![]() My choices are still echoing around in my skull, and somehow Telltale has managed to make it even more difficult to exercise the game’s limited free will. I’ve now learned to fear the quiet moments more than anything else, and concepts like friendship or romance become risks rather than something which is sought. Having a blether and getting to know other survivors better is just asking for misery down the road. The brief respites from the unrelenting horror of the situation - being Batman to Duck’s Robin, telling stories of better times to Clementine as she falls asleep on your lap - merely exist to make the sequences which follow all the more painful. Kenny got his wish, at least, though by the end of the episode his regrets would eclipse everything else. Supplies were missing, and the now small group contained very few suspects, but before the traitor could be ferreted out, the survivors found themselves leaving Macon far behind as they travelled east to Savannah. It didn’t take long for one to appear, one that put everything and everyone at risk. It was a powder keg, one just asking to explode and blow everyone to kingdom come all it needed was a spark. Kenny remained adamant that heading to the coast in the RV is the sensible choice, while Lily - who I’d supported thus far - was coming apart at the seams and wasn’t going anywhere. Once again, supplies are running low, and Macon has been almost picked clean, leaving everyone to argue about the future of the motel. It’s been a little while since the Macon crew survived the dairy farm long enough so that everyone was looking gaunt, exhausted, and in the case of the gentlemen - hairy. I decided, before I’d even installed episode three, that I’d make more of a concerted effort to do the right thing. However, over the last month I confess to being racked by guilt, not something I’d normally expect after finishing up a game. At the time, I thought I made the right choice. It was the first decision I had made that had just been about survival, plain and simple. ![]() If one thing is going to stick with me from Long Road Ahead it’s that I’m kidding myself - I’d be a terrible survivor, and a far worse leader.Īfter the horrifying events in Starved for Help, I ended the episode on a pragmatic note. I have no idea why I think that years of sitting on my arse, reading comics, and watching zombies on TV would make up for my lack of fitness, tar-caked lungs, and general cowardliness, but there you have it. I’m not one to boast, mainly because I’m terrible at it, but on occasion I have been known to state my belief that in a zombie apocalypse I’d probably do alright. ![]()
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