The nuclear icebreaker North Wind is stuck at the North Pole, shipwrecked. You (Alexander Nesterov) are a meteorologist who has been sent to investigate what went wrong. Upon arrival, you discover the dead crew frozen to the bulkheads. Part of the crew, anyway; not all of them have become encased in ice. As visions of the ship's past fill your mind, you realize that there is something still moving inside. The crew, somehow transformed, roam the vessel aimlessly. How could this have happened?

The biggest clues are delivered through random glimpses of the past, triggered by passing through certain rooms or hallways. When these visions strike, you become an unseen observer of the events that brought about the North Wind's demise. I was taken aback the first time I stepped into one of these dream-like sequences, as I wasn't really sure what was going on and I didn't know if I was supposed to do anything special or not. However, as the visions arose more frequently, it became apparent that something wasn't quite right with the protagonist.

Mental Echo is one of the game's key features. This strange power gives the protagonist the ability to enter another person's dead body (only those with a glowing red heart, though) for the purpose of altering their tragic past. The transition and subsequent story dilemmas are reminiscent of the TV show Quantum Leap, except there is no Al or Ziggy to tell you what to do next. From saving the life of a fellow shipmate to changing out a reactor core, the Mental Echo ability gives you the opportunity to experience Cryostasis from numerous unique perspectives — "Oh boy!" Without question, this is my absolute favorite aspect of the game. I've always enjoyed stories that incorporate multiple points of view, but to actually be given the chance to play out those individual viewpoints rather than simply watch them unfold alongside the main storyline made for some engaging gameplay. It's a clever system that adds a hefty layer of flavor and personality to an otherwise typical first-person shooter.

Speaking of typical, there is nothing especially inventive or challenging about the weapons and enemies in Cryostasis. For weapons, you have your punching, your cutting, your pistol, a rifle, a slightly better rifle, the sniper rifle, and the machine gun. Pretty basic stuff. The enemies are not that much more diverse. The standard opponent is an unarmed zombie-like shipmate with that casual "I'm gonna eat you!" tint to its eyes. Following that act is the same zombie-like shipmate, but with an axe! Practically the only thing that changes about the enemies is their weapons; behavior and movements remain the same, which makes them incredibly easy to kill. A few interesting enemies emerge later on, but they're nothing to brag about.

Cryostasis is at its core a FPS situated in a very cold yet elaborate Halloween funhouse. I remember thinking sardonically to myself while playing, "Man this place is cold. Sure hope nothing pops out and attacks me." That's how boorishly I saw it at first. It took me a few hours of play to notice that, even though the game was moving like a one-way funhouse, there were some pretty neat things going on in the meantime.

Light, if you're unfamiliar — you know, that stuff that burns your eyes when you leave the house — is commonly used in games as a guide. It is a well-known tool for directing players through a level, as studies have shown that players, when exploring a low-lit scene, tend to move towards brighter and more illuminated areas. Cryostasis, which does use lighting for that purpose, imposes a stronger emphasis on lighting and in turn heating by making it the player's only mode of healing — your life gauge is how toasty you are. That's right, in Cryostasis you can wash those bullet wounds clean away with the warming comfort of a steady desk lamp. Been clawed in the face and had your tongue ripped from your skull recently? A friendly space heater will fix that for you. The system's a bit impractical, sure, but nonetheless I loved the inventive use of something I rarely consider in a game. It makes sense, in an odd way. I know if I were stranded on a Russian icebreaker at the North Pole, warmth would be one of my primary concerns, second only to vodka, with food and women a close third.

What I liked most about the health setup in Cryostasis was that it gave the designers a new tool for leveraging gameplay. Every heat and light source became a valuable, stationary commodity capable of imposing tension on a scene. I noticed while playing that, when light sources were far between, I moved more carefully through the ship — I saved more often, too. I was always expecting something to jump at me, especially after finding really strong heat sources that filled my health almost to full. I think it's common knowledge by now that whenever a game starts throwing health and ammo supplies at you like it were a peanut vendor at Fenway Park, you know something mean is coming up.

Cryostasis plants all of its heat and light sources in very well-chosen spots, which is helpful in navigating certain parts of the ship. However, lighting is not entirely out of the player's hands. The first tool you're given in Cryostasis is an ever-last flashlight. It can't heal you, but at least the batteries (almost) never run out. With the flashlight I felt like I had some control over what I would find next. Cryostasis is often a dark game visually, so being responsible for revealing the scenery as I explored was extremely fun, and scary.

Actually, "scary" is inaccurate. I think "What the hell was that?! Did that wall just move??? I wanna go home! WAHHH!" would do my feelings more justice. Despite being able to predict nearly every point where something would attempt to leap out and surprise me, again and again I found myself falling deep into the immersive storytelling of Cryostasis. In addition to the flashbacks and the ability to replay parts of the former crew's lives, a tale about a courageous leader named Danko is told along the way through a set of scattered postcards. The postcards come with their own narration, too, which is handy. Danko, like the captain of the North Wind, attempts to guide his followers to better lands. However, Danko makes some bad decisions that result in disaster, spurring his flock to mutate into hideous monsters and turn against him. The parallel storyline was a welcome treat since it served to solidify my interest in the game's main plot and it helped to keep me involved and wanting more.

One other thing I liked about Cryostasis was its atmosphere and avatar effects. Whenever a heat source is activated in a room, nearby icicles and frost begin to melt and fall to the floor. A similar attention to detail is paid when entering extremely cold parts of the ship: Your view starts to freeze over with ice formations. When hit with a right hook to the face, the camera view staggers and blurs. If you get blasted by a gush of cold air, the protagonist huffs and coughs. All these elements work to establish a living, believable environment that walks hand-in-hand with Cryostasis' evolving story.

I was very satisfied playing Cryostasis. The game failed to deliver much in terms of shooting things, and neither the combat nor the puzzle-solving were particularly difficult, but the experience of the game's story and setting were more than enough to keep me happy. Cryostasis doesn't do everything right, but it does enough things right to stay fun. A definite play.