“The ship wherein Theseus and the youth of Athens returned from Crete had thirty oars, and was preserved by the Athenians down even to the time of Demetrius Phalereus, for they took away the old planks as they decayed, putting in new and stronger timber in their places, insomuch that this ship became a standing example among the philosophers, for the logical question of things that grow; one side holding that the ship remained the same, and the other contending that it was not the same.”

— Plutarch, Life of Theseus 23.1

So, I used to have this car. A hand-me down Mazda 323 from 2001, practically as old as me, and if I’m honest, there was a lot wrong with it. One of the rear running lights would often burn out due to an electrical fault, the fan belt would scream every time I started the car, and at one point, both interior door handles snapped off, meaning the car could only be opened from the outside. The screechy fan belt eventually broke as I was driving home one night, and I vividly remember racing home, battery draining as the headlights gradually began to dim, and as I arrived back home the battery died, and the lights and gauge cluster both switched off.

Everyone remembers their first car, the flat tires, getting into scrapes with bollards, accidentally running over kerbs and reversing into stuff. And despite the troubles, people often develop this bespoke connection with these inanimate objects they spend so much time with, fixing troubles, spontaneous late-night outings, and scattering mementos from people they love, experiences they’ve had. When times are tough, your car can be a haven of sorts, a place of genuine solitude to collect yourself before a big day, or a difficult conversation. You can weather storms in that thing, and it’s no surprise that people end up feeling so strongly about these hunks of metal that move you from A to B.

Pacific Drive is the debut title from Seattle based Ironwood Studios, and friends, this is a very special video game. Everything from its setting, its riff on the survival genre, its relentless commitment to atmosphere, and its expertly delivered narrative, this game just has that special sauce that defined experiences like Subnautica. It’s incredibly analogue, it has this boundless tactility, and at times, can feel a little arduous and obtuse, but if you’re willing to push through what might initially seem like wonky design, you’ll very quickly find something incredibly rewarding. It’s a game that gives back as much as you put in, and I really love it.

It wears its inspirations proudly, and while it is clearly taking a lot of pointers from a variety of different games, it expertly rebuilds and tunes them into an experience that is thought provoking, occasionally terrifying, and wholly unique.

Pacific Drive, set in the dense woodland of the Olympic Peninsula in 1998, where you are forced offroad when driving near a massive exclusion zone around the cape. A mysterious power surge erupts from the wall, subsequently disabling your car and you are pulled through the wall by an unknown force, leaving you stranded in the outer layers of the zone. You awaken in your newfound situation, suffocated by radiation as you stumble, trying desperately to catch your bearings, when low and behold, an old station wagon finds its way into your possession. The kicker: it’s an absolute shit-box, one flat tire and a wheel loose, leaking fuel and as the mysteries of the exclusion zone encroach on you, your only choice is to hop in and hope for the best.

You are soon confronted over the car’s radio by a group of scientists, those that stayed behind when the zone was evacuated. They quickly inform you that the derelict vehicle you’re commandeering is a Remnant, an anomalous creation of the zone, quickly forming a psychological link between itself and one person, that being you. This link is documented to lead to an increasing obsession with the object, and eventual insanity in the victim, and thus your motivations are set: find a way of severing this link between you and the car, and get the hell out of the Olympic Peninsula.

The gameplay loop of Pacific Drive may not be what you’d initially think, then. At a fundamental level, it plays much like a survival game, as you venture out into danger to salvage valuable resources that can be used to repair and upgrade your car. Its challenge then, comes from the dangers that are present within the zone, anomalies and hazards that seem to defy the laws of science as we understand them, and the ever-increasing necessity to maintain the jalopy. The car is your shield, and thus upgrading it facilitates your ability to push further into the zone, collecting more and rarer resources, rinse and repeat.

I think much of the criticism of this game has been about this rinse and repeat nature. Over its 20-30 hour runtime, much of what you’ll be doing is collecting resources, and a lot of that collection is quite an arduous process. There’s a lot of stopping your car, putting it in park, turning the lights off, turning the engine off, getting out, walking into a building and collecting stuff, putting it in the boot, closing it manually, but not on your head because that will hurt (ouch), getting back into the car, manually turning the key in the ignition, putting the car *back* in drive, and slowly slowly accelerating until you have to do that again. When I phrase it like that, it does sound rather obtuse, and I think if you’re bothered by this more manual nature of the game, you’re going to be more frustrated than anything, but for me I think this arduousness is somewhat fundamental to the experience. The emphasis on the struggle, the analogue tactility, it really makes this loop all the more rewarding when you return to base, collect your spoils and prepare for your next venture into the unknown.

“…find a way of severing this link between you and the car, and get the hell out of the Olympic Peninsula.”

Pacific Drive also might be considerably more narratively driven than you’d expect considering its nature. Practically every time you enter the zone is to serve the plot, tasks and motivations given to you through radio chatter between those scientists mentioned earlier as they discuss and bicker about your path forward. These aren’t simple fetch quests, they are fully fledged missions with spectacle, stakes, and some touching character moments, and are genuinely a standout.

The writing here is really great, effortlessly selling the conflict between these three individuals, and their obsession that would lead them to abandon society in search of answers, neatly juxtaposed against your supposed developing obsession with the Remnant. There’s a lot of additional lore given to you through text and audio logs scattered throughout the world as well, with some interesting thematic implications surrounding America’s scientific hegemony, and a little bit of cold war drama, but most importantly, it has an expertly paced, beautifully delivered narrative about love, and the lengths people may go to when faced with an obsession.

Despite this, you might think the gameplay sounds pretty stock standard or uninspired, and to some degree that would be true if it wasn’t for the enthralling mystery and genuine sense of discovery inherent in its setting. Pacific Drive will deliver you some truly strange sights, and part of the magic of this game is being thrust into encounters with these oddities, often whether you like it or not. These anomalies are present due to the instability in the zone, and every single one of them is unique and interesting, and as you come face to face with them, uncertain of what secrets they might hold, how they got there and the purpose they serve, you’ll start to understand.

Floating UFO junk piles, a strange amalgam of recording equipment, mannequins huddled in groups, buzz saws that slice though the earth. These anomalies are as astonishing as they are alarming, the way Pacific Drive allows you to tempt fate as you as you content with these technological beasts is truly special. As you travel further into the zone, different, more threatening anomalies are going to present themselves to you, and you’ll never have any way of properly knowing just how they will behave without experiencing that behaviour for yourself, and you’re always confronted with this conundrum. Leave these mysteries be, or fly so close to the sun you can reach out and touch it, with all the risks that come along with it? Let’s go through some of these.

As you drive through the zone, you’re going to run into groups of mannequins that have a subtle red glow, and while at first they may seem rather harmless, you’ll soon learn that when making contact with them, they fucking explode, doing massive damage to you or your car. This becomes an issue as you barrel down a highway on a foggy night, only to crash face first into a massive group of these “tourists,” as the game refers to them, leading you to be ever careful when driving in low visibility. They can also move around when you aren’t watching them, leading to some truly terrifying moments, more on that later.

That UFO I mentioned earlier: it’s called an abductor, and it’s hell bent on picking up anything that it comes across, be that materials, your car, or even you if you aren’t careful. It’ll take whatever it finds in its magnetic clutches, and drag it in whatever direction it sees fit. While this may be somewhat of a nuisance initially, the real danger of this anomaly presents itself when you’re around other, more dangerous hazards. Being pulled off a cliff or into some road spikes can easily spell your demise if you aren’t careful, as the condition of your car is the only barrier between yourself and the dangers of the zone.

Not all of these anomalies are dangerous mind you. The “Beating Heart,” a bramble of branches and speakers will repair any damage your car has suffered when you park up near it, and that’s the crux of this system. The anomalies will behave in ways that can’t be predicted, and the only way to know for certain is to come face to face with them, surrendering yourself to the potential dangers of that choice. Discovering these mysteries for yourself is one of the best parts of this game.

“The anomalies will behave in ways that can’t be predicted, and the only way to know for certain is to come face to face with them…”

The zone is split into nodes, individual maps that you traverse, separated by a loading screen. This is an intentional choice by Ironwood that allows each node to be affected by a randomised modifier, be it a specific type of storm, anomalies portraying different behaviours or perpetual darkness so heavy that your headlights can barely cut through the black. The most memorable run I had was through a node that had the “Eerie Darkness,” modifier, that dark fog I mentioned, and another I hadn’t seen before. As I load into the level, a prompt pops up on my screen. “Something’s moving…” it reads. I open my logbook to see if I can find out more info, and I am met with some vague description of murmurings in the forest. Unsure of what to expect, I yank the shifter downwards, and go on my way.

Nothing seems awry at first, I am leisurely collecting materials, keeping an eye on my car’s battery, and I stop at the fuel station to top off, just to be safe. As I’m returning the pump to its socket, I turn back to my car and there is this massive group of tourists nearby that I don’t remember seeing earlier, at least 20, maybe 30. “Weird,” I think to myself, but I get back in the car and keep going. That’s when I discover the true nature of “Something’s moving…” This modifier transforms the tourists into what are akin to weeping angels, as they actively pursue you whenever you don’t have your eye on them. What follows is the most stressful drive I have ever experienced, mannequins in hot pursuit, occasionally bombarding my car as I floor it toward the exit. I change my underwear, and I go on my way.

Whilst the actual layout of the maps might not change all that much when you pass through the same node, these modifiers create a significant amount of variety, fundamentally changing the way that you navigate the space due to things like increased fuel consumption, heightened danger from anomalies, or even a modifier where your car will try to run you over if you get out. These modifiers mean that no two runs will feel exactly the same, leading quite neatly into one of the defining characteristics of this game, it’s rogue-lite structure.

That’s right, you heard me. This game is a rogue-lite. Not in the traditional sense, but let me explain.

As you venture out into the zone on your resource gathering escapades, you’re going to encounter a lot of different obstacles, different points of friction along your journey. There are the anomalies, the environmental challenge be it the weather or general terrain, and there is the fact that your car is kind of a hunk of junk that needs more maintenance than you could possibly prepare for in one continuous expedition.

That means you’ll frequently be returning to base, a derelict, run down garage where you’ll store resources, craft upgrades, and maintain your jalopy to the best of your ability. A lot of care has been taken by Ironwood to make this space feel homely but mysterious, and as the game progresses, you’ll become intimately familiar its nooks and crannies, fill its cabinets with the bounties of your escapades, and genuinely make it feel like home. You can also close the garage door to keep out the rain, a nice touch.

So, the question becomes, if the zone is so dangerous, surely a round trip would be too much to bear. How does one return to base? The easiest answer would be to die, obviously resulting in a loss of practically everything you’ve collected, but this is where Pacific Drive does something unique: It combines elements of not just rogue-lite games like Hades, but also an actually quite brilliant extraction mechanic.

As you scour the zone for resources, you’ll be on the lookout for these anchors, a strange, Half-Life-esque tower with a resource node plugged into it. These act as a key component of tech tree progression, but pulling these glowing orbs from there pedestals will cause an immediate spike in instability in the node you’re in, resulting in more anomalies spawning, environmental events, etc. Pulling these in the later stages of the game is a uniquely stressful experience, as some seriously dangerous threats will converge in on you, and there is always this fine balance between the collection of this essential resource and the danger you will face once doing so.

The energy you collect from these anchors is tied to crafting, however you are also required to collect a certain amount of this anchor energy to power a teleporter that will transport you safely back to the garage. These gates, pillars of light reaching into the sky that will act as your salvation can be activated from the map in your car, but here’s the twist: they can only be activated when you’re pretty far away from them, and the second you do so, the zone’s instability will start to swell, resulting in a battle royale style circle storm converging on the huge space laser, and you have one goal: get the fuck out of there!

“…it combines elements of not just rogue-lite games like Hades, but also an actually quite brilliant extraction mechanic.”

The extraction mechanic might be my favourite part of the experience, cleverly transforming the atmospheric and methodical loot game into this intense, white-knuckled slalom as you desperately try to escape. All of this time that you spend carefully navigating the environment, tiptoeing around hazards doesn’t just go out the window: it smashes through it at full force. Barrelling down a hill at full speed, the low roar of rocks at your underside, blasting through shrubs and praying that the integrity of your car is just enough to hold up, it’s absolutely exhilarating, and the system seems purposely designed that you’ll have to fight to make it out by the skin of your teeth. It’s really something.

The main factor that will contribute to your success in Pacific Drive is your ability to plan and prepare for your journey. You’ll be road tripping, and you’re able to scan the nodes that you’re travelling to beforehand, and provided you’ve encountered these hazards before, you’ll know what to expect. Taking a route that will have a lot of electrical hazards? Maybe insulating the car’s panels is your best bet. Perhaps you’re venturing into a node with a lot of sharp objects. You could bring an excess of sealing kits to fix up your punctured tyres, or you could shell out for harder tyres, that despite their poor offroad performance, won’t go flat. The choices you have are extensive, and your decision making will directly contribute to whether you make it out or not.

I would liken this to something like Death Stranding, where much of that game was about difficult navigation, and your ability to prepare for the journey that awaited you. Bringing appropriate climbing gear, sustenance and an extra pair of boots, carefully balancing that required gear with the goods you were transporting, as each item you held onto, and the accompanying weight made your hikes all the more challenging.

Pacific Drive shares a lot of that DNA, balancing the gear you need to repair your car, spare tyres, fuel, battery jumpers against the limited inventory space that you need for the resources you will require to push further into the zone. It’s a little more forgiving than Death Stranding in that sense, but as you progress further through the game the danger will ramp up quite significantly. Your car will take a lot more of a beating, requiring many more resources for its upkeep.

When the going gets tough, parts of your car will develop unfixable defects, meaning they will become more fragile and eventually be completely unusable, and this is where the challenge in Pacific Drive’s resource economy comes in. Managing these failures is important, as your car still needs to be in decent condition to extract at the end of your run, lest you lose your spoils.

The game is at its most stressful when you are unprepared for or not expecting these situations. Where one problem, a flat tire let’s say, is easy enough to fix, when these issues begin to stack up and compound with those defects I mentioned, that’s where you’ll run into trouble. Balding tyres, a broken windshield and a leaky fuel tank can all happen at the same time, and if you aren’t paying attention, you may find yourself in a situation where the dangers outside are too great for you to get out and perform the required maintenance, and managing this eventual cascade is paramount. On one run, I ran out of fuel, and I needed to abandon my car and trek through the marsh to a fuel station that was quite a distance away from me, and as I’m filling up my jerry can, I hear the civil defence siren indicating the arrival of the radiation storm. That sense of dread that sets in as you realise how deep in shit you are is unparalleled.

“…I’m filling up my jerry can, I hear the civil defence siren indicating the arrival of the radiation storm.”

Atmosphere is king in Pacific Drive. There is a reason that many forms of media adopt the pacific northwest as their setting, and the Olympic Peninsula, that inherent façade of beauty, the log cabins and dense woodland slowly melt away as the sun goes down, you being ever unsure of what lurks just out of view. It harkens back to games like Firewatch for me, where its setting becomes fundamentally terrifying despite the fact that you are never in any real peril in that game.

Its soundscapes, the encounter design, the game does a near perfect job at removing all sense of comfort from your experience. The creaking of metal in the distance, you never really know just what is out there, meaning you’re always on edge. The anomalies lurking around you, the cracking of twigs underfoot.

It’s not all scary mind you, I think more than any game before it, Pacific Drive really nails the feeling of being inside a car. The low rumble of the road, the pitter patter of rain on your roof, the static buzz of the radio and the thump of the wipers, and how they streak across the windshield when the rain lets up. It’s very tactile, it feels very real. And I think it’s that feeling that makes Pacific Drive’s magnum opus so compelling, that piece of shit station wagon.

Look, I’ve said a lot of mean things about the car, but when it boils down to it, the reason I feel so strongly about Pacific Drive is this vehicle. Oftentimes frustrating, slow and usually falling to pieces, many of your troubles will be directly related to how unreliable your car is, but my god does it have character. It gives back in equal measure to what you put in, and by the end of the game, despite some rough edges, you’ll truly have something that you’ll be proud to call yours, and all the struggles to get to that point will make it all the more meaningful.

This idea of owning something, working on it and upgrading it over time is inherently compelling, and tying the game’s progression to this feeling is a really intelligent decision on that part of Ironwood. You’ll not only upgrade the car functionally, able to swap out its engine, panels and bumpers, but also cosmetically, letting you apply a fresh coat of paint or some decals, giving it a unique flair as you see fit. There are bobbleheads, hood ornaments and bumper stickers, the way you can customise this jalopy to exactly your preference is super cool. It becomes a character in and of itself, really selling that connection that people have with their cars.

The actual driving mechanics are really good as well, nailing the tactility of actually being behind the wheel. This thing is heavy, slow and can be pushed around by the wind and other obstacles, yet the way that it handles feels a lot more realistic than most vehicles in other games. There is some real tension when turning the wheel, and some real care you must take in navigating around obstacles to avoid damaging the car. It feels grounded in the world, truly.

The car will also, quite hilariously, develop quirks as you go about your journey. This happens in real time, so often you might be in some real danger and the car will just start acting up in ways that you don’t quite understand. You’ll be able to diagnose and repair these when you get back to the shop, but sometimes you may not want to. One notable quirk in my experience developed in the dead of night, and every time I turned the steering wheel, the headlights would turn off, obviously becoming an issue if I ever needed to drive offroad for any reason. These range from slightly annoying, to downright crazy, where opening a door could cause a wheel to fall off for example.

This manual tactility of the car, the fact that you have to start it and put it in drive yourself can add a lot of tension to encounters, as you may want a quick escape in certain situations, yet having to fiddle with the keys really adds to that stress level.

FINAL THOUGHTS

Pacific Drive is a truly special experience. Ironwood have nailed the fundamental design philosophy that gave something like Subnautica its unique flair and impact. Emphasising a sense of discovery in the truest sense of the word, forcing you to drive face first into otherworldly terrors that are by nature indifferent to you and the space they inhabit.

It clearly pulls from a lot of different places, but it takes those influences and melds them into something that is always its own thing, aping that idea in its progression and customisation systems allowing you to craft a vehicle that well and truly feels like your own.

While there are some aspects that may feel obtuse at first, like survival-style resource grinding and almost intentionally arduous, analogue design, its tight mission-based structure, fantastic rogue-lite elements and emotional storytelling really pull it over the finish line, bringing everything together into something that is truly worth experiencing.

Pacific Drive is a lot of things. It’s slow and it’s methodical, careful resource gathering and environmental navigation. It’s atmosphere and discovery in spades, really selling a space that is as magnificent as it is terrifying. It’s white-knuckled racing, racing nearly impossible odds and escaping from insurmountable danger by the skin of your teeth, and it’s owning a car, with all the hardships and bounties that come along with that. If you’re willing to contend with its quirks, I’m sure you’ll find it as rewarding as I did.