It’s hard to imagine why, in the first instance, Sony ever greenlit Days Gone. With a sequel to The Last of Us already on its slate, the PlayStation machine pumped millions upon millions into a second zombie series featuring a protagonist in mourning. Another game about a world torn between the terror of life out in the wilds, and the servitude of existence in a camp.
Yes, Bend Studio had already established itself as a kind of Naughty-Dog-in-waiting by making Uncharted: Golden Abyss for the PS Vita. But it’s not exactly what you’d call business diversification, is it? The company already had a post-apocalyptic third-person adventure – one with soft stealth, crafting and a performance-captured story of loss curdling into fury – at home. And it had won every Game of the Year award going.
That seems to have been Sony’s belated conclusion in the aftermath, when Days Gone launched to middling reviews, and a pitch for a sequel was turned down. Yet in the long downhill stretch since, this game’s momentum has defied expectations. Despite starting out on a low tank of gas, it’s been propelled by a popular consensus that it deserved better. And now Sony has funded a Days Gone Remastered – the sort of treatment reserved for classics like The Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion, or The Last of Us.
Could it be that Days Gone is a more distinctive game than it was given credit for, by critics and Sony executives half a decade ago? After a number of hours in its company, I’m starting to think so. This is a game built not around a man’s relationship with his dead wife, as it might appear, but with his bike. It is a triple-A take on esoteric vehicular management hits like Pacific Drive and Jalopy – demanding you maintain your hog with the help of your wrench and regular fuel stops. Sure, it’s a simplified version of such mechanics – you won’t be manually swapping out engines or worrying about your tyre tread. But Days Gone demands you take care of something other than yourself, which has the expected effect of grounding you more firmly in its world.
The nuances of bike management reveal themselves gradually. Over time, you begin to realise that a motorcycle is a perverse choice of companion in the post-apocalypse – creating as many problems as it solves. While your engine puts distance between you and the undead, its roar also pulls enemies in a wide radius, as if you were fishing with an air horn.