Moving very swiftly away from a kiwi crotch diver extraordinaire, I'm going to get back on topic.

I decided to do precisely what I said this game wasn't about in the OP - KILL THE ZOMBYS!!! That makes it sound like this was my goal from the start, and it really wasn't. I was having a jolly old lark, exploring that new map I posted about.

When you just have a hammer, you feel very naked and exposed. Flitting from building to building, rummaging for supplies, desperately hoping for a shotgun. Shotgun shells? By all means! But no smurfing shotgun for you, no sirree!

The thing about this game is that you constantly feel that you are being hunted. There is no escape, and the zombies will be one step behind you. Or possibly one step ahead of you. Walking out into the street and seeing them all around you is bad enough, but nothing is quite so bad as sweeping a new potential safe house and that smurfing noise plays when you open a door. It's genuinely scary. The worst part is when your character begins to hallucinate and merely imagines zombie attacks. After a while you don't know what's real and what's not. You find out the hard way when you're on the receiving end of a bite.

After stumbling across a replica of the mansion from Resident Evil (and boy did that make me double-take!) I found a grocery store. Inside was a survivor. This excited me; you do not often encounter survivors. His name was Gareth, in case you care. Gareth was not entirely pleased I had come into the Grocery store, and demonstrated his displeasure by shooting at me until I left. This is partially why I was on yet another quest to find a shotgun, by the way. People shooting at me just rubs me up the wrong way. Having obtained one, dear Gareth was swiftly dispatched and the grocery store and all of its foody goodness was mine! I took a hoard up to the tower block, planning to barricade myself in and survive for a week.

AND THEN.

I woke up the next day to find that I had not escaped from my scrapes with imaginary zombies unscathed. I had been infected and was slowly becoming a zombie. Lovely. I have approximately 80 shotgun bullets... BETTER DEAD THAN ZED!

So off I charge, down the stairs, right as the zombies had broken through and were charging up the stairs. A brief battle ensued, and I emerged from the tower block victorious.

Then I met this.



Well bollocks. 50 bullets left. Let's do this.



50 bullets later. Hmm. There are still zombies. And there is still me. Time to switch to the spiked bat!



Now there are no zombies. And there is still me. Or rather, what's left of me. I am starving, I am infected, I am in pain, I am wounded, I am bleeding, I am physically exhausted, and I am so very tired.

I am dead.