VIDEOGAME REVIEW: AMNESIA: REBIRTH

It might not be epoch-making or zeitgeist defining, but it isn't trying to be. The team behind it clearly understood that the “lightning in the bottle” success of the original can't by synthetically recreated, and so set out to tell the best story they could with the tools at hand. 

​The original Amnesia: The Dark Descent was an epoch-making work in horror video games. Arriving during the latter days of the declining “survival horror” sub-genre (in which iconic franchises such as Resident Evil and Silent Hill dominated), it blew the assumptions and parameters thereof wide open. 

Gone were the faintly hokey, B-movie derivative plots, settings and familiar set pieces, along with any capacity the player had to defend themselves against the various entities and situations into which they were thrown. Whereas survival horror had a tendency to focus on external threats to the player (be it in the form of abhuman monstrosities created by science gone mad or supernatural interference or actively hostile situations to the protagonist's wellbeing), Amnesia turned the focus inward, to the distorted perceptions and psychology of the player character (and, by extension, the player themselves). 

Rather than utilising traditional cinematic horror tropes and techniques, Amnesia was arguably amongst the first video games to utilise its own format as an interactive experience to evoke a sense of disturbance and discomfort in the player: 

Early in the game's narrative, it becomes apparent that our protagonist is largely unreliable, both in terms of what he assumes of himself and the perceptions through which our own engagement with the environment is filtered. This allows for some excessively disturbing moments in which settings warp and twist, in which we as the player are uncertain of what is real and what isn't. 

This almost unique aspect of Amnesia made it a much emulated -but rarely bettered- work in the years to come, with the likes of the superlative Layers of Fear, not to mention SOMA (similarly by Frictional Games), a work that foregoes the gothic and Lovecraftian stylings of its predecessor in favour of a science fiction, existential nightmare. The DNA of Amnesia is now as much sincerely a part of horror video games as the more pervasively remembered Resident Evil or Silent Hill, its influence so profound, the original has become somewhat buried beneath its many descendents and immitators. 

The announcement of a new game in the franchise, therefore, was met with as much trepidation as it was enthusiasm: 

In order to warrant its own legacy, it would have to be something sincerely spectacular. However, how could a work bearing the Amnesia title still boast all the hallmarks thereof without itself coming off as by-the-numbers or derivative? ​

An extremely difficult exercise and a sincerely frightening one for any studio to attempt. 

Reviews for Amnesia: Rebirth have generally been. . .lukewarm. Not in any way derisive or denigrating; the game has generally impressed with its narrative, its technical elements, its well-written characters, but has left the gaming world cold in terms of its lack of originality and the fact that it is, technically speaking, very much an Amnesia title in the vein of its predecessor' its mechanics left largely unchanged, barring a few refinements and additions here and there. Even the dynamic of its horror is vaguely similar, with protagonist Tasi Trianon finding herself in a world that warps and shifts around her as her perceptions are distorted by fear (not to mention the many seemingly-supernatural phenomena occurring around her). 

It was therefore with some misgivings that I sat down to the experience the game for myself. 

And yes, whilst I understand some of the criticisms that it has received (it is certainly VERY much a member of the Amnesia family, and does little on a technical level to prove anywhere near as epoch-making as its antecedents), I also cannot deny that it is an extremely atmospheric, superbly-paced and conceived, well-rendered, beautifully-written and engaging story of existential horror. 

It might not be epoch-making or zeitgeist defining, but it isn't trying to be. The team behind it clearly understood that the “lightning in the bottle” success of the original can't by synthetically recreated, and so set out to tell the best story they could with the tools at hand. 

First and foremost, the setting of the game is somewhat startling, especially for fans of the original: whereas -as one might expect- The Dark Descent took place in a realm of almost perpetual murk and darkness -crumbling, gothic mansions, ill-lit caverns and subterannean temple-complexes-, Rebirth initially does a volte face and situates the player in wide-open desert, in the midst of glaring sunlight (that, ironically, proves as deleterious as the shadows and darkness of pevious games). The colour and light and sheer expanse of the desolation is the antithesis of the previous game's claustrophobic corridors, tunnels and chambers; a deliberate characteristic designed to impress upon the player that: this is not your Mother's Amnesia, but an entirely new story and situation (though tangential links to the original's Lovecraftian mythology do start to occur later in the narrative). 

Here, there's immediately more of an emotional through-line and anchorage; whereas The Dark Descent revolved around the mystery of its protagonist and his eponymous condition, Rebirth provides solid and immediate background for Tasi and her companions, some subtle suggestions about her own recent history and domestic upheavals, as well as an opening that is more than a little redolent of games such as BioShock (which it also echoes thematically, in a number of ways) and others that the original game directly inspired (such as Outlast 2). 

That's not to say there's no mystery around Tasi Trianon herself; quite the opposite. Oblique references to a recent trauma, to a child whose fate is alluded to but not revealed until much later, to a life that is detailed specifically by Tasi herself in the numerous sketches and journals she keeps, all conspire to create an impression of our avatar that, in classic Amnesia fashion, may or may not be as certain as it initially appears. . .

The hook here isn't necessarily in uncovering who Tasi is. Rather, it's in disabusing her -and, by extension, ourselves- of assumptions and certainties that, ultimately, reveal themselves to be flawed. From the initial crash site in the desert to the network of caves and caverns where she and her erstwhile companions made their temporary sanctuary, it becomes apparent that something very strange has happened to Tasi; something far beyond an incidental plane crash, of which her memories are patchwork and hazy, but that reveal themselves the more and more she questions, the deeper she delves. 

Further, it becomes clear that something truly terrible occurred in those caverns: Tasi herself finds that she has a strange, watch-like device around her wrist that, in the presence of certain other-worldly phenomena, glows and revolves and pulsates, even opening doorways into a realm of Lovecraftian insanity; a post-apocalyptic waste from which the ruins of an ancient, alien culture rise. 

All the while, because we are experiencing this through Tasi's clearly traumatised and uncertain perceptions, we aren't entirely sure what's actual and what isn't. As in The Dark Descent (and a slew of horror games subsequently), finding oneself in stressful circumstances, witnessing disturbing things or simply finding oneself lost in the dark, has the effect of diminishing Tasi's grip on reality, resulting in phantom sounds, visual distortions and hallucinations and ultimately, in her losing her sanity altogether. As such, the game contains in an in-built mechanism that throws the central character's reliability as narrator out of the window. 

Mysteries and uncertainty begin to swell as it becomes apparent that Tasi has already followed the route she leads the player down, that we're experiencing the story in media res, which slowly reveals itself as she wends her way through the caverns, discovering strange artefacts and sites that resemble ancient temples, before inadvertantly stumbling into another reality altogether. 

Whilst Amnesia: Rebirth might have its detractors, and the game certainly does very little in technical terms to distinguish itself from the original (not to mention the subsequent slew of immitators), its strength lies solidly in its writing, characters and plot, which are easily the strongest of all the Amnesia series. Whereas the original boasted superb atmosphere and a fantastically Lovecraftian mythology, the isolated and uncertain nature of the player character left them strangely anonymous and distant from the player throughout the plot. Here, Tasi Trianon is well-rounded, sympathetic and intriguing from the first instant, the -ostensibly- supernatural and other-worldly events occurring around her counter-pointed by personal dramas and tragedies that make her far more rounded and endearing than the vast majority of horror game protagonists. 

The game also doesn't stint on its tragedy; despite everything Tasi appears to have suffered, it very quickly begins to pile on more and more, events that most plots would leave for their climaxes occurring within the first hour of play, which have the effect or reorienting Tasi's trajectory and motivations in a manner that is distressing and despairing, a certain cruel nihilism creeping into the game that contrasts wildly with the nature of the player character (the later revelation that Tasi appears to be pregnant makes her feel all the more vulnerable and desperate, cleverly emphasising the threats she faces as, now she and the player both have an entirely innocent party to protect). 

Even this aspect isn't without its ambiguities; following her first trip to the desolate other-reality (that recurs at various points throughout the game), Tasi discovers that her amnesiac state may be linked to a more profound condition; a sickness that visibly spreads through her arms and body like black threads beneath her skin, that seems to affect her mental state and emotional stability in profound and distressing ways. Beyond the numerous examples of human death and by-gone violence she encounters (the discovery of a French Foreign Legion fort provides no hoped-for sanctuary, only a story of escalating madness, horror and atrocity), certain other-worldly elements familiar to Amnesia players begin to occur, most notably in the form of an inhuman stalker; a creature that seems to move through walls and appear at the edges of sight, that Tasi rarely sees clearly, but whose occurrence is never anything less than horrifying. 

Whether or not the creature is “real” or a matter of hallucination is up to the player to discover (needless to say, given the metaphysics of the game, such matters inevitably aren't quite so clear cut). 

In technical terms, the game marries first-person horror elements with adventure game, “point and click” style puzzles in which environmental factors must be utilised in order to open new paths, bar the ways of pursuing atrocities or uncover mysteries relating to the plot. The slower moments of puzzle solving are leant spice by the omnipresent sense of threat the game builds from its first instance: not only is it almost impossible to tell when the unseen stalker will crop up around the next corner or behind the next door, factors such as darkness, disturbing imagery etc all affect Tasi's mental state, resulting in a mad scrabble for matches, lantern oil and safe spaces in which sunlight spills through. Even in those small oases, the player is often harassed by bangings at the doors, scrapings inside the walls and phantom whispers at Tasi's ear. 

The game deliberately overlaps psychological horror with supernatural, making one a reflection of the other and using them to feed doubt of one another. It's a sincerely beautiful balance the game achieves in this regard, as it becomes apparent Tasi isn't in the best frame of mind from the first instance, before any apparently supernatural shenanigans occur, meaning that we as the player could very well be trapped in a realm of her own hallucinating (a la Layers of Fear). 

Whilst some may find its slow burn and deliberately cautious pace somewhat tedious in comparison to more immediate or action-oriented horror titles, the sumptuous atmosphere, sense of place and connection to its characters the game builds is sublime, especially if one achieves that most essential of all states: of allowing oneself a degree of immersion in the gaming world. Connection with Tasi is determined by her eminently -and escalatingly- vulnerable nature. Along with most of the characters in her party (whose fates we discover by and by), she is extremely affable, charming and a character we grow to care about a great deal, especially given the expanding back-story that occurs simultaneously with the main plot (at various points, we are hurtled into an American McGee's Alice style dreamscape in which Tasi confronts the demons of her past, the tragedies and traumas that have led her to her current predicament, all of which begin in a fairly sedate, domestic vein, but quickly escalate to some of the most surreal and disturbing set-pieces in the game). 

In technical terms, there is very little new here, and very little that won't be familiar to fans of horror video games since the original Amnesia's release, but for those starved of solid storytelling in their interactive media, this delivers an intriguing and beautifully crafted experience with some sincere surprises along the way. 

A quiet but notable work of psychological, Lovecraftian horror, and a worthy addition to the Amnesia legacy. 

Review by George Daniel Lea