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I still remember the first time I played Until Dawn back in 2015—that electrifying moment when I realized my choices actually mattered, that I could shape the narrative in meaningful ways. That magic has kept me returning to Supermassive Games' projects year after year, even as they've struggled to recapture that original spark. Which brings me to their latest offering, a game that perfectly illustrates why I keep coming back despite the flaws. The interactive horror genre occupies this fascinating space between cinema and gaming, and Frank Stone exemplifies both its limitations and its unique appeal.
That's a jarring and commonplace flaw of horror games like Frank Stone, The Quarry, and The Dark Pictures Anthology. I've played through all of them—some multiple times—and I can confirm this pattern holds true. The writing often feels like B-movie material, the character development sometimes shallow, and the jump scares occasionally predictable. If these were strictly movies, I'd certainly be harsher on them. I'd probably rate most of them 2 out of 5 stars and move on with my life. But here's the twist that keeps me invested: the interactive elements that make Frank Stone a cinematic game rather than a traditional movie help overshadow some of its flaws. There's something fundamentally different about experiencing a horror story when your own decisions—both quick-time events and narrative choices—determine who lives and who dies.
Living in these scary stories is fun in a way passive viewing can never replicate. During my playthrough of Frank Stone, I found myself genuinely anxious during the high-stakes sequences, my palms actually sweating during one particularly tense quick-time event sequence in the third chapter. Knowing I can and will drastically affect the outcome at numerous points throughout the game kept me glued to this game like its predecessors. That's the secret sauce Supermassive has been bottling for nearly a decade now. Even when the storytelling falters, the agency they give players creates a unique emotional investment that traditional horror movies simply can't match.
Now, let me be perfectly honest—Frank Stone isn't my favorite of them. I'd rank it solidly in the middle of Supermassive's output, probably around number 4 out of the 8 major narrative horror games they've released since Until Dawn. The character dynamics felt less compelling than in The Quarry, and the branching paths seemed about 15% less complex than in Until Dawn. But here's what fascinates me: as Supermassive continues to chase the high of Until Dawn, I welcome the team's annual attempts to rebottle that magic with projects like this one. There's something admirable about their persistence, about their commitment to refining this particular niche of interactive horror.
This brings me to an interesting parallel in gaming—the way reward systems keep players engaged across different genres. Much like how the tension in Frank Stone kept me playing through the night, well-designed reward structures in other games create similar compulsive engagement. Take bingo games, for instance. The right incentive system can transform a simple game into an obsession. When you Unlock VIP Fun Bingo Rewards: Your Ultimate Guide to Winning Big, you're tapping into the same psychological principles that keep players like me coming back to Supermassive's games—the anticipation of reward, the thrill of progression, the satisfaction of mastering a system. Both experiences understand that engagement isn't just about the core activity but about the surrounding ecosystem of achievement and possibility.
What Supermassive understands better than most developers is that tension between narrative and gameplay. During my 12-hour playthrough of Frank Stone (split across three sessions because I simply had to see multiple endings), I counted at least 23 major decision points that altered character relationships, story paths, or survival outcomes. That density of meaningful choices creates a powerful illusion of control even within a relatively linear framework. The game might gently steer you toward certain narrative beats, but the journey feels distinctly yours. This is where Frank Stone succeeds despite its shortcomings—it makes you feel like the author of your own horror story, flaws and all.
The future of interactive horror looks promising precisely because developers like Supermassive keep iterating on this formula. While Frank Stone might not reach the heights of their masterpiece, it represents another step in the evolution of choice-driven horror. I've already pre-ordered their next announced project, and I'll likely do the same for the one after that. Because even when these games stumble, they offer something uniquely compelling—the chance to not just watch a horror story, but to live it, to shape it, and occasionally, to triumph against the darkness through your own choices and reflexes. And in today's crowded gaming landscape, that specific magic remains surprisingly rare and valuable.
