The day we've all been waiting for is here: the day when all of our virtual combat skills carefully honed through endless hours of Doom and Half-Life finally pay off. While our peers got good grades in school and pursued their now laughably-worthless MBAs and PhDs, we honed our minds and reflexes for the zombie apocalypse we all knew just had to come. The gelatinous cocoons of our flabby corporeal frames have finally burst open, revealing the bad-ass zombie killer gestating inside all along.

We don't know why the dead have suddenly awoken to feed upon the spurting bowels of our friends and loved ones. Perhaps the NASA space probe that streaked through the sky on the ides of March, seeding the earth with reanimating Venusian microbes has something to do with it. Maybe there's just no more room in hell. Maybe God wants to teach us a lesson. We don't really fucking care why the dead walk the earth. All we know is that Jack Thompson was right: video games have turned us into ruthless and efficient killers. And now we're humanity's last hope. Who's laughing now, Jack?

We're not going to lie to you here. If your last sight is two zombies playing the kissing game while gnawing at opposite ends of your intestinal tract, you're not going to be able to just pump another quarter into the machine. It's Game Over for real. This is Iron Man mode we're talking about. But until then, Kotaku's going to be here, giving you all the inside gamer's tips and tricks to make your last life count.