After only two seconds at the launch party for locally produced postapocalyptic zombie graphic novel Night Zero, I’m already confused. A gas-masked ticket taker wielding an uncomfortably realistic assault rifle greets me and hands me a bag of goodies: a knife, bandages, alcohol swabs, twine, and the new issue of Night Zero. I also receive a card listing my attributes: location, leader, team, etc. The card turns out to be the main element of a role-playing game disguised as a Night Zero promotion scheme disguised as a pretty ingenious way of forcing people at the party to be social. I’m one of a four-person team, and I must track down my three teammates. I only find two.
As the evening progresses, partyers’ interest in the game wanes, but my team completes the challenge. By cheating. We aren’t ashamed; we’ve been emboldened by our alcohol intake. The team decides to celebrate with a drink—a sickly sugary blend of lemonade, Sprite, and vodka. Success never tasted so sweet.
I wander out to the deck, where smokers discuss all things nerd. An overly happy drunk describes his love/hate relationship with his favorite hobby: live-action role-playing. “I’m kind of ashamed to admit it, you know. I go out there and hit people with a foam-covered stick.” “Hey, man,” someone else offers, “at least you’re not sitting at home rolling a 20-sided die.” The group nods knowingly. At the end of the night, the host kicks the lingerers out. The hangover I can feel coming on will probably make me wish zombies had actually eaten my brain. 
“I find ONLY two” not “I only find two”
other than that, nice job, Kaleb.
File your grammatical grievances with Paul, you stickler!