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The Alters is currently a strong contender for my favorite game of the year. I was enjoying it from the start, but one particular scene triggered that realization of "oh, I think I love this game." A broad grin broke across my face, and I realized why a friend had insisted that I try it with the slightly feral, wide-eyed look that people only get when they're almost too enthusiastic about something. I recognise that look, because now I have it when I talk about The Alters.
Specifically, that magical scene comes in at the culmination of Act One. In a stressful, storm-tossed sci-fi survival game about unethical experimentation, moral compromise and corporate callousness, where radiation burns and cabin fever intertwine, it's all brought together with… a musical number. It shouldn't work. It should be a tonal car crash. And yet it's the most fantastic moment I've seen in a video game this year.
I feel like I'm just talking to myself
The Alters review: "More tactile and story-heavy than the Frostpunk dev's earlier games, but the fight for survival is just as fierce"
For those who don't know, The Alters is a science-fiction management, exploration and survival game about hapless corporate cannon fodder Jan Dolski, the only man left alive in the wake of an interstellar mining expedition crashing onto an uncharted world. Even as company memos start coming in from Earth insisting that the death of ninety-five percent of the workforce shouldn't have any bearing on the weekly quota, Jan discovers a weird MacGuffin substance that allows him to create alternate versions of himself modelled on different choices he might have made, their own lives branching away from his own.
A few days later, increasing numbers of mirror-universe Jan variants are hustling around the wrecked base, trying to extract as much MacGuffinium as possible, keep food supplies stocked, repair broken machinery and resist the urge to throttle each other.
It sounds goofy on paper, but I wouldn't call it a comedy game. It's more of a surreal, claustrophobic character study and ticking-clock narrative about the difficulty of cooperation and compromise in tough times, with different Jans all pushing different paths to success. Not only that, but it's clearly impossible for any of them to maintain a healthy emotional distance, as half the Jans can't help but exist as living proof of the fuck-ups and mistakes that the other half have made. Simply knowing that Jan No. 27 managed to fix his struggling marriage means he'll always be a living testament to your own failure to stave off a bitter divorce. Meanwhile, Jan No. 12 never even met wifey in the first place, spending most of his time wondering what the hell everybody's getting so bothered about.
But even without that character complexity, the first act is brutal to play. The game throws constant curveballs at you, your base keeps falling to pieces like an old clown car, and a wall of solar fire is slowly rolling across the world, ready to go all Sunshine on your ass if you can't somehow transport the whole facility somewhere less flammable. Meanwhile, every Jan you CTRL+V is immediately threatening mutinous violence unless permitted a minimal allowance of beer pong and whinging. I was damn near pulling my hair out after just a few hours, convinced that the unending arguments were about to get cut off by the ever-impending 20D6 radiant damage. Guys, I get that you're annoyed that there aren't enough shelves in the fridge, but I'll remind you that the sun is about to turn us all into nuclear vapor.
Once more, with feeling
But then, suddenly, the whole thing comes together. The clone union graciously agrees not to smother you with a pillow until next weekend at least, there's a brief hiatus in those fucking magnetic storms, and you manage to cobble together the infrastructure and stockpile the resources needed to get the base moving and escape incineration. The whole structure begins to roll forward, and there's… peace. Blessed, beautiful peace. Nothing needs doing for a moment, the danger is being left behind you, and you can almost hear the universe exhale. The tension crumbles and you almost feel aimless in this moment, not certain where to put all the manic energy that's been building for hours.
Which is where the song begins. In this moment of relaxation one of the Jans mentions the high school band they all had back in the day, a shared memory that is met with varying degrees of delight and wincing embarrassment. But hey, what else is there to do right now? Somebody scrounges a guitar and every Jan gets to submit a verse, each reflecting their own particular outlook and worldview.
The resultant musical number is spectacular. It starts off as a simple folksy acoustic singalong, but then reality melts away as an accompanying rock band and non-diegetic stage lighting turns the little communal kitchen into a glorious festival performance, the Jans all lost in the moment and singing in perfect unison. By the time they all roar "let us win this race against the sun!", I was practically punching the air, swept away by the emotion of it all.
I always love when games embrace the power of music in clever ways, and The Alters absolutely does that here. This isn't just a fun musical number – though it is also that – it's a moment of clarity and a mission statement for the whole game: despite everything, harmony is possible. It reminds you why you should like all of these eclectic duplicates, each verse speaking to their individuality (ironically), while also something that they all have in common.
And of course at the same time, it's just a glorious fanfare to mark your victory over that relentless first act! We fuggin' did it! The grim struggle is over for now, giving way to a celebration that feels genuinely earned in the face of the game's harsh challenges. I suspect that the whole "by the skin of the teeth" feel and balance is completely intentional, to make that success feel all the more spectacular. Of course, whether that feeling holds later on remains to be seen… but that's a different feature.
The song rounding off act one isn't where The Alters gets good – it was a creative firework before that – but it's the moment where everything connects and you can finally see the greater vision. If the game had ended there and then, I'd have been delighted with it. The fact that there's two more acts to go just makes it all the better.
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