Attack of the Angry Zombies

You are alone on a wasteland with two jobs before sunset: gather resources and turn an empty field into a fortress.

By day you smash stumps and barrels for wood and metal, and those become your defences. Crates, iron barricades and concrete barriers stall the horde, spikes stab and bog down, mines tear, a bear trap holds one, a stake thrower hurls stakes four ways, a tesla coil shocks everything at once, bats included, and turrets and a scattergun shoot on their own and light the dark.

Then they come: walkers, runners, brutes, spitters, bats that fly over walls, bombers that blow up with your wall, menders that heal, armoured ones, and from the fifth night the old one. Every night is meaner than the last, but you grow with it: a shotgun, an SMG, a piercing rifle, a grenade launcher, new structures, heavier bullets.

The night ends by the clock, not by the last corpse: live to dawn and the sun burns the rest. A run ends only in death; an unfinished one waits on the title screen.