Control was a game that I wanted to play for a long time – and one I expected to like, although not perhaps as much as I did. I swallowed the entirety of this game in a little over a week and was blown away by the phenomenal worldbuilding and the brutalist setting that is The Oldest House, and whilst at times I was unnerved by the soundwork and the subject matter (some of the altered items were understandably creepy, okay!), I never felt truly afraid, thanks to Jesse's confidence and her companionship with one resonance in particular, for she never fought alone. Anyway, the game was so good that I ended up wanting to make this fansite for it, which should be a pretty glowing endorsement already, honestly.
This site is not meant to be exhaustive. Neither is it a guide on how to play the game. I want it to be about the things I felt, what sparked my imagination in the narrative, that left me spinning the game around in my head for days afterwards because it's just the right level of weird.
As would be expected, this site is full of unmarked spoilers for the basegame and its DLC, The Foundation and Altered World Events.
Resonance is listed at Emotion and is part of my collective network, Norvrandt.org.

Lastly, this tribute is maintained by Rems, and all updates can be found at Lumas. If you have any questions (or comments), feel free to drop me an e-mail. Thanks for visiting!
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CHAPTER ONE
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Jesse Faden and
the Puppetry
of Directorship
"We live in a room, and there's a poster on the wall. We stare at it and we think that's the whole world. The room... and the poster. But it's all a lie. Something to distract us from the truth. The room's not the world, the world... is much bigger, and much stranger."
– Jesse Faden
Jesse Faden is distinctly Rems coded.
I've thought about opening this any other way, but it's true. The first surface level impressions a visual narrative has to work with is its explorable setting – which we'll come back to later – the plot breadcrumbs it chooses to nourish you with, in this case weirdness and the supernatural; and a leading character to tie it all together that the audience is meant to align with.
Jesse is interesting. She is at The Oldest House with purpose. She is a thoughtful, somewhat calculating, insular person, who has learned to be reserved out of necessity for she has experienced something else and been left to go mad with it, no longer able to exist in society's perception of normal. Her wariness is the same regarding the player: though she monologues, she is not open with you right away. It's how she survives – alone, although she is not. You don't realise Polaris exists the first few times her resonances' flicker across the screen and dismiss it.
She does not present her whole self to you. You have to learn about her, what makes her tick. She has her vulnerabilities and fears; her exuberance, that The Oldest House is the world that feels normal and now she never wants to leave. I like this model of character a lot. I'm also very fond of female protagonists, especially those in their late twenties and older, because it always feels exceptionally rare. There are a lot of women in positions of power in Control, as it happens: the first scientist you meet is Emily, who becomes Jesse's prime contact and later her Head of Research. Underhill is in the basement combating an altogether different threat and she's competent enough to do it. Marshall is the only surviving member of Trench's old guard when Jesse arrives, and she is unmistakably a badass. There are so! Many! Successful! Women!
When stories go 'hey, what if this person was a woman?', they are always right.
What's also interesting is the Bureau's initial, immediate acceptance of Jesse – it's hard to argue with results, even small ones such as being able to cleanse control points and restore pieces of the House, but when she is still fresh faced you wonder why. The answer is The Board is absolute. You don't question them. Whoever they choose as director the workers report to, but it goes deeper than that. Jesse was always a considered prime candidate, like her brother Dylan. It's likely those higher up the chain know who she is on introduction but you don't learn this until later – in a way the Bureau has always been controlling her, as The Board control the Bureau.
For the Hiss, human hosts are a convenient means to an end. They consume everything in their path – as they likely did in Hedron's dimension – and they cripple The Oldest House as well as the staff working within it, but none of it is the goal. It is The Board they are after. They were not able to reach them through Trench, although he did unlock the door; but Dylan retains a stronger sense of self and who better to choose than an avatar that directly parallels Jesse? Dylan says it himself. They could play in either role, depending on who successfully fled Ordinary. It doesn't matter. He is a puppet to the Hiss, as she is a puppet to The Board.
They wield Jesse. They accept her as the performer of their will. Or at least they do at first: The Board throws a fit during Foundation when Jesse receives a second power they've denied giving despite its necessity to complete the mission they've assigned her, saying that by taking it she is being disobedient. They later backtrack after she converses with Former, as Jesse cannot be led to believe Former is more of an enticing employer than they are; and they are well aware of her prowess at this point, that she is their favourite because of the potential in her abilities that no other director has exhibited before. But The Board does not tolerate nuance, or perceived insubordination – it is their fault that Marshall is ultimately taken by the Hiss, for she destroys The Nail to prevent the corruption of The Oldest House at its roots, and The Board send an Astral Spike after her in retaliation which destroys her HRA. Jesse is understandably furious upon learning this: she resolves she can no longer be pointed from crisis to crisis and that she has to lead her way... although she'll keep The Board on side, at least for now.
Northmoor was the golden example of subservience. He still upholds a director's most basic duty of keeping the lights on. Trench was a less than ideal successor, an intermediary. Jesse drove out the Hiss and keeps the Bureau functional, by protecting those within it with her own resonance. She is a force, and she will not stop.
It's all about taking control.
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< You/We wield the Gun/You >
"Standing on their base, triangles signify stability and strength. Inverted, on their points, they represent conflict and stagnation. Of course, the orientation is just a matter of perspective. Looking at the pyramid from below gives you one, from above, another. Northmoor says he looks up at the inverted pyramid. I have to wonder: is anyone standing over it, looking down?"– Dr. Ash, Log 5: Pyramids
It would be very easy to present a concept of a formless entity bent on invading our dimension as a singular, that it's one and done and calling it a day.But this is when the potential for worldbuilding gets really good.
Control introduces you to it slowly, of course. Here is the bad resonance. They want you to hurt. Here is the good one. A benevolence working in symbiotic concert with others. Jesse feels comfortable enough to let you know of her. Here is The Board, undisputed: the only thing stopping the bad resonance from getting to the outside world, and Jesse needs this, the power and the weapons they offer... together three aspects of an ensemble cast which don't have bodies or even communicate in the same language as we do, if they use language at all. It is difficult to pull this sort of thing off convincingly but Control does. Polaris is soothing, slight. The user interface is what Jesse sees. As a player you begin to pick up on her speech patterns when she responds to her charge, and the moment in Foundation when Jesse softly asks "are you with me?" and Polaris' brief acknowledgement that yes, she is made me smile so much. The Board is king, sounds muffled and blinding and speaks in possibilities and potential translations of their intent, which can be humorous at times and downright terrifying at others, and the Hiss have a pressing, visual weight to them – which kind of reminds me personally of a bad vertigo migraine. Like, I know exactly what they're going for. The pressure overwhelms. It's not something you can escape.
As Jesse dives deeper into The Oldest House, so do the forces at play increase. There are three other active threats at work besides the Hiss... some less effective than others (Clog, you're trying your best). The Mold Hosts successfully scare me in a way the Hiss enemies do not, because they just sort of stand there and amble towards you and effectively they're zombies, and— did you know there's a massive sentient plant in the basement engaging in fae levels of enticement so that humans will ingest parts of it so it can continue to spread itself, and— seriously, the posters were right, don't eat the damn Mold. The fact there's even a second developed invasion going on at all, that has a long sidequest chain and a unique zone surprised me, and then you meet Former.
Former is tucked away in a series of sidequests regarding Altered Items that are acting erratically, and when Jesse attempts to cleanse them she is pulled into a corner of the Astral Plane with a one eyed creature that is deliberately doing this to sow chaos for The Board. In Foundation Former reveals it was once a part of The Board and was banished for their differences – and unlike The Board, actively assists you, not only by granting a power The Board denied but by sending the Id to help when Jesse fights Marshall. At first I thought the Id were ads, until I realised they weren't attacking me at all: and there are many Id! Aside from an optionally summoned ranger, this happens nowhere else in the game... and begs the question of what The Board could do, but choose not to.
There's a hierarchy to it. You don't usurp the king.
That said, Former is a conflict for me. Though there are a lot of deaths in Control, the one that really got to me was Phillip Phillson, aka. the guy that was on fridge duty. As soon I was able to I immediately went back to help him only to be scripted to fail, and whilst Former is fascinating as a concept I still have personal beef with them. I'm sorry I couldn't save you, Phillip.
The Bureau is so used to violence against them by the unknown that there's even an alien 'threat', eventually dismissed because it speaks in gibberish, locked away in one of the departments. And humanity itself is equally morally grey. There's an outside group desiring to create Altered Items, but there's discord within The Oldest House and whilst Jesse is slow to trust for good reason there's an uneasy level of uncertainty to feel towards those in positions of power now out of the picture. How did the Hiss get in? Why weren't they stopped? Marshall is secretive. She doesn't tell you everything, and disappears during a lockdown to fulfil a self-assigned mission. Darling speaks of countless concepts and reaches a fascination with Hedron, covering the walls of his lab in its shape. Hedron's resonance, and the HRAs, is what saves many members of the Bureau in the initial Hiss wave. You see Darling everywhere but why did he know of this? Did he dig too deep? Why was he in disagreement with Trench? You don't understand. You want to find out. The game knows that you do. Trench appears to want to aid you, but is this active choice? He speaks on The Hotline in his own words and there's some interesting implications – in Altered World Events you find a document where he's shutting down investigatory allegations against him, and he slips into Hiss chant multiple times throughout it since he's long infected. When he dies, his thoughts, his resonance if you will, are solely his own. This tracks with Marshall. She is on The Hotline because her body is being puppeted, her voice expunged, now entirely Hiss. The question for Trench is what drove him to suicide. Was it an act of cowardice, or liberation? Did the Hiss tell him to do it? Did The Board retire him?
Start at the beginning. Did Jesse do it? Did Dylan?
Lots of questions, lots of probabilities... not every one of them is answered. Ahti is the first to entrust The Oldest House's fate to Jesse, to respond to her innermost thoughts and he helps her significantly – but it's not in Control at least where you find out what he is, though he's been at The House and invited those across the figurative threshold for a very, very long time.
And always you wonder... what else is out there?
There's so many layers and curiosities in Control in its structure and I love how rich a universe it is. That it makes you think, that is has all that attention to detail. The Hiss may be the nemesis but there is so much more there that they didn't have to do but they did, and it pays off so well.
CHAPTER TWO
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Interdimensional
Thresholds
It resonates in your house.
Control takes place in one building. Once Jesse enters it, she doesn't leave.
But that's assuming The Oldest House itself isn't in some way alive, that it doesn't have moods and doesn't periodically shift and displace its rooms and corridors, that you don't open a door somewhere and find yourself improbably traversing to an entirely different world.
The Oldest House is a fantastic setting. I was hooked after the initial circuit loop at the start of the game, where you end up back in the starting room with some very slight changes due to your interactions and I'm pointing at the screen saying "yo, this is my exact kind of nonsense". I wanted to learn about it: I wanted to scavenge for each piece of written lore and to explore every nook and cranny of a department as a new one opened up. It looks good. It suits and smashes its aesthetic. The Oldest House invited the Bureau in in the 1960s and in a way this reflects its present state: it doesn't vibe with modern technology past the 1980s, but given the prominence of psychokinetic powers this is a perfect stage. It transports the player straight to the eeriness of classic paranormal, supernatural thrillers, presenting weird and wonderful abilities bound through old objects just as unusual. Prominently the architecture is brutalist, stark blues and greys softened by the greenery of plants, which makes the aggressive red and orange hues of the Hiss really stand out when they spawned in. Each department and subsequent location is subtly different and I never found myself lost. I loved traversing it and how nonsensical and strange it could be, that I could later return to previously explored areas not because I could now levitate, but because there were catwalks I hadn't even thought to look for in the early hours of the game. Having repeated posters and noticeboards with the same memos could seem like reasonable repetitive prop filler, but here it has a charm to it. The Oldest House is almost whimsical; very early in the game after seeing numerous bathrooms in quick succession and thinking to myself "why are there so many" I stumbled upon a collectible that taught me what house shifts were – in that sometimes, a bathroom could just disappear for weeks, so, honestly, understandable.
The Black Rock Quarry – pictured – is also just gorgeous. I have nothing constructive or insightful to offer other than being a big fan of pretty starscapes, and it's just. Right there! In the middle of Maintenance! Because a link to it showed up one day!
Perhaps the most important secondary locations are The Astral Plane and The Oceanview Motel and Casino. The Astral Plane is ethereal and otherworldly by definition – Jesse notably cannot die by fall damage in it, and will safely drop back into the world. It reminds me a little of Animus sequences in the earlier Assassin's Creed games, seeing as its largely used for tutorial reasons. The latter, the Motel, is a liminal zone – and that's immediately one of my favourite liminal concepts. Each visit, though the goal of opening a particular door is the same, is unique. What I later learned was that this motel features in Remedy's other series, Alan Wake, and that different doors are accessible to him, and that's just really cool. Jesse's visits are always during the day. In AWE it's at night, due to Alan Wake actively being there before she is. Jesse always retrieves the motel's keys for the room with the black inverted pyramid, but there's a white regular one as well, which makes me again wonder...
You remind us of home.
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The Collective Unconscious
I like when games play with their concept and take it as far as they can go; it's always a good time when the fantastical is grounded by logic in some way, because it makes it more believable, more real, and most of all easier for the audience to suspend their disbelief and accept. It shows how much care has been poured into the world, that they've really thought about it, and gets you invested in it too. The presentations by Darling are a fantastic format for explaining the world's laws and reasonings, not only as they're bitesize chunks, but as the Head of Research, the man knows what he's talking about. These presentations would often start playing organically whilst following an objective, and are difficult to miss, giving some additional context or thought to whatever or wherever it is that Jesse is currently pursuing.The most interesting to me were Altered Items, because they felt the most plausible. "The exact process of how an Altered Item is born eludes us. We find them in the aftermath of Altered World Events. They take the form of everyday objects, ever-present in our lives, constantly evoked in the thoughts of millions of people." That makes sense, I nodded to myself. It's pulling from the collective unconscious, exactly like that time Morgana in Persona 5 turned into a car inside the metaverse due to the widely spread and accepted cognition amongst the general public that cats can also be catbuses. I didn't really expect my Persona-lensed knowledge of Jung psychology to be relevant in Control, but here we were. And it really helped to understand everything. Luck. Ritual. Synchronicity. Remember the poster? Certain portraits on the walls that look like archways actually are if you melee them. Urban myths, something as simple as a rule of three before something happens, that the Altered Items had powers you could somewhat expect... even the Service Weapon is implied to have been other objects in the distant past. Really, the game just gets more fun to play the more powers and forms Jesse acquires – launching things never gets old, and the game takes account that you may run out of nearby objects to throw, and will conveniently rip pieces of rubble and concrete from the walls to continue your assault.
If anything, I was most grateful for the built in accessibility options. Control was my second Metroidvania and I genuinely don't think I'm very good at the format, although I do enjoy them. I get overwhelmed by numbers very quickly and tend to bunker down in my 'safe spot', which Control actively discourages: I was able to eventually ascertain when enemies were throwing grenades, but launching them isn't always reliable. The missiles however, I never got a handle on. I genuinely never could tell where the attacks were coming from and reacted far too slowly – the mobs are supposed to only do it if you don't move for a long time to flush you out, but I kept frequently having it happen when the AI itself got stuck somewhere, which isn't very helpful when the missiles can easily one shot you. A lot of thrown stuff is lethal, actually: it was the first fight with Tommasi when I learned I lost currency with each death, and I'm not about that life, so I swiped my way over to immortality and turned it on due to the amount of trouble I'd previously been having. I didn't want to overly rely it and still wanted to try, but it was nice not having to worry about it when reinforcements arrived. The only boss I didn't 'die' to was Marshall as I had recently discovered the joy of using my shield to ram into things, so I'll take my small victory and go. I'm indebted to immortality being an option though, as without it I probably would never have made it to The Hotline and would have missed out on such a spectacular game.
"Strange like a rubber duck
that follows you around
and makes you drop your coffee every time that it quacksbecause the noise scares you
and then you have to clean up
the coffee while the duck stares at youand continues to quack.
Quack."
– Langston: Freestyle
CHAPTER THREE▼
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The Ashtray Maze
Tonal Shift
Hissing noises in the hallway
Bloodshot eyes, staring through, what seeds are sown?
Who'll survive the blood red power play
Who'll take control, whose name will be known?
Control plays within the confines of its genre. It's not quite not a horror game, but it psychologically messes with you. It uses your perception of reality against you: a feeling of unease because you've heard a spooky story about a seemingly innocent object and now you're being told it can do those things. It doesn't partake in jump scares – mostly, because there is one; or two, if you count the couple of boxes that are mimics and there's no suggestion after hundreds of opened crates that that's even a thing until an exploding Hiss pops out of one and if you weren't playing with immortality on you would probably be dead.Still, the mandatory jump scare is relatively tame, it's just unexpected. On one of the motel visits the backdrop is a little more sinister than the others. There's blood on the floors and screaming behind closed doors. On the second of three light switch pulls – rule of three applies – Dylan briefly appears on the screen. Just smiling at you. Because he knows what Jesse does not.
Admittedly, after being caught out the once I refused to look at the screen for light switch pulls ever again. I struggled a lot with the AWE DLC, because it's a little too far past my comfort zone, and had to keep taking breaks – Wake's thing is that what he writes is happening now, and he describes 'the-thing-that-had-been-Hartman as bursting forth from the darkness to attack Faden' over the Hotline, to which I immediately went 'and what if I did not leave this room and went to play something else for a couple hours. What then'. But introducing a facet of the Darkness from Alan Wake acknowledges that Control plays completely differently. Engaging the boss results in taking power cores to a specific spot to turn on the lights numerous times in six different locations (yay) whilst also recognising that it's a genre shift if it learns too heavily into the horror aspect. When the-thing-that-had-been-Hartman catches up with Jesse, she's stuck in an elevator. This is specifically to give you a red backdrop silhouette and to show you how warped Hartman is in comparison to other Hiss. But you're never actually in any danger, because as soon as the thing reaches the shaft to open it the power comes back on.
AWE isn't the first time Control plays with genre. The most significant, to me, was during the final two chapters of the game, starting the moment you enter The Ashtray Maze.
The maze is only navigated with Ahti's assistance. You find him by the lake superimposed over endless concrete pillars. He lends you his walkman. The whole thing is a physics flex, and it looks amazing, an action sequence straight out of a movie. You bet RP walk was on. You get a cool song to vibe to in an area that could easily freak a lot of people out – but that's exactly the point. It instantly shifts. In the maze, Jesse is a badass. There's no fear for the Hiss, there's no audio cues. Control doesn't want you to be afraid; it doesn't want you to be scared or paranoid for the next two chapters. You're so close to finding the answers and it wants to dedicate the time to it, to show how far Jesse has come. Also because it's fun.
Control isn't a loud game, in that it doesn't have what I would describe as a distinct traditional soundtrack. Instead it relies on sound in the aforementioned cues: for when a fight ends, or when one starts, for entering a new unexplored zone and the text overlay pops up. Even the Bureau has a jingle that is designed to make you stop and listen, that you're about to hear something important so you should pay attention, and I sure did. What music is present is atmospheric to represent tone. A low rumbling – or mumbling. Over time you get so used to the Hiss incantation being recited indistinctly overhead that when it's not present it's actually a little unnerving.
The Ashtray Maze is void of these things, as are the objectives after. There's a desperation in the sound that isn't present anywhere else when Jesse is fighting to save Hedron from the Hiss. It's absolutely not what I expected from a final boss room. She swears and loses her composure because that's her friend, and the Hiss are going to take her, and she's not about to let that happen.
Her greatest fear is being alone. Of being without Polaris. Hedron is dead and Polaris is gone. She cannot function without her. She is an unstoppable force and when Hedron needed her most she failed. Her price is she can no longer hear her and she can't do this.
And the Hiss takes her.
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Endgame
The thunder song distorts you. Happiness comes.
When Jesse, the hero, who has shown no prior sign of being corruptible, is lit by red in darkness and begins reciting the Hiss incantation, you know something is terribly, terribly wrong.And then the credits begin to roll.
"WHAT."
I start gesturing wildly at my PS5. What the FUCK. That can't be it. No way. You've broken the fourth wall with The Board's dialogue and some of Dylan's dreams before. You've gotta be playing me. Right? Right?
The suspense is held just long enough. The credits visually dissolve into Hiss incantation and bleeding white. Okay. You did it, Remedy. You got me. There's more. My hysterical laughter is relief, and so begs the question – what comes for the hero after they lose, everything?
Mendacity. Insanity. Jesse is made to obey. She is new to the Bureau, and must perform incompletable tasks. Clear those mugs. Print those copies. Deliver the mail. Over and over and over and over again. Someone needs to deliver the mail to the director. She goes. Wasn't she the director? There's a gun to Trench's head. To her head. Dylan, the Hiss— the Hiss want The Board. The Bureau.
She dies. She wakes in the offices. Do your tasks. Her mind is slipping. Keep going, says Ahti. She has to get the Hiss out of her head. They don't control her, they don't.
She dies. She wakes in the offices. No more fucking tasks. The objectives are tossed. Jesse marches down the corridor and she is the Director, this is hers; and the circular narrative is complete, for the game ends where it starts.
Jesse goes on the hero's journey and it's only when she accepts her role as the Director, that she always had the power within herself, that she beats the Hiss.
Grow brighter.
Around one constant,
they revolve.
It was Endgame that changed Control from a game I really liked, to a game that is now one of my favourites: it was also why I couldn't stop thinking about it. The layers upon layers of being stuck in your head, that there's no combat and the story is allowed to shine, that the final boss was the failure to save Hedron and the melancholy of it, the scripted fight that follows with an insane power surge where Jesse can one shot everything because The Board cannot allow the Hiss to take them, what it means to take control and coming full circle... man. It's just so good. The growth is so nice. When Jesse arrives at the Bureau she doesn't have much interest in being Director. It's something she picks up, much like the service weapon. She just wants to get her answers and save Dylan. Her goal changes; she wants to stop the Hiss. She wants to save Hedron and Polaris. She wants to stop the Hiss and save herself. She has worth. She will protect the people in her care, the new source of the HRA's protective resonance. She will learn, and she will lead them.She also gets to save Dylan, exactly what she came to The Oldest House to do. Maybe he'll wake up someday, maybe he won't.
For now, Jesse resolves to flush the rest of the Hiss out. It's also at this point when she can first tackle Foundation, and reiterates her stance that no matter who or what they are, she will not be subservient and bend the knee as a puppet.
It's all about taking Control.
CHAPTER FOUR▼
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Does this
remind you
of anything?
Whilst I've been writing I feel like a lot of what I wanted to say in this section has transferred itself elsewhere, but I feel like I should keep it for posterity.I'll always be drawn towards similar things. I have an appreciation for Brutalist architecture largely from watching Simmers build in the style. It's such a stark backdrop and it works so well with key colours, with a stripped down soundtrack. It also lends itself to the 80s nostalgia – things just look a certain way when you're trying to capture 80s, instantly recognisable – and the present wave of supernatural horror set in the time period, like Stranger Things, was absolutely on my mind. I thought about Inception and the infamous spinning hallway sequence in the maze. I thought about Persona frequently, helped by the fact I'd just finished playing Persona 3: Reload. I thought about Remember Me a lot, a game that's lesser known but runs with a concept of memory and that accessing and changing it too much makes a person unrecognisable and nothing. But it's really the worldbuilding component that I was reminded of; much like Control, Remember Me has optional codices to pick up that enrichen the experience that wouldn't work as empty spoken exposition, that give you time to look around and see what's going on, to appreciate the setting the protagonist is in. I also feel like Jesse and Nilin are cut from similar cloth. I can't really talk much more about it without spoiling Remember Me entirely, but I would really recommend it. Unfortunately it's stuck in PS3-era limbo at the moment, but surely, one day...
Control also reminded of Transistor. The cleansing of a surrounding environment, the red hair, that one of two doesn't have words in which to communicate and only actions, that it's circular... like I said, I really like strong female protagonists, and I'm not that surprised Jesse has been added to them.
The Hiss incantation is proof of purpose, because much like an actual ear worm I can't get the damn poem out of my head. Dylan describes it to Jesse that the words feel good to say. It's not supposed to make sense, but it does. Over the last few years I've become very attached to two characters from Overwatch, Ashe and Widowmaker, and whilst mulling over the Hiss' words I just think about Widow and the hell she went through after being mentally broken, discovering that she liked the way she felt when dispensing death. But she has to strip everything else. She has to be the perfect weapon.
You've always been the new you. You want this to be true.
I also think I should perhaps further dive into Metroidvanias. There's something about a sprawling map with higher areas that open up over time that appeals to me, although I'm not that adventurous in weaponry and once I found a power I like, I will ignore the rest unless the game offers me an incentive like a trophy (ooh, shiny).
In a lot of ways though, I don't think I've ever played anything like Control. Endgame was sublime. Exactly my nonsense, exactly my thing, and whilst time has done its work as has distance, it's truly something to be so utterly moved by a story that it leaves a mark on you. The last time this happened with something new for me, although in a somewhat more literal sense, was Shadowbringers, which I absolutely cannot talk about here – but if you know, you know. In the end, I like media analysis. I like things that make you think. What can I say. It's an investment. Sometimes you want to celebrate it. With my memory being so poor these days, I wanted to try to capture and whittle the feelings down into something I could later read and be reminded of the magic and the intrigue I experienced the first time I felt it.
I will absolutely be back for Control 2. No doubt about it.
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