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[Review] No Code’s ‘Observation’ Defies Easy Categorisation to Create a Unique Sci-Fi Experience

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In Bloody Disgusting’s Observation review, find out how No Code followed up Stories Untold with a unique sci-fi thriller aboard a space station.

The artificial intelligences of our own dark future uniformly present as faultlessly servile, attentive to our desires and unquestioningly obedient (provided they understand our requests). Alexa, Siri, Cortana: they’re always listening, always ready to help.

And while the AI that players embody in Observation, the new sci-fi narrative game from No Code, developers of 2017’s Stories Untold, certainly fits into that tradition, he’s more recognizable as a callback to an earlier model. SAM, the intelligence that maintains the titular space station, has the low, monotone voice of HAL, the rogue AI from 2001: A Space Odyssey. And, he’s just as compromised.

This is a new kind of empathy game; one that asks us to spend a stressful day in the life of one of our put-upon digital servants — at least the kind that Kubrick imagined. After a hazy incident lands astronaut Emma Fisher— ostensibly Observation’s lone survivor— in the isolating depths of space, SAM must assist her in the routine processes of bringing the sprawling vessel back online. To do this, you’ll engage in WarioWare-like microgames, pressing the thumbstick to the right to analyze Emma’s voice sample for authentication, pushing it up to fill a bar to power a necessary system on.

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Even as you help Emma, you’ll begin question SAM’s loyalties. Periodically “BRING HER” will flash dramatically across the screen. We know who “she” is, but we’re left to wonder where we should bring her, and to whom. This overarching mystery helps Observation maintain a sense of intrigue, even as the small tasks in front of you feel (intentionally) small and rote.

As time ticks by, you’ll gradually gain access to more of the station. You’ll haunt security cameras to zoom in on crucial documents and download their information. You’ll possess roving spheres to fly around the station from a first-person perspective. You’ll get very, very lost and routinely ask Emma to repeat her instructions a good dozen times.

This is Observation’s greatest strength and biggest weakness: it trusts you to figure everything out on your own. While much of its story is delivered in cutscenes, piecing together what’s actually going on requires a nosiness that we rarely attribute to our AI servants (though we certainly suspect if of the companies that manufacture them). As SAM, you’ll spend a lot of time searching the environment for vital information and will discover a lot of not-so-vital information along the way. As you trawl emails, audiologs, and schematics, you’ll find confessions that serve as a framework for the primary plot…but you’ll also discover which crew members are sleeping together. I was frequently reminded of Prey, Arkane’s space station-set immersive sim, which likewise offered satisfying voyeurism, less satisfying zero gravity segments and buckets of mysterious black goo (yeah, there’s goo here, too).

But, Observation also trusts you to understand what SAM understands. Emma frequently gives vocal prompts that certainly have all the keywords an AI would need to execute a command, but, as the very human player controlling SAM, I was often left scratching my head. I received a key long enough before release that I had the freedom to walk away and think things over when the game threw me a curveball. But, playing it before release also meant that, eventually, I had to figure these mindbenders out myself, without the helpful walkthroughs that are no doubt populating YouTube and game sites as you read this. This in-character crypticness leads to the game’s most satisfying “Aha!” moments. But, No Code’s trust in the player also meant that I spent plenty of time flying around the station, headbutting vents that didn’t open.

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While difficult gameplay occasionally blocked my progress, a tightly written, well-acted story kept me engaged. Given that much of Observation is a two-character play (and that SAM is only slightly more emotive than the old Microsoft tool he shares a name with), much of the game’s emotional punch rides on Kezia Burrows’ performance as Emma. And, given that roughly 70 percent of Emma’s lines are commands for SAM, the fact that Burrows has brought a memorable character to life is impressive.

The highly technical nature of the script doesn’t prevent the game from being intriguing, but it does hamper its emotional impact. While I was fascinated by what exactly went wrong on Observation, that interest rarely extended beyond the nagging desire to excavate the plot. One of the consequences of role-playing as an artificial intelligence— the bulk of whose conversations are one-sided — is that your relationships aren’t really relationships. As the game’s name suggests, you are an observer, always watching, always listening. Nothing more.

But, my own lack of emotional investment doesn’t negate what Observation does so well. No Code has created something truly unique. It defies easy “x meets y meets z” categorization. While there are recognizable component parts—the map of a ship-builder, the numerous small mechanics of a microgame collection, the rubberneckery of an immersive sim—I have never played anything quite like Observation.

But, I’m guessing it would be awfully familiar to the AI in my pocket.

Observation review code for PS4 provided by the publisher

Observation is out now on PC and PS4.

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‘The Bay’ Review: Real Sharks and Practical Effects Can’t Overcome Familiar Waters

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The Bay Review

It’s a day of the month ending in Y, and that means it’s time for another killer shark film. Why? Because they’re inexpensive to make, play into an easy fear, and keep finding audiences willing to give them a spin. The Bay is the latest entry in the shark attack subgenre, and while it’s noticeably better than last month’s Chum, it still struggles to barely stay afloat.

Emma (Francesca Eastwood) and Lani (Dani Oliveros) are best friends who’ve traveled to Thailand for a destination wedding, and a chance encounter at the buffet table leads to an unexpected adventure. Mandal (Alexander Wraith) is a friendly, knowledgeable transplant who connects with nature and makes a living by offering boat tours through the area’s scenic waterways. The trips culminate with the opportunity for tourists to witness a shark feeding with local tiger sharks. The tourists aren’t meant to be the food, obviously, but sometimes accidents happen.

The Bay checks off most of the subgenre’s expected beats – an attractive location, an iffy ensemble of characters, a series of poor choices – but it does a few things differently along the way. For one thing, while we see plenty of sharks in the build-up, the first attack doesn’t happen until past the film’s midpoint. Writer/director Phil Volken fills the time leading up to that attack with engaging enough character beats, some genuine suspense, and an abundance of dialogue about how sharks aren’t typically a threat to people – or threats like people. “Sharks hunt,” says Mandal, “humans kill.”

It’s a bit of foreshadowing, perhaps, but it’s also the film’s presiding theme. Sharks don’t want to hurt or kill humans, but “mistakes happen.” Mandal offers up numerous eco-friendly spiels about the role sharks play in the environment, how overhunting could lead to disaster, and how humans are the ones invading their territory. “Don’t act like prey,” and you won’t be bitten, eaten, digested, and shat out by a shark. Pretty simple, if you think about it.

Trouble starts when they toss a chunk of meat into the water attached to a chain and a large female tiger shark gets caught up in it. Mandal’s sidekick, a local man named Ruhan (Ta’imua), panics and starts stabbing at the thrashing creature. He has a history of being bitten by a shark and is clearly frightened, and as the situation worsens, he becomes a far more active threat to the others’ safety than the actual sharks. That character type is pretty common in these films, but it’s a curious choice to make the film’s sole indigenous member of the ensemble the morally weak link.

To be clear, Ta’imua is playing a local but isn’t actually Thai. He is, however, Hawaiian, and The Bay was filmed off Oahu, meaning he’s the only indigenous representation on both counts. The other three characters, all Americans, are brave and willing to risk their own safety for the group, leaving only Ruhan to put a face to the cruel, selfish humans mentioned earlier in the film. It’s certainly a choice!

His performance is somewhat stifled by the desire to make him seem menacing, but it’s passable. The others are equally okay as performers, but it’s only Oliveros’ Dani who stands apart as a spirited individual worthy of viewer fist pumps. Cinematographer Helge Gerull delivers some attractive landscape shots destined to make you consider a Hawaiian vacation, and composer Gad Emile Zeitune finds some effective aural backdrops for the film’s teasingly emotional moments.

Then there’s the sharks. A major drag on the subgenre these days is the use of cheap CG effects (including the abysmal use of A.I. in Chum), but The Bay sidesteps that problem for the most part. There are real sharks here, lots of them, but they appear to be solely present via stock footage edited into the film. Some CG is used here and there, too, with shots being comped together to tighten the proximity between humans and sharks. Most effective, arguably, are the practical effects used to create fins cutting through the water near the characters.

There’s a sense of grounded reality to the shark kills, and while they’re less showy, they’re weightier as a result. Wounded bodies drift away, and the moment where shark nibbles turn into ferocious feasting feels more inevitable and affecting than sudden or scary. The sole exception to the general quality of those kills is the film’s final shark encounter, which doubles down on the poor choices by pairing a silly CG beat with some poorly matched stock footage.

Pretty much every shark attack movie lives or dies on its presentation of the sharks themselves. There are exceptions, of course, with Steven Spielberg’s Jaws being chief among them – everything about that film, from the writing and acting to the directing and editing, helps make it a masterpiece despite the mechanical shark looking goofy as hell outside of the water – but The Bay isn’t Jaws. It’s not even Jaws: The Revenge. Its live sharks are mildly effective, though, and give it a subdued realism that will likely appeal to viewers averse to CG intrusions. Will that be enough to win them over, though?

“When you enter the ocean, you enter the food chain… and not necessarily at the top,” says an opening onscreen quote from Jacques Cousteau, and something similar could be said for shark attack movies in general. When you make one of these movies, you enter a well-trodden and densely populated subgenre… and you’re all but guaranteed to not be at or even near the top. The Bay is closer to the ocean floor than the water’s surface, and while that still puts it above the bulk of the genre, it’s probably not enough of a reason to step foot in these waters.

The Bay opens in theaters and on demand on July 17, 2026.

1.5 out of 5 skulls

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