Death Road to Canada

If you’ve ever played Oregon Trail and thought, “This needs more zombies, fewer rules, and maybe a dog with a shotgun,” Death Road to Canada is ready to answer your prayers, and promptly chew you up in a pixelated mob of the undead.

This is a road trip roguelite where literally everything is randomized: events, locations, characters, weapons, and how quickly you’ll die. You and your crew of weirdos (some of whom you’ll grow to love and others you’ll feed to the horde without blinking) are trying to escape a zombified Florida and reach the promised land: Canada, the last safe country on Earth. It’s a noble mission that mostly ends in hilarious, screaming failure.

The setup is simple. Survive for 14 in-game days, managing food, fuel, morale, and meat shields, sorry, companions, along the way. What’s not simple is everything else. One moment you’re looting a haunted hardware store with a talking poodle; the next, your van explodes and you’re stranded in the woods while your best friend is farting so hard it becomes a combat mechanic.

Seriously.

That’s the magic of Death Road to Canada: total, glorious chaos. You’re constantly making hard choices with very dumb people. Or very dumb animals. Maybe your kung fu raccoon gets mauled while defending a taco stand. Maybe you teach your Labrador to wield a flamethrower. Maybe you find a vampire. Maybe you are the vampire.

Combat is frantic and chunky, with hundreds of slow-moving zombies turning every misstep into a pixelated horror show. You can equip everything from frying pans to Mjolnir to a very legal airhorn that does sonic damage (and emotional damage to anyone in the room with you). Each weapon breaks, ammo runs dry, and your teammates usually make things worse. But somehow, that just makes it better.

Character customization lets you drop your friends, enemies, and exes into the apocalypse and watch what happens. (Pro tip: make your most annoying roommate allergic to dogs and hope the RNG puts them in a dog-only party.) Traits and perks influence how your team acts and reacts, someone might be loyal, strong, and dumb as bricks, or a clever traitor who ditches you the second they spot a working car.

And look, Death Road is hard. Brutal. Unfair. Sometimes all three. But that’s part of the ride. Every death becomes a story. Every lucky escape feels like a miracle. Every run is absurd, unpredictable, and completely unforgettable.

In short? Death Road to Canada is what happens when you mix the apocalypse with a road trip comedy, throw in some dogs, and light the whole thing on fire.

Pack snacks. Don’t trust the trader in the cloak. And never, ever let the guy with the airhorn drive.