Soma: The Theory of Continuity

Source: Frictional Games

While Soma's ocean floor setting contributes a large amount to it's overall sci-fi affect, easily the most ambitious (and most talked about when the game released) element of the experience is the body-swapping narrative experiences by the protagonist Simon Jarrett. This is going to spoil the entire game thoroughly, so if you haven't already played Soma yet I really recommend it if you're at all interested in sci-fi or horror.

Early on in the game you encounter some audio logs from one of the people who worked at Pathos-II named Mark Sarang. Unlike most of the other crew members who had their minds scanned for the ARK project, Sarang had a strangely reverential view of the situation due to his belief in two phenomena he called "continuity" and "the coin flip". Whereas most of the scanned personnel considered the copy of their mind placed on the ARK as an entirely separate existence, Sarang and the handful of other crew that subscribed to his theory of continuity believed that they would carry on living in the ARK if they ceased existing directly after the scan was completed. At first blush this idea seems...pretty crazy. What's interesting, though, is that the player, despite better logic, has to give the theory a bit of credence because until now, Simon has "won" the coin flip every time. It's a trick, but an effective one since the player has never had the experience of "losing" the flip - as Catherine says, we came "Directly from Toronto" via the memories of the original Simon. It's only later on that we learn about what happened to the real Simon after the scan, and if the scans on the ARK never learn what happened to their previous selves (and how would they?) the "continuity" would seem to be perfectly preserved from their point of view. The way Soma sets up the coin flip situation throughout the game is really quite clever, as it's much easier for the player to forget that they're actually playing as a copy of a long-dead person since we go "directly" from Toronto to Pathos-II via the unbroken narrative of the game itself. Part misdirection from the developers and part willful ignorance the part of the players, just like Simon's character in-game, helps the game deliver it's powerful ending punch.

Soma also differs from other games that want to "say something" by not allowing the preferences of the developers to bleed into the game and affect the player's own natural arc of experience. Choices are presented, some of them incredibly poignant and difficult to make, like whether or not to turn off Sarah's life support, or euthanize Amy and Robin, and some seem easier (and some aren't really choices at all). In all cases none of them are referenced in the ending or are really brought by the game at all once you move past them - they're yours to think about, and you're always given as much time as you need to come to your decision. In the end, you just have to live with it and hope you did the best you could as Soma never really paints the two main focal points of the game, the ARK and the WAU, as hands-down better than the other option. It might not seem like a huge innovation in narrative technique, but when combined with the atmosphere of the rest of the experience it can be surprisingly affective. Few games trust you enough to let you think for yourself about what you're doing, and Soma shows how it can be done to greatly enhance the staying power of a story.

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More thoughts on Sarang's continuity: it actually does make some sense from the way he describes it, in a weird roundabout way. Since the Sarang that gets scanned will have all the experiences of "Sarang prime" up until after the procedure, there would be a continuity chain to an outside observer. Of course, the scanned Sarang would probably be aware he's just a scan of the original once he's in the ARK, but he wouldn't feel any different, presumably. Oi. It's been suggested that Sarang was pushing his continuity theory for the benefit of his fellow crew members, but that seems doubtful since everytime we hear him speak or read what he wrote about the subject he's consistent about his belief. Whether or not he actually believed that the Sarang that he was, Sarang-prime, would actually experience literal continuity or was aware that it would be another "him" that would be "winning" the coin toss and he just figured that was so obvious he didn't bother mentioning it, isn't ever really addressed. I like to take what the game presents at face value so to me Sarang was actually buying this stuff. It's not total bullshit since in his own mind, any entity with all of his experiences and personality would seem to just be another copy of himself, and to anyone else it would just be like Sarang teleported onto the ARK. I think I need a drink.

Soma's Aquatic Aesthetics

Released at the tail end of 2015, Frictional Games' latest project marked a significant environmental departure from the haunted halls and mineshafts of their previous Amnesia and Penumbra titles by taking players on a mind-twisting journey through the dilapidated remains of a futuristic facility called Pathos-II located on the floor of the Atlantic Ocean. I wanted to talk about the overall design and aesthetic of Soma's world as it's some of the best environmental design and art direction I've seen in a long time. I want to discuss the game's plot at some point as well because it's fascinating but that will be at another time.

Exploring Upsilon, Pathos-II's power station. Source: Section-Nine

The interiors of Pathos-II are an interesting blend of chunky utilitarian design similar to something like the Nostromo from Alien but with an oddly high-ceiling, almost cavern-like motif featured in much of the initial areas like, Upsilon pictured above. It's not nearly as claustrophobic as the suffocating Beebe Station from Starfish and sometimes almost feels too... roomy. Not in a "this is so scientifically inaccurate, these corridors should only be X feet by X feet!" way, but in an industrialized, cold way: it's obvious from the start that Pathos-II isn't exactly a homey, friendly place, and it seems to suit the remaining functioning robots and station-wide AI, the Warden Unit, better than it ever did the crew members.

A constellation of Structure Gel occupying a nearly-collapsed section of site Tau. Source: rythymblow

 Everything's surface is cold and sleek like a hospital. Deposits of mechanical "structure gel" are everywhere, and it's hard to tell if the Warden Unit is plugging leaks and propping the walls up or slowly smothering Pathos-II to death. The living quarters and medical wing of Theta are the only areas that offer a break from the rest of the station's starkly pre-fab, no-cubic-inch-wasted design. While the open space would normally make one feel a bit less closed in, the illusion of a roomier space only made me even more aware of the fact that I'm in one of the most precarious and hostile environments a human can occupy, feeding my dread. Not sure if I picked up exactly what Frictional was putting down with that, put it certainly was effective in any case.

A laboratory in the medical wing, site Theta. Source: thundra

The crown in Soma's jewel, though, must be the sections of the game that place you outside of the relative safety of Pathos-II and force you to traverse the hazy ocean floor itself. Admittedly I haven't played many games (or seen many movies, even) that feature ocean floor environments as much as is presented here, but I can pretty confidently say that the art direction of these areas will remain as just as impressive as it stands now. The only recent games I can recall that looked as good as Soma does during these sections are Abzu and Mad Max, both titles that are well known for looking stupid good.

The remains of an assembly line at site Delta. Source: DokiQuies

Dim lights of outbuildings faintly pierce the darkness while spindly guide lamps provide most of the illumination during these sections as your chief source of illumination, a small flashlight, is more of a comfort blanket than an actual navigational aid. Algae and other undersea plant life sway in the current as barnacles coat the exteriors of the various man made structures you find. The expansive emptiness provides little respite from the harsh confinement of the station's corridors and, as the game went on and I spent more time in the various underwater locations like the sunken ruins of the Curie, Pathos-II's supply ship, the harsh walls of the habitats started to seem a hell of a lot better.

An obelisk of unknown purpose near Upsilon. Source: Aethere

 Abandoned fish farms outside of site Omicron.

Abandoned and derelict outbuildings (like the empty fish farms above) are everywhere as it seems no one is around to tend to them by the time Simon finds himself waking up in the facility. This location in the game is near the abyssal plain's drop-off point, the descent to the terminal depths of the bottom of the ocean floor doable only with the aid of a shark cage-esque elevator known as the Climber (below). Easily one of the most powerful vistas in the game, the machine rests in its mount on an arm precariously hanging off the edge into what as well may be deep space. Strange and unseen-until-now aquatic life, most notably brilliantly luminous jellyfish, drift by through the void undeterred by the increasingly inhospitable pressure.

The less-than-rock-solid walkway leading to the Abyssal Climber.

Bio-luminescent life around the Climber as it makes its descent. Source: Impetus

Soma saves the best for last, though. Upon arriving on the ocean floor you find conditions that are only marginally more human-friendly than the surface of an alien planet: your vision blurs permanently due to the astronomical amounts of pressure being placed on your diving suit and the only respite from the crushing darkness are the decayed ruins of the Pathos team's makeshift storehouses and obersvation shacks and a series of small guideposts guiding you to your next objective. The mechanical influence of the station's warden unit is just as present here as above: inky tendrils snake off into the darkness, far from the feeble comfort the few remaining light fixtures bring. Combined with the bizarre lifeforms on display (yes, those are spiders below) and the torrential current of the trench's tectonic activity rendering you nearly deaf and blind, that this environment, despite still sticking with the mechanics you've grown used to through the course of the game and being fundamentally similar to the other "walking around the ocean" bits you've played, manages to stand out as something so alien and unnerving is a big testament to Frictional's design work here. The idea of setting a horror game at the bottom of the Marianas trench seems so obvious and it works so well here that I'm surprised by how seldom it's been attempted.

Near the Climber's landing point in the Abyss. Note the distorted vision caused by the immense pressure. Source: Rain

An outbuilding near the Climber. Clouds of phosphorescent jellyfish and the Warden Unit's tendrils provide much of the little available illumination. Source: Chewable C++

An undersea cave coated in pycnogonid. Source: Kodijack!

Near the hub of the Warden Unit, nearly 100% of the environment has been subsumed by tendrils and Structure Gel growth. Source: AZWew

A guidepost in the abyss. And something else? Source: Fernando Esra

The remaining Pathos habitats you explore during this stretch of the game reflect the hostility of the local environment by featuring the most cramped architecture to be found through Soma's many different locations. Hallways are narrow and poorly lit as you make your way to the narrative's conclusion, hopefully finally understanding what happened to the crew members who seem to have vacated the facilities along with the motivations and fate of Pathos-II's Warden Unit AI system.

Mess hall of site Tau, one of the final holdout areas of the Pathos crew. Source: DOOM

Site Phi, and the home of the Omega Space Gun. Source: SABINA

Curiously, the final area you visit (above) is also probably the environment that seems the least infected with black goop and tentacles, which is kind of interesting if you have the context for it from the situation in game. And that's pretty much it. Writing this has made me really want to play through the whole thing again, so I might just do that so I can add some screenshots of my own and not have to rely on the dubious Fair Use policies of Steam users' screenshots. If this whole thing seems kind of fellating than I guess it really is - Soma is an incredible experience that I can't recommend enough to anyone interested in sci-fi, horror, existential weirdness, or just damn good looking (and sounding!) games.

No Man's Sky: Sean Murray x Todd Howard

As we draw nearer and nearer to the much anticipated (understatement of the year?) indie darling No Man's Sky, the increasing degree of toxicity displayed among the fanbase and the general gaming community has been an unfortunate, if understandable, display of tall poppy syndrome as onlookers were treated to a roller coaster ride of leaked gameplay, shattered hopes, rekindled hype, and a healthy helping of crabs n' salt. All drama aside, the game is going to be out soon and hopefully hitting the ground running thanks to an (apparently) much needed and surprisingly thick day one patch. No Man's Sky launch has also been memorable as the only time that I can remember large video game publications breaking review embargoes to host gameplay on their sites before the game was even released, notably by buying copies of the game from retailers who had broken the August 9th street date  so they could stream it for themselves. I understand that review embargoes are shitty for everyone except publishers, but seeing professional journalists resorting to this kind of behavior just seems petulant - you couldn't wait like to get your clicks for a few more days?

Besides all of the drama (and there's plenty more where that came from) I can't help drawing a comparison from all of this stuff to Bethesda and Todd Howard, aka the Patron Saint of Steam Sales. Bethesda games, similar to No Man's Sky, take place in vast worlds filled with a bulging, nearly "limitless" amount of stuff to do and see driven chiefly by the player's own exploration. Bethesda games are also massive hype machines with maybe the most fervent, let-them-get-away-with-murder type of fanbases visible in mainstream gaming despite a routine amount of bugs, technical glitches, poor optimization/ UI decisions, and general writing that belie their success. When some of the all-time most popular mods available for your game are bug fix compilations, you know you have something pretty special on your hands. Hello Games' Sean Murray has been catching flak for his "lies" regarding a range of No Man's Sky features in a relatively short period of time, while Todd Howard has a pretty well documented Spin Zone tendency that has really never backfired. Since Bethesda games are pretty much universally smash hits, that must mean that either 1) the people who care about this stuff are such a small minority that it doesn't effect Zenimax's books either way (very likely) and/or 2) those same people end up buying the game anyway after they disperse enough energy grumbling on forums (almost certain).

I'm not saying Todd Howard or Sean Murray shouldn't be held accountable for the shit they say - they absolutely should, with the important caveat that these people are salesmen. Yes, they put enormous energy into these projects that they care deeply about, but they want you to buy that product enormously as well, so of course here and there they are going to splurge and let out a half-truth to drum up additional interest. As someone who has spent waaay more time playing Bethesda games than I will probably ever play No Man's Sky, I just find it interesting that people continue to support these massively buggy, ugly, and outdated Elder Scrolls / Fallout games while leveling so much more (comparative) criticism at Hello Games' first big effort when early, pre-patch gameplay has shown it to be infinitely more stable and bug-free than, say, Fallout 4 or *shudder* New Vegas was at launch. While I'm not personally incredibly grabbed by either Hello Games or Bethesda titles much anymore, No Man's Sky is definitely promising to be a very interesting experience.