A massacre in a tiny corridor

I have played a few games to Escape From Tarkov. Not so many to consider a decent player, but enough to understand that I must take it with philosophy: I go straight to the slaughterhouse. I have also learned not to get from my team and to lose it is a natural part of the experience. There will always be SCAV and Morrala outputs to recover.

Consider a walking corpse has given me freedom, although I have not yet controlled the shocks when an enemy shoots me while I am distracted and the dread in the moments of prolonged combat. That's why I decided to tan into Factoryas I told you before. But there is a problem in all this: I have stopped recording games … and you know, Murphy's law.

My best game in Escape from Tarkov to date is any Thursday for the rest of the players

Imagine if I knew dead that I entered a game in Factory like PMC with a carbine Adar 2-15 and four loaders with capacity for ten bullets, head and chest protections, vest and without backpack. The idea was to force myself to look for the fight to steal my backpack and the rest of the equipment to the enemies, whether Scavs or PMCs.

This time the tour of the factory map has been easy to edit, because the enemies did not give me breath to move from the site. I was cornered and I could only leave when almost everyone was dead. I appeared very close to the point where there is always a jarana in the PVE games, so I ran willing to die from ahead at any time.

The place is a small room without roof with a kind of electrical stations that divide it in half. There are several holes that can be used to shoot with some security a good part of the ship that is in sight. There are only two accesses: two metal stairs, one west and one to the east. To leave you can jump through the metal or the same stairs. This whole story develops in a narrow hall.

A SCAV (1) Heard me run through the metal stairs and began to look for me for the vicinity. I listened to it, but I didn't finish seeing it … until it finally got shot. He shot first, but failed. We exchange shots for a few minutes. The hand was shaking because I didn't die. He managed to hurt my right arm. He died after a couple of minutes coughing and breathing problems.

The fight attracted four more Scavs, who tried to get to my position on the east staircase. They were clearly listening to walk, prepare the weapons and talk. The first (2) came alone and took a shot in the head. He didn't have time to react. In the minute two others (2 and 4) arrived, who died with few seconds of difference in shots in the head and torso, and that managed to hurt my right arm again. I got a PP-19 in the middle of the fight because Adar 2-15 ammunition was not going to last forever … and less if the PMCs came.

The last SCAV (5) of the group took a couple of minutes to decide to put my position, time I took to cure and loot with my ears well tuned. I listened to several groups of steps. Exit was a death sentence because all the enemies of the game were close and staying was another because before or after I would end up ammunition and medicines. He decided to climb the stairs and emptied one of the loaders of Adar 2-15 in his chest. I spent too many bullets.

I tried to leave, but I heard steps very close when I went down the stairs. I backed up to the hall and seconds later I heard steps on the stairs. I signed up for Adar 2-15 and fired several times at neck. The Bear (6) died by a shot in the head. And as if they were colleagues, a Scav arrived (7) seconds later, which took several shots in the head.

“I have to look,” I repeated again and again in my mind. I almost didn't have ammunition and had not had medicine for several minutes. All the bodies were in the hall, but steps and voices were heard all the time. A carelessness was enough to die. And he was right, because another Bear (8) appeared a few seconds later and was equipped to his teeth. I had to exhaust all the ammunition that I had left of the Adar to kill him. If I survived it was thanks to his medicines.

I was able to look all the bodies. There was everything: weapons, medicines, ammunition, food, equipment … I did a cleaning of everything in less than two minutes. I changed my adar for an AK-74m modified and I got a Saiga-12K as a follow-up weapon. I had resources to kill another raid if necessary. I was not considered a dead man to this point.

“I have to go out, just for pride,” I thought while listening to steps nearby. I went down the east staircase and I could see a SCAV refrain (9) running north. I approached little by little until I stopped listening to his coughs and broken breathing. “He's dead, sure,” I thought. I had no idea how he had died. The final count revealed that it was for several AKM shots in the abdomen. I imagine that I would give him at some point in the previous clashes.

I ran like a madman to the extraction of Gate 3. I came across another Scav that was waiting for me to crouch behind coverage. He was the first to shoot, but the protections did their job. I shot hip until I saw how his body collapsed. “Don't look, Alberto, don't be agonies,” I thought as I took away the hemorrhages. Both arms were black.

The last meters of the RAID were agonized. It was overloaded, with little energy and wounds in all areas of the body except for the head. I stopped healing when I was a few meters from the exit. I wanted to go even if it were whiting. I didn't want to die because an enemy triggered me from behind. And I managed to extract.

I was glad for the equipment, but much more for having survived such an butcher shop. It was 17 minutes from Raid, but for me it was like living my own Vietnam. I recorded the final results to record the massacre and closed the game, although eager to continue playing. Enough Tarkov for a day.

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