Zombies are a crude metaphor for our collective hatred of other people. Be honest, human beings suck and you want to kill them. Curb stomping a downed zombie isn’t simply gratuitous fun. It’s also essential therapy for the misanthropic masses. Murdering the undead keeps us from going postal after another shitty day at the job we despise. In short, Zombie games save lives.
Unfortunately, Dead Island proves the exception to the rule. I was hoping for a thrilling romp through the zombie-infested holiday resort of Banoi. Instead, I'm lumbered with a glorified list of chores. Every surviving inhabitant on the island has a tedious errand for you to run: "Feed me", "Find my necklace", "Bring me my teddy bear", "Wipe my shitty arsehole". And they just keep on coming. Soon you're drowning in a maddening cacophony of inane fetch-quests.
The game becomes less about surviving a zombie holocaust and more about keeping these mewling, ungrateful, utterly useless sacks of flesh from choking to death on their own tongues. Dead Island isn't the cathartic escape from reality I was hoping for. Quite the opposite in fact. It simply served to remind me exactly why I hate people in the first place.
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