State of Brockway

State of Decay is one of my favorite games in recent memory. It is quite possibly the best zombie apocalypse game ever made, which is saying something these days, since every genre from point-and-click adventure to Puzzle Bobble are now set in the post-zombie-apocalypse. I have kind of a history with the team, Undead Labs. They saw this article that I wrote about brilliant games we all want, but will likely never have, and they wanted to invite me to an event in Seattle to check out an early build of their game, just to see if they came close. I was interested, but could not attend. Then they released the game, and offered me a free copy, but I had sold my Xbox and could not accept their offer. I apparently hate sweet, free stuff with a passion bordering on mania.

Time passed, the game released on Steam, and I bought a copy. I just kind of figured the offer wasn’t a standing one. Between it and the first DLC, Breakdown, I put about fifty hours into the game. I’ve had nothing but glowing things to say about them, even though I always paid them for the privilege. I even wrote a piece about the game on Cracked. Again, with nothing on the line for me – I was just honestly really impressed by their efforts. Then, last week when their latest DLC, Lifeline, released, I took my first kickback. They gave me a free copy of the game. Because in a way, I was in it:

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As a little nod to my seeming steadfast refusal to stop throwing my money at them, the folks at Undead labs named one of the survivors after me. This may even beat the time Even Skjervold named a bull after me (and apparently ate it. Th…thanks?) I would love to tell you where to find the Brockway survivor in State of Decay: Lifeline, but so far every rescue I’ve attempted has ended with everybody being mauled to death in the streets while a disappointed man yells at me over the radio. But if you find me, do me a favor and use my preferred loadout: No guns, no melee weapons. Just firebombs and morphine. Your favored conveyance is the dark green muscle car. It is mandatory that you take every sweet-ass jump you see, even though the consequences will almost certainly kill you.

Oh, and tell me “hi” for me.

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