Friday, January 3, 2025
Best Guitar Solos & Performances

4 Hours of Post Apocalyptic Acoustic Guitar (S.T.A.L.K.E.R./Metro Inspired with campfire ambience)

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#postapocalypticmusic #darkambientmusic #darkambience #stalker
4 Hours of Post Apocalyptic Acoustic Guitar (S.T.A.L.K.E.R./Metro Inspired with campfire ambience)

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#Hours #Post #Apocalyptic #Acoustic #Guitar #S.T.A.L.K.E.R.Metro #Inspired #campfire #ambience

Originally posted by UCQUPRUuCuLSCIM7B9q_yebw at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i2VjesyosKM

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46 thoughts on “4 Hours of Post Apocalyptic Acoustic Guitar (S.T.A.L.K.E.R./Metro Inspired with campfire ambience)”

  • God Damn Cowboy you look like you had a Long ass way, come sit here my stranger Friend. You want a cigarette? Some Whisky? Tell me…what’s your story ? You look like you've been through a lot

    Reply

  • I hope everyone is enjoying their time in the Zone in Stalker 2. I've already died 10 times in my first 8 hours ????

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  • Heyyyy traveler… no need headed back town… it aint got much left since you've been gone…

    OH, hey… I uh… I managed to get your things before I fled… sorry bout the blood… don't worry, I'm fine, just a flesh wound…

    got some space right over there, few others are here too, so swing by when you want to help em out, Lord knows they need it… 'nough of that now, you go on and do your thing.

    humming while playing

    Reply

  • “Who is he?” Now that’s a sentence I must’ve heard a thousand times. Nobody really knows his name or anything about him for that matter. It started a year ago. He approached our gated community, we are skeptical about new visitors, after all a community of over a hundred with food water and fresh supplies is always a target. He however was different he was dressed in the usual cloths you expect to see. A dark green leather hoodie, jeans and muddy boots. His combat mask was in impressively good condition. When he showed up however he had no backpack no trading goods not even a weapon of any kind except….a guitar. He gave a polite wave to our guards one evening, when asked what his business was he just took the guitar from his back and held it up.

    The guards let him in with a close eye to make sure he didn’t try nothing. He walked through town until he came to the center where the fire pit and lounge area was. It was where the scouts guards and workers went to relax and drink our homebrew shin and talk. He sat down and waved to us all, and as we all waved back hesitantly and raised eyebrows in confusion….he started playing. We were all taken a back, no one in our community had any instruments and we had no CD Players or any other way to hear music. His playing was….beautiful it felt has if he poured all his emotions into each and every pluck of those strings. I got a great look at his guitar, I’ve seen plenty of broken ones out in the wasteland but this one. It was beautiful so well kept so pristine the wood looked brand new and those strings were perfect. He sat there and played for hours and we all sat there smiling and listening to that amazing music. Some of the boys even requested some songs, he surprisingly knew most of them and happily played them. After about 4 hours of playing he stood up waved and walked out of community.

    So it went that every single evening right at sundown the stranger would show up again to play his guitar. After some time the parents would bring out their kids to listen to him. He would even let them sit on his lap and strum the guitar. For 4 hours straight he’d play his guitar and it was always the best time of the day for most of us. Though we never saw his face or heard his voice in the past year he’s come here. He always just plays his guitar, some of the guys offered he could but he always politely held up a hand and refused. Many theorized about him, some thought he was old, others though he was a younger man, some thought he was scared and deformed, other thought he hid his face on purpose. Some even jokingly said the mask was his face.

    One night curiosity got the best of me and I just had to know. As he was leaving I walked up to the stranger as he was leaving I approached him and I spoke. “Hey before you go I just wanted to say, thank you for playing here ever night for us. You’ve helped brighten all our spirits but I really want to know something…..what’s your name”. There was a long pause I feared I had offended or annoyed the man but….somehow I could tell they smiling under their gas mask. Finally after so long I had gotten my answer as I heard a voice speak from the mask and even with the mask I could still hear their calm and lovely voice and their name…..Caroline

    Reply

  • Just started Stalker 2 gameplay yesterday! wohoo And today I am playing this @ work.. Am i.. turning Apocalyptic?
    Beautiful, love it

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  • Install Stalker 2. In a good patch of my life. Everything is good. I just don’t feel it’d be appropriate to play this game in a good mood. Like Metro. Ya gotta be in that setting’s mood.

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  • Casually resisting the urge to walk alone in wilderness in order to leave it all behind.

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  • “Hey friend listen, I know the world is scary right now but it’s gonna get way worse. So why worry? If the worst is guaranteed we know it can’t get too much worse. Why? It’s the worse! So it can’t get bad because it’s already happening, best thing to do is go to the end, everything starts and everything finishes, you and I, and everyone else included. We can do three things, run, that will only delay the inevitable, for a while anyways. Wait it out and go through everything but stay where we are. Or push onward and meet it head on, whatever it is. I choose the last option…”

    Reply

  • @joemathewscopser thank you for this wonderful music in a sad world. Many of us love your beautiful art and want to hear more, whether to help sleep, calm nerves, or just relax we all love your work.<3

    Reply

  • Sergei, sitting alone before the firelight, stops testing the note he was strumming on the old guitar in the moments before he heard the clicking from the underbrush on the edge of the grove. He heard the code, recognized its safety alerting challenge, and clicked back his all clear signal. A moment later the sound of boots on crunching autumn leafs reaches him as hooded men, fellow stalkers of the Zone, armed with slung Kalashnikovs stop out of the darkness and into the glow of the fire.
    Each of them wore gasmasks, the camo of their surplus Ukrainian military fatigues looking looking innumerable inkblots in the gloom, all quiet as they approached.
    None of them spoke, and that was Sergei's first warning that something was amiss, and he soon realized the anamoly in their demeanor even as the men, three in all, sat around the fire and removed their masks.
    Sergei, recognized them all, faces he grew to appreciate since he came to the Zone to seek his fortune at the risk of his own life as they all did in their profession. From left to right sat his comrades of that gamma wasted place. First was Artyio, then was Alexi, and lastly Makarom, all seasoned Stalkers, the latter of their gathering being the newest amongst them, but all wore the same masks beneath the ones they only just removed: despair.
    And again, Sergei knew why, for one of their group was missing, the heart and soul of their merry band.
    "Where's Viktor?" Sergei asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
    Artyio, the veteran of them, only answered Sergei with a hard, vacant as Makarom looked away off into the dark from where they emerged, his eyes fighting back years welling and threatening to break forth. Alexi, normally the most chatty of them all, just staredvat the flames of thd campfire.
    Artyio, sensing Sergei received the unspoken message, just shook his head slowly and reached into his chest webbing and pulled out a flask. Pulling the cap, he took a swig and tossed it yo Makarom who helped himself to a more vigorous dose.
    Sergei let our a long breath as the silence went on save the fire crackling and the occasional distant report of gunshots and other malignant noises eminating from within the Zone.
    Sergei, in the end with nothing else for it, went back to the tune he was messing with that evening, and once more began to play.
    "This one is for you Viktor, ol' boy." He said, and as the song went on until it was done and the next ones were played after, the music drowned out their sorrow.
    A farewell to arms, to friends, to those who didn't make it. To the unforgotten.

    Reply

  • The stories made for this video are insane. If you come across this comment just scroll along and read the creativity of all of the bright minds that have come here… P.S. thanks to the ones who have created the stories. Maybe one day. Just maybe we may be more like eachother but until then keep the creativity going❤????

    Reply

  • Bro tal vez sea mucho pedir pero me encantaría que puedas brindarnos la lista del nombre de cada canción te lo agradecería muchísimo

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