When I first played SOMA, it felt like just another sci-fi horror game – something like Amnesia underwater. But the further I got, the more the game broke my expectations. The fear isn’t in the monsters; it’s in the very meaning of existence.
The main character, Simon, is a human whose consciousness was copied into a machine after an accident. He wakes up in a world where all life is gone, and only machines that think they are human remain. And this is where the real horror begins – not physical, but philosophical.
SOMA makes you ask yourself:
If my memories, thoughts, and feelings can be transferred into a computer, would it still be “me”?
In the game, this isn’t just theoretical. You see copies of Simon existing simultaneously – one left behind, while the other “continues the journey.” And both believe they are the real Simon.
Even more unsettling, SOMA never gives a clear answer. It doesn’t tell you what’s right or wrong. It simply shows that consciousness without a body is also a form of existence – but colder, more distant, and alien.
Many say that SOMA is a story about fear of death, but I think it’s more about the fear of losing yourself when everything around you becomes digital. And when even your emotions can be copied, the question arises – who is really you?
What do you think?
If your consciousness could be transferred into a machine – would you still be human, or just a copy that thinks it’s you?
And does that copy have the right to continue living if the original still exists?
