The Zombies Are My Consequences

The zombies are not the evil I’ve done, but the good I’ve left undone.

Over the last few months, I’ve been playing an awful lot of Black Ops 6. So much so that if anyone saw my stats, they might stage an intervention.

I’ve been a big fan of the Call of Duty games since Modern Warfare launched to critical acclaim in 2007. I enjoyed the campaigns and dabbled in multiplayer, particularly in the early days, where I got pretty decent in Warehouse, often finishing first.

I’d never, until Black Ops 6, paid any attention to the Zombies mode — and now? I play more Zombies than anything else. I’m deep in the Zombies universe, and often find myself completing challenges, unlocking event weapons, and experimenting with augments before some of my favourite YouTubers.

I’ve been watching myself play this game. It’s been a form of meditation, and I’ve started to unpack my life while playing. So much so that I think this is going to turn into a YouTube series — but I’ve mused openly about such projects before, and they’ve come to nothing.

Which leads me to the point of this piece.

I relate to Zombies because that’s often how I’ve run my life. The zombies, you see, are projects I started. Goals I set. Equipment I bought — and now these things are overwhelming me to the point of crisis.

Crisis is when I spring to life — full battle mode, limited resources, impossible odds — survive, exfil, hero.

You see, the zombies are the consequences, not of the evil I’ve done, but of the good that I haven’t.

The Unwritten Burns.

The zombies are the decisions not followed up on.

The friendships neglected.

The free cancer screening invitations ignored.

Instead, I wait. For the outbreak to overwhelm. The infection to spread. The town to be overrun.

And as the world starts to burn — that’s when I rise. That’s when I shine. That’s when I perform.

But this isn’t heroism. This is classic ADHD-like sky-high dopamine tolerance.

It’s having to write an apologetic message to a great lead who had an opportunity for you six months ago, but not today.

It’s having to have something potentially cancerous removed surgically because a couple of years ago you dismissed it with “It’s probably nothing.”

It’s having to sell everything that isn’t bolted down — again — because the gig you could have taken a year ago was ignored, since you were alright then.

Video games are the greatest laboratory for life ever invented. They reflect back your personality, your strengths, your weaknesses, your blind spots — perfectly — if you play with your mind wide open. Awake. Alert. Aware.

And now? Once I’ve dealt with the outbreak, I will begin the greater jihad of ensuring that the outbreak doesn’t happen again.

At least not in real life.