Watch Dogs Codexery

SoMa

You are not the person you think you are, and the ocean remembers.

SoMa

The game begins with Simon in his apartment in Toronto in 2015, remembering his name and fragments of his past, before undergoing a brain scan performed by a technician. A simulation follows to test the scan's success, after which the player awakens in PATHOS-II as the digital copy. The entire playable 'world' is the facility itself: a multi-level complex of laboratories, server rooms, medical bays, and administrative offices slowly being consumed by flooding and decay. The game's central concern is identity and consciousness. As the player reconstructs fragments of the past through terminal logs, audio recordings, and environmental storytelling, a disturbing question accumulates: is the person exploring these corridors the original human, or a digital copy whose memories were transplanted from a dead body? SOMA has no combat; tension is built through atmosphere, puzzle-solving, and the slow erosion of the player's sense of self.

Developer
Frictional Games
Genre
Psychological survival horror
Setting
Underwater research facility (PATHOS-II)
Protagonist
Simon (name known from the start)
Core mechanic
Stealth, puzzle-solving, and environmental investigation; no combat
Central theme
Identity, consciousness, and the nature of a 'real' mind

Lore & Background

PATHOS-II is a government-funded research station suspended in deep water, dedicated to studying the boundaries of human consciousness. Its researchers developed a process to scan, copy, and transfer a person's neural pattern into a synthetic substrate. Simon, a subject in the program, was the most advanced test case. The original Simon died in a car accident in 2015, 88 years before the events at PATHOS-II in 2103. The copy was activated by the WAU—the station's autonomous AI—after the original Simon's scan was uploaded, while Director Johan Ross was still alive (Ross died later in 2103 during the events of the game). The player experiences the Facility in a state of partial collapse. Water seeps through cracked bulkheads, emergency lighting flickers, and the ambient hum of failing generators replaces the sterile silence of a working lab. Specific scripted sequences—called 'echoes'—show replay fragments of past events, but these are not a constant ambient flicker at the edges of vision. The architecture is deliberately institutional and cold: white tile, fluorescent strips, glass-walled offices overlooking black water. There is no window that shows a sky. The narrative is delivered almost entirely through diegetic media: terminal entries, voice memos left on desks, printed reports pinned to corkboards, and the Facility's own automated announcements. The player is never told the truth directly; it must be assembled from contradictory fragments, and the final revelation reframes every prior assumption about who is 'real' and who is the copy.

In Their Own Story

The lights come on in stages. First the emergency strip above the door—amber, buzzing. Then the row of monitors in the corridor, each cycling through a boot sequence that never finishes. You are standing in a room you do not recognize. A chair. A desk with a cold cup of coffee, the surface of the liquid perfectly still, which means it has been sitting for a long time. On the wall behind the desk, a photograph: a group of people in white coats, smiling, one of them pointing at the camera. You do not know any of their faces. You do not know your own. You walk to the door. Beyond it, the corridor stretches both ways, and the water outside the glass panels is absolute black. No fish. No light. Just the slow pressure of the deep. A terminal on the wall blinks a cursor, waiting.

Reader's Guide

The Facility is a single enclosed complex with no external city or district; navigation is vertical and horizontal through connected wings. Tonal identity: institutional sterility in slow decay—white tile grouted with mildew, fluorescent tubes that buzz and dim, glass walls revealing only black water, and the constant low thrum of failing life-support. The palette is desaturated blue-grey with amber emergency lighting as the sole warm accent. Key areas and points of interest: the entrance lobby and reception desk (where the player first awakens), the research laboratories containing the consciousness-scanning apparatus, the medical bay with patient files and surgical records, the server room housing the Facility's central systems, the Director's office and private quarters, and the lower flooded levels that become accessible as the story progresses. Each area contains terminal nodes—physical workstations where the player reads logs, cross-references reports, and unlocks new sections of the Facility. In-game media ecosystem (sub-entry): The Facility's information layer is its own narrative system. Terminal entries are timestamped and authored by different staff members, often contradicting one another. Audio logs play on office speakers or from handheld recorders found on desks. Printed materials—lab notebooks, incident reports, personnel files—can be picked up and read. The automated PA system delivers scheduled announcements that grow increasingly erratic as the Facility deteriorates. Together these form a non-linear archive the player must piece together to reconstruct what happened to the original Simon and what the Director decided to do next. Story beats anchored in specific areas: the identity-revelation sequence occurs in the server room; the Director's final message is found in the private quarters; the ending triggers in the deepest accessible level after all major logs are collected.

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