Stop me if you’ve heard this before. We say “uncanny”, but in Germany it’s “unheimlich”. The unheimlich was a big deal for people like Freud, and it’s hard not to love the term, just a little bit. Unheimlich means, well, it means uncanny – weird, eerie, unsettling. But more specifically, it translates as “unhomely.” Unhomely. Now that is a word that carries a chill, a creep of the flesh, a word that registers an arachnid skittering in the corner of your vision. When something is familiar and unfamiliar all at once! You should feel like you’re at home, but…
Testify! Rotary telephones with no dials. Bodies suspended in the air with a kind of ballerina poise and elegance. Staff portraits, but they’re, like, full-blown oil paintings, dark eyes and unknowable aspects. When it comes to the uncanny, there’s one big budget game that really delivers on it for me. It’s Control. It’s a shooter, I guess, a third-person action game inspired by everything from The X-Files to House of Leaves to tropical Brutalism. There’s a splinter of Psi-Ops: The Mindgate Conspiracy and even Stranglehold in there too. But it’s also pure, delicious, slow-dripping uncanniness. It’s familiar and unfamiliar. It’s… Well…
Control is set within a building known as the Oldest House, and here, already, things are getting weird. Lots of games are perfectly house-sized. Edith Finch. Maniac Mansion. But a special few are set within houses that feel much bigger than the game they contain – much bigger than a single imagination could ever understand. Jet Set Willy. Impossible Mission. Control. The Oldest House contains Control, then, but it also feels like it contains so many other things, so many other implausible, improbable, impossible things. This week, for example, Remedy gave us a taste of FBC: Firebreak, a hectic multiplayer action game. Yes, it’s set in the world of Control, but more specifically it’s set within the Oldest House. Why not? There’s plenty of room.
In Control’s fiction, the Oldest House is the headquarters of the Federal Bureau of Control. This is a government agency that deals with extremely bizarre stuff. But the Bureau’s surfaces are beautiful and often quietly elegant. The face the Oldest House presents to the world is one of tastefully curated mid-century modernism. Wood looks like wood. Tile looks like tile. Concrete looks like concrete, and there’s lots of it, along with indoor bays for tropical plants and wide staircases and bright overhead lighting that’s perfect for giving ghostly shape to cigarette smoke.