I had a go at writing a scenario for you. Hope you like it.
The spores came from somewhere, but that place is not known. What is known is that these plants can infect the mind, and rot the flesh. You are Commander -insert name of your choice- leader of the Weed Kill Squadron, and your task is to discover what exactly you’re dealing with.
Spores – Alien plant used to eradicate native flora & fauna, and to alter the atmosphere for its users. It affects humans by slowly killing them via necrosis, but before death the infected have a heightened sense of anger, and in the most severe cases cannibalism. The spores are pod like plants that explode, and fill the immediate vicinity with tiny spores. Any living thing within range will be infected. Flamethrowers are the only effective weapon against the spores.
Infected Human(s) – Acts much like your typical zombie.
Weed Kill Squadron – Sent to a small Japanese Island, the first known location of the spore, your team is tasked with finding the origins of the spore plant, while also trying to survive the murderously infected inhabitants of the Island, and to avoid becoming infected.
Users – Are the alien race that unleashed the spore plant on Earth. They are technologically equal to Humans but possess a unique advantage in that they have advanced bio-weapons. There purpose is to “terraform” Earth so the can settle and mine its resources. They want minimal contact.
Hey newbie here, I thought I'd give writing a go. Let me know what you think.
Hark the angels sing, hark the angels sing.
Evil tidings they will carry,
Boy, you better run when you hear them ring.
Mystic River town is a blot upon a map, just a destination that no one fancies, but needs out of necessity for gas, and what-not when travelling through the west. The inhabitants there respond in a vacant wooden-like way, and it seems as if everything is out of stock and will be replaced tomorrow. They urge you to stay at the motel, and wait till they restock, and you warily oblige. You note that the townspeople look as if they’re trapped, like they’re programmed to follow a set path over and over again, but it’s a passing thought, and you dismiss it for small town quirkiness. As you call it a night you hear a bell toll off in the distance. Ready to dismiss that too you notice the motel receptionist collapsed on the ground. Then you walk out into the street and see that Mystic River town has completely shut down, quite literally.