My wife is missing, abducted by a stereotypically mad scientist. I search for her, wandering the corridors of a stereotypically spooky castle. Ahead, a gaggle of biomechanical zombies. No problem, I've been dealing with them all night. They're not invincible, and those garden shears over there look like the perfect solution to my current problem.

I stretch out my right arm, picking up the shears. I raise them into an offensive position, turning instantly to my nearest foe. Snip. One down. Chop, shnikt, crunch. Three more dead in seconds. The abominations dispatched, I place my right foot forward, marching down the hallway. It curves to the left up ahead, so I twist my body appropriately to make the turn.

With determination, I approach the corner and ... I run smack into a wall, fumble from side to side for a bit, step backwards, stop completely, reassess my position, turn my shoulders to the left, turn them back to the right because I overcompensated and, finally, continue on my way. I must have slain a hundred monsters in Rise of Nightmares, but they have nothing on my true nemesis: Walking.