The Beira D rig is falling apart. You’re cold, you’re wet, and something that used to be your friend is currently screaming your name from the other side of a bulk-head. It’s terrifying. Most horror games rely on the "big scary thing" being a generic alien or a ghost, but The Chinese Room did something way more unsettling with the Still Wakes the Deep monster models. They didn't just make monsters; they made people-shaped tragedies.
Honestly, the horror here isn't just about jump scares. It’s about the anatomy. When you look at the creature design in this game, you’re seeing a masterclass in body horror that draws directly from The Thing or even the surrealism of Francis Bacon’s paintings. These aren't just assets in a game engine. They are distorted memories of the crew.
What's actually happening to the Still Wakes the Deep monster models?
It's basically an infection. Or a transformation. Or maybe a cosmic mistake. Whatever you call it, the entity that wakes up under the North Sea doesn't have a physical form of its own, so it uses us. It uses the crew.
Take Trots, for example. In the early game, Trots is just a guy. But once the entity gets a hold of him, the Still Wakes the Deep monster models evolve into these pulsating, fleshy masses that still wear the high-vis jackets of the workers. That’s the detail that sticks with you. You see a boot. You see a helmet. But the person inside has been turned inside out, stretched across a corridor like some kind of sentient wallpaper.
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The developers have been pretty open about their influences. They didn't want "spooky aliens." They wanted "biological wrongness." This is why the monsters move the way they do. They don't walk; they ripple. They lurch. It feels like the bones inside them have been liquidated and replaced with something that doesn't understand how gravity works. It’s deeply uncomfortable to watch.
The technical artistry behind the horror
If you’re a fan of technical art, these models are fascinating. Most games use a skeletal rig for characters. You have a bone, it moves a joint, the skin follows. Simple. But for the Still Wakes the Deep monster models, the team had to get creative with shaders and vertex deformation.
How do you make skin look like it’s being pulled by invisible hooks?
- They used layering.
- They relied heavily on sound design to mask the "gaminess" of the movement.
- They focused on "The Uncanny Valley"—the idea that something is scarier when it's almost human but not quite.
One of the most effective things about these models is how they interact with the environment. They aren't just standing in a room waiting for you to walk by. They are literally becoming part of the rig. In the laundry room or the engineering decks, the "monsters" are often fused with the pipes. It’s hard to tell where the steel ends and the meat begins. That's a conscious design choice. It reinforces the theme that the oil rig itself is being consumed by this ancient, unknowable force.
Why the monster models feel so different from Resident Evil or Dead Space
Look, I love Dead Space. Necromorphs are cool. But a Necromorph is a combatant. It’s built to be shot at. The Still Wakes the Deep monster models are built to be avoided. Since you have no weapons, the design has to be intimidating enough to make you turn around and run the second you see a single pixel of moving flesh.
In games like Resident Evil, monsters are often symmetrical. Two arms, two legs, maybe a giant eyeball on the shoulder. Still Wakes the Deep throws symmetry out the window. One monster might have five limbs that look like they’re made of industrial cables and human thighs. Another might be a massive, bloated face that takes up an entire ceiling.
This asymmetry is a psychological trick. Our brains are wired to find patterns. When we see something that defies those patterns, we feel a visceral sense of "wrongness." It’s "The Thing" logic. If you can't tell which end is the head, how do you know where it's looking? You don't. And that's why you're sweating while holding a controller.
The role of the "human" element
The most haunting part isn't the gore. It’s the voices. Because the Still Wakes the Deep monster models are technically still the crew members, they talk. Or rather, the entity mimics their voices. Hearing a distorted, gurgling version of a character you were just chatting with ten minutes ago is a gut punch.
This creates a conflict in the player. You want to help them, but you know there’s nothing left to help. The model reflects this. You’ll see a face—Rennick, Muiri, Addy—distorted and stretched, but still recognizable. It’s not a monster that replaced your friend. It’s your friend being used as a glove puppet by a cosmic horror.
How to appreciate the detail without getting killed
If you actually want to look at the Still Wakes the Deep monster models without the stress of being chased, you have to be sneaky with the photo mode. The level of detail is insane.
- Texture Work: The skin isn't just a flat texture. It has sub-surface scattering that makes it look wet and translucent. You can see veins and "things" moving under the surface.
- Lighting: The game uses a lot of harsh, industrial lighting. This creates deep shadows that hide the "seams" of the models, making them feel like they belong in the world.
- Animation: Notice how they don't just loop a walk cycle. They react to the environment. If a monster hits a wall, the flesh actually squashes against it.
This isn't just "good graphics." This is intentional storytelling through 3D modeling. Every lump, every cyst, and every elongated limb tells the story of a body that is being rewritten by a force that doesn't understand human biology. It’s trying to build something, but it’s using the wrong blueprints.
Dealing with the "Deep" models in gameplay
When you encounter these things, the game becomes a stealth-horror hybrid. You aren't "fighting" the Still Wakes the Deep monster models; you're navigating around them. This makes the models even more effective because you only see them in flashes.
A shadow moving behind a crate.
A long, spindly arm reaching through a doorway.
The glow of an emergency light reflecting off a wet, pulsating ribcage.
The Chinese Room knows that what you don't see is usually scarier than what you do. By keeping the models partially obscured by the crumbling infrastructure of the Beira D, they allow your imagination to fill in the gaps. And your imagination is always going to come up with something more horrific than a 3D artist can render.
Summary of the Design Philosophy
The success of these designs comes down to three main pillars:
- Familiarity: They use recognizable human elements (clothes, faces) to create an emotional connection.
- Abstinence: They don't overexpose the monsters. They keep them in the dark as much as possible.
- Evolution: As the game progresses, the models become less human and more abstract, mirroring the protagonist's losing grip on reality and the rig's destruction.
How to experience these models for yourself
If you're looking to really dive into the creature design of Still Wakes the Deep, don't just play through it once. Play it with a focus on the environmental storytelling. Look at the "growths" on the walls. Those are the precursors to the full monster models.
Next Steps for Players and Horror Fans:
- Use Photo Mode: When you’re in a safe spot (or even when you're not), pause and zoom in. The mesh work on the transformation scenes is some of the best in the genre.
- Listen to the Audio Logs: They often describe the physical sensations the crew felt before they turned. It adds a lot of "meat" to the models you see later.
- Compare to Real-World Art: Look up the works of Francis Bacon or the practical effects in 1980s horror films. You'll see exactly where the inspiration for the Still Wakes the Deep monster models came from.
- Watch the "Making of" Content: The Chinese Room has released several dev diaries focusing on the "World of the Beira D" and the sound design. These provide a lot of context for why the monsters look the way they do.
Ultimately, these models work because they are grounded in a very real, very human fear: the loss of self. It’s one thing to be eaten by a monster. It’s another thing entirely to become one while your friends watch. That is the core of the horror in Still Wakes the Deep, and the monster models deliver on that promise with every single distorted limb.