Recess of the Dead

Something got into the punch at the bake sale, and now the whole block's shuffling around. You defend it on foot, in first person, or from behind the wheel: survive the horde wave after wave, take the jobs that pile up on the board in between, and spend your sugar on guns. It's just you, one seaside block, and every metre of it is worth knowing.

HOLD THE BLOCK

A ring road, houses you can barricade, shops you can walk into, a market, a canal, a ferris wheel, a cemetery and a bandstand worth holding. Fourteen kinds of trouble want a piece of you. The shambler's the least of it: there's one that runs, one that runs even faster, one built like a fridge, one that screams for its friends, one in armour, one that spits, one that crawls, one that bursts, one that charges, and one that's four metres tall and couldn't care less what you're driving. Plus three that own a corner of the map: the Operator at the ferris wheel, the Champ, and the Drowned down on the beach.

SPEND YOUR SUGAR ON GUNS

Money's not worth carrying any more, so the bake-sale till became the currency. You start with a twelve-round pocket popgun. Sugar buys ammo, patching up and six more guns nobody should be selling — all the way up to a four-round railgun that hits as hard at a hundred metres as it does at thirty — plus a candy-striped bat for when the shop's closed. And the guitar Ray never put down? That one's free. It belonged to the other half of the band, it's in your hands from minute one, and it plays a chord every time it lands.

TAKE THE JOB

Between waves the board fills up with fourteen kinds of work. Burn out a nest, walk a neighbour to safety, drive a family to the refuge, grab a supply drop before the gang does, hold the refuge gate through a siege, pick up taxi fares... and there's one job at the cemetery that only opens after dark. Most jobs, and every street race, come in bronze, silver and gold. Hop in the tow truck or the ambulance and the city starts calling you.

DRIVE IT TILL IT BREAKS

Thirty-six vehicles: twenty-three cars, a tow truck, an ambulance, four motorbikes, two armoured trucks, two jet skis, a boat, a school bus — and the band's van, the one they rolled up in. Panels crumple, glass goes, wheels come off, and driving into a crowd is a perfectly reasonable idea. Once. You can shoot back from the driver's seat with the pistol, too. And the gang races: win five and their car's yours.

GRAB A SEAT AT THE ARCADE

Four games on eight cabinets you can actually sit down and play — GRAVE WAVE, DEAD END DRIVE, HOP OR DIE and SWEET STREETS — and your high scores stick around.

PICK HOW YOU PLAY

WAVES — hold the block. Waves, breaks, shopping runs. How long can you last? CRUISE — the same city with no wave ladder to climb: just zombies, shops, your radio and your car. Going down only wakes you up at the refuge. Nothing's counted, nothing's lost. ESCAPE — pistol only. Loot fills your bag, but it's worth nothing until you get it to the pad. Die and you lose the lot. SHIFT — eight minutes on the clock, every job pays double, and the board never runs dry.

GROW THE REFUGE, HELP THE NEIGHBOURS

Everyone you get to the refuge stays saved, run after run. The camp levels up, and every level pays you back: a pantry that starts you off richer, an armoury that throws in a gun and spare rounds, and a second chance when you go down. The six neighbours who stuck around have three jobs each. Finish their jobs and they'll have your back for good: half-price patching up, a mechanic, cheaper guns, a militia that holds its fire, and more.

READ THE STORY, OR SKIP IT

It was twenty to four on a Saturday. There was a second set to play — two songs, and an encore if the ladies asked for one. Seven illustrated cards tell what happened at the bake sale and what became of the other half of the band, and six cases with deadlines in days let you find out who spiked the punch. They only open before a run, never in the middle of one, and one switch turns them off for good.

AND THE REST

Twelve things that can kick off while you're busy, from a car alarm pulling the horde to someone in the wrong jacket waving for a lift

A day-and-night cycle that changes what comes out to play

A car radio

Twenty-two achievements

Full gamepad support, and every gameplay action can be rebound

Fourteen interface languages

A difficulty dial in words instead of percentages, colour-safe mode, HUD scaling, and adjustable camera shake and damage flash — because a game this bright should be playable by everyone who wants to play it