The zombie apocalypse has come, and it’s pissing me off.
Then the zombie infestation happened, and all my plans are dashed to hell.
The major cities are now littered with corpses. I walk through the trade district and I tread heavily over the ragged skeletons of strangers, comrades, and enemies alike. Worse, they’re not even lootable. All the NPCs appear to be dead, too. Frakking zombies! I can’t get anything done when the whole town is dead! Did no one at Blizzard anticipate these nuisances?
Among the festering corpses (thank goodness you can’t smell through the internet) are my reagent vendor, the blacksmith, and that guy who always says “HAMMERTIME!!111!!”. Maybe the Naaru really have blessed us! I poke around hoping that the respawn timer will pop out the NPCs and set this right again, but no one appears. Hello? Where is everyone? I feel like I’ve got RobertNeville floating above my head, and wish I had Wolpertinger with me for comfort.
I canvas the city, searching for survivors—for some sign that life endures in this dark time. I search for friends. I search for hope. And for portal runes, dammit, because I’m all out and I don’t want to swim to Kalimdor.
I check the inn, hoping for some holdouts. Surely not everyone is dead? Surely someone, somewhere, escaped?
I was right! Not everyone is dead! Some are undead. A group of Plague Zombies. Wait, what?
They’ve spotted me. Oh shit oh shit! Where the hell did they come from? I mean, aside from beyond the grave? I’ll run to the Cathedral—healers!—I’ll be safe there. I saw it in a movie once. Yes, this is a great plan. I ascend the steps of the great cathedral. Sanctuary. Nothing bad ever happens in a church, right? I’m safe! But what’s this on the wall? The end is extremely what now?
Now I remember! There were zombies in that church! Argh!
I’ve got 43 seconds. Is that enough time to recount my bittersweet life on this planet, cut terribly short? To go over the mistakes I’ve made (like going into that damn cathedral)? I remember fondly those early days in Elwynn Forest, picking flowers, at peace with the neutral mobs… It seems so long ago…
Ooooh new abilities! Lessee here…
Mangle! Retch! I could get used to that! Yes…that’s it…must join the others…
I and my new zombie friends ravage the city. We infect players and NPCs indescriminately. We obliterate trade routes, supply lines, and safe havens. We stalk you. We hide behind things that look sort of like zombies so that we can surprise you—with zombies! We have just one purpose, just one motive, and just one desire. Your sweet, sweet brains.
But even within that mindless need I wonder: has it really come to this? I mean, really? The food here isn’t much to sniff at but… brains? What about my comrades? The living ones? What about being on time for my raid?
I know what I must do.
*Note: the incredible destruction wrought by this hilarious Halloween prank generated so much outrage and grief among players that Blizzard discontinued it yesterday. It was a damn nuisance, but how can you not love spontaneous hordes of zombies?