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Steam sale: A Newbie's adventures

Danger Mouse

Member
Feb 20, 2012
11
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Well. As you probably know Killing Floor had an 80% off offer last week, knocking the price down below the cost of a large packet of haribo and I decided to pick it up. Seeing as it's a fairly old game at this point, with a veteran population I thought it might be interesting, maybe even fun, to document my experiences as a completely new face in Killing Floor. I'll try to include the difficulties I was playing and the map besides the usual hilarious failure that happens whenever I get my hands on a gun.

DAY ONE - Games one and two: 'Killing floor? Does that mean I get attacked by killer floorboards?'

So I just started the game for the first time, to be greeted by a screaming naked lady with lovely blue eyes and a punk hairstyle. All righty then. Reminds me of Middlesborough on a Friday night. So. The controls. Q to inject self with drugs? No sprint button. I suppose the characters take the gentlemanly approach to fleeing in terror from genetic abominations, then. Left click to shoot things, right click to squint down the iron sights.

Pretty standard. Game on then, boys!

Game one: 'It ain't over till the hideous mutant sings.' Manor- Long - Normal.

Five minutes later: I don't particularly want to talk about what just happened. While joining a game in the middle of round ten as a spectator is bad enough, having to watch the resident samurai run circles around a steroid addict with a bunch of christmas lights in his chest for half an hour, I stayed in because I thought 'meh, it'll just go to next round for wave one again.' Well. Killing Floor goes to Eleven! And there I was with my single 9mm, ready to take one for the team in front of a man with an arm made of a minigun/rocket launcher.

Lessons learned: Killing Floor goes to eleven. The big scientist type at the end shouts 'One in the pipe' like an overenthusiastic pot smoker before exploding your body across the landscape, and the 9mm is not the best weapon for killing it.

Game two: 'I wish I'd noticed the difficulty filter before this happened.' West London-Long-Hell on Earth

Before finding out exactly why Tripwire called this difficulty 'Hell on Earth', I had a poke at the perks to decide exactly what I wanted to play. Medic is a given that I'll probably have to fill at some time or another, having played MMOs in which nobody wants to be the healer but everybody wants someone ELSE to be the healer, so I'll probably slam a few needles into a few buttocks to level the perk. Besides that, I don't fancy sharpshooter after years of asshole snipers in games like Call of Duty. Firebug, while it sounds fun, doesn't appeal because of the tvtropes logic that if you can't kill a zombie with your flamethrower, you now have a FLAMING ZOMBIE to deal with.

Support specialist isn't something I like, because I'd rather not be trapped in a closet, crying quietly as I try to weld the door shut. Bezerker... does not seem like a good idea, looking at the various sharp and bloody appendages on the horde. That leaves Commando, as I refuse to consider going demolitions after my long history of leaving my body in fifteen different places after playing with explosives.

So, in the noble spirit of going Commando, I remove my boxers and join another server.

Well. That was another five minute job. I spawned during the trader interval between wave four and five, the resident level sixes distracted by voice chat that stops them noticing the level 0 running round trying to jump up to the top of phone boxes, not bothering to go to the trader to pick up akimbo spud guns (what I have named the 9mm at this point)

'They're coming! I'm gone.'

Bollocks. There's not much to say. The level sixes hoof it back to their private fortress while I'm still trying to ascend Mt. Phonebox. In short, this round, all five minutes of it I'm still breathing, can be summed up with Monty Python - Run Away! - YouTube and it doesn't last long. I quietly leave before one of them checks who the dead guy is, having finally found out the difficulty of the map and also having heard somewhere that more people makes it harder or similar. I decide to give it a rest for the day.
 
Much obliged mate, I've got in some more playtime since and once again... 'fun' happened.

Game three: 'It's like the bleeding Matrix in here, Charlie.' Bedlam - Short - Normal

Spawning in before the match commences? It's going snooker loopy up in here, Captain! There's a lot of commando in this team, so I go medic because there isn't one, for obvious reasons as I'm looking at the perk bonuses. I decide to rename the medic as the 'marshmallow'. He can soak up a lot of punishment but deals out less damage than a parapliegic possum.

Being in the enviable position of not having a knife and a spud gun before a giant human christmas tree round is nice, even if my git team mates think medic means 'please surround me and stab me repeatedly with knives'. Course this means we're in a lovely exposed position when the jawless jimmies turn up to give us all vigorous prostate exams with their blade arms, so the Wonder Needle (tm) gets a lot of work this round and gets me enough money for....

...bugger all in the way of medic gear. I get a combat vest, which the perk bonus makes sound like a bleeding set of EOD armour, and a machete. Now, something that needs to be understood here is that up until now I have been smeared across the pavement within about five minutes, so I haven't exactly met most of the specimens. So when a spikey jumpy shiny black thingy lands on my head from above, I react as one would expect.
Monty Python - Run Away! - YouTube

Luckily, most of my team appeared to have abandoned the idea of a defensive poise, and come charging after me thinking that here is a man who knows where he's going. I am, therefore, sorry for leading them into a dead end and getting half of them slaughtered. There's not much to the round so no-one but the firebugs get a blade-arm prostate exam, and I put an MP7 in my swag bag.

This, is where it all ends badly. I note, when pressing alt fire, that it fires an ickle healing dart. This'll be useful, I thought!

No. No it won't. At first I don't need to use the thing, as the team gets it's plop together for a bit and I remain secure in the knowledge that my healing dart will definitely help when, say, I need to heal some across the room. What could go wrong, now?

EVERYTHING COULD GO WRONG.

Next round, the loggers (men with chainsaws) turn up. One of my teammates annoys one, and it goes for him... and catches him. No problem, I think, aiming at him with my medidart, this'll help!

The following can only be explained through the medium of youtube videos.
The Matrix: Dodge this (HD) - YouTube

Needless to say, he dies. And because he died, someone else died... and because someone else died and I am equipped with a water pistol (what I call the MP7) I die.

FUBAR.
 
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Lol, nicely written good sir. Actually reminds me the first time I play KF. Bedlem, solo, normal, short. First wave made me think the game was going to be easy, second wave a husk spawned right behind me, and in panic emptied my pistol(spent too much time looking at gun, and did not buy any) into its head killing it. I was then killed by clots that fill both ends of the hall I was in.
 
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He can soak up a lot of punishment but deals out less damage than a parapliegic possum.

That made me giggle. The part about the matrix dodging abilities of team mates when it comes to being healed is pretty much the standard. If you spend any time as a medic (an actually healing medic) you come to just 'hope' your darts hit.
 
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Go on dude, continue writing. I haven't seen so positive feedback of getting wiped before. Most of newcomers are logging into the forums to whine about game is so unfair, need to be balanced and want it to look like CoD. I think you with your posts will be a legend soon.
 
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My advice to you: don't read any information about KF ever! Avoid KF tactic section, user guides, youtube videos etc. Just play. Feel the pure game from the beginning and post your experience to us. Really fun to read.

You tell him to behave like a total noob and remain like that? Please say you don't come up with such unfunny jokes very often...

Was a nice read op, keep that style up. Although if you wish to gain some knowledge (at least basics), the wiki is always your friend. If you have friends experienced with this game, it'd be nice if you asked them to spend few hours with you and do some practice with further explanations ;-)

Good luck.
 
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You tell him to behave like a total noob and remain like that? Please say you don't come up with such unfunny jokes very often...

Was a nice read op, keep that style up. Although if you wish to gain some knowledge (at least basics), the wiki is always your friend. If you have friends experienced with this game, it'd be nice if you asked them to spend few hours with you and do some practice with further explanations ;-)

Good luck.

No no no no, that wiki is awful. And reading a some websites and watching videos don't make someone any less of a noob, play time and learning by doing make you a competent player. My advice, is don't get hung up on figures, learn through playing what you can take on and what feels right.

EDIT - And share your experiences.
 
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nice read, haha, reminds me of MY early days (I'm now one of those 2 level 6 200 hour people)

about the MP7

it really isn't a "wasserpistole" as you say

it can be useful early on in the game.

Also, that "dodge this" is actually inverted in killing floor

often times I find firing darts up close is a LOT more inconsistent than firing them at long/medium range.
 
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Many coconuts for the feedback, boys. There's a few games between the next 'fun' one that happens, in which I get commando to level two. I'm not going to describe them because they went pretty much by the book. Six guys, all with a corridor, all very efficiently popping heads... all very boring. For me Killing Floor is fun when you have to improvise, say when a welded door gives way and the team sharpshooter has the blinking of a bloodshot eye to make a perfect headshot on the Christmas Tree man in the pack or it's game over.

Things going tits up is what makes the game fun. Which happened in abundance in...

Game Seven (skipping the boring ones) - 'You always were an asshole, Gorman.' Crash - Hard - Long. Team Set Up (I remembered it this time) Commando (me) Medic, 2x Sharpshooter, 2x Support Specialist

I found at during a Biolabs match that grenades can blow open doors. This is of relevance here, but moving on.

Back to usual form, meaning I spawn in at the end of wave four with my trusty knife and spud gun, ready to take on the Chainsaw texans with a knife and a gun that shoots bullets that will bounce off his sweet Abs.

...seriously, has anyone else noticed how built the monsters are? Besides Fat Boy Fat, vomit extraordinaire. Where did they get the DNA, Derek Chisora? Meh. Maybe that's why they're so successful, since they're all genetic mini-hulks instead of the flabby gits of the zombie apocalypse.

Another note: The WSAF maneuver. Since I run away so often in Killing floor and since the British Army loves acronyms and their little cotton socks, I've invented the WSAF, or Widdle Self And Flee, maneuver. Such a tactic as served me well in most games, since I've noticed that the best way for a Commando to survive the Attack of the Killer Christmas Tree Man is to, indeed, Widdle Himself And Flee.

Back to the game, the first rounds go as expected, meaning badly. One of the sharpshooters channels Leeroy Jenkins and tries to crowd surf through the horde and promptly loses his limbs and testicles to none too impressed critters. He loses his guns, and most of his money... so...

GivemesomemoneyGivemesomemoneyGivemesomemoneyGivemesomemoney

My favourite set up at the moment is to get an AK47 (even though Killing Floor's AK47 lacks the massive stock I usually associate with that weapon) combat armour and a machete as an aid to removing any of the clingy buggers while performing the WSAF maneuver if my AK magazine (I stopped calling it a clip for two reasons. One: That's what it's called. Two: I'm still traumatised by a 12 year old screaming 'OUT OF QWIPS' when his spray inevitably wasted all his munitions.) runs out of ammunition, which it normally does when the plop hits the fan. It's pretty expensive when you've just joined recently, meaning that the needy git chases me around for the entire trader interval making puppy eyes at my empty wallet.

And just what the hell does bloody brasic mean, anyway? Bloody cockney fairies.

Something I notice over the next few rounds is that the support guys make for the hills at the end of every trader interval and only make their presence known at the end of each wave. While the 10 chunk they repeatedly take out of the horde counter is fine and dandy, that does leave me with an admittedly good Medic (Sharpshooter Jenkins has only died once thus far) and another Sharpshooter who's gotten all passive aggressive over half the team haring off into the distance every single wave.

Exactly why he's not happy becomes damn clear in round nine. The SCAR only holds twenty two bullets at my level, and the slightly dodgy hitbox connection I'm starting to notice means that when Leroy Mc Sharpshooter decides it's a cracking time to commit suicide-by-specimen, I can't pull his chestnuts out of the pan and his drunken flailing means that the medic can't hit him either.

Man down. It's all downhill from here. With one gun out of play and only one of the three left being any good against the small 'uns we get inched out of our hidey hole. Bad, bad news. It's along the corridors and up the stairs, with me and the competent sharpshooter doing our best while the medic clears the way as well as he can with the water pistol of a gun he has.

Then two of the Giant Christmas Tree Men turn up.

WSAF! WSAF! We have absolutely no idea where we're going. Down some stairs, across a big snow covered yard and up to some more stairs. 'UP THEM APPLES, LADS'

An Aside: Get headphones, for the immersion factor. Being able to hear where they're coming from is good, but the closest I've been to fear in a videogame is when running away with headphones on in Killing Floor and hearing... them... right... behind... you...

Back to game: The Christmas Trees are down, but the Sharpshooter is making ominous sounds about no ammo, as is the Medic. Both have their spud guns out. The SCAR takes one head, two heads, three... clickclickclick. Bullets gone. The spud gun comes out to drop a fat one as his vomit takes out the last of our body armour's health. This seemed to last an age in game, though it probably only took about ten seconds to get up those stairs... to find....

A door at 100% weld, courtesy of our support friends who are nowhere to be seen. There's no time to unweld the thing, the nasties are already trying to bite our heads off and we only have spud guns to hold them off.

Remember I said that I'd found out that grenades can blow open doors? Que sad music. Gears of War 3 Soundtrack Dom´s Death (Gary Jules Mad world) - YouTube

I check my ammo count, to find one magazine of potato ammo... and five grenades. The Sharpshooter runs completely dry and takes a spidery thing's head off with his combat knife. The Medic is crouched down, alternating between making a bad job of unwelding the door and jamming needles in us. 75% weld. My spud gun runs dry. I'm grappled by a clingy thing, but I can still turn around to face the door, me with my grenades and about a square meter to use them.

DANGER_MOUSE HAS DIED

Danger_Mouse has blown up

The door flies off its hinges.

Lessons learned: Manly posturing besides, one guy is a good trade for two. The Medic kept his vital MP5 medic gun, as well as the Sharpshooter keeping his Crossbow and Desert Eagle.

The Killing Floor community is good. Both of the medic and the sharpshooter survived the round after the blowing of the door and were more than happy to refill my wallet. The Killing Floor community can also be a tad rubbish, as evidenced by the Magnificent Support Brothers Vanishing Act and Door Welding Dance.

I've rarely had moments like that in most other games.
 
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