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.