In a world where our daily routines often revolve around the monotony of staring at computer screens—whether to send off emails or fill out yet another endless form—the notion of diving into a video game that replicates such tasks might seem baffling, even off-putting. Yet, here we are with Dead Letter Dept., a uniquely unsettling game that grips you with its eerie atmosphere from the very start. The game instantly transports me back to my days in the proverbial trenches of an accounting firm, where countless hours were spent numbly inputting client details to the backdrop of my Spotify playlists.
Dead Letter Dept. immerses you in the shoes of an unremarkable figure who’s just moved into a city apartment. Your task is simple: type out the details from a pile of undelivered mail—a mix of letters, addresses, newspaper clippings, and even bizarre symbols that defy earthly understanding. Set in a dystopian world, your new workspace is characterized by its cold, industrial vibe: endless hallways and a sinister greenish glow that casts unsettling shadows. Despite the foreboding setting, there’s a peculiar comfort in the dusty old computer that becomes your only companion.
Your first day on this virtual job goes by without much incident. It’s straightforward, though a tingling sense of unease lingers as you settle into a simple routine of typing. Though my typing speed hovers around 67-69 words per minute with decent accuracy, accuracy and speed aren’t crucial here. And as the days progress, you find yourself unraveling mysteries veiled in the increasing oddity of the messages. What at first seems like innocuous data entry soon spirals into a mix of conspiracies and chills, with the computer screen displaying images and texts that evoke serial killer vibes. Subtle jump scares lurk around, enough to keep you glued to the screen.
Despite being seasoned in critiquing various media, this game caught me off guard with its captivating interaction and originality. I encourage any gaming enthusiast to take the plunge and unravel the layers of madness within Dead Letter Dept.
Having a go at this game alongside a friend, Madeleine—who thrives on horror while I tend to shy away from it—I dove into this unsettling experience. It taps into the psychological horror genre, delivering a sense of being watched, rather than relying on cheap jump scares. The looming feeling of discomfort becomes a constant companion, awakening a primal unease that is hard to shake.
Your journey begins with the seemingly simple task of typing out undeciphered mail scraps. But slowly, the scattered documents merge into a cryptic narrative that seems to speak directly to you. The path of the main character—newly relocated and burdened with a mysterious past—spirals further into a realm of nightmares, offering diverse endings that add to its replayability. The game skims across six days, roughly three hours of gameplay that encourage a committed playthrough for full immersion.
Dead Letter Dept. delivers on many fronts, mixing dread with engagement to ensure a unique horror experience. While traditionally not drawn towards horror, I found myself compelled to return to uncover all its secrets. The game casts a beautifully eerie setting, complemented by intuitive controls and fitting music, resembling a disturbing short story that one can’t help but revisit.
For those of you who might not see yourselves as horror junkies, this game is worth the leap. It breaks ground with its unconventional approach to the typing game genre, luring even those who usually steer clear of the spooky. It’s a title I’d recommend, particularly if, like me, you find the shadowy unknown a tad intimidating.
Dead Letter Dept. scores high with a total review score of 9/10, spotlighting its gripping plot, engaging gameplay, and commendable replay value. This game takes a seemingly mundane concept and, with chilling creativity, transforms it into a gripping horror show that even newcomers to the genre will find thrilling.
This assessment is drawn from a pre-release copy kindly provided by the game’s publisher.
