I wanted to wish the team and all of you a very Merry Christmas. We have had a great year and couldn’t have done it without your support and we’re lucky to have a Team like this and fans like you all. We have some great things planned for 2016, some things we can’t announce yet. So for now I will wish you again Merry Christmas, a happy New-year and will leave you with this poem.
Twas the night before Blood moon!
Twas the night before Blood moon, when all through the base.
Not a walker was scratching, a weak wooden frame.
The spike traps I set on the perimeter with care,
In hopes that it kept the zombies out there.
The Survivors were nestled in the base by their beds,
While visions of Minibikes danced in their heads.
My Buddy clutched his ‘Bone Shiv, and I my Wood Club,
As we just settled down for some good Shamway grub.
When out in the Wasteland there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from the campfire to see what was the matter.
Away to the guard tower I flew like a flash,
I equipped my best weapon and opened the hatch.
The Blood moon shined red on the barbed wire below.
As I waited in fear for my walking dead foes.
When, what through the thick dark night fog should appear,
But a miniature screamer and 8 dogs to the rear.
With a huge running horde, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment this game is so sick.
More rapid than eagles from the wasteland they came,
The Screamer she shouted as if to call them by name!
“Now Spiders! Now, Ferals! Now Corpses and Crawlers!
On, Fat Cop! On, Nurse! On Cadavers and Maulers!
To the top of the base! To the top of the wall!
Now slash away! Thrash away! And devour them all!”
As the base walls shook and the particles would fly,
They got through the spikes and the wire in no time.
So up to the Base-top the Survivors we flew,
With a turd in my pocket, and some Goldenrod too.
And then, a big Screeching, I heard on the roof
A pack of Spiders had got up from the stoop.
As I drew my Club, and was turning around,
Down through the hatch came a Man with a bound.
He was dressed all in hide and leather and scrap,
And armed to the teeth, ready to kick ass.
A bundle of guns he had flung on his back,
And he looked like Rick Grimes but with a bigger mustache.
His eyes—how they pierced! His stare was so scary!
I thought he might kill me or quote Dirty Harry!
He frowned and shushed me as he pointed due East,
And his beard was so thick that he must be part beast.
He readied his Shotty as he gritted his teeth,
With a ten gallon hat on his head like a wreath.
He had a mean face and to the zombies was smelly,
They followed him close like their very own deli!
He was fast, he was tough, the Duke would be proud,
And I laughed when I saw him, take care of the hounds!
With spit in his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread.
He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled with lead all the zeds that would lurk.
And laying his finger on his trigger of steel.
He killed one last Zed and sat down for a meal.
He looked at me close as he downed his meat stew.
You look new here he said and you haven’t a clue.
I will leave you now with this one piece of advice.
Be ready for the Blood moon its one hell of a fight!