2.8 Hours Later is a city-wide game that takes place over the course of 2.8 hours. You, as one of the last surviving members of the human race, are released in a city with a map, complete with grid reference. The object of the game is to find fellow survivors, get their stories and the next grid location, where another survivor and grid location wait for you. You make your way across the map, avoiding the zombies, who are ready, willing and able to attack you until you finally make it to Resistance HQ. If you are tagged by a zombie, you are Infected and you're destined to become one of them.
We arrived at the launch base where we were given our maps and arm-bands. Covering south-east London, from Waterloo East Railway station to Shortwave Films in Bermondsey Sqaure, we had 2.8 hours to travel the 1.5 mile square contamination area. Sounds easy? Wrong.
We were given our first location and began to make our way there. Within two minutes of release, we saw our first zombie, lurking on a corner we had to walk past. We watched some brave souls try and run past, seeing one zombie and then another pelt after them. We turned and ran the opposite way, circumventing the corner and travelling in relative safety. This was to be the pattern for the rest of the night.
We skirted along side streets, running through the alley ways between blocks of flats, sidling down past cars. Every shadow was an enemy, every footfall potential death. What started out as a fun game very quickly became an immersive fight for survival.
We made it to the car-park, our first location, easily locating it from the sounds of shrieks and snarls slashing through the air. The few people passing by looked nervous enough. And they didn't have to go in it.
We had to make our way to Level 14, the very top. The first nine levels via the stairs, the remaining five through the car-park and up the ramps. Every few moments, we'd hear shrieks above us, the fluorescent lighting showing the abject fear on everyone's faces in stark relief. Footsteps and screams echoed around us. We made it, so slowly, up the stairs and out onto level nine. We saw another survivor, hiding behind a pillar. He gestured upwards, indicating one of the Infected was close. We ran over, realising quickly that in such a narrow space, even outnumbering the creature, one of us would be Infected if we tried to take on the zombie. So we climbed the car park, hauling ourselves up over railings and concrete barriers, squeezing through gaps a foot and half wide. In utter silence, save for the snarling. Using this method, we got to the top, quickly locating the sweets we needed to use to bribe the next survivor into telling us where to go.
We began to make our way down the stairwell when from above us came a scream. One of the Infected was inside. We ran, our group separating in a bid for survival. Lee and I climbed our way back down through the car park, not trusting the paths. Finally, after what felt like forever, we were out. We'd made it. Minutes later, Brian hurtled out. He'd made it too.
On the way to the next grid location, we passed a number of pubs, all of which had other armband-clad survivors in them, chugging back drinks, looking shaken and relieved. It was truly harrowing, reality completely suspended. We all genuinely went to a place in which we believed our survival depended on not getting tagged. It was awesome.
We got to the next location easily, a church with a priest chained to the fence outside. We were all veteran enough to know a chained man was not going to be a friend so we kept well back, working hard to coax him into the next location...
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| The Priest. Even the Infected love Mountain Dew. |
Using our stealth tactics, we came at this one backwards, so were treated to the sight of the zombies waiting stealthily for the unsuspecting survivors to leave the relative safety of the location. We were also warned by those that had made it through that these two were fast and unrelenting. Girding ourselves, we went around and entered the butcher's lair, where a blood spattered man, surrounded by limbs and blood fed us the next location... Before herding us right out onto the street where the two ruthless zombies were waiting. Thankfully, by chance we were in a huge group... and when mob mentality took over it proved useful. The doors had been opened for a few seconds when suddenly everyone was screaming and running blindly, me included. I had no idea where my friends were, where the Infected were. It was just running and screaming. We poured out onto the next street, finally slowing and laughing. We'd made it. Again. But how much longer could our luck hold?
The pub. Sounds nice. Swift pint at the Winchester and wait for it all to blow over? Wrong. We were herded inside a dingy, abandoned pub inhabited by a mad woman with a genre-appropriate pool cue. And when 'Don't Stop Me Now,' started playing, apparently of it's own accord, we knew we were screwed. One of the Infected lurched out from behind the bar. More running.
Our next stop was to find a wise man on the streets, which we did... (and we bunged him £1.50 for his awesome one-stringed violin skills) and he gave us the next location. To find the Mad Scientist... who had the location of Resistance HQ. If we could make it there, we were safe. We'd come so far, two hours, on foot, in the dark... To get to the Mad Scientist we first had to navigate our way through the Zombie Hen Party, a group of slow moving, staggering, undead chavettes. Who spat at you. We didn't see the one behind the car, pelting madly past her. At the end of the streets we scoured our clothing. 'Did they get you?' we called, inspecting ourselves. 'What about me, my back? Can you see anything?'. Grateful to have once again survived we moved to our next location. The final hurdle before safety.
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| Sluts of the Dead. Bringing a whole new meaning to 'Lady of the Night'. |
We were let into a building, where very scary and bio-suited men screamed at us, herding us into a lift to see if we were Infected. Then we were sent to make-up and then disco!
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| Your intrepid losers. Luckily, there is still booze in the afterlife. That's a Win in my book. |
It was the very best way to celebrate Halloween...
... Much aided by the fact we got home and Jules had made a Pumpkin Pie and there was a bottle of red for me. No brains though.
