I can’t tell you what events actually happened in Signalis (Rose Engine studio’s first game), or the order in which they happened. The whole game was a deliberately hazy nightmare. But how it feels to me is clear, as it is a deeply impactful experience, both in the unsettling horror of every moment of exploration and battle, and in the larger arcs of its story CD: The meditation on identity and memory haunts me. I haven’t thought about anything else since I finished it. Now, like being hit by a cosmic curse, I’m going to bring anyone who’s willing to listen into this superb survival horror film.
In the simplest terms, Signalis is a throwback to earlier Resident Evil games or Silent Hill, minus the tank controls. From above, you’ll explore a dilapidated facility on an isolated planet as a robot Elster who wakes up in search of her beloved woman. How you got there – and what exactly happened to reduce the local droid population to teetering horror – these mysteries will force you to solve like Elster’s mission. Still, like any good horror story, there are no easy answers to be found. In her shoes, you’ll explore, collect tools and weapons, manage resources, and fend off monsters. These are very familiar components of survival horror, but it’s been a while since I’ve played one that’s neatly assembled and presented with such a visual flair.
It’s a PS1-inspired sci-fi world where every detail is reflected, from the logo of each entity to the intricate design of its machines. The use of stark lighting and reflections enhances the ambiguity already inherent in stylized 3D, where every dark corner and silhouetted figure leaps directly into my imagination. As tangible as its minimalism is, it’s a world where you can feel the icy concrete wall or smell its peeling paint, where cameras track your every move, making sure someone or Something has been watching you. It’s a foundation that makes it more effective each time you get farther and farther away from reality. This is a place that can attract you.
Remember, retro isn’t just for aesthetic and mechanical callbacks to old games. It is integrated into the environment itself. VHS tapes in space! floppy disk! It’s delightfully old. Even the weapons are decidedly lo-fi, almost old fashioned. A future built on history, depicting a society caught in a cycle thanks to the crumbling infrastructure of a decaying empire. It sucks for people, but the puzzles that contribute to the game, often the downfall of survival horror games, are delightful with tactile, chunky interfaces (reminiscent of Alien Isolation’s gadgets) . Still, it demands more from the player than assembling color-coded puzzle pieces. Metal Gear radios that can be tuned to various frequencies are a good example. It can sometimes be used to receive information, but you may also need a password to decrypt what you hear, or to play the radio in the world to interact with certain scenes. Thinking outside the box is critical to my progress, and if there’s an option hidden in the interface, make sure you need to use it eventually.
That radio is part of the perfect soundscape, full of unforgettable effects and cues and disturbing vibes. Who knew fans could be so threateningly whistling, or that the sound of my own footsteps echoing on a metal ladder would make me jittery? And music! The score by 1000 Eyes & Cicada Sirens is really brilliant, understated, and evocative, but I’m just as impressed with how classical or romantic music works throughout. Those who followed the story and knew their Tchaikovsky wouldn’t be completely surprised to hear Swan Lake at a crucial moment, adding to the doom that Elster’s pursuit. Every layer of it was filled with meaning and I was completely immersed in the experience from start to finish. This makes it easier for people to be afraid.
To its credit, there is no reliance on jump scares. I only counted a small fraction (very efficiently). Instead, we have some classic, slow-burning fears. For a long time nothing happened, supplies dwindled and doors locked. Too often, Signalis will feel like it’s in ambush, just to completely subvert expectations. It feels perfect for the way I play and knows when to withhold ammo or go for extended periods of time between save points. The real battle is planning your route and balancing your inventory to make sure you’re well-equipped, but always leave room for things you might need to collect. Even if you revisit an area, you’ll end up sneaking past enemies when you’re running low on bullets, or having to contend with resurrecting your own corpse on a whim. If there is a system or method to predict these revivals, it never occurred to me. You will never feel safe.
Signalis will spend hours building rules only to subvert them, and even disrupt its own continuity. Dreams or memory sequences seep into the real world, and where one ends and the other begins is very unclear. I can always find an elegant inner logic behind these twists and turns. Things that seem like minor annoyances, like being shunted to the main menu after death, become another way of telling a story. It’s clear that a lot of thought has gone into using the various tools in the game to pull the rug from under the player. It made me seek truth, like finding solid ground in quicksand, being propelled into a willingness to fall into a bloodstained hole in the earth, driven by every precious clue as to what really happened.
Each subplot and allusion is a tragedy, all overlapping and giving meaning to each other. Where is the line between love and obsession? Determination and ignorance?
I imagine hardcore fans will pick every line of dialogue, visual cues, and selection references for a while. Signalis is heavily influenced, from Ghost in the Shell to Stanley Kubrick and everything in between. At the heart of the plot is Robert W. Chambers’ The King in Yellow, explicitly linking the game to its literary predecessors. Signalis has these inspirations up its sleeve, but they never transcend its identity, they just help frame its events. I’ve been thinking about its own moment, not the works it touches on. Funny, for a game about trying to stay self-aware.
Each subplot and allusion is a tragedy, all overlapping and giving meaning to each other. Where is the line between love and obsession? Determination and ignorance? As Signalis’ cast of characters struggle to trust their own reality or even their own memories, these emotions all mingle into something terrifying and irreconcilable. In all these horrors, Elster remains a rock. The stoic character risks dullness, but is balanced here by subtle hints of her innermost thoughts, and her determination to find the woman she loves is a comfort, especially when faced with futility. Like Elster, I never stopped fighting to accomplish her mission. Hope is what you have.
Through its terrifying fears, Signalis lets light into the wounds of terrifying beings. This is a game about overcoming life’s nightmares. It’s about choosing to persevere in the face of an indifferent universe, and about continuing to stand while your identity and your body are dehumanized. Science fiction and survival horror, using the past to make something completely modern. Signalis shines like a dying star: beautiful, scary and not to be missed.
