Date published 


Dead Island book. Read 60 reviews from the world's largest community for readers. What will you do? How far will you go? What will you become?Welcome to. "Dead Island" is a novel for Dead Island that was announced in summer It was planned for simultaneous release with the game. The book was written by. Dead Island [Mark Morris] on *FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. Based on the terrifying new video game, a novel of the zombie apocalypse.

Language:English, Spanish, Japanese
Published (Last):01.08.2016
Distribution:Free* [*Registration needed]
Uploaded by: MILA

77279 downloads 126533 Views 35.72MB ePub Size Report

Dead Island Book

download Dead Island Game Tie-in by Mark Morris (ISBN: ) from site's Book Store. Everyday low prices and free delivery on eligible orders. Dead Island originated as a zombie apocalypse computer game from Deep Silver. Dead Island: The Book is the official tie-in novel written by. Novel[edit]. Concurrent with the game's is a novelisation based on the game.

It's not that I've taken some vow of chastity and forsworn intimacy with the tie-in, it's just that the right opportunity has never really presented itself before now. A state of affairs from which I derived a certain sense of honour. After all, I feel it's important to have standards. Then along comes Dead Island. There was, I should say, prior acquaintance; I've been happily familiar with Mark Morris' work going way back to his first novel. And so one thing led to another and before I knew it

He was not a nervous flyer, but he was anxious about what awaited him on the island. The gig at Banois top resort hotel, the Royal Palm, had fallen into his lap like manna from heaven and he was determined not to blow it. This could be his last chance to prove he was not a joke, maybe his only chance to showcase his new material in front of a sizeable audience. And who knew, if even one or two of the record executives his manager had informed about the gig made the effort to turn up, it could even lead to a new record deal, his first in over six years.

He was desperate to show the world he was not a one-hit wonder, that there was far more to him than Who Do You Voodoo, Bitch. He swallowed to clear the pressure in his ears as the plane swooped towards the ground, but his mouth was dry.

Hey, would you look at that! Sam followed his gaze and saw a lush tropical paradise below, surrounded by an ocean so placid and clear it seemed to sparkle like a plain of blue-white diamonds.

On the nearside of the island was the resort area hotels, restaurants,. Beyond that, covering a good seventy per cent of Banoi, was dense tropical jungle, which eventually gave way, on the far side of the island, to a bare and jagged mountain range, rising up from the greenery like the gnarled back of some prehistoric beast. Looks like paradise, all right, Sam said, though he still couldnt quell the nerves in his belly. Logan pointed to the right of the island. Whats that? Maybe a couple of miles offshore was a much smaller island, little more than a rock maybe half a mile in circumference, with a grey rectangular building situated on a plateau in the centre.

The building resembled a huge but grim-looking office block, and was dominated by a flat-roofed tower at one end that jabbed up into the glorious blue sky like an accusatory finger. Looks like a prison, Sam mused, noting the high electrified fence that encircled the building. Purnas face appeared in the gap between the seats. Its Banoi high-security prison, she confirmed.

Full of psychos and terrorists. The locals call it well, I cant remember the actual word, but it translates as hell in heaven. How come you know so much? Logan said. I read a lot, replied Purna. You should try it. The prison wheeled away from them as the plane banked slightly on its final approach to the island.

Logan looked at Sam with eyes a little bleary from drink. Welcome to paradise, he said. How can I help you? As she dealt with the customer request, Xian Mei wondered, not for the first time, what she was doing here. She hated living a lie, hated being out on a limb, and most of all she hated the fact that her life currently seemed to have no direction. She had been told that she was doing important work for her country, but what was so important about observing the habits of a bunch of wealthy western tourists?

Banoi wasnt exactly the front line, and being a receptionist on the desk of a luxury hotel in the middle of nowhere, far from her family and friends, was a long way from how she had envisaged honouring the memory of her father.

Xian Mei still remembered that terrible night in October as if it were yesterday. She had been twelve at the time, at home with her mother, Jiao, her homework spread out on the kitchen table of their sixth-floor apartment in Beijing.

She had been trying to finish early because her grandmother, Li, was coming to visit. When the front-door buzzer sounded, Xian Mei had at first assumed her grandmother had arrived early. Jiao, who had been preparing mutton dumplings for supper, raised her eyebrows good-humouredly at Xian Mei and strolled out into the hallway, drying her hands on a cloth. When she answered the buzzer, Xian Mei had been surprised, and initially a little relieved, to hear a mans voice crackling from the intercom.

Her first thought had been that she might have time to finish her homework before her grandmother arrived after all. She had no way of knowing at that moment that her homework would never get finished, that the mutton dumplings her mother had been preparing so lovingly would never get eaten, and that her life, and that of her mothers, would never be the same again.

The visitor was her fathers friend and partner, Detective Sergeant Paul Ho. Many a time Paul and his pretty wife Huan had been guests at her parents house, and their evenings together were full of laughter and good fun, and often for the adults a little too much wine.

Xian Mei liked Paul, not only because he was full of jokes and compliments, but also because he often brought her a little present a bow for her hair, a pocket-doll for her collection, a money box in the shape of a fat smiling cat. Paul did not bring her a present on this evening, however. Nor was he full of jokes and laughter.

It had been raining and when he turned up on their doorstep he had water running down his face and dripping off his jacket. He mumbled an apology, but Jiao told him not to worry. She fetched a towel, and as he dried his hair and face she asked him in a hushed voice almost as if she was afraid of the answer what was wrong.

Looking back, what Xian Mei now particularly remembered about that evening was the strange and uncomfortable tension that accompanied Pauls arrival. It was almost as if it clung to him, a kind of darkness that caused her stomach to tighten, her mouth to dry up, the ends of her fingers to tingle unpleasantly. She felt it as soon as he stepped through the door.

It was so strong that it drew her, almost unwillingly, from the kitchen. She felt as though Paul was a magnet and she was a shred of metal being dragged helplessly towards him. She sidled into the hallway but held on to the edge of the door, the only way of anchoring herself. Paul glanced up and saw her standing there, peering almost fearfully at him, and his eyes filled with such sadness and pity that it terrified her.

Can we talk privately? Jiao flinched and clenched her fists, as if his words had punctured her like a flurry of arrows, but she nodded.

She glanced briefly at Xian Mei, who was shocked to see that her mother looked as frightened as she herself felt. As Jiao ushered Paul towards the lounge, Xian Mei stepped forward. Though her mouth was dry she forced herself to speak. Whats happened to my father? Once again, Paul turned those desperately sad eyes on her.

Usually so confident, at that moment he looked lost, uncertain what to say. Jiao saved him from having to say anything by stepping in front of him. Go back into the kitchen and finish your homework, she muttered almost angrily. But Xian Mei began. No arguments! Just do as I say. Your grandmother will be here soon. Jiao all but pushed Paul into the lounge and closed the door. Xian Mei retreated into the kitchen but she didnt finish her homework.

Instead she sat cross-legged in the open kitchen doorway, listening. She heard Paul speaking, but his voice was too low and muffled for her to make out the words. Then he fell silent, and there was a pause that seemed to Xian Mei to stretch out for ever. And then suddenly, shockingly her mother cried out.

It was a harsh sound, the kind you might expect to hear from someone who had been stabbed through the heart. It made Xian Mei jump, then wrap her arms around herself protectively.

But although the cry was bad, the sound that followed was much, much worse. Xian Mei had never heard her mother weep before, but now she began not just to weep, but to wail, almost to scream. It was an awful, heartrending sound; to Xian Mei it seemed to encapsulate all the despair and misery that existed in the world. Frightened by the intensity of her mothers grief, she clapped her hands to her ears and squeezed her eyes tight shut.

If she had any doubts before, the noises her mother was making now had confirmed without question that whatever had happened tonight was the very worst thing ever. The rest of the evening seemed to pass in a terrible, murky fog. When the door to the lounge finally opened, it. He let out a huge sigh and rubbed a trembling hand over his face. Then he realized Xian Mei was sitting in the kitchen doorway, staring at him.

For a moment he looked almost guilty, as if he had been caught doing something he shouldnt, then he walked across and knelt beside her. His damp jacket smelled of the city of rain and petrol and dark places. Youre going to have to be very brave and look after your mother, OK? Xian Mei looked up at him. His skin was saggy and his eyes were red, and for the first time she thought he looked old. Wheres my father?

Dead Island: The Book by Mark Morris. Book Review | The British Fantasy Society

Paul hesitated. You need to ask your mother that question. Is he dead? Xian Mei persisted. Paul made a face as if hed tasted something sour. Then he leaned forward and kissed Xian Mei gently on her forehead.

Ill see you soon, he said. Xian Mei couldnt get her mother to speak to her. She tried, but Jiao had locked herself in the bathroom. She didnt emerge until grandmother Li arrived almost half an hour later. Even then the two women went into the bedroom and Xian Mei was forced to wait outside. When they finally came out, both were pale and grim-faced. Jiao told Xian Mei that Li would look after her, then she went out without answering her daughters questions.

Why is Mother being so mean to me? Xian Mei said. Her grandmother shook her head wearily. Shes not being mean. Shes just upset. Shes protecting you. I dont need protecting, Xian Mei said. Im strong. Li smiled. Maybe you are. I am, Xian Mei insisted. She looked at her grandmother. Wont you tell me whats happened? Li averted her gaze. Maybe in the morning. Now, Xian Mei said. When her grandmother didnt reply, Xian Mei said almost defiantly, Fathers dead, isnt he?

Something happened to him tonight, and now hes dead. Lis eyes brimmed with tears, and she nodded. She wiped her face with a trembling hand. Eventually she said, He was very brave. He died a hero. It wasnt until the next day, or the day after that, that Xian Mei found out the full story. Her father had been killed in the line of duty, shot dead while trying to apprehend a gang of drug smugglers. It wasnt until he was gone that Xian Mei really discovered how loved and revered her father had been.

In the days following his death, many people came to the house to pay their respects, and each of them had a story to tell about her fathers courage, or humour, or kindness, or loyalty. As Xian Mei helped her mother prepare the house for his funeral covering the statues of deities with red paper, removing the mirrors so the reflection of the coffin would not be glimpsed in the glass and bring bad luck, hanging the white cloth over the doorway and placing a gong to the left of the entrance she vowed she would honour her fathers name by following in his footsteps.

It was a vow she neither forgot nor relinquished. For the next few years, driven by a steely determination and a single-mindedness she liked to think she had inherited directly from her father, she strove for excellence in all areas of her life.

Always a good student, she now became an exceptional one, achieving the highest grades possible in every subject. But she knew that academia alone would not secure her a place in one of the toughest and most ruthlessly efficient police forces in the world, so she took up Changquan and trained tirelessly, day after day, pushing herself through physical barrier after physical barrier, until she became one of the foremost martial artists for her age and gender, not only in China but in the world.

The day she was inducted into Chinas first all-female Special Forces squad was the greatest day of her life. Throughout the ceremony, as she stood there in her beautiful black and grey uniform, she thought only of her father and how proud he would be.

Indeed, she strongly believed his spirit was there with her, standing at her shoulder, revelling in her success. It took almost no time at all for the dream to turn into a nightmare. What became apparent to Xian Mei and her fellow inductees very quickly was that Chinas first all-female Special Forces squad was, in effect, little more than a glorified PR stunt. Xian Mei had had high hopes of becoming a pioneer, of helping to usher in a new age of equality in China, but almost as soon as the induction ceremony was over, the squad was broken up and its members distributed around the globe on special assignments.

Xian Meis assignment was to come here, to the Royal Palm Hotel in Banoi, and to spy on the decadent rich, using her receptionists job as cover. What Xian Mei found particularly insulting was that her superiors didnt even bother to pretend she was doing vital work. It was abundantly clear to her that she had been shunted aside simply for the sake of convenience a case of out of sight, out of mind. Although it was another gloriously sunny day in Banoi, Xian Mei felt her spirits plummeting as a bus pulled up outside the main doors, transporting the latest batch of holidaymakers from the airport.

Although she planted a smile on her face, she wondered what her father would think if he could see her now. Would he be ashamed of his daughter or angry on her behalf? If the latter, she wished his spirit would give her some guidance on how to escape from this trap. Not only was she under strict orders to maintain a constant vigil and supply her superiors with weekly reports reports in which she was finding it increasingly hard to say anything of value , but her government had paid for everything her flights, her expenses and she could not leave without their say-so.

Even resigning from the Special Forces squad and flying home by scraping together her own meagre savings was out of the question. Despite the idyllic surroundings, therefore, in many ways she felt just as much a prisoner as the rapists, murderers and terrorists incarcerated in the high-security jail a couple of miles offshore.

The bus was disgorging its passengers now. As always, they looked bleary-eyed, sweaty and flustered from all the travelling, but many of them were peering around with wonder and satisfaction.

Xian Mei was not surprised. There was no denying Banoi was beautiful. It was a place of sunny skies, white sand, sparkling blue seas, palm trees and flowers in abundance. For a tourist resort, the pace of life was laid-back, relaxed, and the atmosphere even at night was relatively peaceful. The soundtrack was one of insects, birds and the sighing of the tide, rather than of loud music, drunken shouting and people throwing up.

The first of the holidaymakers were trudging into the hotel now, carrying their suitcases or dragging them on wheels behind them. They were pretty much the same as any other group of holidaymakers, as far as she could see, the majority of their number composed of families and couples. Banoi was a location that appealed to all age groups, which meant that in any sample selection of customers you would find young honeymooning couples, middle-aged couples on a romantic break and elderly couples hoping for a week or two of rest and gentle recreation.

Xian Mei had been led to believe that westerners were conniving and deceitful, and so shamelessly decadent that they posed a serious threat to the worlds very stability, but in the three months she had been here she had seen little evidence of that.

Follow the author

On the contrary, once you looked beyond their loud, revealing clothes and their open, sometimes abrasive manner, they were not that dissimilar to her own people. Unless Xian Mei was missing something, all they really seemed to want were healthy, happy, fulfilled lives for themselves and their families. Occasionally people would arrive here alone, and it was this group that Xian Mei observed most keenly. For the most part, though, they too seemed harmless, and in fact she often ended up feeling sorry for them as they took their meals alone, or went for solitary walks along the beach, or spent their days sitting silently by the pool, their heads buried in a book.

Sometimes she would strike up a conversation with one of them, find out they were a widow or a widower, or treating themselves to a quiet break after a painful divorce. Or sometimes they were single simply because they chose to be, content with their own company. As ever with a batch of new arrivals, the first hour was a flurry of activity. Xian Mei and her three colleagues, who were often interchangeable depending on their shift patterns, tried to get through the check-in procedure as quickly and efficiently as possible.

They all knew there was nothing more annoying for customers who had spent the whole day travelling, and who were desperate to freshen up and relax, than having to wait in yet another queue. But however efficiently she worked, she knew it was inevitable that one or two people out of a group of fifty or sixty would give her a hard time.

In this case, it was a young, muscular, tattooed man with a flushed face and a slight limp. He thumped his elbows on the desk and leaned in towards her with a leer.

Xian Mei tried not to recoil at the smell of alcohol on his breath. So where can a guy get a little action around here? Xian Mei gave him a professional smile. That depends what you mean, sir. There is an abundance of restaurants and bars on the island. That so? And I guess youd know all the best ones? Xian Mei hesitated. I dont go out too often. I work long hours here, and Im usually very tired at the end of the day.

Sounds to me like you could use a little RnR, said the man, leaning in even closer. As I say, I work long hours, said Xian Mei. She focused on the monitor in front of her. Do you have a reservation, sir? I do indeedy, said the man. He grinned and leaned back, like a hunter who had failed to bag his target on this occasion but knew it was only a matter of time. Could I take your name, please, sir?

Dead Island - Mark Morris

The man pushed out his bottom lip, feigning offence. You mean you dont recognize me? Xian Mei glanced at him. Im afraid not, sir. Next to her, her colleague, Lan, was dealing with the reservation of a young black man wearing a red bandanna. The black man glanced over at Xian Meis customer and shook his head. You givin this nice lady a hard time now? The tattooed man spread his hands. Im just being friendly is all. The black man raised one eyebrow. Theres different types of friendly.

I dont think the nice lady likes your particular flavour. Xian Mei smiled, genuinely amused. Its really not a problem, sir. Not a problem. He turned back to Xian Mei.

I think you and me are going to hit it off just fine. Xian Mei smiled, but didnt comment. Instead she said, So if I could take your name, sir? The tattooed man sighed theatrically.

Its Carter. Logan Carter. Football star, Logan Carter. Ex-football star, muttered the black man. Just like youre an ex-rapper, you mean? The black man turned and gave Logan a cool, appraising look.

Well see about that, wont we? Yeah, Logan said. I guess we will. Xian Mei typed Logans name into her keyboard and pressed Enter, and immediately his details scrolled up on her monitor, together with a flashing red symbol in the top left-hand corner. Because of her briefing from her manager that morning, she recognized the symbol as the logo for the US National Blood Drive Campaign. Looking up, she said, I see youre one of our blood drive people, Mr Carter? Sure am.

Helped promote the blood donation campaign, what with being a nationally-known face and all. Had my picture taken giving an itty bit of blood and got an all-expenses-paid holiday in return.

Sounded like a damn good deal to me. Beside him the black man said, Snap.

Logan turned. Pardon me? Im in on that blood drive deal too. Gave some blood at a celebrity event in New Orleans.

Next thing, I get a call offering me a two-week gig here in Banoi. Pretty cool, huh? Before Logan could respond, a voice behind the black man said, Double snap. Both men turned to reveal an elegant and strikingly beautiful dark-skinned woman in a short, sleeveless, green summer dress. The woman waved her plastic room key, on which was stamped the red National Blood Drive Campaign logo. After I gave blood I didnt even know Id been entered in a sweepstake till I got a call to say Id won an allexpenses-paid holiday.

Thought it was a scam at first. The black man turned to Xian Mei. Nodding at their fellow guests who were still waiting in line to check in, he said, Hey, are all these dudes here because of this blood drive thing?

Xian Mei tapped a couple of keys on her keyboard. No, just the three of you, she said. Hey, said Logan, were like a club. Well, aint that nice? The black man looked at Purna and raised an eyebrow. Yeah, he said drily. Maybe we should all get ourselves some T-shirts.

Logan stood out on the balcony of his hotel room, looking at the view. He had showered and changed, and was now ready to have himself a little fun. He swirled his scotch and soda round in his glass, liking the way the ice cubes tinkled and chimed.

He had popped some Prozac a while ago and was currently feeling mellow, relaxed. His knee had been throbbing some after the flight, but a couple of Tramadol had taken care of that. He thought about the cute Chinese girl on reception and wondered what time she finished work. Despite her resistance earlier, he still had high hopes of reeling in that particular fish. In his experience, it was often the initially shy and reluctant girls who ended up being the wildest between the sheets.

Ten minutes later Logan was sitting at the hotel bar, his gaze roaming around the room. The place was full of couples and families, all dressed up for dinner. There were no single women here, not even that Purna chick. Maybe he should have knocked on her door on the way down he, Purna and that rapper guy, Sam, had been given adjacent rooms, just as they had been given seats together on the plane, almost certainly because of that blood drive bullshit though something told Logan he wouldnt make much headway in that direction.

The woman was stunningly beautiful, sure, but she was also tough and angular and had a dont-fucking-mess-with-me look in her big brown eyes. In Logans view women should be docile and vulnerable and sweet if they wanted to attract men, not opinionated ball-breakers. He had a couple more drinks at the bar and then decided to move on.

He knew if he stayed in the hotel he could have free drinks all night, not to mention a free dinner, but he would rather put down a few of his own hard-earned dollars if it meant getting himself a little action. Maybe later, replied Logan. He stood up and began to make his way towards the exit, but then something occurred to him and he turned back. Hey, I dont suppose you know what time Sam B is doing his thing, do you? Ten p. I believe, sir. Thanks, buddy. It wasnt until the fresh air hit him that the world started to spin.

He paused a moment, blinking. Must be the jet lag. That and the fact that he hadnt eaten in hours. He began to weave away from the hotel, heading for the bright lights of the main street. It was beginning to get dark now, streaks of lilac cloud appearing in the blue sky. Every fisherman knows there are days when the fish just dont bite, and such was Logans luck that night.

He trailed the bars of Banois main street for over two hours before deciding to head back to the hotel. He had talked to a few likely looking girls, had even persuaded a couple of them to accept his offer of a drink, but somehow they kept slipping the line before he got the chance to reel them in. By the time he arrived back at the Royal Palm, with nothing to show for his evening but a lighter wallet and a smear of seafood sauce on his shirt from the crayfish sandwich he had eaten in a bar called the Sailing Boat, he was foul-tempered and so drunk that the ground was tilting and yawing beneath him like the deck of a ship.

Noting blearily that the little Chinese girl was no longer on reception, he decided to make for the bar for an onthe-house nightcap or two. Then he heard the thump of music coming from somewhere off to his right and remembered all about Sam and his gig. Moving carefully so as not to trip over his own feet, he changed direction and followed the pulse of the beat. He was going not out of any sense of loyalty to his new-found blood drive buddy, but because if there was any decent and available pussy here in the hotel, then this is where he would be most likely to find it.

The main ballroom, where the gig was taking place, was hotter than a sauna. Logan breathed in the heady scent of sweat and perfume, his head swimming. All around him, people were gyrating or nodding in time to the music. The heavy bass throbbed in his teeth and chest like a second heartbeat. The darkness of the room, combined with the ever-changing light display up on stage and the alcohol in his system, seemed to scramble Logans senses, to blur individual bodies into a single pulsing mass of humanity.

Feeling a little overwhelmed by it all, Logan felt instinctively he should head for the light, and so began to push through the crowd towards the stage, at first muttering Excuse me as he barged his way through, and then, following his ball players instincts, simply lowering his head and charging forward.

If anyone protested or tried to stop him, Logan wasnt aware of it. He simply kept pushing until there was nothing left to push against. When he finally raised his head it felt like surfacing from a warm pool. He was drenched in his own and other peoples sweat, his shirt sticking to him like another layer of skin. Right in front of him, level with his face, was the edge of the stage.

The music was so loud now that his whole body seemed to be convulsing with it. He looked up. And there was Sam B, prowling from one side of the stage to the other like a caged tiger. He was scowling aggressively, jabbing at the audience as he spat out his lyrics. He looked much angrier up on stage than he did in real life.

He was bare-chested, a huge, gold B pendant swinging on a chain round his neck. There was more bling round his wrists, and his stomach was imprinted with a tattoo a black skull above a pair of crossed Uzis. He looked.

Logan was impressed in spite of himself and more than a little envious too. He turned and peered drunkenly into the crowd. They were clearly enjoying themselves, grinning and bouncing and punching the air. There had been a time when Logan himself had enjoyed this kind of adulation crowds cheering and whooping; girls wanting to fuck him; guys wanting to be him.

All at once, standing there alone, he felt a wave of self-loathing sweep over him. Not quite knowing why he was doing it, he turned and waved his arms. Hey, Sam! It was only when the rapper carried on as if he wasnt even there that Logan realized he did know why he was trying to grab his attention.

It was because he wanted Sam to acknowledge him, to bathe him in a little reflected glory. The fact that Sam didnt even look at him caused a red mist to descend in front of his eyes. Fuck you! Then he turned and barged his way back into the crowd. Out of my fucking way! People took one look at his wild eyes and stepped aside. Logan wondered how many of them recognized him, or half-recognized him, or maybe thought he looked vaguely like someone they might once have known.

Fame was the best thing in the world when you were standing on its summit, looking out at the view. But he couldnt believe there was a worse feeling than sliding back down the mountain and realizing there was nothing to stop you from hitting the bottom. To have been famous once and then to have lost it was surely worse than never having been famous at all. It was worse too, in its way, than the end of a relationship, or even the death of a loved one.

In Logans opinion it was easy to find love again people did it all the time.

But how many famous people, once they had hit the slippery slope, managed to reverse the fall and make it back to the top of the mountain? He was halfway through the crowd when he spotted Purna.

She was standing alone, arms folded, eyes fixed intently on the stage. Making a snap decision, he staggered towards her. Hi, he shouted above the music. She looked momentarily startled, which gave Logan a vicious ripple of satisfaction. Shed seemed so in control before that it felt good to scratch her veneer a little bit.

Hi, she said guardedly. He nodded towards the stage. Kevin then contacts Ryder over the intercom, offering to help him as well. When they meet, however, Ryder identifies Kevin as Charon, a notorious terrorist-affiliated hacker. However, with no other options, he follows Charon's instructions to restore emergency power and find antibiotics for Emily, fighting off armed escaped prisoners.

Charon also tells Ryder he has survivors en route with an antidote. After administering the antibiotic to Emily, Charon notifies him that a group of prisoners are approaching in reprisal for the ones that Ryder killed to obtain the Tetracycline.

With the prisoners dead, Ryder travels to the control room in Block C and meets up with Charon. As Ryder approaches Charon, he discovers that Charon was behind the deaths of the scientists, including Dr. West, at the Laboratory but hides his suspicion.

He is then instructed to clear the zombies from the shower room in Block C for when the Heroes arrive. With the shower room cleared, Ryder uses the sewers to return to the control room. While eavesdropping on Charon's conversation with the group the main characters , he discovers that Charon has been posing as him The Voice. Out of rage, Ryder threatens to kill Charon for endangering Emily and making him betray his country.

Charon then assures him that the group have the 'antidote' and that the Heroes won't trust either Ryder or Charon if it is revealed that they were never actually speaking to Ryder. Charon then instructs Ryder to store knockout gas above the elevator lift that the group will be using to steal the antidote from them to avoid having to make any negotiations. After placing the gas and returning to the control room, Charon and Ryder watch the Heroes pass out from the gas.

Before leaving to retrieve the gas, Ryder destroys the control room's computer to prevent Charon from pulling off any more tricks. He then locks Charon in the control room and tells him that he's going to get the antidote for Emily. Charon then replies to Ryder stating that the antidote would only work on people that were only in the early stages of Infection while Emily was already past the first stages.

Shaken by his words, Ryder runs off to get back to Emily in the intensive care unit. With Ryder gone, Charon reveals that he had a hidden backup key card and taunts him stating that Ryder should have killed him when he had the chance.

Afraid of being too late, Ryder collects the antidote from the group and frantically fights through countless waves of Zombies to get back to Emily.

Upon finding Emily, Ryder finds she has already become an Infected. Ryder then vows to make a complete antidote out of the serum. He brings Emily to the roof where he discovers that Charon has turned the group against him. Jin then releases Emily to attack Ryder, forcing him to kill her and Jin in retaliation. He then injects himself with the antidote only to discover that the antidote was actually an enhanced version of the plague that transforms him into a powerful Special Infected.

He is then killed by the group. The survivors then flee to safety using Ryder's helicopter. It is revealed that Charon plans on using Yerema as Dr. West called her, " a walking timebomb " to spread the plague, as he shows a smirk on his face. A promotional film, created by UK animation studio Axis Productions and directed by Stuart Aitken, [11] featuring the transformation of a young girl into a zombie, played in a nonlinear sequence , [12] was commented upon by Ben Parfitt of MCV.

Parfitt praised the trailer itself, but criticised the online reaction to it, writing "It's a video that uses an image of a dead girl and images of her dying to create an emotional bond with a product. Dead Island was originally announced on 8 August [16] [17] and stated to be released in , developed by Techland and produced by Adrian Ciszewski, but was delayed. Tragedy Hits Paradise", was released on 17 May featuring various gameplay aspects. Dead Island Begins ", was released on 6 June [20] along with the announcement of the game's release being set for 6 September for the US, and 9 September for the worldwide release.

The game's zombies were rendered to have fully modelled layers of meat and muscle, meaning they have a multi-layered damage system with real-time injuries. In Australia, a collector's edition was available to pre-order exclusively from EB Games.

On 20 July, Dead Island became available for pre-download on Steam as a single copy of the game for full price, or a four pack with one copy free. In PlayStation Home North American version , the PlayStation 3's social gaming network, users could pre-order Dead Island from a special kiosk in the Central Plaza Home's central meeting point redesigned for this promotion and includes a "Zombie Survival" minigame and receive an "Exploding Zombie Outfit" features a remote option for users to explode for their Home avatar.

Deep Silver funded a four-part series of comedic short films written and starring hosts of Talkradar from the video game journalistic website GamesRadar , entitled Dead Island: Secret Origins. The film depicts fictionalised versions of the hosts who travel to Dead Island and become zombies out of choice. There is also a novelisation with the same name, released by Bantam Books on the same date to accompany the game.

The novelisation differs slightly from the game, with more mature themes and an alternate ending that was presumably unsuitable for the game. Instead of the hanging corpse in the original logo, it was changed to a zombie standing by the tree. This logo change appears on the boxart of the North American release the logo in-game, however, remains unchanged , with the logo remaining unchanged in other territories. It was available to download from Xbox Live until 15 February Dead Island received generally lukewarm reviews from critics.

IGN gave the game an 8. Computer and Video Games awarded the game a more mixed score of 6. The Microsoft Windows version of the game received many negative reviews from magazines and websites stemming from an accidental release of a development build of the game on Steam. This included features such as no-clipping and the ability to toggle third-person perspective. A patch for the console versions has been released and fixed many issues, including corrupted savegames.

The game was not released in Germany, due to the amount of violence. Dead Island was sold in some German online stores such as site Germany, for a limited time. It was indexed in November Although changed throughout the game before release, the original name could still be found in debug code on the PC version. Publisher Deep Silver described the line in question as a " private joke " made by one of the developers, and regretted its appearance in the final product. Dead Island has sold more than five million copies.

On 3 November , Techland registered the name "Dead World". When questioned about this, they denied a sequel was in production. As a MOBA multiplayer online battle arena game, Epidemic had three teams of players battling one another for survival while facing the hordes of undead that inhabit the series. On 19 May , Epidemic was released through Steam early access, allowing players to actively participate in the final development stage of the game, reporting bugs and issues within the game so that the release is polished.

Epidemic was a free-to-play title. In , the game was cancelled during the open beta phase. Unlike the somber trailer, the new title's trailer is vibrant and comedic similar to the Dead Rising series. The game was in development by Yager Development , and now by Sumo Digital. On 1 July , Escape Dead Island was announced. A one issue comic book version of the series was released by Marvel Comics , and begins with Roger Howard, an investigative journalist, as he looks into the illegal exploitation of Banoi Island's resources.

He appeared in the game as a voice, leaving behind tape recordings. Dead Island the game, is a multi-player zombie slaughter-fest with some limited RPG aspirations that has little in the way of true substance.

It is not in my opinion the ideal choice for a novel tie-in. Some games, like Mass Effect or Bioshock, have a depth to them which can be fertile ground for stories in other media. I don't believe the same can be said of Dead Island. Having said that, I still think this novel could have been better.

For fans of the game this book does add an extra dimension to the experience. Although, I imagine most people playing Dead Island aren't there for the story. It may also have something to offer to the hardcore zombie fanatic, but it's extremely unlikely they'll find anything new here besides the setting.

With so many better zombie novels out there, I can think of little reason to recommend Dead Island to anyone else. We're featuring millions of their reader ratings on our book pages to help you find your new favourite book. Close X Learn about new offers and get more deals by joining our newsletter Sign up now.

Similar files:

Copyright © 2019 All rights reserved.
DMCA |Contact Us