Verdict
8/10
Dying Light: The Beast masquerades as a grim, intense gore-fest, but beneath its surface lies a wonderfully absurd playground dedicated to inventive zombie dispatch. I reveled in discovering every ludicrous method to take down the undead. While it might not linger in memory forever, this stands as the pinnacle of the Dying Light series so far.
There’s a strange sense of guilt when rummaging through abandoned homes, even if the former residents are now brain-hungry zombies. I’d certainly be annoyed if someone pilfered my precious scrap metal, even as a shambling corpse. Luckily, the undead citizens of this picturesque, Alps-adjacent town in Dying Light: The Beast are too preoccupied with turning me into their next meal to care about my kleptomaniac tendencies.
At its core, Dying Light: The Beast blends a narrative of vengeance with the chaotic exploits of a resourceful survivor, constantly juggling altruism with the urge to craft absurdly destructive weapons, like an axe fused with a flamethrower. It took some time to grasp The Beast’s unique rhythm; its intense, gory exterior cleverly conceals a delightfully goofy sandbox designed for creative zombie annihilation.
My activities largely fell into a gratifying loop of sprinting, scavenging for useful items, and brutally smashing skulls. It felt like simultaneously scratching multiple creative itches, and I discovered that most challenges in Dying Light could be overcome by combining these three actions. For instance, restoring power to a building typically involved fluid parkour over rooftops, finding a specific cable, and then expertly dispatching the undead denizens guarding the substation.
Beyond the visceral combat lies a compelling narrative. My character, having endured over a decade of horrific scientific experimentation, is now seeking vengeance. I awaken in a scenic town, now completely overrun by relentless infected, and my immediate goal is to establish a base of operations to confront the orchestrator of my suffering.
Veterans of the Dying Light series will feel right at home, but for newcomers, anticipate a first-person action experience heavily focused on visceral melee combat. The game offers a robust system for crafting, discovering, and customizing weapons, turning the hordes of enemies into your personal, gory punching bags.
However, freedom in this world is an illusion; venturing out after dark is a perilous endeavor, given the hulking yet surprisingly nimble nocturnal predators. While small groups of infected pose little threat, it’s dangerously easy to be overwhelmed by a surging horde. Survival hinges on understanding your limitations and adapting, though my judgment is often swayed by the sheer confidence a trusty hockey stick-explosive combo inspires.
Thus, I dutifully carry out tasks delivered via radio, easing the burden on other survivors. These quests often lead to story revelations and opportunities to enhance my abilities, particularly my zombie-bashing prowess. Progression allows for refining various character aspects; for example, improved driving skills mean less fuel consumption and increased vehicle durability against enemy attacks – a crucial advantage given the expansive terrain.
Similar to previous installments, The Beast features an urban core perfect for acrobatic parkour, allowing me to evade the biting grasp of the infected by leaping across rooftops. Yet, the majority of the map sprawls into farmlands and isolated settlements – vast open spaces. This seemingly empty expanse is surprisingly dense, brimming with intriguing points of interest and subtle environmental storytelling waiting to be discovered.
During my exploration, I stumbled upon a poignant abandoned picnic, accompanied by a note scolding a scout leader for deserting their group. Following the implied path led me to a bleached skeleton at a dock’s edge – the unfortunate scoutmaster, with another note confirming their despair. These subtle environmental details, though minor, infuse the overtly hostile world with a profound and often tragic human element.
My playtime naturally oscillated between engaging story missions and methodically clearing map icons, a rhythm I found immensely satisfying. Daring to explore off the beaten path often rewarded me with powerful new weaponry or crucial resources to bolster my formidable collection of sharpened implements. However, constant vigilance over the clock was paramount; a growing unease would set in around 5 PM, prompting a desperate dash for safety before nightfall.
My few ill-advised excursions after curfew invariably ended poorly. A particular breed of infected thrives in the darkness, and should they detect me out past my bedtime, they relentlessly pursue, intent on separating my head from my shoulders. These formidable creatures are drawn to the beam of my flashlight, and while navigating in absolute darkness is an option, my nerves simply aren’t up to the task.
I imagine my habits are quite irritating for the survivors I assist. I stride in, a self-proclaimed hero, effortlessly tearing through hordes of “legally distinct” zombies with my bare hands. Yet, the moment they assign a task, I often find myself retreating for a nap, declaring it “too late” past midday. My policy is simple: much like a coffee addict before their morning brew, don’t even think about asking for help when dusk approaches.
With a straightforward yet impactful story, bone-crunching combat, and a world that paradoxically feels both derelict and vibrant, Dying Light: The Beast delivered an exceptionally enjoyable experience. I’m confident that both series veterans and newcomers alike will discover much to love in this installment – it truly stands as the finest iteration of Dying Light so far, and absolutely merits your time.