I was newly spawned and traveling with another fresh arrival. We were overwhelmed by zombies while looting a town and my companion collapsed from his injuries. As I ran to him from one direction I saw three other players running at him from another. One had a defibrillator.

They attempted to revive my companion but it was too late.

They helped me out with spare bandages, food, and even helped me find a rifle and gave me some ammo before moving on.

I found someone. He was lying face-down on the second floor of an airfield building. I talked to him but got no response. I examined him. He had no pulse, but his body was still warm.
I took his carbine and clip and slowly walked back downstairs. As I crept outside my screen went black and I was dead.
I checked the server screen. There were only three players online at the moment, and one had just killed the other two.

I found someone. He was lying face-down on the second floor of an airfield building. I talked to him but got no response. I examined him. He had no pulse, but his body was still warm.

I took his carbine and clip and slowly walked back downstairs. As I crept outside my screen went black and I was dead.

I checked the server screen. There were only three players online at the moment, and one had just killed the other two.

I spawn on the beach and immediately see a man in a cowboy hat sprinting toward me. I’ve popped into existence directly in his path. He sees me and steers around me, then stops and turns.
"Hey," he says in heavily accented English. "Hey. Buddy. What… what you… doing?"
"I just spawned," I say. "I’m not really doing anything."
"Hey. Buddy. I no kill you. I… no kill you. No problem, buddy."
"Thank you," I say.
"No… no problem, buddy," he repeats. He turns and starts to run again.

I spawn on the beach and immediately see a man in a cowboy hat sprinting toward me. I’ve popped into existence directly in his path. He sees me and steers around me, then stops and turns.

"Hey," he says in heavily accented English. "Hey. Buddy. What… what you… doing?"

"I just spawned," I say. "I’m not really doing anything."

"Hey. Buddy. I no kill you. I… no kill you. No problem, buddy."

"Thank you," I say.

"No… no problem, buddy," he repeats. He turns and starts to run again.

We’re running toward each other through the rain. I stop. He stops. I wave. He doesn’t. We stand there for a while.
"Hello," I say.
There’s a long pause before he says: “What.”
"Umm… how’s it going?"
Another long pause. “Do you need food or something?”
"Um, yeah, actually. If you can spare some."
Another long pause. Then he looks at the ground.
"I dropped some tuna."
"Thank you," I say. I don’t approach him.
"Well, come on," he snaps. Then he runs off.
I look around on the ground where he was standing but I never find the tuna.

We’re running toward each other through the rain. I stop. He stops. I wave. He doesn’t. We stand there for a while.

"Hello," I say.

There’s a long pause before he says: “What.”

"Umm… how’s it going?"

Another long pause. “Do you need food or something?”

"Um, yeah, actually. If you can spare some."

Another long pause. Then he looks at the ground.

"I dropped some tuna."

"Thank you," I say. I don’t approach him.

"Well, come on," he snaps. Then he runs off.

I look around on the ground where he was standing but I never find the tuna.

He’s running up the road, right past me, seemingly without seeing me. I call out. I wave. I ask how he’s doing. He stops and slowly turns to face me. He raises his fists.

"It’s okay," I say. "I’m not going mess with you or anything."

He runs up and swings his fists, missing. I begin backing away.

"Please don’t," I say. "It’s okay."

He keeps running at me, swinging his fists. I continue backpedaling, and bring out my revolver.

"Don’t," I say. Please stop."

He says nothing. He doesn’t stop. I fire one shot.

I look down the road in both directions. No one else is around. I don’t bother looting him. I suspect he doesn’t have much. I look at him for a while, then leave.

It’s the first time I’ve ever killed another player. As I reach the treeline, it begins to rain.

I meet him on the road north of Nizhnoye. We chat a bit, laughing at how my bright yellow raincoat and his orange hardhat make us easy targets for snipers. He says he’s taking part in a scavenger hunt, looking for specific items — duct tape, a hacksaw, and so on — to take pictures of. I offer to help, and we run around searching houses for a while.

At the construction site near Berezino, we meet a woman in a red T-shirt, who asks if we’ve seen a spare backpack anywhere. While we’re helping her search the site, bullets begin ricocheting off the walls. Someone is taking shots at us from the field to the east.

"I see him," my friend says, lying prone and aiming his rifle. With no gun of my own, I crouch behind him. The woman in the red shirt comes up the stairs to join us. She suddenly starts punching me, knocking me unconscious.

Either she was taking an opportune time to relieve me of my backpack, or she was working with the sniper all along.

I dropped one of my two cans of beans on the ground for my new friend, and we engaged in the DayZ tradition of staring at the ground and hoping it would eventually appear. It didn’t.

We’d met near a construction site a few minutes ago and decided to explore together. On the roof of the parking garage, we found a blue backpack. I put my last can of beans in the pack, hoping he could then take the pack and find the beans inside, and open them with his machete.

While he waited hopefully for the beans, I ran off to loot a couple warehouses. We agreed to meet back at the site in five minutes. When I got back, I found him at the bottom of the site, dead, most likely from a fall.

In his pack were the beans. He’d opened them but only eaten half. He’d saved the rest for me.

There are two of them, one well-outfitted and holding a rifle, the other, like me, in just jeans and a T-shirt.
"Hi," says T-shirt. "Who are you?"
"Hi," I say. "I’m Chris."
"Okay," says T-shirt. "See that guy there?"
"Yeah," I say.
T-shirt punches me in the face. My vision blurs. The one with the rifle watches silently.
"He said I had to kill you or he’d kill me," T-shirt says, punching me again. Everything goes black as I fall unconscious.
T-shirt keeps talking. “He said I had to. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t kill you. That’s why… that’s why. He said I had to.”

There are two of them, one well-outfitted and holding a rifle, the other, like me, in just jeans and a T-shirt.

"Hi," says T-shirt. "Who are you?"

"Hi," I say. "I’m Chris."

"Okay," says T-shirt. "See that guy there?"

"Yeah," I say.

T-shirt punches me in the face. My vision blurs. The one with the rifle watches silently.

"He said I had to kill you or he’d kill me," T-shirt says, punching me again. Everything goes black as I fall unconscious.

T-shirt keeps talking. “He said I had to. He said he’d kill me if I didn’t kill you. That’s why… that’s why. He said I had to.”

I step out of the last building at the airfield. In the distance, barely visible, two tiny figures are running around near the road that leads up the hill. I can’t tell if they’re approaching or retreating.

As I watch, they suddenly stop running. They shrink to half their size. Then again, to half that.

They’ve crouched, then gone prone.

I hit the deck, expecting rifle fire. None comes. I bring up my own rifle, aiming as best I can at the two specks in the distance. I have no scope. I don’t move. They don’t move. A minute passes.

I consider crawling backwards around the corner of the building, then fleeing. Instead, I stand and wave at the two specks. Nothing happens. I keep my arm up, bending my body from side to side to make sure they see. Nothing.

I wonder if they’re simply waiting for me to leave so they can raid the airfield. I turn and run the other way, looking back only when I’m at the hangar. I see them, two tiny figures, running up the hill in the other direction.