A lady bird wanders up along the diamond
pattern on my binds. It fumbles, changing approach as it winds this way and
that, always moving forwards. It gives the creature a sort of intrepid
disposition. I look back up to check on its progress, it’s gone.
Alien is classic horror, if you don’t count
the later sequels. HR Giger dreamt of bizarre semi-organic shapes committed to
a blended display of erotism and violence… like a funko-pop getting it cock
out. The notion of the alien's life cycle is taken from parasitic wasps, and so
the alien stands as an aberration of the reproductive process, like being
banged by a funko-pop and popping out little john Oliver funko pops, it’s
strange at first, almost comically so, then they catch on to what's happened, the
manufacturer hooks you up an assembly line and compressing you down in that
purely mechanical role of shitting out funko-pops, and you wonder… is this art?
Anyway,
alien isolation is another one of those horror darlings that rears its head
every few years and reminds everyone there’s more to life than battle royales
and dabbing. It recently went to cheap and I hate myself, so I decided to
whittle down the number of clean pants to a starling minus four.
The plot isn’t important, other than: space
station, alien, trapped. Though, I found the world building oddly endearing.
The style of Alien at the time was vaguely futuristic, so to invoke it now
feels distinctly retro, so much so that the last two films don’t really bother.
The space station here is directly ripped from the ship in the first film,
some sections feeling deliberately shot-for-shot like the crew quarters, it
almost feels like the same stock modules
were used for both, replaceable interchangeable parts like nearly any shopping
or town centres. Though the slight twist here is that the station itself is
antiquated, as are its androids; the whole place is in a state of decay. So
this is gothic-retro-futurism. The abandoned shopping centre not yet
demolished, that in its turn vastly outstrips our capacity as a species to
date… it seems almost fatalistic to see that our future accomplishments are
nothing more than labelled boxes waiting to rot.
Isn’t this meant to be scary and not just
depressing? You can’t expect me to be scared when I want to die as it is. Now don’t
worry my precious rhetorical device, your concerns, though they be imagined,
will be addressed shortly, as one might presuppose by your very being a
rhetorical device; hence there no greater need of elaboration. We all know this
was signposting.
Androids exist on a spectrum with an uncanny
valley about ¾ of the way to human. Just before human is the case of superhuman
autism that many tropes of androids depict, think commander data from star-trek
or that one from the big bang theory, i don’t know never watched the show. This
weirdly enough is where most androids in Alien, or its sequels, tend to fall.
However keeping up the retro feel the androids on this station have been thrust
so far into the uncanny valley it’s become an uncanny Mariana trench.
Glowing eyes, wax skin and voice lines that
are all double entendres for beating the shit out of you. The fact they don’t
seem to have any idea of the context of what they say is worse somehow, these
things make my skin crawl; even before they try and smack me about. An android
shouting “you are becoming hysterical” as it reaches over to wack you is the
sweet spot for the uncanny valley, it’s acting just close enough to mimic a
human but is clearly disconnected from sapient behaviour… like people who buy funko
pops just to try and breed with them. When i am attacked by an android, even if
the attack is non-fatal i reload a save because fuck having that thing touch
me.
The alien by contrast doesn’t mince about,
it’s a metaphor for rape and it knows it. It’s all rather fitting as most of
the moment to moment it’s stalking you either up in the vents or down corridors
forcing you to hide in a locker while to change pants. When it actually sees me
I suddenly relax and mellow out. I say out loud “oh no,” or “well that’s
unfortunate,” simply because when the creature spots you its game over and not
much can be done. The alien doesn’t tell me I’ve been naughty while it stabs by
chest with its tail so there’s really not a lot going for it during the kill.
Which is a shame, because it’s menacing as toffee
jam while scuttling about hunting me. Even in sections when it cannot reach you
it follows you about the level doing a coffin dance out of sight up in the
vents. I let my guard down once when I had to redo a section, thinking the
alien couldn’t get in (no hiding places) so I sprinted about the place playing
the trombone until I heard something drop from the ceiling and begin to hiss;
It was at this moment I knew I had fucked up.
There are humans on the station, they’re
dicks. They keep trying to shoot me, which i wouldn’t mind so much if the
gunshots didn’t summon the black murder squiggle like a dinner bell. This can
sometimes work to one's advantage, if one runs in the opposite direction of the
gunshot that’s a chance the alien won’t be approaching from the particular
corridor allowing one to skedaddle double time.
Each level is structured about the same, at a
set point you’ll set off an alarm and then the alien will turn up and dabbing
it’s funko-pop goodness all over the place like an ill-tempered Roomba. Though
the AI director is well programmed enough to make sure the creature doesn’t
linger too long so as to lose its effect. The pacing that the system creates
really is something to behold. It's just I wish I didn't know it was there; I
base my decisions knowing the system is working in a certain way and that goes
some way to blocking immersion. A game which would be improved if i had not
watched a half hour video explaining the rules; my fault really. Horror is
about what you don’t see, like when the funko-pop fetus starts chewing it's way out your large intestine.
I'm currently only half way through the game,
so I’ll drop a saucy part 2 if my subsequent experiences warrant it. As for now
I’ll wack this one with a score of: sounds like my heart beating to try and
freak me out, over some sharp violin sounds and a low note on a synthesizer.
That was perhaps the worst pun I've ever made.
