System Shock 2 - a horrific past caught up with me
Nearing my 40th birthday, I look back and think about all the classic games I've played when I was younger. I was there in the mid-90s for the FPS boom and the first Diablo. I enjoyed classics and was part of the first generation of PlayStation players.
Naturally, I also missed out on some other games that are now considered bona fide classics. I remember seeing some of those in glossy paper magazines, but I couldn't get my hands on them.
The reasons are many - back then, I didn't have a computer that was strong enough to run them, or I was too young to understand the complexities of the games (which were harder). More often than not, my local pirate didn't have certain titles available.
No, we didn't have Gamestop, Steam, GOG, or any other way to purchase the games on original media, and even if we did, I don't think a 10-year-old-me would have enough money to buy everything I wanted to play. I must have spent mucho dinero buying the games I've pirated when I was younger to "repay my debt", although I know very well most devs will not receive a cent from that money.
One of those games that I missed back in the day is System Shock 2. I distinctly remember people being afraid and in love with the game. A few days ago, while reading about its Nightdive Studios remaster, I was checking my digital libraries to see if I own the original. And behold, there was a classic System Shock 2 (1999) game in my Steam library.
Why didn't I opt for the purchase of a remaster? Two reasons: first of all, for some time now, I'm intentionally purchasing products, meaning I buy if I'm sure I'll be using something or consuming the content. My backlog is long enough already. The second reason is the fact that I've read some of the community mods are part of the remastered game.
So my line of thinking was: let's install the old game, enhance it with mods that are still being actively developed, and then play it like it's almost 1999, but as close to a 2025 remaster as possible.
After installation, modding was as simple as selecting zip files with a mod launcher, applying the mods, and launching the game.
Then I got pulled into a slow-revealing story that truly deserves the "immersive sim" label. I won't spoil System Shock 2 for you, because I also spent a couple of hours in it, but it's slow, scary, exciting, and rewarding. It's not an empty open world but a claustrophobic unknown that makes you tread carefully, regardless of your character's strength.
Every bullet is sacred, every hypo is a gift from the gods. The modded game lighting, music, and sounds are next-level, despite them all being primitive compared to today's standards. I can't remember the last time I've moved slowly, being afraid of the flickering lightbulb, or experiencing a scare hearing a droid-like droning of the SS2 mutants.
I have been thinking why System Shock 2, the game I have never played and have no emotional attachment to, is making me more scared than the new horror games I've been more or less enjoying.
Here are my two cents, and I would be more than welcome to hear your opinion about this.
First of all, you are so unmistakably alone in these games. There's no co-op or multiplayer. Usually, with games like these, whether it's Silent Hill or System Shock 2, you progress slowly and are always weaker than the monsters you face.
With no multiplayer, there's no comfort in knowing there's someone else over there, and back in the nineties, you didn't have Discord to talk about it. You experienced the single-player games alone in your room, kept most of your traumas to yourself, and occasionally shared some of your experiences face-to-face with friends.
The second reason is the technical limitations. In the nineties, developers faced significant technical constraints when designing the game. This forced them to be smart about resources and camera angles. Technical limitations significantly influenced (forced) developers to rethink storytelling and focus on building the lore through the available, limited toolset.
In System Shock 2, the logs are essential for storytelling. The text logs express stuff that was out of budget or simply impossible to implement. Finding logs and listening to/reading them awakens human curiosity.
Besides that, the sound design was superb. Often minimal, sometimes repetitive, it served a crucial role in player immersion.
Last but not least, it's immensely sad that today's digital storytellers need to answer the shareholders' call before the call of their creativity. More and more storyteller dreams and universes are snuffed out because of shareholding mania, or being dropped simply because Q2 results weren't above the margin.
Yes, going indie is sometimes a solution, but indie devs also need to make a living. Most of the time, following your passion will get you nowhere, and it seems book writing, game development, and playing music are racing to see who will starve the artists first.
I am going in all directions with this post, and I guess what I want to say is that I'm genuinely enjoying one masterpiece from 1999, and it made me rethink what is happening in the gaming industry today. We need more opportunities like this, more games like this, more art forms backed by AA or AAA budgets whose quality is not measured by the numbers on the bank account.
Until then, let's rediscover classics and support indie devs whenever possible.
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