We knew Dying Light was gonna be a seven–something; a yellow box on Metacritic; another low–acclaim money machine for the powers that be. I for sure knew, and the fact buzzed in my head as—at the advice of my exceedingly competent mother—I downloaded it.
I decided to play without reading reviews. This would be a first for me. I’ve always worried that critical reception unfairly biases my experience with a product, generally speaking. I’m an obsessive person and so I always research anyway. Still, how many positive experiences have I missed due to snobbery, or misplaced frugality, or run–of–the–mill media brainwashing? I figured I’d give Dying Light my attention before turning to Google. Besides, I figured it’d give me my first ballpark shot at writing something review–like, unencumbered as I was by turning away from others’ opinions. Tabula rasa, the way journalism is supposed to work (cough.).
Cut to: the beleaguered city of Harran, my first day in paradise. Moaning blobs of rotting flesh fly by below as I scamper rooftop to aluminum rooftop, playing a high–stakes biological game of The Floor is Lava. My eyes flick back and forth from the honestly goddamn beautiful city to the minimap as I run, leap, and wildly swat at zombies towards my objective. I clear another gap, walkers (sorry, but thanks to Walking Dead that’s the only way I can see zombies now) grabbing at my legs as, arms shaking, I struggle to lift my body weight over the side of the roof.
And then I realize what’s making Harran so honestly goddamn beautiful. It’s the sunset: a flare–like orange bursting on the horizon and dripping through the city like honey. And then it clicks in my brain what’s going on and my heart starts pounding and my radio’s buzzing and somebody back at my new HQ is warning me that night is coming. Fuck. They marketed the stuffing out of this day/night mechanic, warning would–be players of the horrors that come out after the day is done more than enough to sell out. I should have remembered. And now it was getting dark and, being new to idyllic Harran, I didn’t have many safe houses to hide out in. I was jumping off rooftops and scampering up the sides of poles to leap into buildings and yet I was stuck. A quick check of the map—and the time, dammit there was a clock all along—showed me far from any kind of haven.
So I do what I would probably do in an actual zombie apocalypse, which is run in circles, panicked. A few minutes of this and then the game makes a sound I can only describe as a chorus of wailing ghosts, my radio sends a more urgent reminder (“Good night, good luck.”), and the game presents me with a simple message: “Night is coming.” Oh, and it gets really, really dark.
Fuck, again. Now I’m starting to hear stuff. Now I’m rapidly debating whether or not to turn on my flashlight. Now I’m cursing the developers for making it pitch–ass black at night. Like what is this, real life? I decide to go creeping through the streets, sprinting from alley to alley in a last–ditch effort to make it home without being eaten. It takes me about a minute to startle something huge and awful that lunges at me so fast, I don’t even have time to look at it. Suddenly, I’m back on the rooftops, my flashlight burning, running from a horde of screaming things—not zombies, things—and praying I don’t chewed. My pulse is starting to race when I see an outpost of cool violet light in the distance. No, not violet—ultraviolet! (Sorry if that last bit came out like a comic book. Actually, I’m not sorry) Zombies hate UV light in this city! So do pale people, worldwide!
I make it through the night alive by the grace of Gandalf and, as I lay down in my five–star sleeping bag—right beside a shopkeeper NPC who’s whispering at me in a smarmy British accent to come check out what he’s got for me—I think, “Y’know, that was nice.” Had I pre–loaded other people’s opinions into my brain before playing, I’m sure I would’ve been seeking out the flaws I’d read about rather than bugging out and sprinting in terror which, if you read this blog, you’ll know is one of my favorite activities. It’s not about discounting critics, but coming to conclusions independently. Now that I’m about halfway through the game (damn you, college), I can see the seven. I’d give it a little more love, but I understand and agree with what I’ve now read.
The point is I had fun. I think I’ll keep up with my new resolution, not for the douchey philosophical reasons I’ve now listed, but in order to preserve my love for gaming. Truth is too often belied by bias; assumptions and predictions we carry into experience shape reality. I want to game honestly. I want to live honestly. It’s about leaning in. If the game’s about zombie parkour, then go hard as hell on those fences. And if it sucks in the end, well, that’s life.
The Adapter 