*Sets coffee down on the table.*Ah, so. Our latest story on the Unturned preview branch.
Obviously, I’m quite happy with the way Nelson Sexton has been releasing daily updates and patches, and I’m using my god given ability of hindsight to say I’ll regret making this post within, say, a week. But, let’s not daddle too far from the present, shall we?
Upon joining the densest public test server, I arrived to overhear two fine gentlemen speaking in a broken English about how the town’s park held ‘Everything they needed.’ In disbelief, I travelled from the farm in which I spawned to said park, and I witnessed a true rapture. Players trading ammunition and weapons left and right, all the while pleading to the Admin overlord to spawn some food and water.
After fashioning myself in the same attire as everybody else and donning myself with my signature Timberwolf, I set out to hunt for some zombies to kill, thought it had seemed as if they’d all been picked off before my arrival. Saddened as I were, it dawned on me that at this point, there truly weren’t many boundaries. So, I set upon finding a hill to pick off my fellow-men, some of whom had shared with me their bounty of loot. A foolish mistake on their part. However, as I reached a reasonably large distance away from the packets of hungry and dying foreign group, and just as I had established a decent line of sight, the server was shut down indefinitely. Time to find another, I thought.
Hence, I decided to join a second server with a mere 6/20 slots filled. It filled me with a deep sadness to find that this town’s park did not hold all 300 same keys to my survival and impending ban than the previous server, and it appeared I had to once more fend for myself, version 2 style. However, it took me literally less than five minutes to be reunited with my Timberwolf and attachments, as I literally found them scattered around a post office. All the while, a spanish man was outside of the building which I inhabited, running away from a neat little line of undead. Clearly the horde behaviour hasn’t been tweaked, and these gentlemen were clearly so new to the game they didn’t understand that zombies can be taken out in mere seconds when pacing backwards and watching them all come at you in a straight line. Then I snapped back to reality and remembered that this is version 3, and dreams don’t come true in version 3. Indeed, melee is still yet to be added to the game, an unfortunate thing for me, as I had ran out of all 8 of my Timberwolf bullets and had to Roleplay that my character was secretly a paraplegic after a nasty cage fighting accident and forgot how to move his hands.
Sad as I was that the lovely Spanish bloke had now been chomped because he didn’t realise that having less than ten percent stamina disables you from jumping, I rejoiced in finding a bottle of water than ironically spawns in less abundance than the rarest weapon in the game. Now with little more time on my hands, I once more set off to climb a hill, if not to pick off survivors who needed the gear more than I, then surely to get a lay of the land.
Then I realised once again, this is Version 3, there is no happiness in Version 3.
On one half of the map was a great void of emptiness, perhaps another world I was yet to explore. Perhaps it was just map boundaries that hadn’t been rendered with the engine’s piss poor draw distances. The scopes have definitely been improved, however, and as much as I despise the neglect the draw distance gave my eyeballs, I do like the newfound practicality of a scope, as even though I was unable to shoot at anything, I could still sit safely from a distance and watch the Spanish bloke get eaten all over again.
The distant view of the towns are awfully pretty, even with the game’s charmingly Minecraft-esque aesthetics. Just look at all of those players and zombies I can’t see or shoot.
It was only a few minutes after drooling at the sight (Hehehehehe.) of the town that I realised I was very close to dying. However, luckily for me, I was near a farm, which seemed scant of any Spanish looters ranting through the microphone.
After a beautiful walk through the brisk summers day, with nary a zombie or can of soup to be found, I stumbled upon the farm that I had set my sights (HEHEHEHEHE) on minutes before climbing down from the hills.
After desperately sprinting toward the farm in the vane hope of ever finding sufficient nourishment in order to continue my sightseeing (I’ll stop.) tour of the new additions of Unturned, I found not a crum to be sucked or a droplet to be caught, and the quite nice and new user interface told me my hour of reckoning had came. Avoiding the same orange hoodie’d foes as I had been doing for the past ten minutes, I finally lay myself to a peaceful rest in the barn. All the while, I could hear the Lord Nelson Sexton chant from the great heavens “It only gets better.”
Oh, what a horrible dream.
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