The door slams shut behind me. There is no going back. While I’m not sure that I’d want to go back, I’m even less sure that continuing down this road would give me the answers I need. Or rather, the one answer: a way to survive.
I walk slowly forward, always keeping one eye on my motion tracker. The continual tick of the device offers little comfort in the otherwise silent corridor, however it does inform me that I’m moving towards my destination. I just don’t know what I’ll find when I get there. If I get there…
I come to a fork in the road. My motion tracker tells me that my destination is left, but my gut tells me to go right. I’ve survived this long on intuition, so why change now? As I move right I hear a loud clang of metal-on-metal from the left corridor. A series of loud bangs and scraping noises tell me that I probably made the right decision, and that I shouldn’t look back.
As I continue down the path I have chosen I turn a corner to find a bright light blinding me. As I stumble and try to regain my sight I feel a gust of air impact against me. It’s here. I stagger backwards and crouch behind a pile of steel crates, and as I regain my sight I see it: there, right in front of me.
Cold sweat drips from my forehead as I try not to breathe I have no idea if it’s seen me or not; whether it’s just toying with me. After what seems like a lifetime it leaps onto the ceiling and rips open an air vent, scurrying away out of sight and out of range of my motion tracker.
I rush forward as I am nearing my destination, but as I arrive and use the reinforced steel door as my external brake, I find that it is locked. This is not my day. The electricity that should be powering the door doesn’t seem to be reaching it, so I determine my own next objective: find the generator.
Clearly it must be near by, and utilising a combination of visible wires, guesswork and the motion tracker as a hint, I enter a brightly lit room that is covered with ice. Obviously a failed coolant for generator that lies across the large open space – though, even it this state it’s doing a good job of filling the room with dry ice – my vision is limited by the reflective nature of the particles. Not too limited to prevent me observing my motion tracker however, and making me aware that the ticking has becoming bleeping.
It’s so very near me, prowling back and forth across the room but always remaining out of sight. I have no intel on how it is tracking me – sight, sound, smell or all three – so at this point it’s nothing more than intuition and guesswork that’s keeping me alive. I move slow and low, keeping as far away from the blip on my motion tracker as is possible. I’ve seen this thing leap: the room isn’t so sizeable that it couldn’t reach from one side to the other in a single bound. It’s not skill or force that will keep me alive here, but stealth.
I’ve been moving across this floor for what feels like an eternity and the beast is still here. The generator is almost within reach, but I cannot rush these last few steps. A blinking red light comes into view, telling me where the reboot switch is. I reach for it and the generator starts to moan loudly as it is revived and bursts into action. A shriek from behind me is a giveaway sign that I am now out in the open and it knows where I am. Getting back to the door will not be as easy as getting to the generator was.
This preview offers an interpretation of the experience delivered in a demonstration build of The Creative Assembly’s Alien: Isolation as told by the player’s character in the videogame. The above content is not part of the story nor is it in anyway related to the work of original author of the videogame.