You're battered, bruised, bleeding and experiencing the symptons from one of the most deadliest diseases known in this post-apocalyptic landscape.
Your sleep was interrupted last night after the rustling of cans awoke you. Barley managing to roll away as a crowbar struck where your head would have been less then a second ago. You catch a brief glimpse of your assailent: raggedand erratic with the souless eyes of a killer. He hits you, the cold metal smashing your arm as you clamber to your feet.
Your eyes still adjusting to the darkness, you miss your swing, the cold steel of your meet cleaver slashing the air in front of your attacker. He reponds with a swing of his own, smahing into your ribs... hard, bones cracking under the force.
You prepare to dodge, mentally readying yourself, watching for any twitch of movement. It pays off, you notice his legs kneel, powering themselves for a leap. At the last moment you step aside, watching him tackle past you into the rubble. A swift slice to the head lacerates immensly as he trys to make sense of what happens. The next few moments of the battle went fast. Your kicks met either his head or torso repeatedly, denying him any chance of standing upright. A stray slice here with your trusty cleaver made short work of his frrail body.Eventually, your slashes and kicks are wasted energy, the bloody mess becoming an outlet for your rage.
During the fight you had noticed an important feature about the mans attire. A paitents gown with a deep blue sash, signifying him as a carrier of the 'Blue Rot' disease.
It's too far a walk to the city to be cured at the early, treatable stage. Let alone your wallet wan't fat enough to pay for the bills for the procedure. Your rage doen't subside for what seems an eternity, slicing at the once human-like mess over and over, your rage overcoming you. At some point of time, you must have dropped the cleaver, because now you were punching at the chunky mess that was the mans skull.
You had been defeated before, knocked unconcious, left for dead with nothing except for the clothes that merciful scavengers didnt steal from your body. Bullet wounds, lacerations, bruises, concussions, broken ribs and limbs, hunger, dehydration, sleep deprevation and even sickness from wounds left untreated. Every form of pain and punishment had been inflicted onto you.
But Everytime you bounced back, fresh with scars from your victories. man and beast fell before you all the same. The wild environment of post-apocolypse detroit had you at the knifes edge at every moment, but every time you pulled a trick from your sleeve.
But this time was different. You saved yourself to live another day, but not to live to see the end of the week. Right now the blue rot was creeping though your veins, infecting every pore of your body. Within a few days you wil be dead, no amount of trickery or wit could save you from this situation.
Your days are numbered, death is imminent.
You don't bother falling back to sleep. Dead men don't need sleep. You wander aimlessly and painfully through the night, leaving your possessions and your killer's corpse behind. At dawnbreak, you feel hungry eyes linger on you. Your hunter had been following you at least an hour but you didn't care, his means to your end would be quicker then suffering pain of blue rot.
You let the towering, werewolf-esque creature approach you slowly at a distance. You reach for cleaver, a final battle and a warriors death. But your hand grabs aimlessly at your waist as it dawns on you that your precious weapon of steel was a 4-hour walk behind you, stuck halfway through your attackers leg.
You stand still, without purpose, without hope, as the beast charges for you. He leaps at you, claw ready to swipe. You try to dodge, instinct priotising survival rather thant wishing to die but it was too late. The claws enter your skull effortlessly, the pain is incredible, agonising to levels of extreme. It takes one more slice from the beast to end your life and your journey ends.
If you made it to the end of this text crawl wondering why i would write something so long, it's because i felt NEOscavenger required more than a simple review like: "Got shot in head while asleep 420/10"
The above story was a more descriptive, but true, experience i had with one of my more longer playthroughs.
NEOscavenger is harsh, brutal and if it were human, would probably kill puppies for the heck of it. Every journey with your character, every battle, every scavenge attempt, every time you press that sleep button, can end your playthrough abrubtly and heart-breakenly if you aren't careful enough. Fights can go from one-sided victories or soul-crushing losses within moments. Dehydration seems to kick in when there is no water source for kilometers, and hunger when the only food source was that scavenger you just slaughtered... Traits allow for unique and differing playthroughs. Posiitives and negatives balacing eachother out. A myopic tank, the athletic botanist, the frail ranger, a Medical mechanic.
The combat: a turn-based sequence of text describing the events of the battle, are some of the most sweat-inducing fearful moments that i have experienced in gaming. With a bit of imagination, fights in NEOscavenger are brutally intense, every option increasing your chances of winning or dieing.
There are no easy victories, no fights won unscarred, no journey left unhindered by some problem, some gnawing concern that would later illicit your demise. My playtime says 20hrs: but if you counted the time i've spent in both the demo, and less than legal copies of the game, i've spent time almost quadruple that.
If your looking for a game that expects nothing more then your full attention to stay alive and healthy, and are still somehow not convinced by the plethoria of reviews before mine, look no further then NEOscavenger