over again. I can only take loading into a lobby of Feng's so many times, no offense. 

[christpilledbitch]

There is a very specific feeling that you feel in the after. Some brand of sadness that clings to you like some kind of permanent sent, a claim, dried paint (or blood, if you're prone to dramatics) under your fingernails that you can never completely get rid of. Not for the lack of trying, of course.

First year is a lot like every year prior - despair, it's almost like you've never really gotten away, it doesn't matter that no one is there to hit you anymore or get drunk and overly affectionate - the threat still feels imminent, just over the corner, and it doesn't matter that there is a whole city diving you now, it still isn't far enough, it never is.

You always close the door to your room shut, it makes a horrible loud noise every time, and your family doesn't get it, but you never feel safe otherwise. You tense up every time there is a knock too, though it's just your father and he doesn't hit you, he rarely ever yells but everything in you is on high alert anyway. It takes you a year to relearn. It takes two, for you to occasionally forget to close the door when you get back from the kitchen.

When you're not so horribly depressed anymore you get angry - angry at your mother for being the way she was, angry at everyone else for not getting you out sooner. You remember with painful clarity the little girl who prayed every night to all the gods she could remember to get her out, you remember the night you realized no one will. You also remember somewhere along that first year, when you realized you aren't better and cigarettes don't do shit for your crippling anxiety.

But you're in the better now, though it doesn't feel like it most of the time, because you still got the crippling anxiety and the nightmares to match it (always haunting you, always), but you learn to live with it, it got easier with time, when you realized that this is just how life is. And still sometimes, even now, you get these fathom pains in your chest, where despair used to be, and now there is a sadness that's almost wistful in nature, that stems from begrudging acceptance, you think. And this is just how life is.

[maeganbobaegan]

No means no!

Squeaks, the other night when they were roughhousing before bed. 

I was so incredibly proud & happy to hear her say this with such fierceness & clarity :’) 

[carrotofmadness]

It’s been 2,5 year since i left my hometown and im still afraid of sitting in room with opened door because when i left door open my abusive father was always checking what i was doing and if he found even smallest reason he would start shouting at me. Im still afraid of long, dark-green opel astra cars and honestly every car that is even a bit similar to one my father owns And if i hear something creak the way our car breaks did im getting instantly nervous and defensive and i want to just get up and check in window like i used to check if thats my father coming back home And over time im just noticing other things like that that makes my life constant shit because they remind me of my abusive father. I want to die now.