A sterile interactive abortion that tries to capitalize on Until Dawn nostalgia, but in reality puts you to sleep worse than a math lecture. For hours, you're doomed to nurse a brood of hormonal zoomers with the logic of a broken toaster, who, in the midst of mortal danger, joke with cringe-worthy stone faces, while hairy misunderstandings, more like mangy monkeys than werewolves, scamper through the forest. The gameplay here is a pure mockery of the concept of "game": for several minutes, you gloomily crawl through dark bushes at the speed of a paralyzed snail to the sound of mournful indie pop, and then press a QTE for single-celled creatures, where they thoughtfully hang a bar on half the screen when you should hold a button. Freedom of choice is sewn with white thread - You can try your best to play the normal guy, but the script will still force your character to do something stupid just to advance the plot, and if you accidentally miss-click, the game will instantly autosave so you can savor your mistake until the very end. As a final touch, the developers will roll out a mocking co-op mode where your friends will act as disenfranchised spectators, and finish it off with a completely botched ending, forcing you to listen to a boring, unskippable podcast for eternity during the credits.