Editorials
Five Key Differences Between Markiplier’s ‘Iron Lung’ And The Game
By all accounts, YouTube celebrity Mark Edward Fischbach (better known as Markiplier) appears to have done the impossible.
Not only did he co-write, direct, edit and star in the first truly successful adaptation of an independent horror game without bowing to any of the major studios, but he also managed to secure worldwide distribution for his passion project by enlisting the fans themselves as part of the flick’s marketing – all the while opening doors for fellow industry outsiders to develop their own “impossible” videogame adaptations.
The best part? The Iron Lung movie actually kicks all kinds of ass, with Mark intuitively understanding the inherent differences between film and video games as unique artistic mediums.
That’s why the adaptation features a series of (mostly) minor discrepancies when compared to the source material, despite the game’s creator, David Szymanski, being heavily involved in the screenwriting process. With that in mind,here are five of the biggest changes that the Iron Lung movie made to the original game and why they improve the viewer experience.
For the purposes of this list, I’ll be focusing on major story elements that actively alter the narrative rather than smaller details like how the titular submarine’s design was altered in order to feel more realistic. That being said, don’t forget to comment below if you think I missed any important changes that you think are worth discussing.
One more thing: major spoilers ahead!
With that out of the way, onto the list.
5. A Bloody Ocean of a Threat
In the original game, the blood ocean served as more of a thematic detail than an immediate threat, especially since the SM-13 vessel operated as if it were in regular seawater once it was submerged. The movie changes this up a bit by exploring why researchers are interested in this inexplicable mass of human blood in the first place, while also depicting the liquid itself as a corrosive and possibly mutagenic substance with a mind of its own.
As the film goes on and blood begins to trickle into the vessel, Simon’s body and the submarine itself are altered in increasingly horrific ways, with the final act leaving our protagonist painfully disfigured – though no less willing to face Eldritch terrors in order to complete his tragic mission.
4. The Siren’s Call
Both the original game’s “Frog” monster and the film’s enormous “Elli” are heavily inspired by real-life Anglerfish, so I found it appropriate that Mark decided to depict the antagonist here as more of a Lovecraftian siren luring explorers to their death through lights and sound rather than a mere animalistic predator.
While it’s entirely possible that Simon is hallucinating his interactions with the beast, he may very well be communicating with a god-like entity linked to the Quiet Rapture itself, which is why I think this was a worthwhile addition to the lore.
3. Radiation Exposure
The Iron Lung game never explained why the submarine’s pictures looked so freaky or how the camera was even operational despite being immersed in literal blood, so it makes sense that Mark would decide to correct this oversight by expanding on the technology behind the device itself while also using it to add extra tension to the story.
In the film, Simon accidentally discovers that he’s actually operating a giant nuclear-powered X-ray machine, with the constant exposure to radiation explaining why the vessel continuously overheats. Radiation might also have something to do with Simon’s altered mental state in the latter half of the experience, an idea that leads into my next favorite change…
2. Carbon Dioxide Poisoning
It’s entirely possible to finish watching Iron Lung and accept its story as a literal sequence of narrative events, but I think it’s far more interesting to take the experience with a grain of salt due to the flick’s repeated hints that Simon is slowly losing his mind due to a combination of radiation and Carbon Dioxide poisoning.
Hell, one could even make the argument that the entire second half of the feature takes place almost entirely within our protagonist’s mind, with this alternate interpretation feeling just as (if not more) impactful as a traditionally literal reading of the script.
1. A Glimmer of Hope
I’ve always been a defender of mean-spirited stories about grimdark futures and existential terrors, but while the original Iron Lung could afford to end on a sour note due to it being a gameplay-focused experience where the players themselves provided character backstory and motivation, the adaptation needed something a bit more concrete in order to turn its bleak finale into a satisfying conclusion.
That’s why I appreciate how Mark and Dave decided to turn the original ending on its head by having Simon defy fate and actually achieve something with his suicide mission despite the source material clearly stating that the SM-13 expedition retrieved nothing of value. While there’s no guarantee that Simon’s heroic efforts will lead to humanity’s salvation, the implication that there’s still hope turns Iron Lung into a humanist parable critiquing the cosmic horror narratives that inspired it.
College kids, strippers and vampires—those were Donald P. Borchers’ only requirements when he approached Richard Wenk about writing and directing a movie for New World Pictures. As requested, Wenk cooked up Vamp (1986), a tailor-made blend of the decade’s teen movie craze as well as its horror boom.
Grim and earnest stories were still very much a part of the ’80s horror landscape, yet Vamp is something of a comedy. One difference between it and, say, Saturday the 14th, though, is the former avoids using schtick. Wenk’s movie proves that horror comedies also don’t have to subtract thrills from their recipes. Of course, it takes a minute before reaching that point; college antics and culture shocks preface this one macabre misadventure.
Vamp‘s initial setup is apt for a typical college-set, sex-driven comedy; to bribe their way into a fraternity house, two pledges (Chris Makepeace, Robert Rusler) go looking for some adult entertainment. Without wasting time on any further exposition, the characters embark on an all-in-one-night trip that quickly detours into terror.
To procure their elusive MacGuffin—a stripper willing to gyrate for some frat boys—Keith (Makepeace) and AJ (Rusler), plus a third wheel named Duncan (Gedee Watanabe), trade the safety of their remote college campus for the seediness of some unnamed city. The setting is recognizably L.A. by day, but as soon as night falls, downtown, along with the characters, slips into a kind of surreal universe. Director of photography Elliot Davis gave this early entry on his prolific résumé an unusual yet distinctive look; that Mario Bava-esque, magenta-green lighting is omnipresent, so much so that it’s almost its own character.
Chris Makepeace and Robert Rusler in Vamp
The faint comparisons to Martin Scorsese’s After Hours are merited, although not just because of Vamp’s distinguishing nighttime aesthetic. Save for the primary characters, the supporting roles in Wenk’s movie are also quite colorful and transactional in their behavior. The difference here, though, is the additional urge to ruin Keith and his friends at every turn. Some of that harm is humorous and tolerable enough, whereas the moment Vamp dishes out its first fatality, it’s abundantly clear how this movie qualifies as horror.
Vamp falls into that category of horror movie that reveals its genre with a scream rather than a series of whispers. The opening scene can function as a hint of what lies ahead—things are not at all what they appear to be—but otherwise, Wenk is more than happy to hold off on the horror. When that time does come, though, it catches the viewer off guard. In addition to the pure shock value is that sudden decision to upend the movie’s foremost feature. Or so it would seem.
If afraid of major spoilage, those new to Vamp would be wise to stop reading here. There’s just no skirting around the fact that the central fellowship in this buddy movie hits a serious snag when AJ is killed. That development causes the story to become more of a “long, bad night” journey for Keith and his romantic interest. So while Wenk scores points for subverting expectations, there is also a touch of sadness in his decision. Because if Vamp does anything well, it’s making the characters likable.
Something that comes easily to Vamp—and other teen horror movies from this same era—is its ability to invent young characters worth caring about, or at the very least, are interesting and not so immediately off-putting. More impressive is how Wenk did all this without actually fleshing out those characters. Still and all, Keith and his kind are a grade above cookie-cutter, and in some cases, aren’t completely devoid of growth.
Grace Jones in Vamp
Vamp appeals with an assorted cast of characters. No two are the same, nor are they operating on the same wavelength. The cinematically extroverted AJ, whose actor conveyed charm and vulnerability in near equal amounts, comes alive when he’s at his most undead. Makepeace then makes the chronically cautious Keith a sympathetic fellow, even as he’s more and more affected by the night’s bizarre events. Meanwhile, Duncan is indeed the designated loser of the whole bunch, but Watanabe still manages to humanize him. As a bonus, the role didn’t require him to pull a Long Duk Dong.
As for Dedee Pfeiffer, she is plain adorable as the mysterious After Dark server nicknamed “Amaretto”. She spends all night fixing her dress strap while at the same time trying to get Keith to remember how he knows her. As their offbeat romance grows, it becomes another highlight of this movie. Whether or not Pfeiffer’s character is really a vampire also creates some welcome tension in the story.
Like a lot of its contemporaries, Vamp went on to become a bit of a cult classic. That current status is determined by several factors, but without a doubt, the casting of Grace Jones is the most considerable. The image of her writhing on that unique-looking chair, a Keith Haring original, springs to mind whenever this movie is brought up.
Chris Makepeace, Billy Drago and Paunita Nichols in Vamp
Prior to that first display of unequivocal horror, local vampire queen Katrina (Jones) took to the stage and delivered a strip show like no other. One would expect nothing less from that renowned model and performance artist. By now reports of Jones’ tardiness on set are no secret, yet it’s also hard to deny her commitment to the part of Katrina. It was, in fact, Jones who took charge of her character’s appearance—on top of Haring painting her body and that now-iconic chair, she had Andy Warhol handle her costuming. And not too many actors could seize a room’s attention without saying a single line of dialogue.
In 2022, Vamp received a retrospective novelization from Encyclopocalypse. This literary union of preexisting source material—Wenk’s original screenplay—and new ideas from author Christian Francis amounts to a more comprehensive visit to the After Dark Club. The basic story there is no different than what’s shown on screen; however, Francis gets creative with the characters’ origins and designs, and he enhances a number of key scenes.
The novelization expands on the urban and social decay of the main setting, and supplies a background for the After Dark Club. Sandy Baron’s character, Katrina’s emcee and familiar, is given ample motivation for sticking around; up until the fiery end, he is loyal to his friend and former business partner “Squeak”, who looks like he was “fed through a combine harvester, and left as nothing more than a heap of mangled remains”. Then there is Billy Drago’s character Snow, the leader of a street gang called The Dragons. His reason for menacing Keith and AJ is more altruistic than in the movie; he and his peers act tough to scare off any potential food for the vampires.
Lisa Lyon in Vamp
If not for all the backstories, Francis’ Vamp would be a hell of a lot shorter. Instead, this tie-in read dives into how AJ met Keith—the orphaned Anthony Joseph hailed from a broken home back in Brooklyn—and how their friendship flourished over the years. Keith’s archership is no longer just an assumed part of his entire being; it’s a confidence-building extracurricular for a boy who got picked on before coming into the protection of the new kid in town. These supplemental, in-depth looks at the protagonists, plus their close connection, are maybe unnecessary. The movie already did a fair and concise job of addressing their platonic intimacy without the need for flashbacks and insights, specifically in that scene where AJ lays it all out as he sacrifices himself.
Where the novelization gets off course is its approach to the minor characters. Intermittently backstorying the likes of Katrina’s indentured servants, Seko (Leila Hee Olsen) and Vlad (Brad Logan), ends up disturbing the flow of the writing. Was it absolutely essential that readers know Vlad was the Grand Duke of the House of Romanov, or how Snow’s accomplice Maven (Paunita Nichols) became so dentally challenged? No, not really. However, one’s mileage with these random biographies may vary.
The novelization is a more substantial experience, but for a movie like Vamp, less is more. And as plentiful as they are, it never simply coasts on its campy charms, either. The character work sits comfortably in that realm between cursory and meticulous, the script is sharper than first realized, and Greg Cannom’s vampire makeup is straightforward yet effective. Most of all, the movie didn’t squander its out-of-the-box concept. Richard Wenk made his vision of a “comic nightmare in which just about anything that can go wrong does” come true, and it is very enjoyable.
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