Oil not sleep tonight
Scottish petrochemicalhorroris not exactly a genre, but maybe it ought to be.
From the opening moments ofStill Wakes The Deepyou know life on its 1970s North Sea oil rig is precarious.
The kind of football-centric chat expected of a mostly male crew in the 70s.
Talking to everyone on the rig is like taking an earbath in Scottish slang.
Of course, everything goes tits-up.
I found myself mostly using this to give myself a jolt during chase sequences.
That fear doesn’t only come from the monsters.
Here, the first time these traversable game obstacles showed up, I felt legitimate anxiety.
Caz is not an arms aloft stuntperson, he’s an electrician with no experience of such an emergency.
When you finally do approach beams, his limits become clear.
Caz drops to his knees and crawls across the beams slowly and swearily.
But I can let this go.
Vidgam gonna vidgam.
Here the visual language of first-person horror comes through with the clarity required by the medium.
Hiding spaces are splashed with helpful yellow paint.
Arrows and maps continually mark out your path.
When a risky jump is required, it is made obvious.
When you better distract an enemy, there are suddenly tons of throwable objects lying around.
The only time I felt this guidance break down was in later moments when environments became flooded.
At some points you are submerged and have to drag yourself along support beams while underwater.
At another, you have to find a correct route while your breath quickly runs out.
This goes for both rising water and your groaning ex-colleagues.
These tentacled blistermen are not all alike.
Their behaviour is often similar; they hunt and pursue and patrol.
But each feels slightly different.
One towers above you on stilt-like legs.
Another drags itself about on the floor like a slug.
Another will shamelessly enter the vents you hide within, forcing you to be quick and decisive.
More disturbing is how each moans in their own way, their pains and problems following them into monsterhood.
Some of these things were once your friends, and Caz is continually swearing with horrified pity at them.
I’m looking at you Addair, you horrible fuck.
It is a great hook.
None of the enemies you encounter are faceless baddies.
They plead with you to help, before assailing you with an agonised wail of rage.
One continues to try doing the laundry with infuriated, ineffectual slams of a washing machine door.
It’s an old theme of horror, that humanity and monstrousness can co-exist within the same body.
And what about Caz, your own character?
I mean that in a good way.
It could also be interpreted as the screeching vengeance of a planet being bled dry.
As a lament for the worker who is driven to destruction among the pipes and machinery of capital.
As the tragedy that comes of a father’s abandonment and thoughtlessness.
It is notable that there is one woman on board the Beira oil rig, the engineer Finlay.
Aye, make it first-person anaw.
This review is based on a review build of the game provided by the developer.
