# Drunkards
*[Hangover from Hell scenario; Randy Random; "Some Challenge" difficulty]*

## Our cast:
* Greg, the animal-loving pacifist.
* Dmitri, the marksman. Greg's friend.
* Gordon, the farmer. Greg's uncle.
* Spider, the doctor. Greg's lover.

Well, there we were, travelling through space on our way to Greg's bachelor party. We decided to get a bit of pre-drinking on, so we dipped into the party supplies. Next thing you know, Uncle Gordo leans on the controls and klaxons start blaring and we're careening through space, heading for the planet surface. Greg manages to get some control, so we land in a temperate forest zone, which isn't so bad. No immediate danger. Which is good. Because we're all HAMMERED.

The first person to come to after the impact is Spider. She assesses the wreckage, gives everyone a quick med-check, and our escape pods seem to have kept everyone intact. Mostly. Gordon vomits a lot. He's a bit of a lightweight. Miracle of miracles, the beer is unharmed. We have about 100 bottles. We immediately begin setting plans for survival. We start building walls and rigging up makeshift facilities out of the spacecraft wreckage. First things first: beer fridge. Once that's done, we take a break and have a couple of beers. And a couple more beers. We sleep in the rain that night.

The next day we wake up promptly at 5am. And have a couple of beers. Food is going to be a problem. We don't have much supplies, so we plant a few rice plants. Phew! That was hard work! Better have another beer. We sleep in the rain again that night.

On the third day, we finally decide to focus on the walls, and build the shelter. Not much to speak of, just one big barracks and a second 'production' area for cooking and stuff. But man. That was hard work. Better have some more beer. Oh, and maybe a table to sit at would be nice. No, I don't want to make it, you make it. Nobody wants to make it? Screw it, I'mma eat off the floor. And have a nap.

Oh wait. It's morning now. Right. So. We should hunt something, right? Ok, let's go. I saw a cougar around here. Let's grab the guns. OHGODOHGODOHGODOHGOD why?! Greg, dammit, stop running away, if you won't pick up a weapon, go hide in the fridge or something. Oh. Huh. Cougars can break down doors. Well, crap. Sorry Greg. Well now we have a cougar to butcher. Greg, go lay down, Spider will get some meds in you. Put that cougar over there. Ok. Dmitri, you go butcher that. No? you want to hunt the wild turkey and the... vulture? ok. Sure. Butcher that. No? More beer? ok. Fine. THEN butcher something. A nap? GODDAMMIT Dmitri. Gordon. Gordon. Gordon. Staring at clouds again? Hey, maybe someone should build some defenses before the inevitable raiders show up. But there's tasty beer. Beer. Oh, hey, Mr. Raider. You have a club. Ow! Wake up Dmitri! Get your gun! Ok, someone put the body in the dump. We'll bury it later. But first, beer.

Next day. Everyone is starving. We have meat. But nobody wants to butcher anything. It's too dark next to the butchering table and nobody brought a torch. Scary. But we're hungry. Raw vulture can't be that bad, right? ANNND vomit. More beer. And nap. Spider decides that Greg needs to eat. Here, have some raw cougar. On the way to visit him, she trips. And vomits. On the cougar carcass. She drags it over next to another bed. Where she collapses to sleep until morning. Greg goes hungry.

Eventually, someone decides to build a torch next to the butcher block. Finally we can work without cutting off our own fingers. But we're REALLY hungry, and we've let the all the hunted meat spoil. All of it except... uh.. the raider. Well, we ARE starving.