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Quotes / Our Zombies Are Different

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Dr. Bruner: Who are you? And what are they?
Legendre: For you, my friend, they are the angels of death.

Wiry Girl: That's not fair! I had zombies too!
Sitterson: Yes, you had "Zombies", but this is "Zombie Redneck Torture Family". Entirely separate thing. It's like the difference between an elephant and an elephant seal.

"Is there an agreed definition of what is a zombie and how they get that way? Not that I know of. I think zombies are defined by behavior and can be 'explained' by many handy shortcuts: the supernatural, radiation, a virus, space visitors, secret weapons, a Harvard education and so on."

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"She's not making sense! If they're moving, they've got brain function! If they've got brain function they're not dead yet!"

"It looks dead. It smells dead. Yet it's moving around. That's interesting."
Oz, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, "Dead Man's Party"

Skinny Pete: Left 4 Dead, yo! The way them bitches get cranial when you cap 'em in the head is like...BOOYAH!
Badger: No, no, no man, Resident Evil 4 by a long shot!
Skinny Pete: Aw please, brother, you're fronting!
Badger: No, man, seriously! That chick, the one you gotta rescue? She's smokin', bro! And then you're, like, the last undead dude on earth, so how can you not be dipping into that?! Talk about inspiring a brother to kick some zombie ass!
Skinny Pete: They're trying to eat your brain, bro! Dude don't need no more motivation!
Badger: ...That's a fair point, I guess...okay okay okay, Call of Duty: World at War, Zombie Mode! Now that's the bomb! Think on it, bro: they're not just zombies, they're Nazi Zombies!
Skinny Pete: Nazi zombies...
Badger: Yeah, man, SS Waffen troopers too, which are, like, the baddest-ass Nazis of the whole Nazi family!
Skinny Pete: Zombies are dead, man! What difference does it make what their job was when they were living?!
Badger: Dude, you are so historically retarded! Nazi zombies don't want to eat you just because they're craving the protein! They do it, 'cause...they do it, 'cause they hate Americans! Talibans, they're the Talibans of the zombie world!
Skinny Pete: I played the game, they ain't exactly fleet of foot! I'm saying where's the challenge?! At least the zombies in Left 4 Dead clock a respectable forty, you gotta lead them and shit!
Badger: Dude, that's because they're not even zombies! They're just infected! They got like this rage virus, amps them up like they've been smoking the schwag! Apples and oranges, bro, totally unfair to compare the two.

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The dead walk. Say the sentence, sweetling. Just as impossible as anything else that has happened to you since the bee, yet it sits on your tongue easier. You are not that surprised. It is weird how much it is not weird. They have shambled through the zeitgeist of your species for so long. The dead that walk.
The Buzzing, The Secret World

They surge through the doorway - a struggling, seething mass. Bodies upon bodies. Like a blown pressure valve. Fighting to get past each other. Grunting and hissing. Their hair falling out. Milky eyes. Black eyes. Fungus spilling from their mouths, ears, nostrils. Creeping out from under their fingernails. They smear themselves on the doorframe as they pour towards us.
Bloody zombies.
Well, not zombies exactly. Not risen from the grave, feasting on human brain matter. Not a seventies commentary on consumer culture. But as far as mindless automatons seeking to kill me go, zombies is close enough.
Anti-Hero, by Jonathan Wood

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He comes from the grave, his body a home of worms and filth. No life in his eyes, no warmth of his skin, no beating of his breast. His soul as empty and dark as the night sky. He laughs at the blade, spits at the arrow, for they will not harm his flesh. For eternity, he will walk the earth, smelling the sweet blood of the living, feasting upon the bones of the damned. Beware, for he is the living dead.
—Obscure Hindu text circa 1000 BCE, The Zombie Survival Guide

Earl considered the facts. Restless corpses might rise from their graves for a variety of reasons. Perhaps an ancient Indian curse or bad voodoo in the soil or any number of causes. But zombies did not spontaneously sprout like weeds. You had to have a corpse before you could have a zombie. It was the rules. Unless someone was using black magic. Not just the everyday evil eye kind of black magic either - something far more sinister, far more powerful, and far more dangerous. This wasn't going to be as easy to fix as he had assumed.

The thought was sinking in with greater and greater certainty and considerably greater discomfort: I was dead. I was alive and dead at the same time. I was undead. My current biological status was aggravatingly inconsistent.
I had seen zombies before. There had been a necromancer's tower in the village near my family farm and you'd sometimes see an undead slave lurching through the marketplace. On shopping days, me and a few other kids used to flick bits of bread at them so that hungry seagulls would chase them around. And then later, at college, Mr Everwind was in the habit of raising undead teaching assistants, and a popular hazing ritual was to steal the Undead Command Stone from the staff room and use it to make them pole dance on the school flagpole. I remembered how amusing it had been at the time to watch them move around as if their joints were held together with elastic bands. Now I just wanted to know how they had made it look so easy.

I mean, are we talking brain-eaters? Demon possession? Rage zombies? How does it transmit? Through bites? Scratches? Blood? Bacteria? Radiation? Rock music!? I need to know what I’m dealing with!
A survivor who’s seen far too many movies, The End of the World: Zombie Apocalypse
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