It took me three tries to get through my first encounter with night-time volatiles. They announce their presence with a feral scream and hurtle forwards with all the speed and subtlety of a meat missile. The most dangerous of these are “volatiles.” These monsters are taller than the average shambler, with Predator-esque triple jaws, catlike agility, and a particular taste for human flesh. It’s dark - dark in a way that few games are - and properly full of terrors, playing home to a set of super-zombies that will run and sprint and vault in their demented attempts to chow down on your still-alive protagonist. The same can’t be said when the light finally does die, though. Those hordes are dangerous, but split off from the crowd, my character’s parkour skills and selection of pointy implements made small groups of zombies a cinch, applying electrified hammers and cricket bats to mouldy faces turning the mood from spooky to slapstick. His skillset quickly impacted the way I saw the open-world city, and I started to plan high-altitude routes across buildings, scaffolding, and walkways that took me far above the ravening hordes below. Dying Light puts players in the weird toe shoes of a free-running government agent, the kind of guy who can leap ten feet across a rooftop, cushion the blow on his ribs, haul himself up by his chiseled arms, and keep running at top speed. The zombie apocalypse has come, but the humans of fictional middle-eastern city Harran are still the masters of the daytime. They’re slow - slow enough that they’ll never catch up with my sprinting hero - and as clumsy as you’d expect from animated slabs of rotting meat. Update Night is a fortnightly column in which Rich McCormick revisits games to find out whether they've been changed for better or worse.ĭying Light’s zombies are spooky, groaning and flailing at me as I parkour my player character across awnings and rooftops, but in the brightness of day, they’re exposed.
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