So a friend of mine who knows I love me some survival horror recommended Soma to me a while back. And I was like, eh, perhaps indeed. And then I tried it. And now I'm like...holy fuck.
***PROBABLY SPOILERS AHEAD IUNNO
WHAT AM I CLAIRVOYANT IDK FUCK***
I am six beers into a horror game that is tapping into every fear I have so...you know. This shit is happening.
First of all, a lovely warning, as with all amazing games:
So Soma is a game which begins ever so innocently with a fellow in a shitty apartment in Toronto. He seems to have dain bramage, and his place is a fucking mess, mostly because I threw all of his shit around because YOU CAN GRAB EVERYTHING OKAY.
He goes to some shabby joint that looks like someone is either in the process of moving in or moving out hella fast. There's a syringe on the floor because hep. And an overturned chair in the hallway because YOU CAN GRAB EVERYTHING OKAY.
Then you get in a freaky contraption and...
BOOM. You wake up in Rapture (I mean Upsilon), an underwater facility full of creepy apocalyptic notes and sentient machines. Angry sentient machines. Angry sentient machines that cross the boundaries between antagonistic, stolen, human consciousness and a mechanical, disconnected, strange fascination/empathy.
|Do androids dream of electric sheep?|
Apparently, this biomechanical nightmare has something to do with everyone at Upsilon either fleeing or dying horribly:
|He had a bad day, okay? Just leave him alone. Definitely don't walk over him to see if he squelches.|
And has leeched out into the depths of the dark ocean, resulting in half tech fish and roaming crackhead (I mean structure-gel-head) bots:
|"You're real. Give me some for the pain. WHY ARE YOU MAKING ME DO THIS?"|
Side note: definitely do not walk right up to this bot and try to give it drugs.
|Nothing creepier than boots littered everywhere without anyone to wear them.|
|"It won't let me die. Nothing is allowed to die."|