[Crusty Old Grand-Papa shambles up to a podium made of smashed barricades alongside the bronze statue of Petrosjko outside of Moggridge Place Police Department, birthplace of the Ridleybank Resistance Front. He is wearing an ugly, torn, ill-fitted tuxedo from the 1970’s that seems to be missing its pants.]
The Ridleybank Resistance Front is a true horde of zombies. It is greater than any one individual. Thousands of undead souls have passed through her ranks since its formation over three years ago. Only the smallest handful of zetheren are still around from the time that our horde originated. However, the current horde is trodding down the path started by others so long ago. Despite the fact that we as a whole are larger than any one individual, your War Council has decided to formally recognize retired figures in the horde’s history as both an appreciation for what they created for us and as a way to teach you damn young whippersnappers about how it was back in the day [/takes a slug out of a Bourbon bottle that leaks through a decayed mouth and throat]. Oh, sorry about that outburst. Therefore, in the decayed, ruined and beautifully unbarricaded lobby of Moggridge Place PD we are proud to open the Ridleybank Hall of Legends.
Today is the induction of our initial class into the Hall. We are inducting two figures whose accomplishments in both the founding of the horde and the leadership of our horde make them somewhat obvious choices. However, none of you damn kids who keep throwing shit on my lawn know jack squat about them!!!! [/takes another swig] Sorry about that. I have to remind myself to behave during formal occasions. Anyway, without further adieu, I present the following legends.
Petrosjko
In many ways I can’t do Petro justice. I never knew the guy, I only got to play with his Porsche for a while. As the founder of our horde, and our original and greatest Papa, he has already been honored at this very spot with this lovely statue standing next to me. [/notices some damned harman graffiti, pours some bourbon on it and wipes with the tattered sleeve of the tuxedo]
While he no longer graces us with his presence, the most enduring monument to him is the fact that horde he created still exists, is still the largest group in the game, and still has more fun playing than any other group. While his list of in-game accomplishments is great (Dia De Los Muertos, the emptying of Hildebrand Mall pre-ruin AND pre-ransack, Caiger I the most honorable defeat in the greatest battle our fair city has seen, and many many more) his greatest accomplishment was the way he made the game fun for those in the horde and even for his opponents. That spirit is what has allowed the horde he founded to endure.
Whenever folks even older and more crotchety than I speak of Petro they always speak of how much fun the guy was. How great his sense of humor was. How he wasn’t too big to speak with even the lowest-level newbie zombie. He is the reason why we refuse to wear pants (or the insulting and patronizing kilt). He is the reason why we squaredance. He is the one that articulated that highest ideal of zombiedom: BARHAH!
He did this in an era when all of Malton, including the RRF had a far greater population. At one point he had over 500 zombies ready to follow him into battle. While it may seem like old-timers complaining, it was much harder for zombies back in those days. Headshots used to drain XP instead of AP, starving our bahbahz of essential nutrients. You couldn’t move between corners of malls from the inside as a zombie. Instead you had to crack and empty each corner separately. Drug use and distribution amongst harmanz was at its highest level. Petro, along with the rest of the RRF, was the one who showed all of Malton that zombies were the underdogs and the hardest and most fun way to play the game. He’s the one that showed Malton that zombies were the good guys, and the harmanz the evil doers. He did it all while playing with the highest level of honesty and integrity that this game has seen. While times have changed and maybe zombies are no longer the underdogs, we still have more fun than anyone else, we’re still the good guys and we’re still squeaky thanks to the beacon of Petro.
In the end my simple words cannot do justice to the debt we owe to our true Papa (all subsequent Papas have been mere placeholders waiting for Petro to return from on high to bring a thousand years of light to zombie-kind). While plenty of tribute has already been paid to Petro, it wouldn’t be a Hall of Legends without him. That is why Petro’s election to the Hall of Legends was an easy and unanimous one.
