Still Wakes the Deep

I'm sure there's been a horror story set on an oil rig before, but I can't think of any off the top of my head, which is odd, because with its remote location over the open sea and its creaking construction, it's a place that taps into the fear of isolation and the unknown.

The Chinese Room - who have shown before with Everybody's Gone to the Rapture, for example, that they can create gripping digital spaces - takes this starting point and runs with it so far that I can only clap my hands in a cold sweat. You take on the role of Cameron McLeary, an electrician on the Beira oil rig. The circumstances of your presence quickly prove to be of a questionable nature. A man has ended up in hospital and you try to evade the police by getting as far away as possible and hoping it will all go away on its own, which understandably doesn't sit well with your better half, who is also the mother of your two daughters.

There's something wonderfully socially realist about this premise, which is supported by the crew's bickering. Here, the chef is a big, balding man with a large belly and the manager is a petty desk jockey with an inferiority complex. They smoke, swear and speak with thick Scottish accents - just as you would imagine.

Beira is an intimidating place from the first second. The corridors and rooms are cramped and metallic, and outside the wind buffets an icy whiplash as the dark sea threatens to engulf anyone who falls into it. A not unlikely fate considering the dodgy condition of the oil rig, which can be felt and heard with every step you take. This is supported by the tactile approach to small and large actions that The Chinese Room has chosen. Unscrewing ventilation shafts or picking locks requires more input than just a button press, fires need to be extinguished with fire extinguishers that are fired as a firearm would normally be, and the developer has even found room for short platforming sequences that may not be demanding, but still give you an unsettling feeling. No, it's not a mechanically deep game, but it's more involving in the classic walking sims that The Chinese Room made their name with, and more importantly, it highlights how difficult and inhospitable a place Beira is.

Still Wakes the Deep manages to create a sense of unease even before things go to hell. Because of course it does. Goes to hell, that is. But for the first hour or so, the game lets you experience Beira and its employees on an ordinary day. You navigate rooms and outdoor areas while performing small tasks and chatting with your colleagues. In this way, it establishes a normality that only amplifies the effect of the events that inevitably occur. It's a horror game after all.

The pieces are set up just right for the event that transforms the place from ominous to nightmarish. It would be a shame to go into detail, but since we're dealing with an oil rig, I think I can reveal that Beira awakens something it shouldn't have. Soon the rig is being torn apart by a mysterious substance that even turns those who come into too much contact with it into frothing Cronenberg monstrosities.

As well as being gleefully grotesque, the encounters with these terrifying creatures are also one of the game's key mechanical elements. If you've played horror titles like Alien: Isolation, Outlast or Amnesia, which threw combat out the window in favour of stealth and escape in the 2010s, you have a very good idea of what to expect. There are no weapons and direct confrontation with the monsters results in a game over screen, so it's all about sneaking around using diversionary manoeuvres, small shafts to hide in and, of course, cupboards to hide in. There's nothing new under the sun here, but because the monster design is so scary and the environments so atmospheric and believable, many of the sequences are incredibly memorable. This also applies to the escape sequences, which can occur both naturally and as set pieces. In an ingeniously sadistic way, Still Wakes the Deep has dedicated a button to look backwards. It's not useful as such, but what it lacks in raw functionality, it makes up for in being a chillingly delightful source of some of the most memorable images of the year, when you look over your shoulder at full speed and realise that the Cronenberg monstrosity is rushing down the half-flooded hallway heading straight for you.

Sometimes, however, the encounter design is at odds with the otherwise naturalistic look. There's a big difference in how the areas that house the cat-and-mouse sequences look compared to the rest of the game. For example, about halfway through the game I was moving through the engine rooms where loose objects, cabinets and open shafts gave a very clear indication that I was about to head back this way with a monster on my heels. You could argue that this helps to create fear for the immediate future, but it's also jarring when the rest of the environments are so believable.

Monsters aren't the only thing that repeatedly threaten to end Cameron's life, however. The Chinese Room wisely holds back on the monstrosities and pits you against Beira's increasingly horrific condition. It's nerve-wracking as you balance on the thin poles that are the only thing separating you from the icy sea and it's downright claustrophobic as you swim through oil and water in the flooded depths of Beira with no view of the next breathing space.

Even with that restraint, Still Wakes the Deep loses much of its ability to scare towards the end, because the tricks The Chinese Room uses don't fundamentally change. It's a shame, but fortunately the more emotional aspects become more apparent. Because the game has taken the time to introduce the different characters, it also hits home when they meet a cruel fate, with best friend Roy's being particularly memorable. He's the one who got Cameron the job and generally looked after him, but during the crisis, the roles are reversed because Roy lacks courage. The central thread, however, is Cameron's desire to get home to his wife and daughters. An effective plot device that raises the stakes and investment in Cameron's mission. If you ask me, The Chinese Room could have put even more effort into Cameron's relationship with his wife and children, because with a little more background, the emotional grounding of the game could have been even stronger without overstaying its welcome.

If I'm complaining that Still Wakes the Deep loses some of its ability to scare and could have used an even stronger emotional core, it's only because there is so much potential. The Chinese Room has succeeded brilliantly with their original pitch of The Thing on an oil rig, while infusing the horror with the emotion that characterised a game like Everybody's Gone to the Rapture. It's the kind of game that, with relatively few mechanics, manages to create immersion with great sound design, evocative visuals and believable storytelling. If you're the type of person who favours brain and heart in your horror, Still Wakes the Deep is the icy yet strangely warm cocktail you've been looking for.