The game starts with the protagonist in present day Toronto, on his way to get an experimental brainscan to check on his car crash induced brain damage. But halfway through the scan, he opens his eyes and finds himself alone in a seemingly empty seafloor facility, called
Apart from that, the atmosphere is constructed beautifully. The interior sections are mostly dimly lit cold metal spaces, with faint lights beckoning you to the next objective, and walls split open by almost organic looking metal growths. The exterior sections where you walk the ocean floor capture the vastness and weight of the sea above you, with floodlit pathways and endless space stretching off into the unknown gloom. And why is the darkness scary? Because of what lurks within.
The monsters are almost exactly the same as they are in Amnesia: You are introduced to them with glimpses and sounds, rather than having them shoved in your face, and are discouraged from looking at them. Although most of the time, the only penalty for staring is slightly distorted vision. There is one enemy however, whose head is lit up like a christmas tree, who will be actively attracted to you if you look at them, whilst massively distorting your vision. The other enemies though are impressively varied compared to Amnesia, with differences in visual design, level of hearing & sight, and behaviour, so you're always kept on your toes. Including one featured in a set piece terrifying enough to warrant a new pair of pants. But oddly enough, falling foul of these monsters doesn't end in instant death. They knock you out and leave you on the floor, and you are left with impaired movement and vision until you find a heal point, or a monster finishes you off. This felt pretty unnecessary; it would feel a lot more streamlined if you just died and respawned a little further back, rather than having to limp around.
One aspect that isn't handled well is puzzles. For the most part, they're based around finding the puzzle pieces, rather than figuring out how the pieces fit together, which makes them a bit of an arbitrary blockade. The worst example is when you're trying to activate a lift, with a monster either nearby or directly on your tail, and you have to perform several actions that aren't particularly intuitive or well explained. Often leading to your demise as you ask yourself why the damn thing isn't working. There are unfortunately only a small number of puzzles that require you to actually think rather than search or follow instructions.
One aspect that is handled amazingly is the choices you make. Even though your decisions have zero impact down the line, they really make you stop and think about what the right thing to do is. This is where the philosophical part of the game steps in, and has you asking yourself questions on the nature of the self and of humanity. I can't think of a game I've played before that's had me thinking about whether I've made the right decision long after I've finished the game. The only decision that carried no impact is one that may be considered in-game to be one of the most important ones. A new NPC turns up near the end of the game & pesters you to do something, which you end up walking by on the way to your main objective. To this guy it's the most important thing in the world, but ultimately, it holds none of the emotional weight of the previous decisions & adds nothing to the game.
Overall, Soma is a stellar example of the survival horror genre, perfectly balancing the creepy atmosphere with the more active scares. I recommend this game to anyone with even the slightest interest in horror games, and it will certainly be enjoyed by anyone who likes Frictional's previous games.
