Editorials
Revisiting Site B in the Ambitious and Disastrous ‘Jurassic Park: Trespasser’
It’s no surprise that licensed games have developed a certain reputation over the years. While recent titles like Alien Isolation and Dead by Daylight suggest that licensed properties are no longer a digital death sentence, there was a time when games that managed to break free from the tie-in curse were regarded as miracles. Unfortunately, Jurassic Park: Trespasser is not one of those miracles. Loaded with bugs, baffling design choices and serious compatibility issues, this is far from a good product, and I don’t blame critics for bashing it back in 1998. However, despite its flaws, Trespasser also happens to be one of my all-time favorite games, and a unique experience that still deserves to be talked about over two decades later.
The Jurassic Park franchise is no stranger to tie-in games, having released a plethora of licensed platformers and shooters on everything from Arcade Cabinets to the NES, so with the release of 1997’s The Lost World (itself an underrated sequel that also boasts the best tie-in marketing in the franchise), DreamWorks Interactive spared no expense in creating tons of videogame adaptations. From a bizarre RTS narrated by Jeff Goldblum himself (Chaos Island) to a surprisingly violent Tekken clone (Warpath), no genre was safe from the JP brand, though it would ultimately be a FPS that brought the developers to their knees.
The First-Person renaissance was already booming during the mid-90s, with developers everywhere trying to one-up each other with new and bombastic FPS titles. While most games were still arena-shooters and arcade-y Doom clones, we also had gems like Goldeneye and (arguably) System Shock, which allowed for slower-paced exploration and worldbuilding. This goal to craft a believable interactive world was what attracted Dreamworks Interactive to the project that would eventually become known as Trespasser. Approved by Spielberg himself (much like the infamous ET on Atari), the game set out to tell a terrifying side-story within the Jurassic Park universe, focusing on hardcore survival and realistic physics over the usual over-the-top action.
As the game entered production, the developers’ laundry list of innovative features only grew, promising advanced dinosaur A.I. which would make every encounter unique, and a one-of-a-kind physics system that allowed players to interact with the world as if they were really there. The game was also meant to have a tone more similar to Michael Crichton’s original novels, trading in the (somewhat) child-friendly thrills of Spielberg’s vision for a scarier, more down-to-earth experience.
Storywise, the game would take place after The Lost World, putting players in the shoes of Anne, an original character who must fight for survival after crash-landing on the infamous Site B, where Jurassic Park’s dinosaurs were originally grown. Facing off against ravenous predators with makeshift weapons and limited ammo, Anne would also recall portions of John Hammond’s in-universe memoir, further immersing players in a prehistoric nightmare.
Clever girls. Well, almost.
Produced by Seamus Blackley, who would eventually spearhead the development of Microsoft’s Xbox, Trespasser looked like it was going to be an immersive masterpiece that would raise the bar for both licensed games and FPS titles alike. Unfortunately, over-ambition and a tight budget led to something far more disappointing winding up on store shelves. Even after a significant delay (which caused the game to be released over a year after The Lost World hit theaters), the developers were forced to cut corners and break promises in order to simply finish the game, resulting in a disappointing and poorly optimized experience for the lucky few who could actually run it on late-90s hardware.
With little time for testing, the developers had to nix the advanced A.I., making all dinosaurs permanently aggressive while also preventing them from jumping or entering buildings, lest they become entangled in level geometry and crash the game. The physics system was also simplified, with objects lacking friction and most puzzles turning into basic crate-stacking affairs. If that wasn’t enough, the engine couldn’t handle two fully interactive arms at the same time, which led the writers to explain that Anne broke one of her arms in the crash, making her look a bit silly when wielding a rifle.
Beyond the technical issues, the studio also objected to some of the developers’ horror influences, insisting that the game be more action-packed despite everything being planned as a slower-paced thriller. Couple that with countless bugs and unfinished levels, and it’s no surprise that this was widely considered the worst game of 1998, and is often cited as a prime example of the licensed game curse.
However, even with all this criticism, I think there’s a lot to love about Trespasser. There’s no denying that the developers couldn’t deliver on what they promised, but their dedication to trying something new is still admirable. When the game works, the detailed environments and lack of an HUD make it incredibly atmospheric. Even the convoluted aiming controls (which supposedly inspired Octodad and Surgeon Simulator) add tension during combat much like the awkward action in classics like Resident Evil.
Ironically, the game’s subdued horror elements make for some of its best moments, as wandering this seemingly post-apocalyptic space while dreading your next Raptor encounter can be incredibly intense. Had the developers been allowed to embrace the projects’ horrific roots, combat could have been legitimately terrifying instead of messy and annoying, and it would have been easier to forgive some of the other shortcomings.
I swear this was a majestic sight back in the 90s.
Minnie Driver‘s internal monologue as the hapless Anne is also great, and I was always entertained by her oddly charming remarks on how her chances of survival are slim. The legendary Sir Richard Attenborough also reprises his role as John Hammond for the game’s memoir sections, making these curious anecdotes about the history of inGen and Jurassic Park that much more compelling. The game might not have much in the way of a conventional narrative, but it still feels like a worthy companion piece to the JP franchise.
The developers’ reach definitely exceeded their grasp, but they had the courage to attempt things that then-contemporary games could only dream of. Even Valve has admitted that Trespasser was an influence on the physics-based elements of Half-Life 2, which is funny when you consider that the original Half-Life released only a few weeks after Trespasser, outshining all of its attempts at an immersion-focused FPS. Peter Jackson’s King Kong also boasted a surprisingly entertaining videogame adaptation that featured quite a few homages to Trespasser, like the absent HUD and having the protagonist blurt out how much ammo you have left before shooting dinosaurs.
Luckily, I’m not the only one that appreciates Trespasser‘s attempts at a unique survival experience, as the game has developed a robust following of fans and modders that have kept the title alive after all these years. This dedicated community routinely churns out quality-of-life improvements and compatibility solutions over at Trescom (with some of them even working on complete remakes of the game), making this the best time in history to actually try and enjoy Dreamworks Interactive’s ill-fated project.
Trespasser may not be remembered as the game-changing blockbuster that the developers had intended, but it’s still worth revisiting as a landmark in FPS history. Despite all the janky elements, the game was truly ahead of its time, and walked so that future immersive survival titles could run. If you set aside the messy presentation and install a mod or two, there are still genuine thrills to be had on Site B, whether you’re fending off velociraptors with a human skull or just appreciating a prehistoric adventure 65 million years in the making.
“Elevated Horror.” Of all the combinations in the English language, that one is the most insufferable.
It represents almost a decade of scary movies that, for the most part, took themselves too seriously. Horror responds to the moment, so its “why so serious” lean makes sense as we scuttle through the “worst of times” equation of Charles Dickens’ famous opening lines. But there’s still an opening and a need for a lighter approach; one that not only has fun with its audience but takes the piss out of a genre that is seemingly letting its newfound “respectability” go to its head.
Wes Craven believed devotees see horror films to let out their fears one primal scream at a time. At their core, these movies are roller coasters; they bring us as close to the edge as possible before pulling us back into a safety net of reality. The need for a bigger and badder coaster increases during times when the size of that net decreases.
There’s a thrill that comes from imagining being in a foot race with a madman, or outthinking the hordes of zombies on the other side of the door, plus the scavenger humans coming behind them. There’s even a rush that comes from imagining how one might deal with possession to see good triumph over evil in the end. It’s all about building tension and releasing it through catharsis. That cathartic release usually sounds like screams followed by laughter, which signals relief. Genre heavy hitters over the past 10 years offered very little of that respite when the credits rolled. Films like Hereditary, The Witch, Talk to Me, and even Smile (pick one) keep that tension going after the screen fades to black.
Hereditary
As the genre became obsessed with creating trauma metaphors, that lack of release made sense. Anyone with even a small sample size of traumatic experiences knows those emotions don’t magically resolve themselves in an allotted run time. But how much trauma can one take? Especially when there’s a mess going on outside that few of us can escape from. Movies offer that off-ramp, no matter how short.
Everything can’t be, nor should it be, “elevated.” Audiences need thoughtful explorations of life’s ills via monsters as much as they need murdering masked maniacs with kitchen knives. And no, it doesn’t have to go any deeper than that. Sometimes, a knife is just a knife, and it’s still worth our time and respect. As weird as it sounds, that simplicity is comforting not in spite of the trauma but because of it.
The worst of times should manifest more than just anguish. People need to laugh just as much as they need to think seriously about this moment in time. Even the Scream franchise forgot the meta rock upon which it built its church when the latest foray sacrificed the subtle comedy for serious drama. Scary Movie returned at the perfect moment. It provides the necessary laughs, but it’s not a cure-all.
This isn’t a call for Scary Movie imitators but a return to a mainstream landscape where Killer Klowns from Outer Space sat with The Serpent and the Rainbow, nestled neatly with the latest Nightmare on Elm Street, which took nothing away from The Vanishing.
They Live
Even They Live, John Carpenter’s horror sci-fi satire sandwich, kept its tongue firmly in cheek while discussing serious ideas still relevant in 2026. Yes, a film about aliens taking over the world through subliminal messaging only visible through coded sunglasses is, in fact, a tad silly. Carpenter understood that mainstream horror can’t become so self-important that it never looks itself in the mirror and laughs at that inherent silliness.
The thing is, horror historically excels at poking fun at itself. Most of the Scream franchise, The Cabin in the Woods, or The Blackening show adoration without kowtowing. They recognize tropes and trappings but invert them for an audience already in on the joke, but one that also finds solace in said conventions. This keeps the genre on its toes; once something gets parodied, it’s usually time to evolve. That breeds new ideas and fresh filmmakers, which not only strengthen the genre’s collective voice but also amplify it.
Get Out, as “elevated” as some critics want us to believe it is, is a cathartic, populist scary movie that spoke to an untapped audience rather than speaking down to them. Backrooms is one of the biggest horror hits in years, partially because it’s fine-tuned for modern-day teenagers instead of their parents. Movies like these tell everyone the genre is open for business; open for innovation and, yeah, open for new ways in which people can lovingly poke fun at with a wink and a nudge.
Horror needs dread as much as it needs laughter.
Catharsis is just as important as tension, and pulpy populism has the same merit as more high-brow material. Respectability shouldn’t come at the expense of an experience akin to walking through a haunted house. At a time when joy seems in short supply, horror should look to its past to map out its future, and make things just a tad brighter for audiences.
Backrooms
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