Con­trol

Rem­edy is back, and it wants to twist our minds more than ever be­fore. We catch up with the team to see how its mul­ti­for­mat re­lease is com­ing along

Games TM - - CONTENTS -

Ahead of see­ing Con­trol in ac­tion for the very first time, we were told by Mikael Ka­suri­nen to ex­pect the un­ex­pected, that what we were about to wit­ness would rep­re­sent “the ul­ti­mate Rem­edy ex­pe­ri­ence”.

It’s com­mon for de­vel­op­ers to trudge out lines such as this when pro­mot­ing such widely an­tic­i­pated projects, but we would even­tu­ally un­der­stand this to be true. Though it wouldn’t be in a way that we could ever have an­tic­i­pated.

As the demo whirs into ac­tion you can feel it wash over you in an in­stant. A force beck­on­ing you to look be­yond that which you be­lieve you can see, dar­ing you to take a glance in a world of per­spec­tives. Con­trol posits that should you look be­yond the frayed edges of your own re­al­ity, you might just see that which ex­ists on the pe­riph­ery. If you know the rules, if the con­di­tions are right and should you un­der­stand the rit­u­als, you too can keep trav­el­ling deeper into a world of un­knowns.

We see this as Jesse Faden walks the Panop­ti­con alone. She is look­ing for the same thing that we are – an­swers. She knows that she will need to fight for them even­tu­ally, but for now she is as we are, mes­merised by the path that winds off into the shad­ows. It is a cor­ri­dor that seems to spi­ral in on it­self in­def­i­nitely, an ecosys­tem of its own de­sign within The Old­est House.

An ex­hi­bi­tion of Al­tered Items adorns one of its walls. Hun­dreds of cru­cibles house hun­dreds of ob­jects, each of them acted upon by forces that fit no known sci­en­tific par­a­digm. They take on an in­nocu­ous ap­pear­ance, ones that we can at once recog­nise, though this only seeks to dis­guise and con­tort their true na­ture. Jesse’s Ser­vice Weapon seems to pulse with know­ing en­ergy with ev­ery step that she takes.

Unit 75, a cru­cible that con­tains an Item re­sem­bling an or­di­nary house­hold fridge, one that must have eyes on it at all times else it will de­vi­ate from this re­al­ity;

Unit 76, a burnt-out ve­hi­cle that begs for our at­ten­tion, though there is sim­ply none left to of­fer it – a siren wails in the dis­tance; it is time to move on. In time we reach Unit 715, home to an Item pre­dis­posed to caus­ing Al­tered World Events, in­ci­dents that present the pos­si­bil­ity of other di­men­sions ex­ist­ing upon our own. Its for­ti­fied doors have been pried open. In­side, bod­ies hang life­lessly, de­fy­ing grav­ity. The warm cath­ode glow of the Beni­coff TV draws us in­side. As we do, bricks peel away from the foun­da­tions of the cham­ber, the room be­gins to re­con­fig­ure it­self, trans­formed by our mere pres­ence.

Jesse is the di­rec­tor of this do­main. Jesse has no con­trol over this do­main. These facts have no sym­me­try; they are dis­con­nected, but then ev­ery­thing feels that way here. We are in­side of The Old­est House and noth­ing is quite as it seems. But the longer that we spend in its pres­ence, the more we come to un­der­stand that this is ex­actly where we need to be. That this is where Rem­edy needs to be too, in a world of un­knowns where its fu­ture will even­tu­ally take shape – even if our un­der­stand­ing of what that shape is ex­actly is pur­pose­fully con­torted.

“And you’ve only seen just a small part of it, of The

Old­est House,” Mikael Ka­suri­nen later tells us with a know­ing smile. Con­trol’s game di­rec­tor is only too aware that the game­play demon­stra­tion

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