When you imagine of "intense" games, you may remember few shooter's bullet-laden climactic view, or a particularly effective combo in a fighting game. But strength does not only live in times of over-the-top violence or throughout awe-inspiring screens of ability. It can arrive from the way a game affects your mood and your mind as you play it. In that sense, Lone Survivor is one of the most actually intense games in current storage: it is a game that, from the opening menu, grabs a maintain of your senses and maintains them locked onto your monitor until the adventure is over.
You play as the nameless title part, apparently the just human left later a plague has turned most of the population into faceless, shambling zombies. Contempt this devastating catastrophe, you meet other "people" with whom you can act: a white-faced man, a man with a cardboard box on his head, and some others, but how actual these individual are (and whether or not they are outright malevolent) is a case of perspective. See, the chief character is in a constant struggle
opposite not only the mutants outer side his apartment, not only his own famish and fatigue, but sanity itself. Options you create in the game--whether or not to carry on a conversation with a stuffed animal, for example--have actual impressions on how the main character maintains his marbles together; although to the game's excellent credit, it is not ever clear what will be good and what will be detrimental when you select.
However you treat your character's mind, though, you face a series of disputes once he inevitably determined to sally forth from his lonely apartment into the globe beyond. The halls of his apartment constructing are home to few of the aggressive mutants, but you are demonstrated before on with a radio broadcast urging survivors to head to an apartment on the other side of the constructing. To be confirm, you have to arrive back to your apartment over and over to sleep and because it functions as a base of operations for all you do.