Screenshot by David Szymanski.
I am in a ship that is also an execution. It is called the Iron lung. And I am not alone in this empty blood ocean.I know I am not alone, because Iron Lung, the latest from boomer-shooter master David Szymanski, is a horror game set in a blood ocean, and it would be strange to be alone in a blood ocean. It is one of the most terrifying games I have ever played. If you have an hour, and enjoy horror, go play the game—and then come back to this piece. Advertisem*nt
Bones. Screenshot by David Szymanski.
There are bones here too, around my execution-ship. I am curious if they experience nostalgia from feeling the deep red-wet, if the crushing weight of plasma above reminds them of the pressure and pull of taut muscle and meat. I am wondering if the bones are happy, or comfortable here. I am wondering how they, unlike my ship, do not creak under the burden of a wounded planet.Szymanski’s use of sound design to build tension is masterful. Your ship is thick with the noise of the ocean: the thud of cave walls (and other things), alien thrums, and the sound of blood (thick) moving around your ship. It is also filled with its own sounds, too. The radar pings slowly as you approach a tunnel, and then all at once it blinks and cries from every direction. When it begins to crack from the weight of blood above, pressure gauges and the ship’s own pneumatic circulatory system begin to scream. When the camera clicks, there is a moment of delay filled with the mechanical noise of a physical camera. It feels like the ship is breathing, preparing itself to open its eyes and show you the horrible nothing outside. The ship is as alive as you and as alive as the moon and is, as many alive things are, very afraid.And it is right to be afraid. Not only because of the immense pressure and the strange things which break against its hull, but also because its pilot is a poor and unprepared steward. The game’s opening narration states that you were sealed into this ship without any training as to its operation. You are expected to die, which is why the ship’s previous tenant refers to it as an execution in a note you can find on the floor. Both the player, and the character they are embodying, are expected to flounder in this tomb. Advertisem*nt
The map. Screenshot by David Szymanski.
And now, I am smelling burning. But I disregard it for the map, which I am tracing with my fingers, charting latitude and longitude because I cannot see outside of the Iron Lung, which is named for a prison that kept people almost alive, until someone turned it off.From the first moments of the game, I was certain that I was going to die. Whether it be from a lack of oxygen, or the crushing pressure, or some impossible thing in the blood-water, didn’t actually matter. I knew I would die. Which meant the assumption of death, and horror, lurks around every corner. Every thud against the ship’s hull became colored by death. Every ruptured pneumatic pipe, a signal that my time was up. And the f*cking camera.Iron Lung asks you to take around a dozen photos accross its hour-long run-time, but most players will take more. Whether to further investigate the strange skeletons at the bottom of the blood ocean, or to simply determine how close they are to slamming, nose first, into a cave wall. Every photo feels like a threat, like this will be the one that shows the creature, terrible and alive, approaching your ship. When you hear the thud against your hull, and sprint back to the camera to catch a glimpse of the thing, you hope and dread that maybe this will finally be the shot that reveals the thing trying to kill you. You never snap the picture in time. Advertisem*nt
The blood ocean. Screenshot by David Szymanski.
I am feeling the sticky and wet around my feet and I am startled, and then I am dead when the thing that has been hunting me decides I should be dead. I cannot understand, but wholly agree with its decision.Your investigation, and your focus, are cruel pantomimes of an attempt at a better future. It is an inevitable failure, and an execution. It happens on a wounded moon, organized by the dying stewards of an empty universe.Whether it be the ship, or the moon, or the .exe which crashes when you finally, mercifully are killed by something in the dark. It is a game that evokes the end of a broken world, one defined by cruel systems which we built foolishly. From now on, when I think of the systemic death spiral at the heart of capitalism, I will imagine an iron lung. A thing which keeps our world barely alive, until someone turns it off.