Do you ever feel like a disposable slug at your job? A grunt to be thrown at worthless problems like a rusted wrench, stuck running on the same wheel day in and day out? Are you not feeling properly compensated for the mental and physical sacrifices you make as your life slowly becomes part of the same streamlined regime you once detested while headbanging to hard rock at the peak of your distant adolescence? Well, snap out of it, because it can always be worse.

That’s the final takeaway I got from CC ARTS’ EMPTY SHELL, a top-down survival horror rougelike that puts players in control of random citizens who are forced to breathe new life into a vast, seaside factory overrun with monstrous attempts at mimicry in 1970’s Japan. “I’ve seen dozens leave in the last few weeks,” explains a hapless narrator at the beginning of the game. “Men, women, young, old. No one ever returned. A new boat leaves the ship every 12 to 24 hours. I see them disappear in the fog, in the rain that never seems to stop falling.” All things considered, I guess I’d rather be working a nine to five than bobbing across the rolling void of the ocean, bound for certain death. Although that new coworker has really been getting on my nerves. . .

EMPTY SHELL is monochrome, forebodingly so. Lurid light contrasts with dark stretches of shadow as players navigate narrow halls that open into spacious adjoining rooms, typically rife with rampaging mutants of unknown origin. Some of them look like people. Some of them seem to want to look like people. Others have given up entirely on the bulk of the human body, opting to become a massive hand with a mind of its own, or huge spiders, giant worms, and other creepy manifestations. From what I gather, the hostile, or at least incredibly defensive species you’ll encounter exhibits parallels with the alien from The Thing (1981), but there isn’t enough information provided to know exactly what it’s capable of, or what it wants. I think this mystery works in the game’s favor. You’ll be stalked relentlessly by the factory’s unwanted visitors (well, I guess you’re the unwanted visitor now) as you attempt to complete simple objectives like restarting scattered generators and realigning antennae. Due to the colorless nature of the game and its grainy, retro CCTV appearance, I often felt as though I were in control of some lost and forbidden footage that a corrupt government failed to fully hide away. The bare visuals pair nicely with minimal ambient audio, creating a tense survival horror experience that at once unsettles and relaxes.

EMPTY SHELL’s roguelike spin is implemented less rigidly than usual. Death does not necessarily result in the end of a run. Since there is no shortage of unlucky citizens, all corralled together like cattle as they await their turn to travel across the abyssal sea, players can pick up from the start of the stage they failed to complete. However, you’ll spawn in just as vulnerable as you were from the very beginning, equipped with a melee weapon, one firearm, and a small stash of ammo. Sure, you can find and loot the corpse of the last man or woman who was cruelly shoved off the boat and onto the island before their awful death, though they’ll have retained only a fraction of the supplies that were previously gathered. For this reason, the option to continue the game with successive civilians rather than restarting from scratch is a tempting yet unfortunately unrealistic one, at least until you know what to expect. Even then, EMPTY SHELL shows no mercy on the ill-prepared. Enemies will go on the offensive, sniffing you out from the shadows, their footsteps echoing under an unsettling groan of aggression as they dart closer. There isn’t too much downtime without confrontation, and hopeless situations can occur at any moment. Monster-closets that unleash an overwhelming stream of sprinters and spiders when players step too close, promising certain death as soon as a reload is required, can feel somewhat cheap and annoying, especially on the first few stages when supplies are low. The best choice in such moments might be to make a break for it. Just remember, enemies will stubbornly follow from room to room, and your stamina bar is the size of a Snickers. Here’s a tip: tap circle like a maniac instead of holding it down, which will reserve your energy while still boosting your speed. It didn’t take me long to discover this little loophole. It’s not game-breaking or anything, but feel free to follow the rules if you want… 

It wasn’t long before I noticed a shift in EMPTY SHELL’s tone. Superseding caution and fear came an assurance of my own death-dealing potential, brought on by an abundance of credits and an inventory full of guns, drones, and medkits. Credits are dropped by most fallen enemies. Within a certain radius, the little coins are satisfyingly vacuumed up by the player, who will likely be chomping at the bit to spend them at upgrade stations, which may or may not conveniently appear when you need them most. In fact, upgrade stations peel the curtain back on the game’s Oz (aka procedural generation), as multiple stations can, for no reason other than the game having an illogical mind of its own, spawn right beside each other with the same collection of items on offer. Only two or three pop up at most per map, so you’ll be doing a significant amount of backtracking for the sake of stocking up before a boss fight, or simply for the sake of prolonged survival. By the fourth stage, I noticed that I was no longer hurting for a chunk of change. My problem wasn’t running out of cash; it was running out of inventory space for the stuff I wanted to buy. But in a survival game, problems are a good thing. I appreciate the fact that the inventory was initially capped at 8 slots. Even when the action dial began to turn, emboldening me with a new confidence that I couldn’t have conceived a short while prior, I still had to be careful. Important choices concerning what to take and leave behind always left me second-guessing, though I made sure to keep at least one drone or turret at the ready whenever I could. Deploying one of these auto-killers in response to an unexpected ambush from an elite enemy, such as a gigantic floating hand or enlarged earthworm (don’t worry, I haven’t made total sense of it either), was often the difference between life and death. However, these machines aren’t stocked up with a lot of ammo, so don’t be surprised when your turret sputters and quits while a crowd’s still closing in.

There was a whole lot of death as I struggled to get through the first three stages of Empty Shell in one fell swoop. Once I cracked the code and made it to the fourth, I blasted the rest of the way through to the end, avoiding death despite not knowing what was coming next. On one [gigantic floating] hand, the difficulty drop felt a bit too drastic, while on the other, cathartic aggression served as a reward for earlier diligence. Of course, engaging in combat can only feel rewarding if it’s fun, and EMPTY SHELL’s twin-stick gameplay scratches the itch. There isn’t much fluff, but the details are done right. Blasting a couple of hobbling zombies with a 12-gauge shotgun leaves dazzling pools of bright white blood in the darkness, while smacking a charging attacker with an iron pipe creates a momentary sensation of empowering impact. The addition of an i-frame dodge is a necessary form of recourse to fall back on when ammo is scarce, especially due to the bum-rushing behavior of enemies. While the timing is a bit tricky to nail down, learning how to properly dodge and counterattack is a mandatory skill to acquire. In a pinch, it’s reasonably possible to eliminate heavy hitters with nothing but a blunt object, so long as you manage your stamina and pay attention to the way each enemy attacks. If you mess up, death comes quick. I often didn’t realize how close I was to perishing until it was already time for another unlucky soul to board the boat, resulting in several instances of pouty exasperation. Damage numbers are all over the place, and one-shot bosses get old fast. A solid run can turn into rubbish before you even get the chance to glance at your remaining hit points. In short, don’t get cocky, and expect to have your patience occasionally tested.

Any roguelike benefits from entwining the repetitive nature of the game into its core narrative. EMPTY SHELL’s excuse is convincing enough to keep runs engaging. The disposable nature of each protagonist adds a somber flavor to the whole experience. You’ll be motivated to overcome the drastic odds that have been stacked against a 45-year-old woman armed only with a crowbar and one full mag in a handgun: a mom on a mission. Perks and defects for each civilian could have added more excitement to the mix, instead of the only change being slightly different starting loadouts. This idea can be seen in Void Bastards, which has a similar premise to EMPTY SHELL, albeit in space and accompanied by bright colors and a sarcastic sense of humor. In that game, each playable prisoner has their own advantages or disadvantages for players to benefit from or contend with during runs, such as a chronic cough that can alert enemies to your location, or the ability to sprint much faster, among many others. These variables keep players guessing as to what they’ll end up with whenever another prisoner dies, adding to Void Bastard’s unpredictability. However, what’s good for the goose ain’t always good for the gander. CC ARTS’ straightforward approach in EMPTY SHELL is clearly intentional. It’s a dark, quiet, and ironically cozy title that does exactly what it needs to do. While the template leaves lots of room for experimentation, perhaps in a sequel, EMPTY SHELL ends up being a humble roguelike requiring more strategy than luck to figure out. I personally found this refreshing, as an uptick in indie roguelikes has led to an overabundance of infinite game design on behalf of devlopers, who promise unlimited runtimes without asking if that’s really the right kind of goal for their game to aspire to. 

So, if you’re looking for some eerie solace through the fuzzy lens of complete desaturation, including resource management, narrow escapes, traps, secret walls, mystery, panic, and a dash of cheap difficulty for good measure, look no further than the affordable EMPTY SHELL. So far, I’ve gotten about 10 hours out of this title, but I’m likely to return for a Nightmare run at some point. Until then, I’ll show up to work with a smile on my face. Heck, I may even thank my boss for not forcing me onto a boat at gunpoint. Or maybe I’ll just stop writing all those nasty messages in the bathroom stall. . .

See ya!