Think of it as the Heavy/Medic Combo in Team Fortress 2, and you find something very similar in Killing Floor 2. The Medic Often needs the Berserker, and in turn, the Beserker needs the Medic. One of the biggest changes between Killing Floor 1 and 2, is the fact of necessity which overrules personal gain. The fact of the matter is, one death within the team at the wrong time could result in a cataclysmic downfall of the entire operation. This dynamic way of playing forces players to develop strategies on the fly, and look out for teammates they would normally leave to die. It is because of this that players are forced to keep moving, moving from space to space, holding an area only long enough to catch their breath and possibly reload before moving out to the next room, street, or alleyway. Players are no longer able to pick a single hallway to hold, for now there is almost nowhere the zeds cannot crawl from.

Long dead are the holdout days of Killing Floor 1, the mentality shattered by the panic inducing attacks of the Zeds in Killing Floor 2. It is now a month later, and once again six people are facing down the legions of the damned, hoping to make it through the horde just long enough to get to the trader, and get something better than what they now have. This has all changed with the introduction of Killing Floor 2. A high level Berserker could often hold a wave on his own, and many times not need the rest of them team. More often than none, In Killing Floor 1, Team mates found themselves splitting away from the rest of the group, down to pairs, or often times, even by themselves until the later part of the waves. Imagine also of a commando, wielding his guns of trade, mowing down everything that moves, targeting a specific Zed for himself, unwilling to break away to help a friend who desperately needs his help. Perhaps instead, it might have been a Rambo, not with guns, but with blades, instead running off into the sunset, disappearing knee-deep in clones, only to return at the end of the wave, covered in blood, guts, and gore, keeping the glory of the kills for themselves. Using this tactic to survive on their own, they might use their team as bait, so they could get away to plan their own next move, thus allowing the team to wither die, but hopefully taking enough with them so the medic’s job could be easier and the pay could be all theirs. Perhaps there would be the lone medic, who decided that staying with the team would be more of a hindrance than a help, deciding to break away the first chance they got. In the original Killing Floor, six teammates found themselves back to back to back, often wondering if the next wave of zeds, would be the one to bring them all down. It is imperative now, more than ever that you work with your team, and not against them if you wish to stay alive long enough to see your next pay check. By now you have developed the skills to keep you alive, move faster, do better, and hit harder, but alas, so have the clones. In Killing Floor 2, you find yourself in Europe, Just one month after the devastating outbreak that crippled London and hurled Great Britain, and most of the world, on its knees. In Killing Floor 2 you play as a survivor of the outbreak that had originally broken out in London due to Horzine Biotech, a company that focused on research of Cloning and other technical research. Killing Floor 2 is the sequel of the overly popular Killing Floor, developed by Tripwire Interactive back in 2009, and is one of the shining jewels on the company’s roster. It is then, the timer stops, and the doors are pushed open.

Another Zed dead means another head for pay.

The timer counts down and in a matter of moments, he and I will have to push back another horde of Z. I nod, and brandish my shovel, pushing my glasses back to the bridge of my nose. I look over to my partner and he asks me if I am ready. I look down, and I see my tool of trade though simple, the shovel has served me well thus far, and with a little luck, perhaps it will serve me through one more night. The wind continues to howl through the half boarded window I am looking out of, and nearby, my partner is checking his gun, and making sure he is fully loaded, ready to go. Instead, looking out of the window, What should have been a cloudy, dark night had long since become orange, with the lights of a thousand burning embers rising up into the sky, singing their song of chaos that had been ripped from the once peaceful streets of Paris.

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