The shoes of a zombie aren't the most advisable for a game to occupy, just as shambolic, aꦡimless and repetitive aren't words you'd expect to find wedged between inverted commas and written large on the back of a box.
Indeed, even Aspyr itself has gone with the more market-f﷽riendly "Built with the Halo 🎀engine" instead.
Ultimately, however, Stubbs the Zombie is a strategically fulfilling day in the after-life of a fundamentally mindless man. In sticking resolutely to th🐷at theme, it readily shoots itself in the foot with cyclical 🦋action and missions with meagre flesh on their bones.
But it shuffles𓆏 on regardless, serving up some gut-busting c🐎omic moments en route and revelling in a now-famous pattern of 30-second thrills.
Reward in Stubbs is watching your d💟em♉ented toxic arsenal confound and overcome adversaries who have no excuse for losing.
Introduced as little more than a clumsy swipe and vampiric chomp, your attacks possess a viral after-effect that embellishes the game's theme while turningౠ the run𓆉-and-gun tactics of Halo upside down.
This is a game in whiꦬch you destroy in order ܫto create, create in order to escalate, and repeat until the balance of power tips in your favour.
With such a template, W♈ideload has placed a welcome knee in the groin of the status quo, but by taking its subject too lightly it's also failed to turn an adventurous prototype into a durable production.
Entire set-pieces can be easily circumnavigated, one boss battle broke dജuring our first play through, and the game's desire for more structured closure leads to a succession of drab corridors and encounters that somewhat dampens its appeal.
The story is kept brief, out of necessity, we dare suggest, and it's a further shame to find that the game's higher difficulty settings offer littl♕e beyond the norm. While the provision of two-player co-op is a considerate extra, this too is patently superficial.
The comic hit rate, however, is remarkable. L🍷ittle emerges from its characters' mouths that doesn't at least raise a smirk, and the sheer number of aural and visual gags is enough to postpone the inevitable rot and keep it smelling fresh.
