Is The Darkest of Days not on Steam?
Ah, The Darkest of Days—the time-traveling, Civil War-shooting, paradox-flavored snack of a game that history forgot. If you’ve been frantically smashing your keyboard typing “Darkest of Days Steam” into Google like a time traveler trying to prevent the extinction of sarcasm, let me save you the existential crisis: it’s not there. Poof. Vanished. Like a history textbook thrown into a black hole (or a developer’s “we’ll fix it later” promise).
But Why Though? Let’s Speculate Wildly!
Possible reasons it’s MIA on Steam:
- Licensing limbo: The game’s rights might be stuck in a time rift between 2009 and a corporate lawyer’s spreadsheet.
- Quantum retail: Maybe it’s only available in an alternate universe where Steam sells muffins instead of games.
- Publisher pride: “Let’s NOT cash in on nostalgia” said no one ever, except maybe here.
So… Can You Play It or Not?
Fear not, temporal adventurer! While Steam treats this game like a weird uncle at a family reunion, you might find it lurking in the abandoned shopping mall of the internet—think eBay listings, dusty DVD bins, or that one sketchy digital storefront that accepts payment in toenail clippings. Pro tip: Check if your PC still has a CD-ROM drive. If not, maybe build a time machine? The game did teach us how to mess with timelines, after all.
In summary: Steam’s library is vast, but The Darkest of Days remains a phantom limb in its catalog—gone, but still itching. Maybe Valve’s just waiting for someone to shoot a musket at their servers to trigger a temporal download. Stranger things have happened. Probably.
How long does it take to beat the darkest of days?
The Main Campaign: A Time-Traveler’s Lunch Break
If you’re here for a straightforward answer, let’s just say beating The Darkest of Days takes roughly 6-8 hours if you’re speedrunning through history like a caffeine-addicted historian. That’s about the time it takes to microwave three suspicious burritos, binge a season of Ancient Aliens, or wait for your DM friend to finally reply “lol” to your 14-page backstory. But hey, time is relative—especially when you’re hopping between Civil War battlefields and dinosaur-infested timelines.
Completionist? Prepare to Outwait a Sloth Marathon
Want to 100% this chaos? Buckle up for 10-12 hours of *collecting floating hourglasses* and *accidentally shooting important historical figures* (oops). You’ll scour timelines for:
- Mysterious artifacts (read: shiny plot confetti)
- Optional missions (like convincing a T-Rex not to eat your homework)
- The will to continue after realizing your horse controls like a shopping cart with a vendetta
It’s shorter than waiting for a new Half-Life game, but longer than your patience for paradoxes.
But Wait—Time Paradoxes May Apply
Here’s the kicker: The Darkest of Days involves time travel, so your playtime might loop like a cursed GIF. Did you just spend 20 minutes redoing a level? Or did the game gaslight you into thinking you did? Factors that warp your perception of duration:
- Getting stuck in a cannonball reload animation (historically accurate, spiritually devastating)
- Debating whether saving that one NPC is worth it (spoiler: they’ll die anyway)
- Realizing your “quick session” started in 2012
In the end, your playtime could feel like a weekend or a glacial epoch. Either way, you’ll exit with more existential dread than a mayfly at a birthday party.
What is the darkest video game ever?
When “gritty reboots” of fairy tales just aren’t bleak enough
If you’ve ever thought, “Hmm, this game could use more existential despair and a side of psychological trauma,” look no further than Silent Hill 2. It’s a game where fog isn’t just fog—it’s a metaphor for your crumbling mental state. The protagonist, James Sunderland, isn’t here to collect coins or rescue princesses. He’s here to maybe find his dead wife, definitely confront guilt-ridden monsters shaped like his subconscious, and question every life choice that led him to a town where pyramid-headed mascots wander the streets. It’s darker than a black hole’s browser history.
Contenders for “Most Likely to Make You Need Therapy”
But wait! Let’s not ignore Pathologic, a Russian masterpiece where misery is the main gameplay mechanic. You’re a doctor in a plague-ridden town where:
- NPCs lie to you for sport
- Children bet on who dies next
- The “healing” quest involves surviving on crushed dreams and expired cough drops
The game doesn’t just *acknowledge* futility—it gives it a hug, a spreadsheet, and a 10-day plan to ruin your sleep schedule.
When even the title screen needs a trigger warning
Then there’s Darkest Dungeon, which answers the question: “What if a Lovecraftian horror narrated your Tinder dates?” It’s a game where your heroes don’t die—they melt into gibbering puddles of stress. Permadeath isn’t a feature; it’s a lifestyle. The narrator, voiced by a man who probably gargles gravel for fun, casually drops lines like “A trifling victory, but a victory nonetheless” as your rogue vomits from fear. It’s less a game, more a funeral march with loot drops.
Honorable mention to Spec Ops: The Line, which starts as a generic military shooter and ends with a ”Wait, am I the war criminal?” existential crisis. Spoiler: Yes. Yes, you are. But hey, at least the loading screens roast you for it. Dark? Buddy, it’s like playing a charcoal briquette’s therapy session.
What happened to my darkest days?
They’re probably hiding behind the laundry monster
You know, those “darkest days” didn’t just vanish—they’re just expertly camouflaged now. Like a ninja who’s also a part-time procrastinator. Maybe they’re lurking behind that pile of unwashed socks you’ve been ignoring since 2022, or perhaps they’ve merged with the sentient dust bunnies under your bed. Dark days are sneaky like that. They don’t leave; they just shapeshift into minor inconveniences to keep things ✨spicy✨.
Evidence suggests they joined a cult (sunshine division)
One day, your darkest days were brooding in a corner, quoting Nietzsche. The next? They traded their black eyeliner for Hawaiian shirts and started hosting beach yoga retreats. Plot twist: They’re now moonlighting as motivational memes. You’ve seen the signs—a suspiciously upbeat text from your ex, a sunset photo captioned *”gratitude is a vibe,”* or your plants surviving a weekend without water. Coincidence? No. Your dark days got a rebrand.
Where to look for them now:
- In the aggressively cheery neighbor who wants to discuss kombucha at 7 a.m.
- Trapped in your phone’s “mindfulness app” notifications
- Haunting the comments section of a DIY glitter candle tutorial
They’ll be back. But so will pizza.
Let’s be real: Dark days are like that one friend who “swears they’ve changed” before borrowing your charger and disappearing for weeks. They’ll return—maybe during a random Tuesday Zoom call or when you’re out of coffee. But here’s the secret: You’ve stockpiled snacks, questionable coping mechanisms, and enough sarcasm to power a small nation. So if they show up? Offer them a seat, but don’t let them pick the playlist. You’re busy writing a new season of your life, and it’s a dark comedy—with better lighting.
