Commando Performance

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Humans vs. Zombies

Students at Goucher College gear up to play a fifth round of the immersive tag game that can last for days or even weeks.

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A few hours later, the 15 or so humans holed up in Van Meter Hall, one of Goucher's main classroom buildings, checked the Web site and were alarmed to discover that the O.Z. had already recorded seven kills. It was only the first day of play, but these humans were already in full game mode. Sutton Ashby was dressed all in black, wearing leg and shoulder holsters that hold four of the seven guns he owns. (Because game rules state that weapons can't be visible in academic buildings, Ashby's guns were stowed in a plastic garbage bag next to his backpack.) He had his student ID card taped to his wrist so he could wave it in front of the card readers and quickly unlock doors. Jon Simon was wearing a black hunting vest and cargo pants, and he carried a mirror that he could extend around corners to spot zombies lying in wait. Peter Danilchuk had stocked up on granola, fruit bars, raisins and V-8 -- dining halls are not "safe zones," he said. All wore bandannas tied around their arms or legs that identified them as humans; if they got tagged and became zombies, they'd transfer the bandannas to their heads.

By 2:30 p.m. the next day, the human population was down from 150 to 100 and Van Meter was surrounded by zombies, including O.Z. Cardona, who was lying on her stomach outside the basement door, hoping to catch unsuspecting humans leaving class.

On the one hand, Cardona was feeling pretty good -- she'd bagged a record 18 kills the first day, and she was ready to devote her entire weekend to eradicating the human population. On the other hand, the humans who'd perished were the low-hanging fruit. She wanted Temkin and a few other key players, who were holed up inside Van Meter. Through the windows, Cardona saw them chatting and checking e-mail. "I don't want to move from here," she said after waiting 30 minutes in the November chill. "It's a hostage situation. We're psyching them out."

One of the human militia commanders, Boman Modine, a husky senior with a disheveled mop of curly hair and a penchant for fantasy games, came up with an escape plan for the 40-odd humans scattered throughout Van Meter. And although Temkin had reservations, he agreed to follow orders, because Modine was the ranking officer and Temkin is a firm believer in chain of command. According to the plan, all the freshman and inexperienced players would run out the front of Van Meter and draw the zombies' attention. The more experienced militia members would go out the back and take on the zombies there. Then the humans would reconvene in an open field behind the building.

On cue, a group of humans charged out the front door with their guns blazing, and Temkin and two others ran out the main back door. One of Temkin's comrades died before Modine arrived with backup, but it wasn't a bad showing, considering that the building was surrounded. The freshmen who ran out the front suffered no losses at all.

Modine split the humans into three platoons, with Temkin at the helm of one as they marched through the middle of campus. Later, Temkin would bask in the glory of that moment. "I commanded 40 people," he said. "I feel like I did something big."

Temkin has no military training and no plans to join the military. But he and the others marching with him seemed hungry for at least part of the soldier's experience -- the friendships forged under fire, the intensity of life-or-death situations, the chance to be tested. As one militia member said: "You get to be Arnold Schwarzenegger. You get to go blazing into a pack of people and save the day."

It's exactly this viewpoint that disturbs Myers, the English professor who spoke out during the community conversation. "I don't have anything specifically against the game as a game," he said. "What sort of troubled me was seeing young men walking around campus in camouflage and doing a kind of walk I would characterize as a swagger or aggressive pose. It's clearly role-playing, but, as Shakespeare would say, 'All the world's a stage.' So the roles say a lot about who people are. The game perhaps gives some insight into why war is so attractive to young men."

SEVERAL HOURS AFTER THE STANDOFF OUTSIDE VAN METER THAT FRIDAY AFTERNOON -- which was far from the bloodbath Cardona had hoped for -- Cardona and a pack of zombies had gathered on the hill next to the student parking lot, awaiting the humans, whom they'd learned were marching through the woods that ring Goucher's campus, headed their way. When the humans realized the zombies were lying in wait, Modine and fellow militia commander Matt Sabine huddled to decide whether the troops should press deeper into the woods or rush the zombies. The decision was to rush, so the humans made a quarter-turn and charged up the hill, shooting and yelling. In the ensuing melee all the zombies were stunned by Nerf darts before they could tag anyone, and the humans ran off to the safety of their dorm rooms.

"We didn't get anyone?" O.Z. Cardona said, her chest rising and falling from exertion. "We failed miserably."

A few hours later, the zombies attacked in Tuttle House, a dorm, but the humans commandeered the stairwells, knocking the zombies back every time they attempted to advance. After the 90-minute siege ended, Temkin and the other humans ordered Chinese food and asked the delivery guy to pass it through the window.

When Cardona finally went to bed at 3 a.m., she dreamt of zombies for the third night in a row.