Dead Island doesn’t make any sense.
“Oh, really?”, I hear you cry. “Does the game about the zombie invasion insult your sensibilities, mister Logical?”
Well, fuck off with that. For one, because you know that’s not what I mean; and two, allow me to explain. The economy in Dead Island makes absolutely no sense whatsoever.
Yeah, that’s right: the economy. See, you’re literally the only chance the whiney fleshsacks stranded on the island have of survival, and the fuckers still insist on selling you weapons to enable you to go out and save their stupid shitting lives.
That’s either completely nonsensical or you just happen to be vacationing on an island full of complete and utter bellends whose dedication to capitalism actually stretches as far as (and well into) the potential apocalypse.
This is why I delight in selling the opportunistic little shithawks things they could have found themselves if they’d actually done something for themselves for once. Every time I sell Wayne a paddle that he could have picked up himself had he ventured out of the single tiny room he seems to love so much I can’t help chuckling to myself and thinking “Free market will regulate itself my flappy cock. Have the stupid fucking paddle, you prick.”
This is Wayne. I hate him.
