Zombie
City
A top-down survival game in a city of the dead. They can’t see you — they hunt by sound. Scavenge, hole up, and last one more night. When you die, you die.
Make your survivor
Pick a face, a name, the clothes you’ll die in. Then gear up.
Build a survivor — look, clothes, the hand they favor — then scavenge the weapons and armor that keep them breathing one more night.
Scavenge a living city
Every building addressed and worth searching. Carry only what you can bear.
A procedurally generated city — homes, shops, offices — never the same twice. Search it room by room, floor by floor. Weight slows you down, so stash what you can’t carry and come back for it.
Board it up
Nail the windows. Brace the door. Pray the boards hold till dawn.
Fortify a building — board its windows and doors. The dead chew through over time, tier by tier, and you’ll hear them tearing at the planks. Hold, or run.
Sound is everything
The dead hunt by sound. A footstep whispers; a gunshot rings the dinner bell.
Every action makes noise — sneak in silence, walk and it carries, run or shoot and the whole block hears. You read the city by ear: an event log and a radar track every gunshot, scream, and groan, and where it came from.
Blind but for a window
Lean out, scan the street, duck back.
Inside, the street is dark to you — except through a window, where you see a narrow cone. Search each floor, watch the doors, and fire out the window at whatever’s waiting.
Night doesn’t forgive
Scavenge by light. After dark your eyes fail — and theirs don’t.
A full day-night cycle. When the sun goes down your vision shrinks and the horde swells. Time every run; don’t get caught in the open after dark.
You’re not the only one left
Some trade. Some hunt. You’ll hear them first.
Persistent multiplayer worlds, shared with real survivors. Full PvP. Talk in pre-set phrases, or catch only a vague murmur of someone nearby. Every stranger is a risk and a resource.
Every death is the end
No respawns. Your survivor is gone for good.
Death is permanent. But the city remembers what you learned: your field journal, your bookmarks, and the streets you’ve mapped all carry to your next survivor. You lose the character; you keep the knowledge.
The city is waiting.
Play Zombie City