2008 Woodie Awards
'Zombie Wars' creates competition to kill undead again
Adam Ziegler
Issue date: 5/5/08 Section: Features
I've come to the conclusion that I'm going to fail all my finals next week, but it's not because I haven't done my homework or skipped class.
It's because of zombies.
On Sunday, my bastard of a boss, Andy Boyle, introduced the Daily Nebraskan newsroom to the game "Boxhead - The Zombie Wars." The game tells the story of one Rambo-esque man's against-the-odds struggle to survive a zombie apocalypse armed with only his courage, a burning will to live and lots and lots of guns. And exploding barrels. And nuclear airstrikes.
Since we found the game, productivity among DN employees has fallen 27 percent. I'm honestly surprised we're still able to put a paper out.
The thing about "Zombie Wars" is it's like a can of Pringles - once I start, I just can't stop. As soon as I begin playing, the desire to murder the undead consumes me, and I can't quit playing until either the zombies die or I do.
For example, here's what I did on Monday: I woke up and went to class for couple hours. Then I ate lunch and went down to the DN, where I proceeded to kill zombies for about two hours. I spent about three hours making calls and typing a story, then spent the next four hours killing zombies. At around midnight I decided to call it a night and went home - where I killed more zombies.
I had two papers and a presentation I could have been working on in that time, but doing homework couldn't compare to the satisfaction I got from knowing that a zombie exploded because I shot it with a rocket launcher. In fact, if I wasn't getting money to do stupid things like write this column, I doubt I would have taken time out of my zombie slaughtering to do it.
Sadly, I'm not alone in my new obsession. "Zombie Wars" has become as contagious as the Rage virus, turning the DN staff into metaphorical zombies craving new ways to re-kill the walking dead.
At any given time in the newsroom, somewhere around five people will be playing "Zombie Wars," with Carl Orff's "O Fortuna" (you know, from the Gatorade commercials and crappy action movie trailers) playing gently in the background. No one really talks to each other. The tapping of arrow keys and spacebars are the only sounds to break up the booming strings and horns of the classic German musical number.
It's because of zombies.
On Sunday, my bastard of a boss, Andy Boyle, introduced the Daily Nebraskan newsroom to the game "Boxhead - The Zombie Wars." The game tells the story of one Rambo-esque man's against-the-odds struggle to survive a zombie apocalypse armed with only his courage, a burning will to live and lots and lots of guns. And exploding barrels. And nuclear airstrikes.
Since we found the game, productivity among DN employees has fallen 27 percent. I'm honestly surprised we're still able to put a paper out.
The thing about "Zombie Wars" is it's like a can of Pringles - once I start, I just can't stop. As soon as I begin playing, the desire to murder the undead consumes me, and I can't quit playing until either the zombies die or I do.
For example, here's what I did on Monday: I woke up and went to class for couple hours. Then I ate lunch and went down to the DN, where I proceeded to kill zombies for about two hours. I spent about three hours making calls and typing a story, then spent the next four hours killing zombies. At around midnight I decided to call it a night and went home - where I killed more zombies.
I had two papers and a presentation I could have been working on in that time, but doing homework couldn't compare to the satisfaction I got from knowing that a zombie exploded because I shot it with a rocket launcher. In fact, if I wasn't getting money to do stupid things like write this column, I doubt I would have taken time out of my zombie slaughtering to do it.
Sadly, I'm not alone in my new obsession. "Zombie Wars" has become as contagious as the Rage virus, turning the DN staff into metaphorical zombies craving new ways to re-kill the walking dead.
At any given time in the newsroom, somewhere around five people will be playing "Zombie Wars," with Carl Orff's "O Fortuna" (you know, from the Gatorade commercials and crappy action movie trailers) playing gently in the background. No one really talks to each other. The tapping of arrow keys and spacebars are the only sounds to break up the booming strings and horns of the classic German musical number.
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bob
posted 10/13/08 @ 10:47 AM CST
i eat poop!
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