jimdattilo

Schedule for June, 2025

If you haven't checked out my latest newsletter, it is now open to every member.

6/3 -- Outbreak scenario poll (Free tier)

6/4 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 9. ($3+ tiers)

6/6 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

6/9 -- Game updates (Free tier)

6/12 -- Content Sneak Peek ($1+ tiers)

6/15 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 10. ($3+ tiers)

6/17 -- Content poll (free tier)

6/18 -- Character or Content Poll ($10+ tiers)

6/20 -- Newsletter. ($1+ tiers)

6/22 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

6/25 --  Monthly Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4 Alpha Test ($5+ tiers)

6/29 -- New Original Story. ($10+ tiers)

For those of you at the Creator level for 6 months or more, please refer to this post about your tier reward.

Discord: Remember to join my Discord and get your special patron role if you're a member.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven Artwork poll

My artist is finishing Jude and will soon be ready to create another character portrait for Safe Haven. Which character would you like to see next?

ZE Outbreak feedback

Are you enjoying the monthly Zombie Exodus outbreak story?

For the past three months, I've focused exclusively on the Zombie Exodus outbreak story. Previously, I wrote short fiction featuring characters from my interactive games. I'd love your feedback on what you'd prefer moving forward!

Please choose one of the following options:

ZE Outbreak Novel, Chapter 3

continued from chapter 2

Monday, May 7, 2012

Monday morning. I turned on the TV before my eyes were fully open, already dreading what I'd hear. It was some morning show, and I searched around for news but couldn’t find any about the virus. Was that it? A few days of worrying me, and now the virus was already gone?

In the kitchen, I cracked two eggs into the pan, watching them scramble. Dad's voice echoed in my head: "Monday is always eggs, kiddo. Start the week right." Some habits stick with you, even when everything else feels uncertain.

While I finished cooking, I emailed my direct supervisor at work and called out sick. The thought of sitting in meetings felt absurd. Even if the virus was over, I couldn’t shake all those things Dr. Cohen told me.

I finally found some coverage of the virus, but the news was having an identity crisis. One channel claimed government conspiracy, while the next called it mass hysteria. Watching them flip between extremes was like tracking a ping-pong match where both sides were losing. Dr. Cohen's warnings kept surfacing in my mind, making it painful to watch these people spread such a different view.

Hours slipped by as I fell into an internet rabbit hole, cross-referencing reports, trying to separate fact from fiction. The TV droned on in the background. By five, my eyes were burning and my head was swimming with data points that refused to connect.

I needed air. I needed to see something real, something normal. Gino's Deli seemed like as good a place as any. It was a classic Philly joint where the hoagies were always perfect and Tony behind the counter still called everyone “bro” or "hon," virus or no virus.

The street felt different. Rush hour in Philly always had its own pulse, but this was something else. The city felt different to me and likely to everyone else. People were rushing everywhere but kept glancing over their shoulders, as if expecting something to materialize behind them.

The old stone church on Locust was drawing people like a magnet. "Special Prayer Service for Peace and Safety," the banner proclaimed, as if words could ward off what was coming. I was not religious at all but understood what it brought to some people. Families huddled together on the steps, and kids clung to their parents too tightly. The first notes of organ music drifted out, and I kept walking.

When I turned the corner, the street was flooded with protesters. One group demanded truth about Zeta, their signs wobbling above the crowd like waves. Behind them, the counter-wave was screaming: "HOAX!"

I made my way through the crowd and noticed the strange mix of people. A businessman in an expensive suit joined the truth-seekers. A teenager with dyed blue hair stood among the deniers. A mother pulled her children closer as the two groups clashed verbally near the crosswalk.

They were all right, in a way. The truth was being hidden. And yes, panic wouldn’t help. But while they screamed at each other, the real enemy slipped past unnoticed. It wasn’t each other. It wasn’t the virus. It was our refusal to face reality without picking sides.

As I made my way along the sidewalk toward Gino's, a scene drew my attention. A middle-aged man had collapsed, his body sprawled on the concrete. He was large, over 6’4” maybe, with a slightly flabby middle, his body shaped like a football. His arms were up by his sides and folded with his hands against his body, like the shape of chicken wings. His legs were slightly bent under him. People maneuvered around his body, seemingly oblivious. Some even stepped over him with hardly a glance. It made me angrier than anything people were protesting.

"Get out of the way!" I yelled, shouldering people out of my way. Muscle memory kicked in from my combat medic training. When I got to him, I thought it was probably heat exhaustion. It must have been over 90° on the sidewalk.

"Hey, can you hear me?" I gave his shoulder a firm shake and glanced around to find an area of shade.

He groaned, and his eyes were unfocused. "Yeah."

"I'm going to help you." Getting behind him, I locked my arms under his. The dead weight surprised me. It was like trying to lift a waterlogged mattress. His flesh gave way under my grip as I heaved, and he found just enough strength to help scoot himself toward shade. The crowd barely parted, and so I had to drag him around them.

Once in the shade, I helped him unbutton his shirt. "Sit down here and take it easy." I positioned him against the wall, already reaching for my water bottle. "Drink this, slowly." While he sipped, I poured some water over his neck and scalp and watched his responses.

His eyes cleared, and his breathing steadied. These were good signs, but not enough. I pulled out my phone to call 911. I heard one ring, then a busy signal. I dialed again, but the continuous beep felt like a warning klaxon. "I can't believe this. How the hell is 911—"

"Thanks, I'm good now." He smirked and started standing, transforming from near-unconscious to mobile in seconds.

"Wait, you need to rest. An ambulance—"

"I'm fine. Got to get back. Thanks, buddy."

I watched him stumble away, disappearing into the crowd like nothing had happened. The whole scene felt wrong: the collapsed man, the indifferent crowd, the dead 911 line. Something fundamental was shifting in Philadelphia. The city I knew wouldn't step over unconscious people. The emergency services I trusted wouldn't be unreachable.

I turned toward Gino's, but the bitter taste in my mouth had nothing to do with hunger. I couldn't have walked past him. But watching everyone else do exactly that made me wonder what else was breaking down around us.

# #

I walked back to my apartment with an Italian hoagie and Snapple, barely registering why I'd even bought them. My appetite had vanished somewhere between the warring protesters and the collapsed man. I needed to see the city for myself, but now I wished I hadn't. The reality was worse than any news report.

Back in my apartment, I noticed a missed text from Gabriel blinking on my phone: "Are you seeing this crazy shit on the news? What's going on in the city??"

I called him immediately, and he picked up on the first ring.

"Sam, did you see the news yet today? It's sooooo crazy."

Through the phone, I caught the unmistakable sounds of outdoor noise. "Wait, where are you right now?"

"Just got home. Was out jogging."

"Jogging? What the hell? Didn't I tell you to stay home? This isn't the time to be out and about. Have you started packing like I told you?" I could hear my voice rising. I didn’t want to sound frustrated, but I didn’t know how to control myself right now.

"I didn't think you were serious," he said, his voice going quieter.

"Serious? This virus is going to spread. You need to be ready. Look, I need you to get packed. I don't know when...maybe tomorrow or the day after. I'm coming to get you, and we’re leaving the city."

"Stop, you're freaking out now." His voice wavered.

"Good, you should be freaked out. People aren't taking this seriously enough."

"I am taking it seriously, but Mom and Dad said..."

"They're not your mom and dad!" The words exploded out of me.

“Don’t yell at me!” His voice cracked, raw and thin, then broke apart into shallow, uneven breaths.

There was a clatter, and the sound of his phone hitting the floor. I heard running footsteps, then Zoe's voice: "Gabriel! Oh, Jesus."

More footsteps came, followed by crying and muffled voices. Someone picked up the phone. "What, who is this?"

"It's Sam, Gabriel's brother. What's going on? Is he okay?"

"Connor's helping her. He's having a panic attack," Zoe said, then hung up.

I stared at my phone. God dammit. Gabriel wasn't fragile by any means, but I'd never spoken to him like that before. All my fears about what could happen in the future made me act like an idiot today. I couldn’t yell at him and expect any better results. If I didn’t learn how to keep my cool—

The phone rang again. "Hello? Gabriel?"

"What the hell is wrong with you, Sam? Why would you yell at Gabriel like that?"

It was Connor, and his voice was like razor blades cutting through my skin.

"I...I'm sorry, I overreacted. Can I speak to Gabriel, please? I need to make it right."

"No, you're not talking to Gabriel. He's lying in his bedroom now. We had to give him a Xanax to calm him down."

"I need to talk to him when he's better. But it has to be today."

I heard Connor moving, and a door slammed. "Sam, you're not allowed to talk to Gabriel anymore, at least not until I feel he can handle it."

"Listen to me. The virus is going to make its way to the U.S. I want to make sure Gabriel is safe. If you just—"

"It's my responsibility to keep my son safe. And right now, you're not helping. You gave him a fucking panic attack. He almost hit his head on the floor." Connor’s voice rose to a shout. I'd never heard him like this before.

He paused and then continued in a more even tone, "I know you love your brother, but you need to think about his mental health."

“I care about him more than anything. His well-being is all I think about."

"Good, then act like you care. You're not allowed to call Gabriel until I say it's okay," Connor said. "And I don't want to have to do anything legal to keep you away from him. I will if I have to."

His words hit me like a punch to the face. He really thought he could stand between me and Gabriel? He had no idea who he was dealing with.

"Look, I—"

The line went dead. I stood in my kitchen, the untouched hoagie and Snapple still on the counter, wondering how I'd managed to make everything so much worse.

# #

Restless, I hit the gym downstairs. It was my default move when everything upstairs got too loud. Inside, the hum of the AC and the sharp clinking of iron filled the air. I settled into the weight machine, muscle memory taking over as I adjusted the settings. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t block what happened.

I should have just gone to Gabriel's house, taken him, and gotten out of the city.

It all seemed crystal clear now. If I believed the Zeta virus was a real threat, why was I sitting around waiting? Instead, I'd managed to put Connor on high alert.

I added more weight, pushing harder. Connor. There was the real sore spot. He'd stepped up when I couldn't, given Gabriel everything I'd failed to provide anything for him. I couldn’t give him stability. He called Connor Dad without hesitation and seemed to love him. And I'd let my pride poison that. And I had struggled to understand all Connor had done for my brother. My stupid ego made me resent the man who'd actually been there for Gabriel.

Moving to the free weights, I grabbed the heaviest dumbbells I could manage. Each rep burned, but it wasn't enough to drown out the voice in my head.

You’re nothing but a failure.

I should have been there in person, not shouting over the phone. Gabriel was just a kid trying to make sense of everything, and I'd dumped my own fears and frustrations on him.

The gym door swung open. I paused mid-rep as a young woman, maybe around twenty, sauntered in like she owned the place. Her gear looked fresh off a boutique rack, but it was the face that stopped me. She had on full makeup, hair styled to perfection, not a strand out of place. She looked ready for a photoshoot, not a workout. Absurd, maybe. But who was I to judge?

She dropped her gym bag and unpacked equipment like she was building a film set: tripod, lights, and camera. She positioned it all near the mirrors, disturbingly close to my bench. I slowed my reps, eyes drawn to her as she began her routine, eyes on the camera.

As she lifted weights, she spoke in a clear and exaggerated way, like she was selling a used car. "Hey, loves! It's so important in these tough times to stand together and show compassion for those affected by this virus. We're all in this together, and it's our unity that will help us overcome these challenges. Let's spread love and support, not fear."

She spoke like she was reading off a Teleprompter. To me, the whole thing read fake. It wasn’t a bad message, it was strange that she was saying it all while working out, badly I might add. Most of her motions were halfhearted, and she was barely breaking a sweat.

“There are people in China and Japan and places like that who are dealing with the virus. We need to help these people and make them comfortable while they are trying to get better. How would you like it if you were sick and people were saying the flu was a hoax?”

I couldn't help it. I laughed. The whole thing was absurd. She was talking about the virus while barely working out and sounding like she had never read a news article in her life.

She shot me a glare, her eyes making that V pattern my mother used to wear when I really screwed up. She shut off the camera and strode toward me, chin lifted slightly, a faint smile curving one corner of her mouth. "Could you please not make any noises while I'm filming?”

I rolled my eyes but held myself back from making any smart remarks. "Sorry. I’ll try not to make a sound."

She gave me a fake smile, turned to her setup, and hit the remote on her camera to start filming again. "There's talk of a cure coming out of Asia. Or maybe India. But either way, it should get to us really fast. So, everyone can be happy and healthy again!"

What had she just said? A cure? Already? Where had she been getting that information from? Was she seriously implying that people could recover from the infection and that a cure might already be in the works?

I shook my head and turned back to my workout, trying to tune her out. This had nothing to do with me. If she wanted to play pretend on YouTube or whatever, let her. It had nothing to do with me.

"Hey, everyone! It's Kayla here, bringing you another life-changing wellness update! I've found something absolutely amazing that I just had to share with you all!” She held up an elongated bottle with a dark green liquid, showcasing it to the camera. “Introducing VitaCure Essence! Guys, this is not just any supplement. It's a revolution in natural health! I've been using it for a few weeks now, and I feel incredible!"

She paused, eyebrows knitting slightly, her mouth tightening at the corners. "With everything going on in the world right now, especially with the Zeta virus, we all need a little extra protection, right? Well, guess what? VitaCure Essence is here to save the day! Made with a unique blend of all-natural ingredients, VitaCure Essence is designed to boost your immune system like never before! It's not just for the Zeta virus; this baby is a powerhouse against so many ailments!”

She leaned closer to the camera, as if sharing a secret. “Now, I know what you're thinking. 'Is this too good to be true?' Guys, I was skeptical at first, too. But after trying it, I can't even begin to explain the difference it's made. I have way more energy, sleep better, and I just feel soooooooo much healthier! And the best part? It's 100% natural! No chemicals, no side effects, just pure, wholesome goodness. I mean, who doesn't want that?"

She held up the bottle higher and turned her body with her hip out. "I believe in sharing only the best with my fam, and VitaCure Essence is it! Check it out for yourself, and let's stay healthy together! Swipe up for the link and don't forget to use my code 'Kayla10' for a special 10% discount! Stay fabulous and virus-free, loves!”

I couldn't believe this shit. My stomach twisted with every word she spoke. I'd heard enough. Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I headed for the exit just as Kayla started another take. I didn’t realize my mistake until I stepped into her shot.

Kayla stopped recording instantly. “You just ruined my video!” she shouted through the gym. “Seriously? Rude.”

I looked back at her for a moment and stared into the face of a dragon queen: face red, nostrils flared, and lips curling. I guess it was my fault, and I didn’t want to get into it with her.

"I'm sorry for interrupting," I said.

She scoffed, ran to the camera, and pressed one of the buttons on top of it. "Now I have to refilm a perfect take because some people can't mind their own business," she said, her voice dripping with passive aggression.

I stopped, turned to her, and said, "At least I'm not a phony."

It was a stupid thing to say. For someone who didn’t want to get into it with her, I was doing a terrible job.

Her eyes widened in shock. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's terrible, selling a fake cure for something as serious as the Zeta virus. You should be ashamed of yourself."

Like I said, stupid. But how on earth could she sell this crap? Deep down, she had to know she was bullshitting her audience. Maybe she didn’t care, or maybe she was really that stupid, but either way, this Kayla person sickened me.

Kayla’s mouth dropped open slightly, eyebrows raised as if I'd slapped her. I turned to leave, but she followed me into the lobby, calling out, "Fuck you, asshole!"

I kept walking, not caring about anything she said. A few people in the lobby stopped and looked over at Kayla who kept shouting at me. As I approached the door to the stairwell, one of the elevator doors swung open, and a muscular man stepped into the lobby. Kayla's face lit up as she called to him, "Brad!"

This is why I didn’t want to get into things with her. Everything had turned from bad to worse. Brad looked every bit the bodybuilder, and I definitely didn’t want to get into it with him. Kayla ran up to him. "Brad, that guy just attacked me!"

Attacked her? I never touched her. But if she’s a lot about the virus and her stupid green drink, I’m sure she could manipulate her boyfriend.

He turned and spotted me on my way to the stairwell door. “Hey!”

I thought about running into the stairwell, but the look on his face and the intensity of that single word from his mouth told me he would chase me to the roof of the building if it came to that.

"Whoa, I didn't attack her. We had a disagreement, that's all," I said, raising my hands to appear nonthreatening.

But Brad wasn't listening. He swung at me, his fist cutting through the air. I sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the blow.

“Dude, what the hell?” I said, backing away. Was this guy for real?

The two desk clerks at the gym's entrance were now on their feet. "Hey, stop fighting! I'm calling the police!" one of them yelled out.

I faced Brad, trying to keep calm. "Back off, man."

“I’m gonna kill you,” he said through gritted teeth.

He lunged at me again. This time, instincts kicked in. I didn’t think, but kicked at his leg, striking the shin and throwing him off balance. He stumbled and fell flat on his chest.

“Oh my God, Brad, get up,” Kayla shouted and moved to help him.

“This is unreal,” I said. “I didn’t attack you. All I said was—”

Brad shot to his feet and rushed at me. We collided, his momentum sending us both crashing to the ground. I was surprised, and my back slammed hard to the floor. Air rushed out of my lungs, and pain shot up my shoulder blades. In a flash, an image of my brother filled my vision. A trip to the hospital would derail all my plans. Brad landed on top of me and used one hand to pin my shoulder down. As he drew back to punch me, I drove my left shin into his midsection. It was a maneuver I had practiced many times in jiu-jitsu, or I should say failed to perform right when practicing with a black belt. Brad was strong but off balance, and my shin shoved him back slightly. He fought to drive my leg down. Pushing off the ground with my right leg, I drove out with my left shin, lifting and tilting Brad. At this point, Tiago would swivel his hips out from me and drop into side mount, making me feel like a novice. I was half surprised this was working on Brad. Gripping his gym shirt, I guided his body until it flipped over. Rolling through the motion, I mounted him, pinning him down.

"Stop fighting!" I shouted, holding him in place. I gripped his wrists and used my weight to pin them to the floor.

One of the desk clerks was on the phone, probably calling the police. Spectators had gathered, their murmurs filling the lobby. Phones were out, filming the fight. No one stepped in to help.

Suddenly, Kayla was there, her hands clawing at my hair, yanking back hard. Fingernails scraped against my cheek, and her screams pounded my eardrums.

“Get the fuck off him!”

The sudden pain caught me off guard. I batted away her hands, but didn’t notice the fist coming at me from below. Brad’s hard knuckles landed on my chin. My eyes rolled back, and a flash of darkness filled my vision. I tumbled off him, Kayla's grip slipping as I fell.

Something in my head told me to get up. I got to my feet, stumbling, just as Brad surged up, teeth bared, his fists tight at his sides. He came at me again, but this time I was ready. I swung, my fist connecting with his cheek. I heard him grunt, and blood dribbled from his mouth. I followed with a high kick to the side of his head, another move I had practiced in the gym. His eyes fluttered, and his face went blank. The impact sent him sprawling, unconscious, to the floor.

Breathing heavily, I stood over him, my heart pounding. The lobby was silent, all eyes on us. I knew this had gone too far, but in the heat of the moment, my only thought was to defend myself.

He deserved this. Something swelled inside me, and for a moment felt like killing Daniel Thorne. Glancing over his body, I wanted to finish the job. How easily would it be to break his neck? Or choke him into his windpipe snapped? I couldn’t do this in front of others. There were too many witnesses.

Another part of me knew this was nothing like Daniel. Brad thought he was defending his girlfriend. He didn’t deserved to die. Maybe Kayla did. But I wasn’t going to kill her for being a bitch.

As Brad lay motionless on the floor, Kayla, tears in from her eyes, rushed to his side. She knelt down, gently cradling his head in her lap. The lobby was silent except for the low murmur of the onlookers.

I stood there for a moment, my chest heaving from the exertion and adrenaline. The realization of what just happened hit me like a ton of bricks. I had defended myself, sure, but at what cost? I couldn't afford to get tangled up with the police, not now. My thoughts raced to Gabriel, to the virus, to everything that was at stake.

Without another word, I turned and bolted for the stairwell. I took the steps two at a time, my mind racing faster than my feet. My footsteps echoed in the stairwell. Too many mistakes. Why had I said a word to Kayla? Who cares if she was trying to sell bullshit to her audience? In a few days, it wouldn’t matter.

Reaching my apartment, I fumbled for the keys, my hands shaking slightly. The door swung open, and I stepped inside, quickly locking it behind me.

I grabbed my to-go bag and the duffel bag I had prepared for bugging out. The TV was already on from earlier; the news anchor's voice filled the room with urgent updates. But I barely listened as I moved around the apartment, gathering my belongings.

How could I be so stupid? Getting into a fight now, of all times. If the police get involved, if Brad presses charges... Gabriel, I can't help him if I'm arrested.

Too many thoughts tumbled through my head. I laughed as I thought about calling up Connor to give me one of my brother’s Xanax.

“...protests have turned violent in London, Berlin, and Paris as panic spreads. Authorities in Japan and China have enforced complete lockdowns, with reports of military personnel stationed on every corner. Meanwhile, multiple U.S. states have mobilized the National Guard in anticipation of similar unrest here at home. Officials are urging calm, but fears continue to escalate amid this unprecedented global crisis.”

The world was unraveling at the seams, and here I was, worried about a fight in a gym.

Hours seemed to pass as I sat on my couch. I couldn’t take my eyes off the news, and maybe it distracted me from worrying about the police knocking on my door. The light outside dimmed as evening approached, but the glow of the TV kept the room illuminated.

Somewhere after 3 PM, it dawned on me that the police hadn't shown up. They weren't coming. They had bigger problems to deal with.

I flipped to the local news and immediately wished I hadn't. Riots had engulfed the city: storefronts shattered, cars engulfed in flames, and people sprinting wildly, clutching whatever they’d managed to grab. The police struggled hopelessly against a tide of chaos spreading like wildfire.

My hand slackened around the remote. The world outside was unraveling, and suddenly my own problems felt painfully small.

Gabriel was out there somewhere, and every second I sat still put him in greater danger. Time was up. The city wasn't waiting, and neither could I.

continue to chapter 4

Trading Cards

I am in the process of creating trading cards for some of my games.

For those of you who have played Vampire: The Masquerade — Out for Blood (or just want to provide your opinion), please vote on which quote you would like to see on the back of the trading card that best exemplifies the feel of the game.

1) A tree rustles several yards away, and you track movement through a tangle of branches. A momentary gleam of red moves through the dead space and disappears.

2) Then you see it, Bleakrest House. It stands not so far away but it seems small and not so imposing as it once did when you were a teenager. Maybe all the stories of your youth piled one on top of the other until you could no longer see the house for what it was: a crumbling old mansion. As an adult, you know it's only made of wood and stone and brick; the horrors you once imagined are decades in the past.

3) You scream, but there's only slight pain, like a deep needle prick, and you push against his arms to break his hold. Sounds of sucking and moaning fill your ears. You scream louder and try to fight him off but nothing you do gets him off your neck.

4) Nothing ever prepares you for Bleakrest House. Even during the daytime on a busy street in a quiet town, you feel your heart beat faster on the way up the gradual hill towards the front of the colonial home.

5) The room spins, and you grip the end of the counter to steady yourself. Something feels wrong, and it's not originating from inside of you. You sense a force nearby, creeping closer, like death itself has found your home and is looking to call you to the afterlife.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven Part 4 Test Version (May 26, 2025)

Here's the link:

Test version (click here)

Part 4 is over 890,000 words! Please check the log notes after loading the page above.

On CoGDemos, you must create a free account to save your game!

Guidelines

• Please do not share details outside of here.

• Keep all comments in this thread.

• Good feedback is sometimes specific to your primary MC but should often be generalizable to other MCs.

• Your saved games cannot be loaded outside of the app. CoG does not give developers access to this.  I added an experimental save system if you want to try it out. It pops up at the top of the form after the first click on next.  For those familiar with CJW's save system, this is the one I'm using. It may not work between major updates.

To help with testing, please review the bulleted list in the change log on the first page of the test site.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven Part 4 Test version

I'm still working on the test version which is due today. Everything is written but it is not passing some of the automated tests. I should have everything up tomorrow afternoon or earlier.

Games by JimD Newsletter – Game Updates, Updated Schedule  

Welcome to my 91st newsletter! I can’t believe it’s May already. I’m still working hard on Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4, and actually finalizing the end of chapter 17. I’ll talk more about what I plan to do for June. I should be ready to submit it in July.

Those of you who have been part of my Patreon for a while and may follow other content creators on Patreon may see that people are raising prices over time. I have no plans to do so. I think that the extras and rewards I give are reasonably priced. Even with how inflation and prices are going in the US, where I live, I would rather keep my subscription tiers priced the same.

I’m also working again on artwork with my artist. She worked on characters for Stronghold for a while, but now is back to doing Safe Haven.

In this newsletter, I will review my development plans, as always.

Let's get started.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4

Part 4 is 884,000 words, with over 22,000 words added this month! If you keep track month to month, you might notice that the word count took a huge jump this month. While I wrote 22,000 words so far, I forgot to add one of the other major files to the word count. So now Part 4 is 884k words. This will be the biggest part so far.

I plan to wrap up chapter 17 by the beginning of next month and then go back and add some other content, like the arguments between multiple romantic interests. I may also want to add some placeholder content for teenager, hacker, and soldier storylines. I want to at least get them started in Part 4.

Next month, I will edit, playtest, and add content that people have requested. I should be able to get all of that done by mid-July and send it off to Hosted Games for editing and production. I don't know how long they will be doing their part. Next month, I will email them to let them know it’s coming. I may get a better sense of when they will be publishing it.

Zombie Exodus: Stronghold

Stronghold is up to 150,000 words so far. If you are interested in testing each new chapter, please check out the link below:

https://cogdemos.ink/play/jimd/zombie-exodus-stronghold-public-beta/mygame/ 

When I start developing Stronghold again, I will work on chapter 6. About two months ago, I reworked the outline and believe it should be about fifteen chapters. That number may change, but I think it’s a reasonable estimate. I’m aiming for the entire game to be roughly 300,000 words. I believe I can accomplish a lot in six months.

Deadbury Academy

Deadbury Academy was updated a few months ago, and I posted a new demo at the following location.

https://cogdemos.ink/play/jimd/deadbury-academy/mygame/

As you may remember, I put the development of this game on hold until I finish writing Safe Haven, Part 4.

That's all for this month.

Jude from ZE:SH

This is the artist first sketch of Jude from when he is introduced before chapter 7. Remember, that he is in "urban" camouflage with trash and debris attached to his ghillie suit.

What do you think about the sketch? Is there anything that should change?

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4 Sneak Peek

The content sneak peek comes from chapter 17 and contains some major spoilers.

---

You turn back down the narrow hallway and move toward the side exit. The door creaks as you pull it open, revealing the alley in pale afternoon light.

Behind you, the door thuds shut with a dull thunk. Rachel adjusts her pack. "Next time I suggest checking a haunted shop, remind me how that one turned out."

You and Rachel move quietly down the center of the cracked road, the wind pushing dry wrappers and dust past your boots. The street is dead quiet except for the low creak of a hanging sign swaying above a boarded pharmacy.

You hear a distant vibration in the air, like low, uneven, wind shifting through a tunnel that grows fast. The sound sharpens into a deep, rolling moan, not from one voice but something more.

As you reach the next intersection, Rachel stops mid-stride, head turning toward the north end of the street. You follow her gaze.

A quarter-mile down, past the shell of what used to be the town bank, a mass of figures begins to pour around the corner. They're packed shoulder to shoulder, limbs jerking as they stumble forward in uneven surges. The sound is deafening now, a churning roar of throats and feet and dragging limbs scraping pavement.

You…

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4 Sneak Peek

The content sneak peek comes from chapter 17 and contains some major spoilers.

---

About an hour later, you and Rachel have everyone gathered around the battered picnic table near the center of the junkyard. Jaime sits at the far end, massive forearms resting on the table. Madison and Brody stand to one side, shoulder-to-shoulder but exchanging looks. Reilly leans casually against the table, arms crossed, an unlit cigarette mouth. Billie shifts restlessly, fingers tapping against the table’s rough wooden surface. She reaches out and grabs his cigarette, not breaking it in half.

"What the hell?" Reilly asks.

"You're not going to die of lung cancer while I'm around," she says. "A horde of zombies…maybe."

Jaime clears his throat. "How many infected did y'all see out there?"

Rachel crosses her arms tightly, her lips pursed. "Hundreds, easily. It could have been over a thousand. It was the largest horde I've seen since this bloody mess kicked off."

Reilly pushes away from the table, shaking his head. "Might be time to pack it in. We've had a decent run here, but we can't hold out against a mob like that."

Brody instantly straightens. "No way. This is our home now. We're not running again."

Madison scoffs, rolling her eyes dramatically. "It's literally a junkyard, Brody. A place filled with garbage doesn't exactly scream home sweet home."

When the group looks at you, you say…

MC POV - Interactive Story - 8

Continued from scene 7

You approach the front door, stepping cautiously onto the porch. The door is slightly ajar, the frame splintered around the lock. You ease it open gently with your boot. Inside, the living room looks as if it’s been flipped upside down. A coffee table lies overturned, glass shards scattered around a broken lamp. Couch cushions lay in heaps, some ripped open. A dark smear trails along the carpet toward the staircase.

Jessica grips her revolver tighter, glancing quickly at you before stepping inside.

Then you hear a soft crying drifting down from upstairs. You both pause, heads tilted and listening. The sobbing rises briefly, muffled by walls and doors. Another voice breaks through, strained and pleading.

“Ryan, honey, please,” a woman says, her voice trembling. “Open the door. Just let me see you...it’s okay. I’m okay. Please, Ryan.”

The voice cracks into another sob. A faint knocking accompanies it, hesitant taps against wood.

Jessica whispers sharply, “Somebody’s still alive up there.”

You nod once, raising your rifle.

Continue to scene 9

Writing Updates

Hey everyone! I'm still deep in development on Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven and plan to stay focused on it for the next few months. As always, I’ve been having a blast working on more complex content. I’ve seen some Reddit posts recently saying that Safe Haven is one of the most replayable games out there, and that seriously made my day. Replayability has always been one of my top goals. Those are the kinds of games I love to play, and it means a lot to know that goal is resonating with so many of you.

Safe Haven Part 4 Progress

This month, I’m wrapping up Chapter 17. With a little luck, I might have it finished by the end of the month. That would give me next month to focus on playtesting and proofreading before I submit it. There’s still more I’d love to add, but my priority is making sure Part 4 is solid and stable before moving on.

One new feature I’m really excited about is the addition of manuals. Your character can read these to boost certain skills, even pushing from level 5 to 6, or 6 to 7, and allowing you to go beyond the normal limits for non-preferred skills. These manuals will be rare and hard to come by, but they're essentially free skill points. They should feel like a real reward when you find one.

I’m also planning to expand both the challenge and romantic content next month. Lately, I’ve been adding a lot for the Delusions, Dependent, and Pet Owner challenges, but I want to give some attention to the other challenge types as well. I also want to deepen the relationship dynamics, especially those arguments that can happen when you’re juggling multiple romantic partners and the truth finally comes out.

Questions?

If you’ve got questions about Part 4 or what’s coming next, feel free to reach out! I’m always happy to chat and keep you in the loop.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4 Sneak Peek

This is a new scene from chapter 17 where you are investigating a hardware store:

You step through the doorway with Rachel close behind, both of you moving slow, weapons raised. The smell hits first—a thick, sour stench of rot layered with chemicals. It clings to the back of your throat, and it's sharp and greasy, like spoiled meat soaked in bleach.

The room is dim, lit only by the slanted beams of sunlight filtering through boarded windows. A low groan comes from the far corner. You swing towards a welded cage and what’s left of a zombie. Its torso drags sluggishly against the metal grate, arms twisted at odd angles, one eye milky and unfocused. It has no legs, only a shredded waist and dried stains smeared across the floor.

Around the room, makeshift tables sag under the weight of equipment: old lab trays, jars filled with cloudy liquid, and rusted surgical tools arranged in tidy rows on bloodstained cloth. A whiteboard hangs crooked on one wall, crowded with faded notes and drawings. You spot a diagram of a human skull, portions circled in red. Beside it, someone’s written: “Conscious? Repeating patterns? REMAINS?”

The zombie groans again, low and guttural, dragging one arm toward the bars. A length of rebar runs through the cage door, jammed tight with wire.

On another table, papers are pinned down with pliers. You glimpse the name “Mr. Tom Whittaker” written across a torn substitute teacher badge. Nearby, a jar holds a shriveled organ, maybe a heart—dunked in a cloudy yellow solution.

MC POV - Interactive Story - 7

Continued from scene 6

You check the street again, then nod toward the back door. Jessica’s right behind you, revolver in hand now, her grip is steadier than before.

“We should sweep the houses nearby,” you say. “Start south. Check for supplies. Maybe see who’s still around.”

Jessica exhales through her nose, giving a quick nod. “I know this sounds weird, but being out here like this? I kinda feel better. Like...at least I’m doin’ somethin’.”

You both step out, weapons at the ready. The sun is starting to set. A few wind chimes rattle in the breeze. Somewhere in the distance, a car alarm bleats once, then cuts off.

You move south, hugging the edges of yards and keeping low. The street is quiet. Four homes sit within sight—each one different, each with its own risks.

The first house you approach is a faded yellow shotgun-style, long and narrow with the front steps sinking slightly on one side. A screen door swings on one hinge, tapping against the frame. Inside, it’s dark. The main door stands open just enough to see the hallway beyond—straight shot from front to back, like most houses of its kind. The windows are mostly intact, but there’s a crack through one pane like something tapped it just a little too hard. Mail litters the steps, some of it washed out by recent rain. You pause at the edge of the porch, listening. Nothing moves inside.

A few doors down sits a white brick two-story with a clean front yard and solar panels angled along the roof. The curtains are drawn tight. A child's bike lies tipped over near the driveway, its front wheel slowly turning in the breeze. The house looks sealed up, windows unbroken, door shut and bolted.

Across the street, a single-story ranch-style house sits behind overgrown hedges. The lawn hasn’t been cut in weeks. A slatted wooden fence leans hard to one side, broken near the gate where the latch used to be. Through the gaps, you spot the back door partially open, the screen pulled off and crumpled in the corner of the stoop. The structure sags near the kitchen vent, like water damage or maybe something worse. It looks quiet, but the overgrowth and peeling paint give it the kind of silence that feels less empty and more abandoned.

At the corner, a brick duplex catches your attention. Two doors, side by side, one taped with a half-torn city notice fluttering in the breeze, the other padlocked, though the lock dangles loose like someone tried to pry it. Spray paint tags cover the garage door, old ones, faded and layered. Trash bags sit piled near the curb. The kind of place that probably cycled through tenants fast, maybe squatters lately. The front steps are chipped but dry, and both mailboxes are stuffed full. You watch it for a minute before glancing at Jessica.

She tilts her head slightly and murmurs, “So…which one you thinkin’?”

Continue to scene 8

Outbreak Scenario 22

It’s been three months since the world ended. You’d been surviving with a close-knit group of ten: friends, strangers, and people who became family. You were on a solo scavenging run, only gone a day, when everything changed. Returning to camp at dusk, you find smoke still rising from the wreckage. Bodies are scattered, tents slashed open, and supplies gone. No one survived.

You don’t need to guess who did it. A larger group had passed through two weeks ago, asking questions and sizing up your camp. You turned them away. Now they’ve come back.

The tracks they left are fresh. You could catch them if you leave tonight. But they outnumber you, and they're armed.

Why it takes me three days to write one scene

This is why it takes so long for me to finish a scene I'm writing:

I'm finishing up a scene where you scavenge an old movie theater. There's a big, dangerous zombie waiting inside. The fight is intense, but there has to be a reward for getting through it, right?

So I add a storage room in the back of the theater. You search it. But just finding a few items isn’t very interesting. Instead, I invent characters who’ve been using the room as a hidden stash.

Now I need a way for you to learn about them. I write a journal from one of their perspectives.

Then I realize you need a choice. Do you take their supplies or leave them? And why? That decision should matter. So I build in a moral layer to reflect your choice.

Then I take it a step further. What if you want to leave something behind for them? What if you write them a note, offering help or a place at the junkyard in case they come back?

That’s how one small scene turns into a full narrative thread with discovery, choices, consequences, and optional kindness.

It was supposed to take a few hours. Instead, it took three days.

And I regret nothing.

Schedule for May, 2025

If you haven't checked out my latest newsletter, it is now open to every member.

5/3 -- Outbreak scenario poll (Free tier)

5/4 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 7. ($3+ tiers)

5/6 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

5/9 -- Game updates (Free tier)

5/12 -- Content Sneak Peek ($1+ tiers)

5/15 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 8. ($3+ tiers)

5/17 -- Content poll (free tier)

5/18 -- Character or Content Poll ($10+ tiers)

5/20 -- Newsletter. ($1+ tiers)

5/22 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

5/25 --  Monthly Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4 Alpha Test ($5+ tiers)

5/29 -- New Original Story. ($10+ tiers)

For those of you at the Creator level for 6 months or more, please refer to this post about your tier reward.

Discord: Remember to join my Discord and get your special patron role if you're a member.

ZE Outbreak Novel, Chapter 2

continued from chapter 1

Sunday, May 6, 2012

I woke up at 6 AM that Sunday, way earlier than my usual weekend routine. First thing I did was flip on the news.

"...with the latest on the Zeta virus outbreak in Japan. According to government officials, the situation is under control. The infection, while serious, appears to be contained within the quarantined zones. Japanese authorities have assured the international community that closing borders is a precautionary measure. Experts from the World Health Organization are currently assessing the situation on the ground."

I dragged myself out of bed, scrubbing sleep from my eyes as I stumbled to the kitchen.

"In other news, the economic impact of this crisis is already being felt globally. The Dow Jones Industrial Average plunged nearly eight hundred points at last night's close, marking one of the sharpest declines in recent history. Investors are reacting to the uncertainty surrounding the outbreak, with many fearing a global economic downturn..."

Words like containment and control felt hollow. Classic playbook to keep everyone calm while everything falls apart. I could hear panic in the newscaster's voice that she was trying to hide.

I fell back on my military habits: plain oatmeal, an apple, black coffee. Some routines you never shake, and right then, I needed that familiarity. Checking my email over breakfast, I found a message from Dr. Cohen sitting at the top of my inbox.

Sam,

I hope this message finds you well. I've always admired your dedication and level-headedness. I'm writing to you as your supervisor and someone who genuinely cares about your well-being.

The situation with the Zeta virus is escalating far more rapidly than the public is being led to believe. I urge you to take every precaution for your safety. Consider leaving the city, perhaps somewhere less populated. The data we're seeing is alarming. This isn't just another health scare. It's a world-altering catastrophe in the making.

Please take this seriously.

Stay safe,
Arthur

Not gonna lie—this freaked me out. He signed it, Arthur. All I could do was stare at name as my knees started to bounce under the table.

Over the last year, he had never signed a single email this way. Always A.C., his initials. It seemed like a small, insignificant change, but it meant something. This was real. I was on the fence before, but this email was a hard push.

Another email was from Jefferson University.

Dear Faculty and Staff,

As you are undoubtedly aware, there has been widespread media coverage regarding the Zeta virus outbreak in Japan. While the situation is concerning, it is essential to note that, according to leading health experts and our current understanding, the virus's impact remains localized and is effectively managed by Japanese authorities. We advise everyone to stay informed and maintain a perspective based on facts, not speculation.

In response to this evolving situation, Jefferson University is in continuous communication with the World Health Organization and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. We aim to remain fully informed about the developments in Japan and Asia. We are committed to following any guidelines and taking all necessary precautions as recommended by these organizations and the U.S. government. To further our understanding and preparedness, I have formed a panel of experts from our university to discuss and analyze the impacts of the Zeta virus. This panel will provide insights and recommendations on how we, as an academic community, can best navigate these challenging times.

As such, we expect all faculty and staff to report to work on Monday. It is essential that we continue our commitment to the mission of Jefferson University, especially in times that test our resilience and adaptability.

Sincerely,

Dr. Elaine Whitmore, PhD

President, Jefferson University

Dean of the School of Public Health

Translation: Keep showing up until the wheels fall off. I'd seen enough bureaucratic damage control in the military to read between these lines. They were forming panels while Dr. Cohen was telling me to get out of the city. Something wasn't adding up.

I sat at my kitchen table, pushing around the last of my oatmeal while the two emails churned in my head. Dr. Cohen telling me to run versus Jefferson telling me everything was fine. The military had taught me to trust my gut, and right now, my gut was screaming to grab my go bag, drive over to grab Gabriel, and get the hell out of Philadelphia.

But how could I do that? Would Gabriel’s adopted parents let me take him? And what if Jefferson was right, and the virus was contained. What if Dr. Cohen was having some kind of mental breakdown, making him think this virus was more than a simple infection? Lots of questions needed answers.

An hour later, I had made my decision. If things went sideways, I needed to be ready to bail. Maybe within days. I went through my apartment like I was prepping for deployment, beginning with my go bag. Old habits from the Army die hard. I'd kept one half-packed since getting out.

I spread everything out on my living room floor, laying it out like a gear inspection. I started loading it up: canned beans, tuna, trail mix, protein bars—stuff that would keep me going if things went bad. Water was priority one, so I packed several bottles and my filtration system from my camping gear. The first-aid kit was basic but solid: bandages, antiseptic wipes, painkillers. In went my LED flashlight, spare batteries, multi-tool, and that emergency blanket I'd never needed but always carried.

The pack was getting heavy, but I'd learned the hard way. Better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.

Keep in mind that I wasn't some super soldier. No special forces training, no secret agent skills. Just a guy who'd learned some basics and analyzed data for the military. Everyone thinks military service means you're automatically prepared for the apocalypse, but that's Hollywood talking. Real life isn't a movie where the ex-soldier turns into Jason Bourne the moment things go bad.

I stared at my shaking hands as I zipped up the bag. Yeah, I knew more than most people about survival, about weapons, about staying alive in bad situations. But a full-scale outbreak? Keeping Gabriel safe when the world goes to hell? That was different. I had faith in myself, sure, but faith doesn't stop your hands from shaking when you realize you might be responsible for whether your little brother lives or dies.

I pulled my Glock 17 from its lockbox next. It was nothing fancy, but it was reliable and practical. I'd thought about getting a shotgun when I first moved in, but these walls were paper-thin. One blast and I might take out Ms. Klein next door, or worse, her cat, Shadow. The cat was probably the only thing about that apartment I actually liked. The Glock made more sense anyway. I gave it a quick once-over, making sure everything was clean and working right, then packed it with a box of 9mm rounds, cleaning kit, and holster.

But a handgun wouldn't cut it if things really went south. I needed to see Jack O'Connor at Liberty Arms. I'd been hitting his range for years, and if anyone in Philly knew their weapons, it was Jack. Former Marine, ran his shop like he was still in the Corps. Everything was organized. Everything was legal and by the book. He'd know exactly what I needed for whatever was coming.

First though, I had to make the call I'd been dreading. Connor, Gabriel's adoptive father. Mr. Big Shot Attorney would probably be busy, but this couldn't wait. I pulled out my phone and stared at his number for a good minute before hitting dial.

The call went straight to voicemail. I took a breath before speaking. "Connor, it's Sam. Look, we need to talk about Gabriel. It's extremely important. I need you to get back to me today as soon as possible. Please, it's urgent." I hung up, feeling my stomach twist into knots.

I was grabbing my keys to head out when my phone rang. Connor's name lit up the screen.

"Sam, I'm at church. I stepped away at the earliest chance. What's wrong?" He always sounded impatient when he spoke with me.

"Connor, have you heard about the virus outbreak in Japan?"

"Yes, I've heard some bits and pieces, but what does this have to do with Gabriel?"

"It's about to hit America. And when it does, things could escalate quickly. We need to be prepared."

"That's an extreme overreaction." His voice rose. "You pulled me out of church for this?"

"I'm serious, Connor. This virus isn’t like anything we've dealt with before. I'm wondering if I should get Gabriel out of the city."

I heard footsteps on his end. When he spoke again, his voice was a controlled whisper of anger. "What the hell is going on with you? You sound like you're on drugs or having some kind of mental breakdown. Whatever is going on with you, leave my family out of it. I don't want you talking to Gabriel about this. You're only going to scare him."

Things had been tense with Connor since I got back from the military. When I was deployed, he'd been fine. Birthday calls and holiday cards didn't threaten him. But something changed when I moved back to Philly. It wasn't that he felt threatened by me. I knew better than that. It was something else I couldn't put my finger on.

"He’s my brother. If I need to talk to him, I will."

He exhaled hard into the phone. "I'm asking you to stay away, Sam," he said, his voice unusually low, almost at the level of serial killer. "If I have to take things further, I will."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It's not worth discussing right now. You can't fill his head with things that will make him stress out and worry. If you love your brother, consider the effect you have on him."

That hit home. Gabriel had struggled with anxiety since Mom died: depression, panic attacks, the works. Maybe Connor had a point. Was I about to throw his whole world into chaos? But the clock was ticking. How could I not try to protect him from what was coming?

Connor cleared his throat. "I need to get back inside. We'll talk again later today, but leave Gabriel alone." The line went dead.

I stood there with my phone, feeling completely useless. The conversation had gone even worse than I'd expected. Not only had he dismissed my concerns about the virus, he had threatened me.. But I couldn't let him stop me. I would take down a thousand Connors to save Gabriel. His life might depend on what I did next. I couldn't second-guess myself now, not with everything at stake.

# #

I left my apartment and headed for Brewerytown, trading the familiar streets of Center City for grittier territory. Two bus rides gave me plenty of time to watch Philadelphia roll by, each neighborhood telling its own story. The gap between rich and poor felt sharper today, like everything else.

Something was off about the city's rhythm. People were going through the motions of their Sunday routines, but there was this underlying current and tension that nobody wanted to name. Maybe they'd seen the same news I had, or maybe they just felt it in the air.

Brewerytown wasn't trying to be Center City. It had an equal mix of rundown houses with new developments. Gentrification was the name of the game. You could stand on any street and find a drug house on one side and a half-a-million-dollar flip on the other.

Liberty Arms fit right. I'd spent enough hours at the range out back to consider it a second home. The display windows showed off their usual array of firearms and gear, but today they looked less like merchandise and more like necessities. I pushed through the door, setting off the bell overhead. The place was packed for a Sunday with maybe a dozen people milling around.

Emily and Rahim were working the floor. Jack's daughter had her mom's looks and her dad's no-bullshit attitude. Rahim knew his stuff too. That guy could break down any weapon blindfolded and put it back together just as fast. They were both tied up with customers, moving between questions about ammo and concealed carry permits.

"Good to see you!" Jack said from behind the counter. Arthritic hands slid across the glass. Even with those twisted digits, I wouldn’t doubt him in a gunfight. Besides that, he was like a role model to me. I had barely known my father, and if I had to choose anyone else, it would be the man who stood before me behind the counter.

"Seems like you're swamped today."

"Word about that infection thing has people thinking about protection. When things are normal in the world, business is good. When things are bad in the world, business is great." His eyes swept across the shop. "What brings you in? Looking for something specific?"

"Yeah, I need to add to my home defense. Thinking about a shotgun, a rifle, a few other things." I kept my voice low enough to sink into the general buzz of anxious customers.

"I understand. Let's see what we have for you."

He led me toward the back of the shop. The back room hit me with that familiar smell of gun oil. Metal cabinets lined up against the walls, stuffed with enough parts to build an armory. The massive workbench looked like an autopsy table for firearms, with gutted weapons spread out. Old photos of vintage guns stared down from the walls.

"Take a seat." He gestured toward chairs, and he closed the door behind us. I felt my leg bouncing as I sat.

Jack sat on a folding chair and pressed his fingers together under his chin. The guy was Philly Irish to his bones. He was built like a brick row house with just as much history. Salt-and-pepper hair topped a face that had seen enough shit to fill a manual. Even in his everyday plaid shirt and work pants, he moved like every step was tactical.

"So what's this all about?" he asked, and I could tell by his tone this wasn't going to be your typical Sunday sales pitch.

"Like I said, home defense." We both knew I was lying. You couldn't bullshit Jack. Part of his DNA was reading people. He gave me that look that made me feel about ten years old.

I sighed. "Like everyone else, I'm worried about this virus. I want to make sure I'm prepared for whatever happens. I want to protect myself and my brother if things get bad."

Jack leaned against the workbench, folding his arms over his chest. "Every so often, something big happens that shakes everyone up. Pandemics, wars, you name it." His eyes went distant. "I remember back in '91, during the Gulf War, folks were panicking, thinking it'd lead to something bigger. Everyone wanted a bunker full of guns. And it wasn't just wars. Take Y2K, for example. The turn of the millennium. People were convinced computers would crash, banks would fail, society would collapse. They were coming in here, buying up everything they could to prepare for the worst. It was fear, plain and simple, driving them."

He focused back on me. "What I'm saying is that fear can make people do all sorts of things. It's not about the event itself, but how people react to it. The Gulf War, Y2K, now this virus...each time, it's fear of the unknown, the what-ifs. That's what drives people through my door."

He chuckled. "I love making a sale, but I don't wanna take your money based on fear. These things, they blow over."

"I appreciate that, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Even if this virus situation calms down, I'd still use the guns. Maybe even head to the range with you."

He smiled. "Now that's a plan I can get behind. I've got a range set up in the Poconos, near a cabin I own. How about we make a weekend of it? A bit of shooting, some hunting. It'll do you good."

The offer felt like a lifeline back to normal. A weekend away from the growing tension, focusing on targets and fresh air. "Sounds like a great idea. We should schedule that. Now let me buy some of those guns."

Jack led me into what I'd come to think of as the vault, a room where the real inventory lived. Each weapon had its place like books in a library.

He started with a shotgun, a Remington 870. Some weapons just feel right, like they were built for the spaces between thoughts and actions. The AR-556 came next, and it was lighter than I expected.

"These are solid choices," Jack said, moving to the handgun section. He showed me a Glock 19, but I had its big brother at home. Then he brought out a Sig Sauer P226. Now that was interesting. The balance was perfect, like a natural extension of my arm.

Catching my lukewarm response to the Glock, Jack's eyes lit up. "Hold on," he said, disappearing behind the counter. He returned with a Smith & Wesson .357 Magnum revolver. "Sometimes simpler is better."

He was right. The revolver had a perfect weight to it, with six rounds of pure reliability. I decided on the Sig and the Smith & Wesson.

I caught myself getting excited about the purchases and had to laugh. Here I was, geeking out over firearms like some gun nut in a survival blog. But with the world starting to feel like a powder keg, I figured being over-prepared beat the alternative.

Jack walked me through the ammunition choices with the patience of a professor. My military background meant I knew most of it, but I let him talk, partly out of respect, partly because he occasionally dropped gems of knowledge I hadn't considered. Besides, I was into gun porn.

"Buckshot for the real deal, birdshot for practice," he said. When he got to the hollow points, I just nodded. There was no need to mention anything about these, since I'd seen firsthand what they could do.

He threw a flashlight mount for the shotgun and a laser sight for the handguns. I almost declined the laser sight, old habits dying hard, but Jack made sense: "At night, with adrenaline pumping? Better to have it and not need it."

When he rang it all up, he hit me with his friends-and-family discount and threw in enough ammo to make me wonder if he was running a charity. The final damage was just under $2,500. I tried not to think about how many months of coffee and takeout I'd just burned through. If the world didn't end up going to hell, my accountant was going to have some questions about my "emergency preparedness" spending.

# #

I was arranging my new hardware in a metal box in my closet when my phone rang. Amber. We'd barely progressed beyond texts and those awkward hallway moments where we both tried to decide who goes first.

"Hey, sorry...I hope I'm not bothering you, but I really needed to talk to someone." She was trying to sound casual but had a tiny shake in her voice.

"It's fine. What's going on? Is everything okay?"

"It's getting scary here. We have workers from all over Asia, even some from Japan directly. They're getting calls and messages from their families..." Her voice cracked slightly. "The virus is way worse than what's being reported. Their relatives are saying entire neighborhoods are being quarantined. And we're all stuck here together, in these tight spaces, and I keep thinking...what if someone's already infected? What if they're not telling anyone because they're scared of being quarantined? We can't exactly go anywhere, and everyone's talking about it, all the time, and I just..." She trailed off, her breathing quick and shallow.

"It's going to be okay. I'm glad you called me. When are you docking in New Jersey?"

"Another day at least. Cape Liberty on Tuesday. A friend's picking me up."

"Listen, you're safe on the ship while it's at sea. The virus can't reach you there." My voice shifted automatically into what my brother called my 'big brother mode.' "Trust me, if anyone was infected, you would know it. There's literally no way for that virus to reach you. Being at sea is probably the safest place right now."

I heard her exhale slowly. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

"Of course. Keep in touch, and I'll help you figure out your next steps once you're back." I hesitated, then added, "I'm here if you need me."

She didn’t speak for a few moments. “Still there?”

"Yeah. Thanks. And Sam…can we talk until I fall asleep? It would really help."

"Of course."

I settled into my reading chair by the window. Below, a squirrel was engineering its latest high-rise in the lone spruce tree, right outside my window.

"Do you have a favorite book?" she asked, her voice sounding softer.

"Ever read 'The Count of Monte Cristo'?"

"No, I haven't. Don't judge me." She let out a sleepy laugh.

I pulled the book off my shelf and began the story, keeping my voice low and steady. "'On the 24th of February, 1815, the lookout at Notre-Dame de la Garde signaled the arrival of the three-master Pharaon, coming from Smyrna, Trieste and Naples...' " As I read Dumas' familiar words, I heard her breathing slow and deepen. "'The ship drew on toward the port with skillful seamanship, and in a few minutes the hundred and fifty or two hundred ships that lay there had their perfect view blocked by this new arrival...'"

It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep, and I kept talking long after that, spinning out Dumas's tale of revenge and redemption into the quiet night. Finally, I ended the call and leaned back, eyes closed, wondering if Dantès had felt this protective of Mercedes before everything went wrong.

continue to chapter 3

Monica from Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven

Slender and fit, light brown skin and dark hair. Dressed in a halter top and matching brown pants.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven Artwork poll

My artist is ready again to create another character portrait for Safe Haven. Which character would you like to see next?

Games by JimD Newsletter – Game Updates, New Schedule

Welcome to my 90th newsletter! Happy holidays to everyone celebrating.

It has been a busy but productive month. I am inching closer to finishing ZE:SH, Part 4 and think we have a month or two before I hand in the files to Hosted Games. I don’t know their backlog for editing and production, so I’m hoping it will still be released this year.

In other news, I am going to work on Part 4-2 after I hand in those files. However, I’m going to turn back to working on Stronghold, since I only need a few months to finish it. So, it looks like:

• Hand in Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4

• Finish Zombie Exodus: Stronghold

• Work on Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4-2

• Finish Deadbury Academy, Episode 1

• Start on Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 5

That is my tentative plan.

In this newsletter, I will review my development plans, as always.

Let's get started.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4

Part 4 is 824,000 words, with over 36,000 words added this month!

This month, I again worked on the scene that will bridge the gap between chapters. However, I am finishing it up with a very long and detailed report by Rachel that comes between each chapter. This will tell you exactly how the group and junkyard are progressing.

I also started back up on chapter 17. I am finishing up the movie theater scene and will write one more in which the MC and Rachel are scavenging a hardware store. After that scene, I will write the ending to Part 4. My hope is to finish by mid-May and then begin editing and adding other content that has been requested.

Part 4-2

This part will include quite a few additions to the game and will be entirely free. When I say free, it means that those who have already paid for any part will see new content. Of course, if you purchased all four parts by then, you would see the most content.

Here are the things you can expect to see:

• Implementing age from the start of character creation, which will affect who you can romance.

• Continuing the soldier mission where you are contacted by the New Army and the Vanguards.

• Continuing the hacker mission where you are contacted by Julianne.

• Continuing the teenager mission after the point where you discover that your parents are alive.

• Additional missions that can be completed between chapters.

I expect Part 4-2 to be at least 200,000 new words of content and take roughly 6 months of time to write.

Zombie Exodus: Stronghold

Stronghold is up to 150,000 words so far. If you are interested in testing each new chapter, please check out the link below:

https://cogdemos.ink/play/jimd/zombie-exodus-stronghold-public-beta/mygame/

Deadbury Academy

Deadbury Academy was updated a few months ago, and I posted a new demo at the following location.

https://cogdemos.ink/play/jimd/deadbury-academy/mygame/

As you may remember, I put the development of this game on hold until I finish writing Safe Haven, Part 4.

That's all for this month.

Zombie Exodus Part 4 Content Poll

In chapter 17, the MC and Rachel are searching New Breck (formerly Breckenridge) in Colorado. One of the locations to search is an abandoned hardware store. The MC can certainly search the store but I'd like to make something unique either happened or be found in the store.

Which of the following would you like to see in the store?

Zombies Tangled in Chains - A few infected are suspended by the ceiling-mounted chain hoists used for lifting heavy machinery. They're still animated, twisting and snapping midair.

Homemade Booby Traps - The hardware store was previously rigged by survivors who never returned. Fishing line, tripwires, and swinging tool traps now wait in shadows.

Animal Nest in the Tool Aisle - A mountain lion has taken up residence in the power tool section. It's aggressive, hungry, and unafraid of humans.

Unusual Infection Specimen - Locked in a cage in the back is a dismembered zombie torso, alive but unable to move. Someone had been studying it. Notes and tools surround the zombie.

Zombies Fused to the Floor - Inside the paint section, several zombies appear frozen in place, until they move. Their feet and legs are hardened by a thick layer of spilled industrial epoxy.

Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven Part 4 Content poll

I’m deep into Chapter 17 now, and the outbreak has lasted about four and a half months in-game. So far, the infected have been mostly slow-moving. Think "The Walking Dead" or "Return of the Living Dead", but we’re reaching the point where things could evolve.

What kind of zombies would you like to see as the story progresses?

MC POV - Interactive Story - 6

Continued from scene 5

You and Jessica wait in silence for the next forty-five minutes. Outside, a few infected shuffle past, drawn by the earlier gunshot. Their groans fade as they wander away, leaving the street quiet once more.​

Jessica stands by the window, watching the street. She turns to you, stifling a yawn.​ “I’m coming with you,” she says. “Seems like the safest place right now is right next to you.”​

You both gather your gear, preparing to venture out.​

In the Lakeview neighborhood of New Orleans, several nearby locations could be of interest:

Residential Homes: Lakeview is known for its single-family homes, many of which have been rebuilt or renovated since Hurricane Katrina. These homes often have garages, sheds, or other storage areas that could contain useful supplies.​

Harrison Avenue: This main thoroughfare is lined with local businesses, including:​

• Celtica Bakery: A Parisian-inspired café known for its pastries and coffee. ​

• Junior’s on Harrison: A local favorite restaurant serving a variety of dishes. ​

• Lakeview Grocery: A neighborhood grocery store.​

Continue to scene 7

Writing Updates

Hey everyone! I’m still deep in the trenches of Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven – Part 4, and wanted to give you a peek behind the scenes of what I’ve been working on lately.

Safe Haven: Part 4 Progress

Right now, I’m writing a major scene that connects several chapters. It’s one of the most complex sections of the game so far and really highlights how detailed your choices can get.

This month, I’ve been focused on Rachel’s report, which dives into how your group is doing and the current state of the junkyard. There’s a ton of new stuff you can build, and just this section alone has hit over 10,000 words so far.

Once that’s wrapped, I’ll move on to Chapter 17 and finish the following storylines:

• Hacker

• Soldier

• Teenager

Cliffhanger? Not This Time

Don’t worry, Part 4 won’t end on a cliffhanger. You’ll get clear info on a major event that kicks off Part 5. It’s more of a buildup than a “cut-to-black” moment. You’ll have time to think through how your group wants to handle what’s coming next.

Part 4.2 – Free Update!

After I submit Part 4 to my editor, I’ll be releasing a free update packed with features that many of you have requested. Think of it as Part 4.2, a way to enhance the early game with more depth and variety. Here’s some of what’s planned:

• Age tracking for your character

• Random encounters

• Reuniting with characters from the prologue

• Plus a bunch of other wishlist content

I’m able to offer free updates because of the awesome support from people who’ve bought the game and especially from patrons. While I earn the most when paid parts drop, adding free content helps me tell the full story the way it deserves to be told.

Questions?

If any of you have questions about Part 4 or beyond, please let me know. I’m happy to answer them.

ZE: Safe Haven, Part 4 Sneak Peek

For the past few days, I have been coding the new report in Part 4 that Rachel gives about the progress of the group and junkyard. It's a lot to write, and below are some excerpts as a sneak peak.

---

Once the dock at the lake is completed:

The dock stretches a good fifteen feet out into Sapphire Lake, built low and wide with weathered planks that creak underfoot but hold steady. It's simple and provides a place to tie boats, fish, wash up, or sit with your feet in the water when things feel a little too heavy. The view from the end is stunning, especially at dusk.

Fred took care of the anchoring, digging into the shoreline to set the support posts and making sure the whole thing wouldn’t drift off the first time someone stepped too hard.

Gina oversaw the layout and reinforced the platform with crossbeams. She kept the build moving at a clipped pace and refused to cut corners, even when we were running low on nails.

Woody calculated the waterline depth and adjusted the slope of the dock to avoid seasonal flooding. He also carved small notches into the railing to measure water levels day by day.

---

Once the goat pen is completed:

The goat pen went up alongside the garage, close enough to watch but far enough not to smell from the main path. It’s boxed in with reinforced fencing, scrap wood, and a gate that actually latches. There’s a lean-to shelter made from corrugated metal and tarps, and a feeding trough cobbled together from an old gutter. The goats seem content enough, and more importantly, they haven’t escaped. Yet.

Billie drove most of the fence posts herself and reinforced the gate with scavenged bike chain. She claimed it was “chaos-proof,” then dared the goats to test it.

Gina designed the pen layout for both durability and ease of cleaning. She also welded a hinge bracket out of a broken car jack and said, “If it holds up a hatchback, it’ll hold a goat.”

Woody built the feeding trough and added a drainage slope to the pen floor. He explained it was based on old European hillside livestock practices and then tested it himself by dumping half a bucket of water across it.

MC POV - Interactive Story - 5

Continued from scene 4

You climb the stairs two at a time, the weight of the AR-15 solid in your hands. At the top, you turn into the front bedroom, cross to the window, and unlock it with a twist. The frame groans slightly as you slide it up.

Outside, the infected man still leans against the front door. His head lifts slowly, jaw slack, neck crooked at a strange angle. Sunlight catches the blood crusted across his face.

You raise the rifle, shouldering it, your finger sliding into place. With a squeeze of your finger, the shot tears through the air. The infected’s skull snaps back, a burst of dark fluid misting the porch column behind him. His knees buckle, and he collapses without a sound.

You shut the window fast and head downstairs.

Jessica stands by the front window now, one hand against the glass, the other resting on the frame. She looks over as you step off the last stair.

“Good shot,” she says, nodding once. Then her mouth tightens, and she jerks her chin toward the street. “But we got a problem. A few more infected headed this way. They probably heard that shot.”

She turns to face you fully. “What do you think—get outta here or barricade this place?”

Continue to scene 6

Outbreak Scenario 21

One month into the zombie apocalypse, you stumble upon an abandoned hospital while scavenging for supplies. As you move through the corridors, your flashlight reveals scattered medical equipment and overturned furniture. Upon reaching the pharmacy, you accidentally trigger a loud alarm. Instantly, the shrill sound pierces the silence, and within minutes, groans of approaching zombies echo through the halls.

As you contemplate your next move, you discover a small group of survivors barricaded in the maternity ward. They are nurses and a few injured patients who have been surviving off the hospital's remaining resources but are now dangerously low on supplies and visibly terrified by the zombie horde attracted by the alarm.

What do you do?

Schedule for April, 2025

If you haven't checked out my latest newsletter, it is now open to every member.

4/3 -- Outbreak scenario poll (Free tier)

4/4 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 5. ($3+ tiers)

4/6 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

4/9 -- Game updates (Free tier)

4/12 -- Content Sneak Peek ($1+ tiers)

4/15 -- Zombie Exodus: Side Stories (MC POV) scene 6. ($3+ tiers)

4/17 -- Content poll (free tier)

4/18 -- Character or Content Poll ($10+ tiers)

4/20 -- Newsletter. ($1+ tiers)

4/22 -- Content Sneak Peek ($3+ tiers)

4/25 --  Monthly Zombie Exodus: Safe Haven, Part 4 Alpha Test ($5+ tiers)

4/28 -- New Original Story. ($10+ tiers)

For those of you at the Creator level for 6 months or more, please refer to this post about your tier reward.

Discord: Remember to join my Discord and get your special patron role if you're a member.