I entered a house looking for some food when I heard some footsteps outside. The guy said hey and entered the house, I said hey back, and he hit me with a hammer. This was the beginning of a beautiful tale, the tale of the Shoe Gang.

Running out of the house and up the street as far and as fast as I could, I finally stopped and turned around to see if I was being followed by the crazy hammer man. As I stood there, hungry and demoralised, I heard "behind you, behind you", and up came running another player, much friendlier than my previous encounter.

I told him what happened in town, and he charged off, "Let's get this mother ♥♥♥♥♥♥".

Armed only with my ten fingers curled in to balls, we ran at the hammer man, who after seeing our number had doubled, decided to take a more diplomatic approach.

He apologised for hitting me with his hammer, and explained he simply wanted my shoes for his friend. Little did he know that I had just found the most pristine pair of shoes in the house where we first met.

They were my shoes now.

Agreeing to put our differences aside, the three of us teamed up in search of the finest shoes for the hammer man’s friend. We searched high and we searched low, but there were no shoes to be found. Finally, we met up with the shoeless man, whose shoes certainly were in a state of disrepair. Unable to tolerate the toes of the bare footed, the four of us left town and made our way across the countryside.

Sometime later, we encountered another survivor. He had a nice hat, but we weren't there for hats. He was clearly uncomfortable, and he was right to be, as the hammer man had been stashing a secret pistol this whole time. We were explaining our need for shoes when the hammer man went for the kill.

Unknown to him, the gun went to the back of the man’s head, hammer man pulled the trigger, and he completely missed the shot. Listening to hammer man’s accent he appeared to be French, which for me, an Englishman, explained his inability to handle a firearm at 3 centimetres.

Hammer man pulled out his primary hammer and bashed the survivor over the head, and the rest of us piled in with our fists, turning the guy in to a battered mess. We were careful not to hit his shoes, but it turned out that he too was wearing worn footwear. However, it was enough, and our friend fitted the loafers over his aching toes.

It was a beautiful moment cut short, when the guy I met after the hammer man announced that his shoes were now unfit for purpose. Our thirst for shoes was not yet satiated, and we moved on in search of the next pair of clogs.

Sadly, my new friend had to go, leaving myself, the hammer man and his friend to fend for ourselves. The Shoe Gang were hungry, and so we holed up in an abandoned house to hide from the rain that had started to fall and munch our way through some beans.

The rain gave way, and we pushed on, the scent of leather driving us through the forests. We took part in some fishing, sat round a fire cooking, and discussed our shoe filled fantasies.

As we moved on and day began to turn in to night, the sound of wolves filled the air. We were outnumbered, and our shoes were worn out. They were upon us in the blink of an eye.

Hammer man was the first to fall, flailing his gavel relentlessly as the beasts took him. I attacked the alpha wolf with a big stick which only seemed to anger him. Soon everything began to fade, the blood loss was traumatic and I slipped in to darkness.

The wolves killed us all, and I have no doubt that they took all of our shoes.