In the two levels I played, they didn’t take advantage of that, but perhaps they will in some other part of the game. Playing the game in VR allowed me to examine things closely, with the fear that the developers may have considered player curiosity and would use that to spook me. Things happen before you almost casually, for example seeing an oversized crustacean awake and make its way through a ventilation shaft, or unmanned diving suits appearing where they weren’t previously. But Narcosis is more reserved than that, resisting the urge to throw jump scares into your face. Each and every movement of my head made me fear that I’d look upon something unpleasant. As I walked through the halls of Narcosis’ underwater man-made environments, I felt far more susceptible to jump scares. Narcosis isn’t all too impressive visually, but it was my first foray into VR horror, and despite its simplistic visuals, it showed me how effective the platform can be for the genre. I’m not quite sure how players can smartly conserve their oxygen from scares based on my limited time with the demo, though. Environmental scares cause the protagonist to breathe harder, wasting more oxygen. Players must maintain their oxygen levels by simply collecting small capsules littered across the environments, which range from underwater research facilities to the depths of the sea floor. There are some offensive abilities like warding off sea creatures with a knife, but this feels understated when compared to the focus of the narrative. Mechanically, the game is fairly simple, falling somewhat into the walking sim genre of horror games. Memories and internal monologue act as the game’s narrative – think Dear Esther-style recollections of the past, with the protagonist reminiscing on life events while making his way toward escape. In your fight for survival, your mind begins to play tricks on you. Narcosis sets a familiar stage: you play as someone stranded in an isolated location with dwindling time and resources. With Narcosis, a new VR psychological horror game, I finally understood what was so terrifying about the abyss. In SOMA, I felt my first tinge of dread from the dark unknown of the ocean. In the past, I poked fun at former Rely on Horror editor Zack for admitting to being afraid of Ecco the Dolphin and its deep sea adventures. I never really thought too much about the ocean floor being a place to fear until I played SOMA.

Underwater abyss survival vr