Welcome home...

As the alarm clock's piercing beep sliced through the heavy silence of his dimly lit dorm room, a young college student, let's call him Markus, reluctantly acknowledged the beginning of yet another grueling day. With a profound sense of weariness and desolation, he lay in bed, cocooned in his comforter, dreading the monotony that awaited him. The weight of his thoughts was an anchor, dragging him further into a sea of despair.

With great effort, Markus forced himself to sit up. The room, adorned with remnants of late-night study sessions and the faint aroma of cheap microwaved TV dinners, felt like a prison he couldn't escape. He wearily dragged himself to the edge of the bed, his limbs heavy as if encased in concrete. Each movement was a Herculean task, a reminder of the immense struggle that had become the norm of his daily existence.

Shuffling to the bathroom, Markus stared at his reflection in the mirror, scratching his unkempt scraggly beard. His eyes, once full of life and curiosity, now carried the heavy burden of sadness. The world felt colorless, and even his own reflection seemed like a stranger. His morning routine, once a simple act of self-care, had transformed into a battleground of despair, where the idea of taking care of himself was a daunting and seemingly insurmountable challenge.

After a lackluster attempt at personal grooming, which ended up as little more than washing his face and brushing his teeth. Markus reluctantly trudged to the kitchen, where his breakfast consisted of the dregs from a half-eaten box of off-brand cereal and half a lukewarm coffee his roommate had left abandoned on the counter. Every bite was tasteless, and every sip was a reminder of his inability to find joy in even the simplest pleasures. The routine of eating had become a chore, devoid of any satisfaction. As such he never tried to do more than satisfy his base requirements, some days he couldn't even do that.

With a heavy heart, Markus donned what he considered his college uniform – a brand new black hoodie with the image of a Landsknecht captain, clad in flamboyant and intricately patterned Renaissance-era attire, a wide plumed hat, a slashed doublet, and a flamboyant cape while brandishing a finely crafted and ornate flamberge, exuding an aura of authority on the front. It had been a gift from his brother who knew he liked the famously flamboyant mercenaries of sixteenth century Germany. With a strangely content sigh he pulls on a ratty pair of stained blue jeans that were more like a security blanket to him than anything resembling clothing. Each piece of fabric clung to him like a reminder of the emotional mask he wore every day. As he left his dorm room, he stepped into the harsh reality of college life, a world where the weight of his thoughts threatened to consume him entirely. His morning routine was like a silent cry for help, a struggle against the darkness that seemed to deepen with each passing day.

The sky above was a monotonous gray, an extension of the turmoil in his mind, and the sun, though it may have been shining, remained obscured by a thick shroud of hopelessly thick clouds. The vibrant hues of autumn leaves, once a source of joy, had faded into a dull, lifeless tapestry. Even the chirping of birds, which once serenaded his walks, now seemed a distant, mocking reminder of a world that he felt increasingly disconnected from.

The campus, once a bustling hub of activity, appeared as a cold and unwelcoming place. Students moved about, but their laughter and conversations became a distant hum, as if Markus were viewing them through a thick, soundproof glass. The buildings, which had once seemed full of potential and opportunity, now loomed as imposing structures, same as the academic challenges he could no longer muster the energy to face.

The monotonous walk was interrupted by a soft laidback voice coming from behind Markus. "Man, you look like shit, couldn't sleep again last night?" The man speaking had a slight Jamaican accent. Turning his head and feigning a smile Markus greeted him "Oh... Hi Damian, yeah I just kept waking up every five minutes." The man, Damian lets out a sigh "You keep at it like this, you'll end up in an early grave. Here, the vending machine gave me two by mistake, you can have it" Damian says while holding out a can of some cheap energy drink that Markus knew he always bought each morning. Truthfully the vending machine hadn't given Damian two drinks, he just knew that Markus needed it much more than he did. "Oh... you didn't have to give it to me. You should save it for tomorrow..." Markus takes the can with a weak grasp before it was pushed to his chest by Damian's hand "I said you can have it, so it's yours. Now come on, we're about to be late for class and you know how much of a hard ass the professor is." After a few seconds of thinking Markus shrugs and cracks open the can, chugging down the foul chemical tasting liquid inside. Hopefully this will give him enough energy to at least get through his economics class....

Looking up to the sky he lets out a sigh of relief, the clouds were slowly retreating. "Man look!" Damian suddenly says while grabbing onto Markus and shaking him while pointing to the sky "What, I don't see anything" Markus replies in frustration. "Could've sworn I saw something in the sky, like a status window from a game. It said Monsters loading" Markus lets out a frustrated sigh before shaking his head "Damian, I think you need to stop playing so many video games before you go to bed." He says in an exhausted voice before heading to class

An hour later Markus was desperately trying not to fall asleep in his economics class, "In 1930, the Republican-controlled House of Representatives, in an effort to alleviate the effects of the... Anyone? Anyone?..." The bland drab voice of his professor was like a fly buzzing just out of reach. "The Great Depression, passed the... Anyone? Anyone?... The tariff bill? The Hawley-Smoot Tariff Act? Which, anyone? Raised or lowered?... raised tariffs, in an effort to collect more revenue for the federal government." 

As Markus was just standing up to stretch his back, a strange glassy pane appeared in front of his eyes. Markus felt his breath hitch as he read the words upon it

[Welcome User. Please choose the class which you believe will give you the greatest chance of survival in the apocalypse] 

With wide eyes Markus glances to the woman beside him, a similar glowing pane was hovering in front of her eyes as well. It likely said the same thing, before anyone could react all the lights in the room went dim and thousands of what seemed to be playing cards started to swirl around each person. Each card bore only a picture and a number of stars upon the front. Upon the back was a plain black design. 

"What the fuck is going on?!" "I-I don't know!" "Nobody touch anything!" "Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck!!!" All across the classroom panic started to spread, the sheer absurdity of the situation would be cosmetical if not for the strange magic show the college kids were subjected to against their will. 

[30]

The text in the box had changed, and it quickly started to tick down even further. Clearly it was counting out something, was it how much time they had left? Was it how many people still had a chance to choose? Nobody knew, and the slightest hint of danger was enough to spur one man into action. Markus knew this man well, Zeke was his name. He reached out a hand and snatched a card from the air, with a flash and a shower of sparkling motes of light, a crude hand axe materialized in the air before clattering to his feet. "Dude this is seriously freaking me out" Zeke sputters out as he picks up the axe

[15]

Their remaining count was halved, and Markus knew he had to make a decision. Looking at the cards circling around his body he saw many different designs. A footman with a short sword and shield, one star at the bottom of the card. A man clad in a chainmail shirt and holding a massive axe, three stars at the bottom of the card. He was about to reach for that one, but then it vanished in a flash of light.

[10]

With a deep breath Markus makes his choice, reaching out he grasps a card. On its face is a flamboyantly dressed man with an impressive beard, he's dressed in a slashed doublet and a feathered hat. Propped up on his shoulder is a zweihander, above his head there are five golden stars in an arch. Markus felt his blood run cold in his veins as he broke out into a cold sweat watching the numbers tick down further. Unlike what happened with Zeke, nothing dropped in front of Markus

[3]

[2]

[1]

[Thank you for participating in the game, I wish you all good luck in surviving the coming apocalypse.]