Still Wakes the Deep Siren’s Rest review – should’ve been a sequel

It’s Christmas in June, which could only mean I’m back on the Beira D. Siren’s Rest is Still Wakes the Deep‘s first DLC, and it’s also entirely unexpected. The Chinese Room’s BAFTA-winning disaster horror set on the North Sea had a pretty definitive ending, so the news that more was on the way took me by surprise. Still Wakes the Deep was a standout of 2024, but it was difficult to see where a story expansion could take us after that final, explosive flourish.

“I still find myself wishing for the scare I’ve been waiting for,” I lamented in my Still Wakes the Deep review last year. “Perhaps next time.” It seems The Chinese Room took that to heart. The main menu’s camera dips below the waves churning around the Beira D to an underwater diving bell suspended in the dark. Siren’s Rest is Caz’s flood-stricken descent into the pontoons in Still Wakes the Deep writ large. In short, it’s a thalassophobe’s worst nightmare.

The disconcerting sounds of the ocean floor replace the Beira D’s eerie mechanical shrieks, enveloping saturation diver Mhairi as she crosses a vast trench standing between the safety of her diving bell and the Beira D wreck. It’s been over a decade since disaster struck, and Mhairi is the latest Scottish protagonist to get a close encounter with The Chinese Room’s eldritch menace. Like Caz, she’s also not alone. Diving partner Rob and support supervisor Hans provide constant chatter on the hardwire comms, but their physical presence is only a fleeting relief.

Where John Carpenter’s The Thing pulses through Still Wakes the Deep’s body horror, the claustrophobic confines of Siren’s Rest call to mind the ill-fated caving expedition of Neil Marshall’s The Descent. Perhaps the throwaway reference to Grey’s Monument in Newcastle is a deliberate nod to Marshall’s hometown (as PCGamesN’s resident Geordie, it had me punching the air). The Beira D has as much history as Caz and Mhairi, and picking my way through its remains feels as irreverent as wading through a corpse.

The diving expedition’s mission is twofold: retrieve personal artefacts and document human remains to provide closure for the families who lost loved ones in the disaster, and recover the Beira D’s data logger to determine the cause of the incident. I have to hand it to The Chinese Room: it’s an excellent way to build upon Still Wakes the Deep’s narrow concept without repeating what came before.

It also makes Siren’s Rest a recipe for dramatic irony. “Deep-water corals thrive in the North Sea!” Rob exclaims when Mhairi stumbles upon the calcified remnants of the same flesh ribbons that choked the life from the Beira D crew. Later, Mhairi surfaces into an air pocket, and the sign for Mud Processing transports me back to Caz’s encounter with Addair in Engineering. Unlike Mhairi, I know exactly what’s down here. I’m just not sure whether or not it’s survived.

Still Wakes the Deep benefits from level designer Rob McLachlan’s savvy decision to create multiple versions of the Beira D in various states of destruction. As a deep-sea wreckage, Siren’s Rest is an opportunity to showcase it in a whole new configuration. Mhairi charts the observation deck vertically and picks her way through areas that have been turned upside-down in their long descent from the surface.

My exploration of the Beira D is punctuated by sudden moments of recognition, and I mentally reorient myself with my memories of the oil rig’s original layout in Still Wakes the Deep. It’s just a shame that these revelations often demand a physical reorientation before they land. Underwater exploration is fiendishly difficult to pull off, and some of the best horror games have fallen short in their attempts. Frictional’s SOMA is a masterpiece, but its sea-floor sequences are an unintentional slog thanks to poor navigation and low visibility. Dead Space’s zero-gravity sections, a close cousin in videogame design terms, are prone to induce simulation sickness.

No matter the context, navigating any story-driven digital space that suspends your sense of direction demands tight level design. Survival games like Subnautica get away with it precisely because you’re encouraged to chart your own course. In the case of SOMA, Dead Space, and Siren’s Rest, it often disrupts player momentum and story pacing. The latter’s focus on finding what amounts to hidden collectibles only exacerbates these issues. It’s difficult to remain suspended in a state of tension when you have to constantly stop to wave your torch around, just in case you missed something.

Thankfully, the Beira D’s OSHA safety yellow paint cuts through the murk, familiar and oddly comforting, though less logically coherent now that it’s been applied to every interactable drawer, locker, and door. Mhairi’s got a heavy-duty bit of kit. She foregoes Caz’s trusty flathead screwdriver for a crowbar, and has a deep-sea blow torch to slough off rust deposits that have sealed shut ventilation grates and bulkhead doors. It’s a nice addition that slots easily into Still Wakes the Deep’s established tactility.

As she squeezes through these tight corridors of twisted metal, Mhairi receives a constant supply of air from an umbilical cable that trails after her. It seems to have a life of its own, clipping through walls, wrapping itself around Mhairi’s neck, and obstructing the view, particularly in the collapsed innards of the Beira D. Regardless, it’s a lifeline that provides an illusion of safety, and the moment Mhairi is forced to detach herself from it is enough to send my stomach plummeting.

While my first time untethered is a frantic affair, it quickly becomes apparent that Mhairi’s reserve oxygen is just enough as the story requires. This scripted fibbing extends to the flares she acquires later on. I’m told Mhairi only has three to spare, but it turns out she has an unlimited supply. I’m not sure why The Chinese Room chose not to fully commit to the possibility of accidentally drowning in the dark, especially after Mhairi floats the possibility that she’ll need to recharge. Perhaps it’s to avoid players from excessive backtracking or falling into an unwinnable failure state, but it strikes me as a missed opportunity for emergent tension.

That brings me to Mhairi’s camera, a premium horror device that never quite reaches its full potential. Perhaps I’ve been spoiled by the photographic prowess of Miles Upshur and Weylon Park in Outlast, but I’m disappointed that Mhairi doesn’t repurpose the camera to document the horror that emerges from the wreckage. Instead, it serves the singular purpose of snapping the decomposed bodies of the Beira D crew. I’m assured early on that I’m “laying them to rest,” but it’s a hard sell when they function as little more than grisly collectibles in the grand scheme of things.

Siren’s Rest has a bittersweet revelation tucked in its narrative folds, but the impact of that punch is diminished by its comparatively short wind-up. Our five hours with Caz McLeary and friends in Still Wakes the Deep was enough time to meet and understand these characters, and in many cases, grieve their loss. Where Caz was a firebrand, Mhairi is level-headed, and while part of me is relieved that we didn’t just get the same character in different packaging, Mhairi’s emotional ceiling is far lower than our late Scotsman.

Further, Mhairi’s relationship with expedition partners Rob and Hans is cordial but superficial. In the North Sea’s depths, these connections have less room to breathe – literally. Conversations cost valuable oxygen, and Mhairi has a job to do. “Yer like my old tabby,” Hans remarks as I squeeze through another pipe. “There might be something worth finding in here!” Mhairi fires back. “Aye, that’s cat logic, Mhairi,” Hans replies. This is about as affectionate a conversation as it gets for our diving team. A part of me wonders if, after the authentic portrait of male friendship in Still Wakes the Deep, an all-female diving team would’ve been a better cast for Siren’s Rest.

I cleared Siren’s Rest in less than three hours, but even this total playtime is artificially padded from poking about in every nook and cranny. Doubtless, a second playthrough would clock in at around an hour, perhaps less. It’s a very tall order to introduce three new characters in that time, and make us care enough about the motives of one of them to the exclusion of all the unanswered questions that lie among the wreckage of the Beira D. You’ll find no story spoilers here. Suffice it to say that, bar Still Wakes the Deep itself, the conclusion to Siren’s Rest is what I’ve come to expect from The Chinese Room: abrupt and anticlimactic.

Unfortunately, I also ran into a few bugs that took me out of the experience. It’s hard to stay locked in when there’s a flare stuck in your hand, and the umbilical had a nasty habit of disappearing after it had been disconnected, leaving Mhairi groping at thin air. I was also inundated by overlapping dialogue triggers at several points, a side effect of non-linear exploration. After knocking heads with a colleague, it turns out I might’ve just had a run of bad luck, but all these hiccups took their toll – especially when I was forced to reload.

Siren’s Rest can easily be completed in one sitting, and it’s an experience best savored. Take the plunge into deep water, disconnect from lifelines, and soak in the tension of floating through an industrial grave that might collapse at any moment. Would it be half as scary if I didn’t have a bone-deep fear of deep water? Probably not. But the biggest criticism I have of Siren’s Rest is that it’s not enough. Its premise is strong enough to plumb the depths of Still Wakes the Deep’s enduring mysteries, but as a compact story DLC, it’s too shallow to submerge me completely.