The alien tripods are decimating the city with ion cannons. Wild one-eyed dog-pigs with irritatingly high voices are roaming the streets, mutilating the populace with their fire breath, doing their best to keep their pet radioactive zombies in check.

Meanwhile, you – the only one who can do anything to stop this genocide – are stuck in a medical pod, being instructed by some asshole lab assistant on how to move your head up and down.

“Look up at the blue dot for me,” the assistant continues while poking at a button on his console. “Just go ahead and look up at the blue dot. The sooner you look at that blue dot, the sooner we can move on to the movement portion.”

You look at the blue dot. It blips and disappears.

“Great job!” the lab assistant says, checking off some boxes on his clipboard. “Now let’s get you out of that pod!”

The pod pops open. Your spacesuit’s metal boots clack against the training unit’s linoleum floor. You search your inventory for your trusty weapon, ready to run out the door and kick some alien ass right this instant, but there’s nothing there. Your inventory is as empty as this fucking lab assistant’s bald head.

You turn to confront the guy for teaching you how to use your neck while people are dying on the surface below, but he’s already standing on the other side of the room, waving at you. “Over here!” he yells “I’ve got something for you!”

Is he teaching me how to walk? you ask yourself. Flying slugs are decimating the human race and he’s teaching me how to walk?!

You stride over to him with the intention of strangling him to death, but when you reach the lab assistant he hands you a blue keycard. What’s this? He points to a door not six feet away and says, “Walk towards that door with the keycard. It’ll open automatically, because you have the keycard in your inventory.”

Finally, I can get out of here, you think, and take the card. In the next room, three targets are set up on a firing range. Before you realize that this isn’t the way out, the door behind you slides shut.

“These are ammo boxes. You can pick them up to refill your ammunition,” the lab assistant says over the intercom. “You know you’ve run out of ammunition when your gun stops firing. The icon on your overhead display will also show a big zero.”

You curse the Gods and grab the beginner’s pistol placed on the table in front of you. Three big red arrows that read “PICK THIS UP” disappear. It takes all the willpower you have to not turn around and fire into the glass booth the lab assistant is watching from. Instead, you fire three clean shots into each target.

“Shoot the head for an instant kill,” he says, like he’s ever killed anyone in his life.

In the next room, the lab assistant teaches you how to recharge your suit, cycle through special items, and use numerical keypads while millions of people are collected into giant metal cages and dipped in acid on the planet’s surface.

“You’re almost ready to join the battle, but first we need to talk about jumping. In the next room you’ll find two platf—“

The ship rumbles. The captain comes over the intercom and announces that the aliens have boarded, before he and the rest of the crew are incinerated by a band of dog-pigs.

The lab assistant turns pale. “Oh no.”

You give him a sly smile and tell him that you’ll take it from here. You run through the sliding doors and into a blood-strewn corridor. A pack of radioactive zombies amble in. You take aim…

“Take cover when enemies fire on you!” says a voice in your ear. The lab assistant’s face shows up on your overhead display. “Oh, I forgot to tell you. I installed a one-way transmitter in your suit. This way I can give you helpful tips and advice on your journey!”

You fire on the zombies, pretending that each of them is that condescending son of a bitch in white who de-thawed you.