It’s been another challenging week as a Dead By Daylight survivor, as my ascendancy through the ranks has been thwarted by the exquisite proficiency of the clandestine pursuers that possess a natural affinity for tracking my teenage hide like a creepy Geography teacher. Having been embroiled in a number of close matches I still quickly scaled from a lowly level 20 prestige up to a respectable 13. Yet despite repeated attempts to reach the coveted top 10 I have been consistently intercepted by the tenacious provocation of a number of ruthless killers. Flirting with stints of successful evasion, through a dedicated regime of cautious discretion and concealment I have rigorously surmounted a steady increase towards level 12 prestige. Only to have my progress mitigated by one foolish manoeuvre or adept killer. In fact at one point I suffered 5 back to back loses to the same killer (Hillbilly), all in similar humiliating circumstances. Namely my inert capacity to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though I’ve since clawed some redeeming dignity back with a couple of adeptly executed strategies, suggestive of a team that knows what they are doing, success has largely fluctuated. Consolidating this position of stifling mediocrity has severely stunted my expectations, leading to an enforced break on my part as my attempts to sustain this current prestige has just been too exhausting. And with the ranking system just days away from a statutory reset I think I’m just going to take a break from survivor, regroup by participating in the sedation of murdering these meddling kids and come back determined to improve.
Before I depart in favour of my nefarious endeavours I thought I’d show you just how close the margins can be, as well as how survival and death are merely two sides of the same machete. Here is a demonstration of how vital determination, patience, a suitable distraction and enough luck to win the lottery are to surviving. And how death by daylight isn’t necessarily a formality. It usually is though.
I’ve been lucky enough to have had this entire week off work for the purposes of rest, relaxation and general hermetic convalescence. “Ah, what a tender dream that is”. If anything this “week off” has been more demanding than my actual job, owing to my girlfriends drunk related incident that resulted in her restricted mobility and a 4 hour stint at casualty. The injury itself, a twisted ankle, though clearly painful wasn’t as serious as first thought. The positive diagnosis has still prevented us from doing any of the activities we’d had planned for our rare time together due to her interim lack of lateral stability. So with this restriction in mind and sleep a premium thanks to my daughters insistence on waking up at 6 am, bless her, gaming has taken a back seat until the latter stages of the evening. Such is the cruel symmetry of life. It wasn’t until late evening that I was assured of the peace required to engage in such frivolous activities. And even then I had neither the energy or inclination to indulge in anything that required a concerted mental aptitude. Focusing on a screen whilst synchronising simple button controls is about as stimulating and complex as my sleep deprived mind can handle. “Dead By Daylight” provides that simple yet engaging notion that can casually assimilate a player with minimum fuss. Dead By Daylight is an asymmetrical horror game where 4 survivors have to escape elaborately themed stages by activating randomly conjured generators scattered precariously throughout the map. All while trying to evade the pervasive stalking of a perusing murderer with a penchant for hooks that sacrifice the souls of those impaled to some ethereal, malevolent being. Whether you are the hunter or the hunted you will have to adapt your strategy to accommodate the varying environments and the distinctive variations of perks utilised by the prowess of these demented monkey farts. Sometimes the difference between winning and losing can be measured in seconds or inches, zigging when you should’ve zagged. Or in some instances a crippling glitch rips success from your grasp. Next time I think I’ll just go to bed. Enjoy.
Due to a lack of available resources and creative dissonance I felt a influencing compulsion to indulge in some powerful nostalgic proclivities. Now I just have to decide what? Well PS Store has a fine selection of classic PS2 titles remastered with high definition ratio to satisfy my current nostalgic mood. Ah, GTA: San Andreas; the memories, the glory, the feels. One of the most supporting advocates for adolescent indolence. Many an hour/day/week/month were exclusively dedicated to inciting racially motivated violence in suburbs where you couldn’t even trust your own adoptive family. Gorging myself on fast food, just to watch in fascination as my ever expanding stomach swelled so much that it prompted a very graphic expulsion of half digested food and stomach lining to project from my mouth. Occasionally assisting the hood with any number of vacillating errands that only I was adequately qualified to deal with, apparently! And of course engaging in amorous vehicular trysts with women who’d satisfy your carnal desires by writhing up and down on the passenger chair while you both stare blankly out of the window. So it’s no wonder I feel vindicated in popping their pixilated heads under my newly appropriated car. Yes reminiscing about such churlish endeavours is enough to provoke any man-child into purchasing a classic game, at only a fraction of its original retail price. Yet its funny the details your deceptively scrupulous mind can invariably be when you recollect something you regard with such profound affection. How it chooses to discriminate against the faults, yet preserves the good with such diligence. Because I forgot just how hilariously glitchy this game truly was. Not in a bad, this game doesn’t work kind of way, but more of a “how did this ever make it through product testing” kind. So for your viewing discomfort is a series of failures perpetrated by the developers as well as myself. Particular an incident with a rather cumbersome combine harvester which actually gathers momentum quicker when upside-down. Enjoy.
The wasteland is a harsh terrain to negotiate in Fallout 4. You’ve got Raiders, Gunners, Super mutants, Ghouls, Rad Scorpions, irradiated bears, monkeys, puffins, honey badger’s (probably), all manner of artificial and synthetic humanoids and the fearsome, poop inducing monstrosities known as; Deathclaws! Gruesome creatures that wield their notorious talons with notable hostility, by employing them as substitute turkey basters to lubricate your anus. With all the penetrating ferocity of a hungry duck pecking holes in a loaf of bread. It takes courage, guile, a larder full of Nuka-Cola and squirrel bits to successfully survive. But above all a gun the size of King Kong’s ding dong. Yep with enough artillery one can blow up just about anything…..except one creature. Because technically it’s already dead. Or is it? A couple of weeks ago I was on another one of my spontaneous expeditions to some abandoned school occupied by Raiders, Rad Roaches and a man in a bear hat (just another day in the Apocalypse) foraging for equipment to customise my weapons and gather building materials for my colonised settlements. Upon reaching the basement of this facility I discovered a rather substantial hole leading to the long since abandoned subway tunnels. Curious as to what potential utilities I could pilfer from this untapped installation, I ventured forth dismantling the various turrets and human appendages in a showery haze of oil and cartilage. I noted a rather innocuous looking train carriage half immersed by the collapsed tunnel. There was sure to be something of value there, even if it were just some small components to the enhance the few habitations I’d built back at “Sanctuary”. Ah, a camera, some other miscellaneous items and a……what…..the…..Hell?! (I may have paraphrased the “Hell” part). Did that skeletal hand just…..I think, yep. It did. It moved. It moved? Didn’t it?
Was it real? Was it ushering me to the afterlife? Was it some profane gesture? Or merely a glitch? What weird glitches have you come across in a game? Let me know in the comments below. Cheers and Happy Halloween!
Some moments in gaming are so iconic that they become part of the cultural heritage, enriched by the verve of the participants who experienced it. It could be the death of a character, the defeat of an enemy or that hard fought victory you remember with distinct clarity. At times many of these pivotal instances are significantly personal, a subjective view and an attribution to you’re own individual preferences. Something benign, subtle or perhaps even marginalised by the conventions of more ostentatious moments. For you, despite the inert dynamics it imparts something more refined, more identifiable, more you. Nothing illustrates this point better than one of the less dramatic scenes in Uncharted 4. It’s not a relevant plot point, it doesn’t advance the story, it isn’t even that important. Hell it’s only an optional conversation that can easily be missed. But to me this innocuous scene of brotherly companionship is one of the more endearing moments of the game. It’s just two brothers taking a brief rest to reflect on what they’ve achieved, what they still have to accomplish and just how similar, yet different they are as siblings. Though the entirety of the conversation transpires in a long since absent tavern on a deserted, Utopian pirate island (yes I’ve just realised how absurd that sounds) the discussion they’re having is so disarming, so mundane that you could almost imagine it occurring in a pub garden on a tranquil Sunday afternoon or at the end of a family Barbecue. NaughtyDog realise the futility of generating repeated interference’s of hostility. That the continued escalation of danger can sometimes have the opposite effect on the player. They understand the limitations of the violent conduct perpetrated by the ensemble cast of murderous psychopaths can be offset by customary bouts of tranquillity, and that articulation can be just as potent as any deadly conflict. Of course that’s just my opinion. If you haven’t played Uncharted 4 (quite frankly I think it’s time you left if you haven’t?) then this short segment probably isn’t going to make much sense. But I guess you’re here now so you may as well take a look while I make you a drink. Is a beer OK?
It’s been another challenging week as a Dead By Daylight survivor, as my ascendancy through the ranks has been thwarted by the exquisite proficiency of the clandestine pursuers that possess a natural affinity for tracking my teenage hide like a creepy Geography teacher. Having been embroiled in a number of close matches I still quickly scaled from a lowly level 20 prestige up to a respectable 13. Yet despite repeated attempts to reach the coveted top 10 I have been consistently intercepted by the tenacious provocation of a number of ruthless killers. Flirting with stints of successful evasion, through a dedicated regime of cautious discretion and concealment I have rigorously surmounted a steady increase towards level 12 prestige. Only to have my progress mitigated by one foolish manoeuvre or adept killer. In fact at one point I suffered 5 back to back loses to the same killer (Hillbilly), all in similar humiliating circumstances. Namely my inert capacity to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Though I’ve since clawed some redeeming dignity back with a couple of adeptly executed strategies, suggestive of a team that knows what they are doing, success has largely fluctuated. Consolidating this position of stifling mediocrity has severely stunted my expectations, leading to an enforced break on my part as my attempts to sustain this current prestige has just been too exhausting. And with the ranking system just days away from a statutory reset I think I’m just going to take a break from survivor, regroup by participating in the sedation of murdering these meddling kids and come back determined to improve.
Game, Complain, Repeat 