Let me tell you about Woody MacDonald. He came from nothing, a meager level 1 hunter armed only with a rusty old hunting rifle and a machete. He traversed deep into the swamps and murdered all the stood in his way, undead or not, to scrape by a living; a few coins here for a couple of dead hounds, a few more for a few bodies. But the bounties are what he was really after. Terrifying creatures housed deep in the murky swamps whose heads were worth a hefty sum. Woody MacDonald followed his dream to acquire these riches, but it was a treacherous road. Scratched, bitten, shot, poisoned, set aflame, he had suffered so, Many sleepless nights were had as the silence of the night screamed bloodcurdling cries of mercy, reminiscent of those that he had heard when he stumbled across those two hunters down at Catfish Grove a fortnight ago...

He remembered his first kill; that is to say, his first human kill. He had just acquired the bounty of a giant spider with a mechant he had befriended along his journey. A gang of hunters were hot on their trail, surrounding the barnyard they had held up in. The night was punctuated with menacing blasts from a double barrel shotgun; warning shots. Woody couldn't surrender his bounty, he had come so far. They had to escape! As the merchant and he silently made their way through a backdoor and snuck across a field into some luscious foliage, a bullet had whizzed past his head and struck his partner square in the back. Woody crouched dowm, the world spinning, Off in the distance were the grunts of nearby walkers, their attention drawn to his location, but he gave it no thought. It was just him and his friend, who lying in critical condition a few feet away. Drawing his rifle he quietly moved nearer to the body when he saw it: the hunter's head was peeking through the bushes, shotgun aimed at the ready. Before he could think of a reaction, Woody squeezed the trigger hard and opened fire into his enemy, chunks of meat spraying everywhere as his life became void. Woody tended to his partner and had him back up in no time. Before thanks could be given a second hunter sprinted from the swamps, machete held high as his head popped like a meat-filled balloon. The merchant lowered his smoking pistol, grabbed Woody by his arm and led them out from the swamps and into the safety of a boat that would takem them home.

These thoughts kept Woody up at night. Back then it was self preservation. Kill or be killed. These days it was sport. Anytime he heard those distant shots or crows flying off, he made it a priority to take out those who dared enter the swamps with him. It was an easy way to make some extra cash. It was unfortunate then, as Woody MacDonald was strolling peacefully through a riverbank one fine summer's day, beginning a quest fro a new bounty. He had taken the time to invest in some proper attire, purchase a nice new rifle with a matching handgun, and had even shopped around for some dynamite in case things went sour. A few hundred dollars was not something everyone could afford those days, but business had been good, and he had taken on this new bounty plenty of times before. He had the layout of the land imprinted in his eyelids and knew where to find all the extra ammo caches. Yeah, Woody was going to be *BOOM*

Woody took a ♥♥♥♥♥♥♥ bullet to his head. Never saw it coming. No retries, perma death baby. Now repeat this cycle of love and attachment and then misery and death and you have Hunt: Showdown. A bit rough around the edges but a fun, extremely tense multiplater shooter for those that like that sort of thing.

9/10 ♥♥♥♥ this game