DayZ is a metaphor for life, I’m sure of it

destructoid.com:

I rise and study the land before me. The waves of the ocean behind are a soundtrack, a salty rhythm accompanying my own heavy breathing. Running was not on my agenda today.

The wind sticks to the sweat on my forehead, cooling my face and tussling my hair like a breezy aunt. Looking down, I see the tatters of the clothes I’m wearing. I don’t know how I escaped death. I don’t know when my luck will run dry. All I know is the long road ahead, winding round the coast and disappearing behind a crest.

Then, a surprise sight fills my heart with glee. A small cabin, open and inviting. Its dilapidation a thing of beauty. Its broken roof, a veritable stronghold.

As I enter, I feel weak. The grumble of my stomach competing with the grumble of the dead I can hear outside, closing in on my location. Slow but eventual. As I grasp my gut, pregnant with hunger, I take no solace in my desperation as I see it on the table.

“It’s cat food time,” I think.

So, I’ve been replaying DayZ recently. Perhaps because of the latest update. Perhaps because I was starting to miss the baffling sensation of being able to hold a virtual potato in my hand but also not being able to eat it for some reason (it’s not raw, it’s rustic).

The introduction at the top represents an average experience for me in fictional Chernarus, though typically with more cholera. Bohemia Interactive’s decision to lean more towards realistic survival elements in this zombie survival game makes DayZ one of the more challenging releases in the genre.

But it says so much more than its surface narrative, which thrusts players into an abandoned world of apocalyptic collapse. The undead stalk the ghost towns and streets of this post-Soviet republic. No, I think the game is