I often find myself struck by the fact that video game characters residing in the depths of despair seem to have nicer homes than any place I've ever lived in. Admittedly, as a thirty-something in a country grappling with a prolonged housing crisis, even the Baker House in Resident Evil 7 feels like a “maybe I could afford that one day” aspiration. But it becomes quite the revelation when a 70s-style underwater dwelling, located at the bottom of the sea, boasts more square footage and storage space than my own abode.
"Under The Waves," which received a much-needed patch today (a relief, given the frequent fatal error crashes plaguing my play sessions since its release last week), centers around Stan, a deep-sea diver who inhabits and works at the Abyssal depths—a giant, watery metaphor for grief. This isn't exactly subtle, as the game's Steam page makes it abundantly clear, and it's published by Quantic Dream, known for their emotionally charged narratives. Yet, when was the sea ever a metaphor for pure joy? It's perpetually a symbol of melancholy and reflection. Stan may allude to "what he's been through" within the first half-hour, but I believe the game excels in conveying its profound sense of sorrow. As you drift through the vast, misty darkness in your submersible minuscule, accompanied by heart-wrenching music, you can't help but contemplate your own somber experiences. However, when you eventually step into Stan's capsule-like living space, you're left to ponder, "This guy has a carpet and a book nook—what on earth?"
I don't have a book nook! Stan's home features built-in shelving, a desk, and even a window next to his futon. His bathroom is three times the size of mine! Don't get me started on his kitchen; It's a veritable palace compared to mine. And look at all that storage space! Stan even has a TV bed. His massive kitchen boasts a built-in TV and an aquarium. Sure, he complains about the fridge door being iced shut, but mine won't close unless you give it a swift kick, and the thermostat is so temperamental that lettuce placed too close to the top or the back turns into a weapon-grade ice block. block.
True, it's located at the bottom of the sea, but Stan works from home, so there's no daily commute. Plus, even if he did have to the surface for a job, the commute seems to be only about half an hour, judging by the game's introduction. My previous commute between London and Brighton used to take twice that long. Granted, local amenities are lacking, and public transport is non-existent, but there's ample parking space for your mini sub. It's just a pretty nice place, all things considered. The retro 70s style, now cool again in 2023, with its smooth lines and burnt orange decor, has its own charm.
I experience a similar disbelief akin to the Drew Scanlon blinking meme whenever a character in a TV show or movie describes their “crappy apartment” and then reveals a luxurious Ikea Narnia behind their door. To be fair, while Stan's sole purpose in this narrative is to confront tragedy, he acknowledges that his high-pressure, both literally and figuratively, environment is rather pleasant. He comments that the TV, with its excellent reception, is larger than the one he has at home. Thematically, this choice makes sense since the life pod must serve as a comforting sanctuary after a day spent swimming in a vast, melancholic void of green-blue. The cream and orange color scheme provides a perfect contrast, emphasizing the feeling of safety within. It would be even more impactful if, say, that sense of security were compromised later in the story.
Overall, I'm genuinely happy for Stan and his lovely underwater abode. I'm just pointing out that this housing crisis has truly reached new heights, hasn't it?

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