Well, well, well, look who's decided to play "The Day Before" – spoiler alert: it's the day before you finally get to play. If connecting to a server was an Olympic sport, this game would win gold in the "Waitlympics." Grab your favorite snacks, folks, because this review is longer than my wait time.

First things first, the concept of "The Day Before" is intriguing—surviving in a post-apocalyptic world, scavenging for resources, and facing off against zombies. What they didn't mention in the brochure, though, is that the real survival challenge is trying not to lose your sanity while staring at the "Connecting" screen.

I pressed the ominous "Connect" button with the anticipation of a kid unwrapping a birthday present, only to be greeted by a loading screen that felt longer than the actual apocalypse. If patience were a currency, I'd be a billionaire by now, but alas, all I've got to show for it is a growing resentment for virtual dystopias.

The game teased me with glimpses of the post-apocalyptic world in the form of loading screen tips like, "Zombies are attracted to noise. Stay quiet!" Well, guess what, game? I'm staying so quiet that I've started communicating with my neighbors through interpretive dance to avoid any noise-induced zombie invasions.

I tried every trick in the book to connect—restarting the game, restarting my computer, even restarting my entire life in the hope of finding a server in the afterlife. I considered sacrificing a USB drive to the tech gods, but they must have been on vacation because my prayers went unanswered.

In a desperate move, I consulted the game's official Discord channel, hoping to find solace among fellow survivors. Little did I know, we were all stranded in the same boat, floating in the sea of despair, waving our virtual paddles in futile attempts to connect. It was a support group for the digitally forsaken.

The irony of a game called "The Day Before" being the day before I actually get to play is not lost on me. It's like buying a ticket to a concert and spending the entire night in the parking lot listening to distant echoes of music. The only thing I'm scavenging for now is a refund.

In conclusion, if you enjoy the thrill of uncertainty, the suspense of perpetual loading screens, and the slow erosion of your faith in technology, "The Day Before" might just be your apocalyptic dream. As for me, I'll be spending my day before playing something that doesn't treat my time like a post-apocalyptic resource—precious and scarce.

Well, well, well, look who's decided to play "The Day Before" – spoiler alert: it's the day before you finally get to play. If connecting to a server was an Olympic sport, this game would win gold in the "Waitlympics." Grab your favorite snacks, folks, because this review is longer than my wait time. First things first, the concept of "The Day Before" is intriguing—surviving in a post-apocalyptic world, scavenging for resources, and facing off against zombies. What they didn't mention in the brochure, though, is that the real survival challenge is trying not to lose your sanity while staring at the "Connecting" screen. I pressed the ominous "Connect" button with the anticipation of a kid unwrapping a birthday present, only to be greeted by a loading screen that felt longer than the actual apocalypse. If patience were a currency, I'd be a billionaire by now, but alas, all I've got to show for it is a growing resentment for virtual dystopias. The game teased me with glimpses of the post-apocalyptic world in the form of loading screen tips like, "Zombies are attracted to noise. Stay quiet!" Well, guess what, game? I'm staying so quiet that I've started communicating with my neighbors through interpretive dance to avoid any noise-induced zombie invasions. I tried every trick in the book to connect—restarting the game, restarting my computer, even restarting my entire life in the hope of finding a server in the afterlife. I considered sacrificing a USB drive to the tech gods, but they must have been on vacation because my prayers went unanswered. In a desperate move, I consulted the game's official Discord channel, hoping to find solace among fellow survivors. Little did I know, we were all stranded in the same boat, floating in the sea of despair, waving our virtual paddles in futile attempts to connect. It was a support group for the digitally forsaken. The irony of a game called "The Day Before" being the day before I actually get to play is not lost on me. It's like buying a ticket to a concert and spending the entire night in the parking lot listening to distant echoes of music. The only thing I'm scavenging for now is a refund. In conclusion, if you enjoy the thrill of uncertainty, the suspense of perpetual loading screens, and the slow erosion of your faith in technology, "The Day Before" might just be your apocalyptic dream. As for me, I'll be spending my day before playing something that doesn't treat my time like a post-apocalyptic resource—precious and scarce.