Dead Space 3 Scares Me
Dead Space 3 scares me.
It’s a deep fear – one that hunkers in the pit of your stomach, scratching with a quiet, whispering dread of things to come. It’s that pulsing trepidation to face the next experience, constantly looking over my shoulder to the safe places I’ve left behind.
Dead Space 3 scares the shit out of me.
It scares me with its sounds – the sounds of machine guns, explosions tearing through huge, open set pieces. The sound of the wind ripping past you as you control-free fall through an air pregnant with the wreckage of trains, spacecraft and unmanned transports.
It scares me with its world – a world rife with disease and decay, apparent in the copious, engulfing sea of health packs strewn about haphazardly in every nook, cranny, and hallway. A world where mining equipment, military hardware, and surgical tools all function through the use of the same, omnipresently-littered “ammunition”; A world where the latter seems to have occurred if only to accommodate the former.
It scares me with its pacing – as headshots and taking cover give way to slow crawls through darkened hallways. With every curse I utter as I stop dead in my tracks pulling up my navpoint line after a quickly-progressing shootout.
But most of all it scares me because it doesn’t scare me anymore.
It scares me because I’ve seen this before, the cancerous progression of a series as story, atmosphere, and emotional response drop away, rotting off to reveal the decaying hulk of shooting runs, chest-high-walls and a sense that this world’s Bill Gates and Steve Jobs created the modular ammo clip and retail health pack.
It scares me because this is the future. A future that keeps my mind ever conscious of what I’ve left behind.