Nathalie Blonder spent her Friday evening chasing around Leeds with several hundred zombie game players, and lived to tell the tale … or did she!
This summer, Britain has been going mad with a fresh frenzy sweeping the nation, Asylum: 2.8 hours later. The name was adapted from Danny Boyle’s apocalyptic thriller, 28 days later, where the protagonist wakes from a 28 day-long coma to find the world has fallen to shit – or at least turned into undead savages via highly contagious virus. It’s no secret that for most of us zombies provide a substantial amount of entertainment whether that be in the form of books, films, TV or gaming. Therefore, it was no surprise to me that a live event has been launched, giving players a highly ‘interactive’ experience.
The urban zombie chase was launched in 2010 by game designers, Slingshot, in reaction to the austerity measures introduced by the new Conservative government. Co-founder Simon Evans linked the zombie infection to the financial recession believing that, “the culpability, corruption, greed and violence it engenders is the world we live in now.” This political statement initially launched in Bristol but now also takes place in Birmingham, Glasgow, Leeds, Liverpool, London and Manchester. I attended the Leeds event that took place last weekend and got a real sense of what the game is all about. ‘Asylum’ took the form of Holbeck’s Temple Works building – a gorgeous Victorian model Flax mill, fronted by an entrance that is the exact replica of an Egyptian temple.
As I arrived, I was greeted by two fretful-looking paramedics warily approaching me, asking if I’d been infected. Once I assured them that I was clean and just covering the event they let me in and I toured the building. The first stop was a UV ‘quarantine’ tunnel which reveals to medical staff any marks left by the zombies on the players – if you were infected, that’s how you were found out. Once through there you are led through the grandiose but abandoned-looking building down a flight of stairs where the path divided into two, infected or non-infected. For those that had bit the undead dust, they were led into a room of make-up artists dressed as pathologists, who would transform them into flesh-eaters. However, those that survived were led straight out of the building to enjoy the evening sunshine. Both groups were encouraged to get their forensic picture taken, zombified or not, before being led past a cleverly placed gift shop to the outside air.
There were a number of options available to those that had played the game, all very obviously thought out. The most prominent was the zombie disco which was held in a different part of the building where a DJ, a dance-floor and most importantly a bar resided, where patrons could have the option of drinking ‘kill a zombie’ cocktails for the stifling price of £5.50 each, or settling for a mixer from £2.50. From the time that I spent there, as much as they tried, very few people were interested in dancing when they could rest their fear-stricken bodies in the gentle warmth away from bright lights and dad-dance anxiety. I was pleasantly amused to see there was a barbeque taking place under a big sign donning the words, ‘Flesh for Sale’ with the menu contents listed underneath. However, this amusement was soon replaced by disappointment when I saw that the food was priced at £3. People had come to this event having spent £30 to run around a barren area of Leeds away from angry theatre graduates, and they come to ‘asylum’ hoping for R+R, not daylight robbery.
I’m not being overdramatic by the way; there are always casualties that occur as a result of the immersive effects of the game. After speaking to an actual paramedic, I was told that she’s had to deal with a lot of minor cuts and bruises along with more serious grazes, and even head injuries. As well as this, from speaking to a few members of staff, I’d found out that the night before someone had literally wee’d themselves out of fright and another had to be led away by medical professionals as they had fallen into hysterics. No wonder then that those 18+ only players must read and sign a disclaimer accepting all responsibility for accident and injury – I’m not sure what people know what they are letting themselves in for when they do though. I briefly interviewed a player called Leah who had cut her leg after being pushed by a hoard of terrified participants,
‘It took me about three hours to complete the run and there were about 10 checkpoints, but I got caught just after the second to last one. I was gutted because if I hadn’t have hurt my leg I doubt [the zombie] would have got me. You know that they’re not gonna hurt you but the tension and the atmosphere that’s built up makes the whole thing really scary, human instincts take over and you run like your life depends on it.’
Leah along with a number of other players I’d talked to told me that they had planned for this game months in advance: cleaning up their diets, partaking in training programmes, and even getting special outfits made. I came across one group who took scrubs and stethoscopes from the hospital they work at, besmirching them with fake blood before they had arrived. I was frankly amazed that people cared so much for the experience, but admired them all for legging it across town away the undead to make it to asylum where they laughed and bonded with fellow survivors. All in all, I found 2.8 hours later to be a fun, adrenaline-filled gathering that may put you out of pocket but will be an evening to remember.