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Review: Dead Island (This Is My Joystick)

Holidays are a necessity. We all need a break from the insanely fast-paced nature that the 21st Century dictates. Without time to relax and unwind, we’d probably all be bouncing off the walls, our eyes spinning inside our head and our tongues permanently poked out, looking like a cross between a gargoyle and a caffeine-fuelled cartoon character.

Naturally, the concept of rest and relaxation varies from person to person. Some choose to go to remote, countryside landscapes, others choose to go to theme parks and ride turbulent rollercoasters. Then there are those who love the all-inclusive beach resorts that offer free food, drink and sun. For the cast of Dead Island, this final option certainly seems to be the most enticing.

That is until their blissful nirvana is marred by cannibalised corpses and swimming pools discoloured with blood. Suddenly, they wish they were back home, stuffing envelopes and making daisy chains out of paperclips.

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