In a landscape saturated with bombastic, loud action titles often bloated with "deep" mechanics and padded run times, a game like Metal Garden (2025) feels like a rare treat. As Tinerasoft's debut title, it shines uniquely, and offers something I think a lot of long-time gamers will realize they've been missing for awhile. It markets itself as a short, atmospheric singleplayer FPS game, and delivers on those ideas delightfully well. Not only is Metal Garden rich in atmosphere, but its arena-shooter-style movement is fluid and responsive, its storyline is compelling, and the world it offers is conceptually novel and believable. Players take on the role of a nameless nomad as they wander through the interior of an unfathomably ancient megastructure in search of a way out, all while piecing together the stories of the various factions populating it.
The world offered by Metal Garden is bleak and monochromatic, appropriately so, given the premise of the game. Players are thrust into the world unapologetically, and find themselves staring at the remnants of their broken mech upon first launching the game, set against a greyscale backdrop of a waterfall, a ridgeline, and the enormous paneled ceiling so high above it often becomes obfuscated by storm clouds. It's quiet, with only the sounds of the water running close by and the distant rumbling of an oncoming storm. Though our mech is useless to us now, we mark its position with a beacon for other nomads, hinting at a much broader network of people than what we see in the game actively. And this is something Metal Garden does exceptionally well: implication.
After resupplying, we leave our mech behind and emerge into an open plain surrounded by trees and tall grass. The megastructure as a setting is executed so perfectly here that even though we are surrounded by flora we associate with outdoor spaces, the skybox and distant structures climbing into the "sky" remind us that we are still within an interior space. The sense of scale is never lost in the game, even for a moment. The megastructure is always there in the background and its sheer vastness makes it feel almost like an entity in itself. Players are made to feel much less like an action FPS protagonist and more like an insect crawling around in the cadaver of a long dead god, with its long concrete roads mapping a connection from one point to the next, its vast chambers funneling into one another beneath the surface, and its impossibly large barriers keeping us sequestered within.
This constant execution of scale so consistently sells the vision of the developers and makes it impossible not to be conscious of the megastructure and the fact that we, and all the other people we encounter, are prisoners within its walls. The modest music of the game is used sparringly, applied mostly to more intensive combat situations. This choice is part of what allows the players to become so immersed in the other sound design of the game, which is often quiet. Contemplative. We feel the isolation surrounding us, we feel the silence of the abandoned wastes, and in that silence, we can sense the ghosts of the civilizations whose ruins we discover watching us.
This section will be relatively short as I feel atmosphere and environment go hand-in-hand. But it does warrant its own section enough for me to differentiate them. The game environments are, as mentioned, bleak and mostly monochromatic. The color of the game is grey, with everything washed in it enough to give it that rustic, worn out feeling. Visually, the game is distinct, but it has the environmental feel of a game series like S.T.A.L.K.E.R, especially where the brutalistic designs of the structures are concerned. It feels distinctively like Eastern European Brutalism at times, and looks the part. The trees? Greywashed. The grass? Greywashed. All of it suggests a sense of lived-in wear that sells the oppression of the megastructure itself; it affects everything within it.
My only real gripe about the game comes from this artistic direction. Though the game is short, players will explore a variety of different locales from open plains to the processing portions of mining facilities, which is excellent, but I feel some of the environments lose what makes them unique for the sake of the greyness. This feels intentional, especially given our character's position in the world as a mere wanderer, but there were a few times while playing that I felt some more visual distinction between areas would have been a nice touch, something to help the player recognize at-a-glance where one section ends and another begins.
The gameplay of Metal Garden is mostly movement. There are combat encounters, that feel great, but the majority of the time spent in the game is spent traversing the various areas and structures of the game. The physics-based movement system, again think Quake, was a fantastic choice for this title. Building momentum to leap across chasms and precariously scale the exterior of sub-structures feels incredible. Though my fingers aren't as nimble with this system as they used to be, I didn't really have issues navigating and utilizing the full breadth of the movement mechanics to progress the game.
Speaking of progression, this isn't a game with conveniently spilled/splashed paint to tell the player where to go. It doesn't need it. The platforming sections are structured perfectly, with everything feeling very intuitive. The platforming puzzles are easily solved, provided players don't overthink them, which I found myself prone to doing with nearly all of them. That's not to say they're too simple by any means, but rather they feel exceptionally practical, something a lot of bigger titles in this genre would benefit taking notes from.
Though the combat and gunplay of the game are simple, the movement mechanics allow it to feel fantastic once adapted. It is very possible to play this game without taking a single point of damage from enemies, as all their attacks and bullets are well telegraphed and mapped, making them relatively easy to dodge. Enemies have access to the same abilities to jump and interact with the environments as the player does, and their AI does take advantage of this but never in a way that feels particularly hindering to the player. Even in close quarters, players can out-maneuver packs of enemies to dispose of them easily.
There are only two enemy types that players will encounter in the game. Each poses a different risk that encourages players to react differently, altering encounters based on how these enemies work together in packs. One specializes in slow but hard-hitting melee attacks that will force players to stay light on their feet or risk death, while the other type wields a variety of ranged weapons that each require a slightly different approach to counter. There was never a point where, despite being vastly outnumbered, I felt like the enemies had caught me helpless. Our nomad may be a person of few words, but they're apt in a fight.
There's only one real boss encounter in the game with the staple 'big dramatic health bar' and some more intense music. It's a good one, and it rewards the players--much like the rest of the game--for thinking outside of the box.
One last point for this section is the health management system of the game. Like some older titles, there's a limb-management and injury system in the game. Taking repeated damage to one of your limbs will result in permanent damage to it that alters your gameplay. I got knocked in the head a few too many times, as an example, and my crosshair when firing from the hip disappeared because my character could no longer visualize where they were aiming effectively. Shortly after that, I was dealing with a shoulder injury that made my aim unreliable. I like this system a lot. Players can cure their limb injuries by visiting auto-surgery stations found typically at the start and end of each chapter, so the system doesn't become too oppressive in a way that makes taking any damage feel devastating. Outside of these auto-surgery stations, health packs can be found within the environment to keep health topped off, but keep in mind, even if your health is consistently high, you can still develop injuries in different limbs depending on how often that particular limb takes damage in a fight.
This is a narrative game. It markets itself as such, and it should be judged heavily based upon those claims. That being said, I don't want to spoil the actual story of the game because I enjoyed it greatly, and recommend experiencing it for yourself. Players aren't given the story through cutscenes or infodumps, but rather are left to discover pieces of it through environmental storytelling and some data logs. And even though the game does rely on the data logs to deliver the story, it hasn't been done in a way that feels like "telling" rather than showing. The information that we find is relevant directly to the setting we find it in, and we can see how the area used to operate before it was abandoned.
Through the game, despite its short runtime, we are given pieces of a puzzle and expected to put them together to give us a bigger picture. What happened here? Where are we? What's the point of all of this? And it is very rewarding to form that picture by the time the credits roll, especially after the big reveal at the end of the game. Seriously, the story of the megastructure is a good one. Go play the game.
Metal Garden is a great game. You can knock it out in one sitting, the developers themselves even claiming it can be completed in as little as an hour, though if you're like me and want to see everything, it can take between three and four hours. It's worth the time investment because it's such a refreshing title, especially for the FPS genre. The world and atmosphere of the game are top-notch, as is the story the game presents, and beyond just how it chooses to tell its story, it trusts the intelligence of the player to put the pieces together. That is wildly refreshing in today's media climate. I give this one an 8.7/10. Seriously, go pick it up on Steam for $5 and give it a try, you won't regret it. I look forward to seeing what Tinerasoft releases next.
Still Wakes the Deep (2024) released to a great deal of hype back in 2024, and I would say immediately that it deserves the praise. As a psychological horror game, it delivers on the most crucial elements of the genre: atmosphere, tension, and narrative. An important distinction to make early is that the game never really marketed itself as a 'survival horror' title, and it shouldn't be judged based on the expectations of that particular genre. It isn't built to be a survival game where players can fight against the monstrous forces at work, and instead leans heavily on the trope of a protagonist who is outmatched physically by his adversaries, and must rely on his wit and stealth to survive.
Though I've never been on an offshore oil rig on Earth, I found myself completely immersed in the setting the game presents. The Chinese Room certainly did their research, and it shows in the staging and set pieces of the game. The Beira feels vast and utilitarian, with its many levels and layers designed to be easy to navigate once you're familiar with them, allowing players who lack a reliable internal sense of navigation (myself included, at times) to orient themselves and find their way from one objective to the next. After the inciting incident of the story, the Beira gradually deteriorates, and the once-familiar passages and catwalks suddenly warp into impassable channels, fiery ruin, or become overgrown with the cosmic flesh mass that is slowly consuming the entire rig. This [d]evolving environment complements the decay of reality within the world and narrative exceptionally, especially as Caz, the player character, is slowly affected by the maddness of what's occuring around him.
But this oil rig isn't populated by Caz alone. There is a crew of several NPCs who occupy jobs on the Beira, and each one feels distinctly unique and alive. The voice work in this game cannot be praised enough. Voice acting is a crucial art within games, and one that can easily make or break my personal enjoyment and immersion within a world. Two of the voice actors for this game, Alec Newman (Caz) and Karen Dunbar (Finlay), won British Academy Games Awards for their performances. Caz and Finlay are not the only beautifully performed characters in the game. I found Rennick, Roy, and Brodie, also worthy of mention. Roy's gradual decline through the game was heart-wrenching to hear, and though I knew what to expect from the onset of the game (being a horror game junkie does this to you) I found the inevitable resolution of his character deeply emotional. Further, many tertiary characters who become adversaries for Caz post-mutation were performed in that sweet spot of "still human" but not quite "right." Trots and Muir, especially, gave me chills with the mournful sadness in some of their lines. I would also like to note here that I appreciate the fact the lines were written very true to character and dialect, this contributed greatly to my enjoyment and belief in these characters as real people.
The isolation that is felt throughout the game would not be nearly as effective without the vast expanses of the ocean surrounding the rig on all sides. In the introduction of the game, before the inciting incident, players are introduced to the rig and some of the crew, with the blue abyss omnipresent in nearly all of the scenes and interactions. The ocean is there, occupying its space, apathetic and unmerciful to all the souls on the rig. In a way, the ocean comes to feel like both an oppressor in the game and an equalizer, especially once we learn more of Caz's history before coming to the Beira. Though I am not personally frightened of the ocean, I can understand why that aspect of the setting is stress-inducing--especially once the storms kick up and the swells rock the rig and crash onto the deck.
I'll mention it here because it fits here better than anywhere else: Jason Graves absolutely killed the music for this game. Continously through my playthrough, I would stop and listen to the music. The music is modest and restrained appropriately, careful not to disturb the tension, but when it swells, it rises like a wave and it's utterly beautiful. I will be listening to this game's soundtrack regularly.
The presence of enemies in the game is introduced via the old tried and true horror game method of "hearing them before you see them" and in this case, in the winding labyrinth of the Beira, it's very effective. We see the fleshy growths starting to grow up around the rig, breaking through the hull, prying the metal shell apart, and creating leaks that will inevitably sink us even if we do survive the more physical threats. As stated before, there is no combat system or mechanics in the game, and instead Caz must rely on stealth and distraction to navigate around the freakish remnants of his crew mates in order to progress and survive. There are only a handful of close encounters with different enemies in the game, and many of them end in scripted chases. I found this disappointing. The linearity of the game is passable in some instances, especially with how much of a story intensive game this is, but after the second encounter, I had gone completely numb to the "threat" of the enemies.
The enemy design is decidedly grotesque. This game does body horror well. I also appreciate how the enemies who have dozens of tendril limbs to move around with actually use all of those limbs, which makes it challenging in some instances to figure out their pathing and where they will go next as you're attempting to sneak around them. It isn't as simple as observing them and moving when they're turned around, especially since most of the enemies have a reach, height, and huge speed advantage over the player character. Combine this with the fact that most of the enemies recognize Caz and will react accordingly, and you get a tasty treat of cosmic horror that most fans of the genre will enjoy.
This game is a narrative heavy game. It should be played as an interactive story, more than a standard horror game. The developers themselves have stated this as being their intention with the title, and they achieved this. While the story isn't exactly the most groundbreaking, it doesn't need to be. Good stories don't have to rely on wholly novel concepts or ideas, but rather a combination of factors: strong characters, good pacing, concrete worldbuilding, and structure. Each of these four ingredients is present in Still Wakes the Deep consistently. If you like good stories, play this game. The story is grounded in a realism that anchors Caz in the world in a way that, even if we don't agree with his choices, we understand them and still want him to succeed. Everything we set out to accomplish as the player has some narrative purpose, whether it's restoring power so we can use the radios to call for a support ship and rescue, or shifting the weight of the legs to stop the rig from listing, there is a reason we are facing the horrors and treacherous conditions on the rig.
From the jump, players are introduced to the tense world the game has to offer via Caz's internal turmoil. We learn he has a wife and two daughters at home, and tension with his wife is threatening to break the family apart. This is Caz's fault. Caz, we learn, is a bit of a fighter, and got into a bar fight with a man back home, and that man is pressing criminal charges against him. In an effort to avoid prosecution, Caz has joined the crew of the Beira to "let things cool off", something Susan (his wife) thinks is cowardly and will only bring the family more pain. But Caz goes anyway, leaving his life onshore behind for the Beira. We learn from the environment that the Beira isn't exactly operating to the highest safety standards, to the point that the crew has unionized. Rennick, the rig operations manager, runs the vessel like a war general, and he's yoked by his obligations to the corporation who owns the operation to see profits come through--no matter what. So when the police call after Caz, he's rightfully pissed, and fires Caz on the spot. Caz is not a perfect, squeaky-clean action protagonist. He is a flawed, troubled man who is trying to do what he thinks is best for his family, no matter the cost.
On our way to get fired, we discover the actual drill itself has problems. It's a bit of not-so-subtle foreshadowing that is cashed out almost immediately. In Rennick's office, the drill operations call him, telling him that whatever they're hitting "doesn't feel right" and he insists they carry on anyway. After being fired, Caz leaves Rennick's office, and climbs up to the helipad, where a tremor and explosion rock the entire rig, throwing one crew mate off the side of the deck. In an effort to save him, Caz is thrown overboard too, but is rescued by other crew members. Post rescue is where the game really begins. After awakening alone, Caz sets out to find out what happened and to figure out what's going on.
I wanted to save the discussion of Roy's character for this section of my review in particular because Roy as a physical presence is very minor, but he serves such a tremendous narrative role. Roy's relationship as Caz's best friend--and the reason he even got the job on the Beira--is crucial to understanding Caz. Roy is a religious man and his love and faith towards Caz is really the only source of light Caz has presently. He constantly reminds Caz that God loves him, that Jesus forgives him, and that if he just faces the consequences of what he's done, things will work out. From the onset of the tragic tale of the Beira, Caz is determined to find a way to escape not just for himself but for Roy, too. This is the motivation throughout the first two acts of the game: find a way to escape with Roy. However, at the top of the third act, Roy's diabetes has taken its toll, and rather than perish to the horrors consuming the rig, he falls into a diabetic coma, and dies. Though this moment was predictable, it was still very sad. And I appreciate the tonal shift we see in Caz in the wake of his best friend's death.
This is a cosmic horror story. I think that's important to reiterate, especially given the discourse I've seen regarding the ending of the story. Cosmic horror stories really can only end one way. Nobody can survive them. It's a sense of hopelessness and helplessness on a scale that is beyond our understanding, induced by a force that we cannot understand or reason with. Though we might resist it, eventually, it consumes us anyway. Like Finlay said, even if she and Caz made it off the Beira, they wouldn't really escape what had happened. I liked the ending of the story. I think Caz finally accepting what he has to do, even if it costs him everything, was deeply appropriate. Even more fitting that the final gameplay prompt we are confronted with as players is "Let go." The story was paced just enough that I felt it wasn't overstaying its welcome or dragged out, it was a solid length and all in all, the greatest offering this game has for players.
If the story is the high point of the game, the gameplay is unfortunately the lowest. The Chinese Room as a development studio is a bit infamous for their frequent creation of "walking simulators" and I felt like this title was really no different. And that is unfortunate because I wanted more from the gameplay of this game. At its best it was tedious, and at its worst, it was so repetitive and padded that I was tempted to close the game and do something else. Out of all the gameplay aspects, the platforming was definitely the best, and the worst probably the stealth mechanics. Which is a bummer, given how reliant the game is on those mechanics when dealing with enemies. For me, a lot of the frustration of these mechanics came with the simple fact there is no 'toggle' option for crouching when playing on mouse and keyboard. Two of my six total deaths were caused by my finger twitching on the key I had been holding down for 5 minutes straight and Caz inexplicably standing up and being spotted.
The game itself is straight-forward and efficient with both its control scheme and its gameplay, and primarily players will find themselves pushing one or two buttons consistently, even in high stress situations, to ensure Caz lives to flee another day. I greatly enjoyed this aspect of the game, because I've grown frustrated with the contemporary trend in horror games to inflate tension and stress levels by requiring laborious inputs to survive. Player frustration does not make for an enjoyable gaming experience, and if your title requires artificial injections of stress to increase tension effectively, I believe something greater needs correction.
The setting of the game, being grounded in realism, doesn't allowed for complicated mechanics and this game definitely does not need them. I think often "deep gameplay" is a buzz word for bloat (Silent Hill f I am looking directly at you), but in this instance I think even having a bit more player agency and choice would have improved the engagement and gameplay of the game. Allowing the player to choose to go fetch Roy's insulin first, deciding when to flood the pontoons to save Brodie, etc. would have made for something that felt a little bit more full, even in this interactive story.
The puzzles were all very simple and straightforward, most I didn't even realize were puzzles until after solving them. You don't need a guide up to play this game comfortably.
Still Wakes the Deep is a solid game, offering a fantastic cosmic horror story with a unique setting, lovable cast of characters, and a haunting musical score. Though the gameplay leaves a lot to be desired, it's worth playing just for the story and the immersive experience. I give it a solid 6.8/10.