“The needs of the many outweigh [the needs of the few], or the one.”
Spock [Admiral Kirk], Star Trek: The Wrath of Khan
From about 100 yards away, I shot him in the face. I killed my friend, and he asked me to do it. DayZ presented me with a scenario I’ve never played nor seen, in any other game. DayZ, once again, made me wonder if I could respond with the same murdering empathy that I demonstrated in game, in reality. Could I shoot a near and dear friend in the face when asked? Could I put Old Yeller out to pasture? What DayZ made clear to me that day was the answer was yes; but only because he was infected with a zombie virus whose cure was as likely to be found as the Holy Grail.
Tim (the above murdered survivalist) has started to acquire the role of the reluctant martyr within DayZ’s island of Chernarus. Multiple times he has fallen from a PvP (player versus player) encounter, zombie swarm and now, the zombie infection itself. Regularly dying is something any survivalist or bandit within DayZ can relate to. The differences with Tim’s deaths are they usually benefit the others. For when Tim dies, it’s habitually right before his friends scavenge his remains. Tim doesn’t die needlessly, for when his blood spurts to zero, he dies well equipped-and he makes sure you are close by before he does so.
Tim’s most significant death happened after he was infected (a random occurrence in DayZ; caused by either direct contact with zombies or a low body temperature brought on by the elements) with the zombie strain that persists in DayZ. After a desperate attempt to find the cure (antibiotics) at Berezino’s hospital, all hope was lost. Instead of taking every last zombie with him to the grave, he opted to sacrifice himself for a friend.
Thanks to a recent patch my character had spawned in weaponless, without a backpack, and with little hope. Thankfully Tim’s near dead body was nigh, and it had one more trip to make before embracing the end. We met on a hill, and due to Tim’s infection his gifting of goods was done at a distance, so as to keep my character from being infected-a distant goodbye to a close friend.
Not wanting the zombie infection to take him, and become a shell of his former self, he asked me to do him one last deed in return for his. From a distance I raised my AK-47’s optical sight appreciating the irony that it had, moments before, belonged to the character I was now lining up for a headshot. Kneeling and looking down range I peered into his character’s black tinted aviator sunglasses which now, more resembled the sad eyes of trusted family dog. I pulled the trigger twice, and his body fell. Then Tim respawned, and our online adventures continued.