Zpread

You are not the government any more. You are one person in the street, at night, as the city falls. The helicopter is not coming for you: it is coming for civilians, and it lifts off only with them. You have ninety seconds. THE NIGHT STARTS AT THE BASE The Z Brigade holds a building on the block — a different one every night, in the brigade's colours, the emblem turning on its roof. The night opens on its door: you walk out, the camera widens, and the clock does not start until you are on the pavement. ONE FINGER Put your finger down: your character runs toward it, and shoots the nearest zombie in front of him by himself. Let go: he stops and shoots straighter. Two taps: a roll, and a bite during the roll does not count. Hold still: he reloads. That is all of it. No stick on the screen, no fire button, nothing to learn. THE ROW OF HEADS At the top of the screen, a row of little grey heads: that is how many civilians the helicopter is coming for tonight. Touch somebody healthy and they follow you, and their head fills in. When the row is full the helicopter is called, and lands ten seconds later on its flare. Eight seats aboard: the pilot, you, and six at most. Between you and them: the streets, the hordes, fires jumping from building to building, cars that do not brake. Three hearts. A bite costs one, so does a fire, a car costs two. Bitten, a follower leaves the line and their head empties. A CITY THAT REALLY FALLS Nine districts of a voxel city, fifteen hundred residents, and every one of them is a person: they walk, they see a zombie, they run. A bite is a distance. The hospital sends ambulances for the bitten, they turn on the wards and walk out of the front door; taxis carry others clear across the map. The count at the top of the screen is how many people are still unbitten, and it drops while you run. WHAT IT LOOKS LIKE A round sprays and stains the asphalt; a kill takes the zombie apart. The stains stay on the street until morning, and the stronger the gun the more of them there are. A thumb pad at the bottom, two zoom buttons, and nothing else on screen. BETWEEN TWO NIGHTS, ONE CARD OF THREE A shotgun, a machine gun, a rocket launcher, a sniper rifle — the same card twice levels the gun up. A dog that follows you and bites. A vest, a med kit. A radio that brings the helicopter closer. And sometimes the air strike: one button, ten seconds, forty metres flattened around you, you included if you are slow. The next night is further, darker, fuller. A run lasts a few minutes; the phone can be closed between two nights and the run is kept. NO NETWORK, NO ACCOUNT, NO ADS The whole game is inside the app: it asks for no permission at all and runs with the network off. French and English, switchable at any time. Made by one person, in Québec.