Dead Take review – messy, compelling art

Great art demands sacrifice. At least, that’s what they say, and that’s the central theme behind Dead Take. It’s a strange, self-reflective game that aims to shine a spotlight on the lived experiences of actors and creatives, and it does so surprisingly effectively. 

Dead Take will likely be described by many as a walking simulator, but it’s more of an interactive puzzle game — a classic point-and-click adventure game blown out to a 3D space. I spent a few hours exploring the depths of a dark mansion, collecting items, finding the right place to use them, and slowly unravelling a story that, while confusing at times, is very compelling. 

It’s also a first-person horror game, with all the trappings of the genre. It’s dark and moody, and a dim flashlight is all you have to illuminate much of the scenery. It leans a little too hard into horror game tropes at times, with tiresome jump scares that add little to the experience, especially given how terrifying the game is without them. 

Sound design is a huge part of setting the tone in a horror game, and Dead Take absolutely knocks it out of the park. When I first started playing I was wearing headphones, and I was so blown away by how effectively spooky the sound design was that I had to switch to speakers instead. It was a less immersive experience because of this, but my heart is frail and I do most of my gaming alone in a creaky old apartment at night, so sound design like this was a one-way ticket to a heart attack. 

Exploring the mansion itself is an interesting experience. At first, every corner presents the prospect of new horrors, but eventually I gained familiarity with the layout. I knew where everything was and how to find it, and every time a puzzle opened up something new it was almost immediately clear where I was supposed to go. It’s very well designed in that aspect, in part because it feels like a real house. I’ve been to parties in the creative industry in lavish homes exactly like this, and they all look and feel exactly the same. It’s the kind of architectural and interior design sense that comes from experience — if you’ve been to enough of these houses, they start to make sense, even if you’ve never been in this specific one before. 

That slowly gained familiarity does take some of the edge off the horror, though, so the story and the themes of the game have to ramp up to compensate. The story is very well-written and equally well-presented, as you learn the details of Chase, the player character, and his relationship to Vinny, a close friend and fellow actor who both competed for the same role. Most of this is revealed through texts and notes, but a significant amount comes through FMV clips collected throughout the game. The use of FMV is a clever one given the context of the game, as many of the clips are audition scenes for a fictional film, and they’re brilliantly acted by Neil Newbon and Ben Starr, both of whom put on some of the best performances in recent history. 

These auditions are at the behest of a larger-than-life director whose influence in the film industry is unmatched. It’s made clear that this director is an abusive man, a Harvey Weinstein-type figure who uses and abuses every actor and assistant who crosses his path. It’s a difficult story to watch unravel, because everything that happens in this game happens in real life every day in the creative industries — there’s a dark underbelly in the entertainment industry, and despite countless attempts at change, it’s still very much alive and thriving. 

It pushes creatives to fight against each other for roles in cutthroat competitions that all but demand you leave your humanity at the door, and it’s all on gruesome display here. It’s easy for the average person to ignore when you get your favorite film out of it, but at the end of the day it’s still there, and Dead Take asks you to look on in horror and ask yourself what gets lost in the process of making art. 

In one particularly powerful moment, both Ben Starr and Neil Newbon recite the same lines, recounting their characters’ time in the industry and how much it’s taken from them. The line becomes blurred between actors in a game and their performances, because while these lines are scripted and performed, there’s a knowing truth behind their eyes — this is what every actor, every creative, has to struggle through. They give up their security, their lifelines, and sometimes their lives to try and make it big, but very few ever do. Even the lucky few who make it can hardly call themselves lucky when the conditions are so poor. 

It’s enough to send a person into an existential crisis, honestly. To come face to face with the human cost of art is a confronting thing, and it’s easy to look at a game like this and see it as a collection of clever little puzzles separated by a story you don’t really want to engage with because the truth of it all is just a little too difficult. But you do anyway, because just as creating good art requires sacrifice, sometimes consuming it requires sacrificing your comfort. 

There are no clear answers in Dead Take. Its story is told through disparate bits and pieces, and even when the credits roll, there’s still plenty left to the imagination. Some of it is things you just don’t really want to know the details of anyway, and some are moments that ask you to fill in the gaps, letting your own brain complete the horror. 

It’s messy, as it should be, because life is messy, and creating art is messy. I’d probably stop short of saying that Surgent Studios has created a masterpiece, but if ever there was a need for proof that games can be art – something that has been proven countless times before and will be countless times again in the future – then Dead Take is as good a proof as any. It’s an unmissable, tense experience, and one I’m glad I got the opportunity to have.