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.
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.