Eight years later, Alien: Isolation is an unmatched horror gem – and the high-tide of licensed games

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Saving your game shouldn’t be so stressful. Getting to a Registration Point and operating the key card-activated, payphone like system – it takes seconds. But seconds are precious. Especially when there’s something, somewhere nearby, lurking. Waiting. Breathing. Watching. You’re pressing the skin of your face to the inside of a locker, eyeing up that terminal, knowing it’s less than 20 feet away, probably. But, moments ago, you heard the telltale ding of sinew on metal. The Xenomorph is nearby. And it’s waiting for you to make your move.

Time is running out. Both in the game, and in your real life – you need to save, and get on with that article you’re supposed to be writing. So you close your eyes, take a deep breath, and try to slink out of the little cupboard you’ve crammed yourself into as quietly as possible. A glance at your motion tracker seems to suggest you’re safe. Footsteps echoing through the deserted Sevastopol station. Breath ragged in your ears. The blinking light of the terminal closing in. Your hand on the machine. Then – fuck – it’s coming up and out of your chest. Its tail, tearing through your ribs, your lungs. That’s it. Game over, Ripley.

Some may argue that this is appalling game design, making you gamble on whether or not you can actually save your game. You can lose hours of progress if you mess up your timing, if you gamble against Ripley’s ability to stay alive. But I think it perfectly encapsulates what makes Alien: Isolation one of the best games, ever. Even saving your game makes you think about survival – makes you think about death.

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