A Love Letter to the World of Days Gone — A Masterpiece We Learned to Appreciate Too Late
There’s something hauntingly beautiful about the world of Days Gone . It isn’t the prettiest apocalypse, nor the most forgiving. It’s rugged, harsh, and soaked in the melancholy of what humanity lost — and yet, I couldn’t stop exploring it. From the moment I first kicked Deacon’s bike to life and rolled out into the misty Oregon wilderness, I knew this wasn’t going to be another zombie game. The rumble of the engine, the crunch of gravel, the faint sound of freakers echoing through the woods — it all pulled me in like a heartbeat. Days Gone doesn’t rush to impress you. It grows on you — mile by mile, repair by repair, fight by desperate fight. You start as a drifter just trying to survive, scavenging fuel and ammo, sleeping with one eye open. But over time, the world softens its edges, and you realize there’s life, hope, and even love in this broken place. The survivors aren’t just quest-givers — they’re fractured reflections of humanity itself. Tucker’s cruelty, Copeland’s paranoi...