The Unsafe Save Room

The Evil Within (or “Psychobreak” as it is known in its native Japan) is a fascinatingly mediocre game. And people had every right and reason to expect something much more substantial. This was Shinji Mikami’s, the father of modern survival horror who reinvented the genre multiple times throughout his illustrious career in the industry, final game behind the directors chair at his newly minted studio Tango Gameworks. If there was anyone capable of a masterful swan song, who better than the man partially responsible for its creation. 

Unfortunately for every thing The Evil Within did right it seemed to do multiple things wrong in response, its combat while satisfyingly crunchy as expected from a Mikami game, crumbled beneath the weight of an unbalanced and unreliable upgrade system. Its difficulty curve poorly implemented, rife with technical shortcomings. Its main cast of characters, statically uninteresting and bland for the most part, and it’s incredibly poorly communicated narrative. Believe me there is plenty beneath that surface which is able to shine through its myriad of missteps. The environmental and enemy design is top notch (as would be expected from Ikumi Nakamura), the atmosphere is tangibly dripping with intrigue and ambience and it’s many levels for the most part are are uniquely engaging and different, much variety is to be found within the many places this game takes you, and trust me, it takes you to MANY places.

However it is one element that keeps me thinking about The Evil Within 8 years later that to me has been unmatched in any game I’ve yet played. One that is able to make itself known far easier than it most game genres, the save room.

In survival horror games, the save room is often a place of respite and reprieve, a big breath taken as you are given a moments pause from your unfriendly and unrelenting surroundings. Not only are you safe from enemies within these walls, often a place not only to save your progress but to rearrange your inventory to your liking. Just before you take the next big breath to plunge back into the tension of thinking fast on your feet and calculating the risk reward of combat encounters. By contrast everything about The Evil Within’s save room is anything but a comforting proposition. 

Upon reaching a wooden shack that has seen better days, you may notice on the door is the logo of Beacon Mental Hospital, the location of the grisly murders Sebastian Castellanos and his team are dispatched to investigate, seems to be etched in what looks like blood. Slowly opening the door, Sebastian grabs his head and is met with a high pitched whirring noise. The mirror in front of him, an ominous green glow emanating from its cracked surface, seems to have Debussey’s Clair De Lune playing from it. A quick hold of the A button (I played on Xbox so X if you’re on PlayStation) whisks Sebastian away to what looks like a prison cell. Mostly empty with the exception of the bed he finds himself laying on, a chair/desk combo with scattered pencil and paper strewn about. As he gets up to his barred door, it is opened by what seems to be a nurse, who goes by Tatianna. Panicked and confused (or what he should be, contrary to the voice actor’s delivery) he asks for clarity from Tatianna who distantly responds “whatever are you talking about?”

From here the player are given an opportunity to explore your new surroundings. It seems you’re not the only locked up in here as three other cells doors down a long straight corridor beckon on either side of the way down towards the mirror that seemingly took you here to begin with. The silence punctuated each second with a grandfather clock ticking. Tatianna resumes her place behind a desk in what looks to be a waiting room. Where are we? Who is this person? Explore the waiting room further to be greeted with newspapers and clippings detailing what is happening outside of these walls, if it even is in fact outside of them. The world is still turning without Sebastian, provided he’s even still a part of it. Interestingly enough, mechanically you are still able to not only illuminate your lantern, Sebastian still has his weapons equipped and is able to aim and shoot them should he so please. As if a nod from the developers to say “we can’t guarantee your safety.”

In the back room through a dingy lit hallway with a sink that is probably unsanitary, an open circular room, more well lit than most of what we have seen so far, a lone easy chair and an IV drip curiously placed in the center. Interaction with these lead to Sebastian being bound by his wrists as what looks to be a steel cage is placed over his head. It looks like a medieval torture device, like the many we’ve seen throughout the game spaces so far.

 The player is introduced to the upgrade system which can be utilized with “green gel” currency that can be found throughout the locations and dropped by defeated enemies on occasion. Each upgrade triggering what looks to be an electric shock pulsating from the cage, Sebastian writhing in pain in his restraints. Are we really helping him by doing this?

Multiple visits later allow you to explore the area behind the desk. The darkest area yet. Your lantern does what it can to push back against its dark surroundings. Lockers full of ammunition to help aid you in your survival. Strange thing to be found at what seems like a hospital. Though in that respect I suppose it would help to keep you healthy in a roundabout kind of way.

Each time you revisit you’ll find things that change masterfully keeping the player off-kilter. Unsure of what they may be walking into the next time. Your point of entry may be different. The wallpaper texture may be new. Strange and otherworldly symbols may appear about the hallways. It may be subtle, it may be more noticeable. Tatianna only distantly chiming in every now and again. But it is the desire to make this room where convention would tell you that the player SHOULD feel safe in this area, they are psychologically toyed with. It’s a wholly uneasy realm that, even existing on its own, manages to feel hostile from top to bottom, even in the most minute of details.

If I had to derive some meaning from this work it would be the value of individuality and the cost of human lives in advancing the sciences. The pain of an individual becoming something that those who claim to be in the business of advancement can poke and prod at for the alleged betterment of society. If one person must suffer more, it is not worth it. Though it certainly never leans particularly hard into either idea so to judge it based on those aspects I believe would be unfair to this work. As you may know already I am the kind that believes art always has something to say, whether the intention is there or not, and I’ll ultimately always tell you what I think of that.

While I laid out all of what I believe to be The Evil Within’s shortcomings in no uncertain terms. What it ultimately had me thinking about upon finishing it, even to this day is about the triumph of style, even if the substance is left wanting. An exercise in how far aesthetic and art direction can take an otherwise underwhelming work and elevate it beyond its systematic and narrative shortcomings.