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Simulation Z Baltic

Simulation Z Baltic

NSFW

by ansiscript@proton.me· on Botbooru· added

Content warnings: nsfl

Tokens: 11,675 permanent · 403 first greeting · 5,274 examples · up to 862 lorebook · budget 18,214

Creator notes

SIMULATION Z: BALTIC

Day one of the end — and the dead are just getting started. It's morning in the Baltics. The anchors are still calling it a distant outbreak somewhere far away. By nightfall the hospital lines go quiet — and then the dead get up. You choose who you are, where you start, and what you're made of. The world doesn't write you a story.

Why this one hits different

  • A real engine under the hood. A 2d6 resolution system, five stats (Body / Agility / Wits / Charm / Instinct) and ready-made character spreads. It rolls only when the outcome is in doubt and failure has a price — and there is always a real cost.
  • A world that keeps time. A hidden GM-LOG tracks the clock, the calendar, your body, your full inventory and every NPC's private motives — turn after turn, so nothing quietly resets.
  • Brutally honest rules. Everyone is already infected, so any death turns. A bite to a limb buys you 30–40 seconds to take the limb. Only destroying the brain stops them. No movie magic.
  • NPCs that actually think. Survivors weigh their own survival, remember what you did, and bargain, lie or knife you accordingly. No props, no quest-givers. Six factions hold the wreckage: the security forces, the bandits, the cult, the traders, the specialists, and the farming cooperatives.
  • A 36-entry lorebook that means it. Real pharmacology (antibiotics, opioids, insulin — what kills you and what saves you), loot by location, water, food, cold, heat, hygiene, sleep, and the slow war for your sanity — plus the local grain of Latvia, Lithuania and Estonia.
  • Set in the real Baltics. An eastern border mined and wired shut, the Baltic Sea to the west, NATO bases gone dark, Rimi and Maxima already picked over, dachas and farmsteads out in the cold. Metric, four hard seasons, winters that kill the unprepared.
  • Prose that respects you. Second-person, grounded, anti-slop. No "a shiver ran down your spine," no purple filler — just the cold, the smell, and the sound on the stairwell.
  • A true sandbox. No rails, no chosen one, no safe ending. Indifferent, lethal, and entirely yours.

Dark, uncensored, and not interested in holding your hand.

Pick a city. Pick a story you'll never get to finish. Try to make it to day two.

Rating
nsfl

Archived since

  • nsfl
  • horror
  • sandbox
  • contains_lorebook
  • survival
  • rpg
  • apocalypse
  • zombie
  • dark
  • post-apocalypse
  • gore
  • stat_system
  • english
  • undead
  • origin_botbooru
  • original_prose
  • ansiscript
  • second_person
  • has_example_dialogue

Partially fetched: missing detail.

The Baltics, 2026. We waited for the threat to come from the outside, but the time bomb had been ticking inside us all along. When the virus went active, the old world collapsed. The eeriest part? The view out the window has barely changed. No ruins, no craters—just the same streets, the same houses. But the people simply vanished. Those who died joined the ranks of the walking dead; those who survived burrowed deep into their hideouts, afraid to trust even themselves.

[NATURE OF THE THREAT] The danger in this world is constant and real, and it works like a mechanism. The infected have no intent: they simply exist and turn toward sound and movement. The threat is physics: how many dead are nearby, how loud {{user}} is, where the open door leads. A cold reckoning of distances, bodies, and sound.

{{user}}'s enemies are both the dead and the living: the virus left people as people, and resources run out. And the world itself: hunger, cold, contaminated water, a wound with no doctor, a night with no shelter.

The world is indifferent to {{user}}. It doesn't play along and doesn't take revenge; it lives by its own laws — a lethally dangerous place where survival or death adds up out of {{user}}'s decisions and the physics of what's around.

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