This is my favorite game of all time.

Lovecraftian horror, at the heart of it, is comprised of two key parts- the existence of a deeply compelling mystery, and the assurance that seeking the answer comes with dark consequence. The horror comes from the interplay between these two elements; when properly balanced, the main character will find themselves horrified and utterly enthralled, fully aware of their own self-destruction but forced to dig deeper by their own fevered curiosity. And the reader will agree with them. The character must know, at any cost.

Sunless Sea makes you- the player, not the captain- into that main character.

Out of all of the media I have consumed, Sunless Sea represents, in quantity and scope, the single greatest work of mystery-making. At each port, it teases you with tantalizing scraps; the very nature of each place is always in question, always twitching with some great purpose just out of reach. And the true genius? These mysteries have answers. This isn't all suspense with no substance; with every visit to each port, the game gives you a new scrap to chew on, a new meaty growth to harvest. And with enough work, enough risk and sweat and time and deductive ingenuity, you can figure out the answers- no matter how many more questions they may themselves birth. I should know- I solved Irem. If I can solve Irem, anything can be solved

But what takes Sunless Sea from an incredible exploration game to a truly transcendent horror experience? Dread. The fear of the answers you might uncover.

Key to the experience of the game, I think, is the optional permadeath. The whole experience is balanced and tuned to be playable in a single life, and in my opinion, this is absolutely how the game should be played. It adds immense weight to every decision; every motion made to explore, to learn more, to simply resupply on a desert island is given the weight of your life. You know the game will kill you. You've seen the warnings.

Of course, the fact that the game has warnings means that this is mainly an illusion. You will never die if you are careful and plan ahead; the game will never cripple or kill you without giving you a chance to turn back. You're terrified because the incredible writing, artwork, and music have sucked you in; have obfuscated which choices are possibly fatal and which are simply vague in nature. If you take a step back to take inventory of yourself and your resources, you'll know which choices to avoid and when to turn back.

But- and this is the genius of it- you won't want to turn back. Sunless Sea offers you the opportunity to save your own life, but it also tempts you- with money, with resources, but most effectively- with answers. Yes, you're running out of candles, and your men are battered and bloody from your journey into the ancient, sunken citadel. Into the hellish, celestial dream-fortress of ice. Into the heart of an island that magnetically attracts postage (this game often toes the line between horror and comedy. did I mention?). And if you keep going, you'll run out of crew, or food, or you might just go insane. But if you go just a little bit further, you might find out who built the citadel in the cave roof that it broke from, or exactly what the ice-fortress is supposed to be (is it real? is any of this real?), or what, exactly, is commanding the mail to float to Nuncio. And the moment where you push it past the edge- where you risk hours of progress just to Know- is the moment where you have become Lovecraft's ideal protagonist. Someone so scared and enraptured and damnably curious that they would forgo anything to Figure It Out. It is the most immersive possible realization of cosmic horror; you are no longer the reader, sympathizing with the poor, tormented soul who has seen too much. You are that soul. You must choose; pull back to safety, or destroy yourself in search of the Answer. And you will find that destruction is preferable to ignorance.