It’s a ghost town that looks like it was lived in as early as yesterday. What is eerie is that none of the environment has been damaged. Birds don’t chirp in the trees, and bunnies don’t bound across the road as you might expect in this kind of setting. You play as an nameless, formless observer that has come to a quaint little English countryside hamlet in the wake of some massive-scale disaster that has destroyed all life around it. It’s a treatise of existentialist theory while also being the prettiest game, bar none, that has ever existed. It’s a work of poetry with few words, but deep emotional weight. It’s a horror game without jump scares – a game to shock and shake the intellect rather than jump the physical body. I mention this film now because Everybody’s Gone to the Rapture is very much a game that plays on that fear of a nihilistic nothingness. The atmosphere of complete loneliness, of the absence of life, and most particularly, the utter stillness when there is nothing moving, all impacted on my young psyche quite significantly. But I remember that film for a very simple reason. For all I know it was an absolutely terrible film that would be lucky to have an IMDB listing. I was very young and it was a daytime TV film that I had happened to sit down as it started for some reason. I don’t remember the rest of the narrative, the characters, or anything else. I literally remember nothing more of that film. This apocalypse had simply emptied the world of people, so that all that was left was one family, journeying through the end of times. Not in the sense of literature like The Road, or games like The Last Of Us, though. When I was a child, I remember watching a film about the apocalypse.
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