I can honestly say that The Bunker is the scariest video game I’ve ever played. It’s so intimidating and oppressive that I had a hard time staying seated for the first few sessions. And when the lights went out and the roaring started, I had to fight for my happiness. Even days after finishing The Bunker, I can’t stop thinking about it.
Frictional’s sound design is excellent for creating a sense of dread and signaling the monster’s level of alertness. The Bunker has this ambient, cavernous hum, punctuated by rat squeals, occasional Beast cries, and thumps of German artillery. The Beast set me on edge. But my worst jump scare was when I stumbled into a booby trap set up by my deceased comrades. It sets off a grenade right next to my head. Exploring makes you more likely to attract the monster. Actions like running, cranking up your flashlight, and scaring off rats gradually attract it. Aggressive, loud moves like shooting a lock off or blowing open a door practically guarantee its arrival.
Running the generator and keeping the lights on reduces Beast risks. Once it does, it prevents it from home in on you and being less aggressive. The Bunker is at its most utterly dreadful when all the lights are off and the Beast is on the hunt. There are some puzzles on the critical path that require power. The Bunker’s randomized item placement, as well as the limited storage and inventory, limit your fuel economy. Fuel, healing consumables, grenades, and key items each occupy one inventory slot, adding to the atmosphere of dread.
Each option in The Bunker feels carefully calculated. Blowing open a door will get you where you need to go quickly, but you better have a hiding spot ready when the Beast arrives. Mutated rats that feast on corpses with valuable locker combinations can be driven off with fire (flares or homemade torch) and toxic gas and frag grenades, but each action requires resources and risks attracting Beasts. Your WWI revolver—complete with a deliciously agonizing multipart reload where you hold one button to keep the cylinder open and press another button to slot in individual bullets—can be a get-out-of-jail card when you’re cornered, but eventually the Beast will return to your neighborhood, out for your blood, and capable of taking even more hits before retreating. What if you need a bullet later?
As the Beast approached, I led it into traps, used gas grenades, and hid in closets and under tables. However, most of the time, when it came close, I just wanted to rush back to the bunker’s safe room. Rather than the sneaky power fantasies of Thief or Dishonored, the Beast serves as a cat-and-mouse game with an apex predator. There is only one game I can recall that combined simulations depth with strategic choice and this very specific sense of being pursued. In contrast to Isolation’s lengthy campaign, The Bunker is a perfect diamond of you. The Beast, and the awful, horrible place you’re trapped in.
Despite the stress and dread of The Bunker, I already want to play it again. Regardless of your level of familiarity with the game, the systems-driven survival and random trap placement make every venture out of the safe room unpredictable and unnerving. Immersive sim experimentation becomes more challenging, dangerous, and stifling in the Bunker. Mastering my tools and uncovering hidden paths would have me feeling like a bolt-action French MacGyver. One minute later the lights would go out and all of a sudden. I was a scared little boy pointing a gun with a single bullet in it at the disquietingly loud void of the powerless facility.
