Spoiler warning for Alan Wake 2
Alan Wake 2is a masterclass in suspenseful, mind-bending storytelling.
Our titular protagonist’s war with himself is one of the most relatable mental health journeys I’ve seen in gaming. Its presentation of trauma within the Dark Place is connected with something unshakable and unnervingly real. It depicts the cyclical nature of a fragmented and deeply troubled mind, while also featuring absurdities that assist in making its visual representation of the trauma response all the more real.
Trauma can manifest in all manner of ways: anxiety, depression, PTSD, the list goes on. Sometimes it’s a really fun cocktail of all of the above that fluctuates and mutates as time progresses, keeping you on your toes. My mind loves to keep me guessing, and as much as I love a good riddle, I’m not fond of constantly solving my own. My guess is, neither are you.
Taking a step forward can seem impossible when it feels like you’re living in a vicious cycle. An unbreakable loop, or maybe…a spiral? Escaping this cyclical nightmare starts with you, warts and all. In Alan Wake 2 you must face those peskier parts head-on to find a way beyond your flaws, your past, and whatever’s truly holding you back.
It’s A Dark, Dark Place
Stuck in The Dark Place for 13 years, Alan’s trauma isn’t solved overnight. He just wants to save his wife Alice and get his life back - the life he believes he destroyed. He’s living with his trauma and guilt to the extent that it’s debilitating, constantly replaying the moment he lost himself to the Dark Presence and trying to return to an idealised version of his past.
There’s nothing more terrifying than looking back over a decade and wondering if you’ve actually moved forward, or if you’re doomed to repeat your mistakes into oblivion. Alan, like many of us, is trying to change that. But it’s one hell of a process.
Alan is refreshingly imperfect; I can see my own mistakes reflected in his. His fixation on rectifying things to an unrealistic degree is like looking into a very unflattering mirror. We’re all flawed, but we hold ourselves to startlingly high standards - often losing ourselves in pursuit of perfection. This is especially so if you’ve suffered trauma that causes you to live in your own head, questioning your every move and action until it all but paralyses you.
Alan has become trapped by his identity as a writer, feeding off his insecurities in a world that blends reality and fiction. He must “write to escape,” but he’s afraid of what that means. For Alan, his work brought about his downfall, but it’s also his only hope of salvation.
The Dark Place reflects this, all the way down to smaller environmental details. Parliament Square’s surrounding area is covered in etchings of torment. “Don’t Write” appears in bold letters, alongside the aggressively large ‘LOST’ and scrawls highlighting how he failed Alice. This graffiti is a constant stream of intrusive thoughts. He’s become so used to them that these words are just part of the furniture.
There’s a distinct lack of clarity in the Dark Place. You’d think fixating on one thing for years would mean he could easily convey what’s going on, but that’s not how trauma works. Like Alan, my memory is “full of holes,” and the fragmented nature of this is on display in subtle but affecting ways. Echoes, Manuscript pages, and Alan’s dialogue with himself and others highlight his murky mind. It’s a puzzle with some key pieces missing and others in the wrong place, all creating the unsettling feeling of lost time.
After a traumatic event, your brain tries to protect you and shrouds things that cause you pain. This is clear in the shifting and unpredictable nature of Alan’s world - there are familiar landmarks and settings, but they are constantly in flux. Even the human-shaped shades aren’t defined, functioning like aspects of his own mind that are holding him back - becoming more hostile the closer he gets to breaking out of the Dark Place.
Discomfort Zones
The Writer’s Room is Alan’s comfort zone - a space he’ll always return to, where he feels some semblance of control. He can plot out alternative ways through the nightmare and start over again until he gets the story right. However, he’s constantly broken down by his darker half, Scratch, who has a desperate need to succeed, no matter how self-destructive he becomes in the process. The Clicker is also a source of solace to Alan. It may function as a supernatural doohickey, but there’s a desperate sense of holding onto his childhood comfort. Alongside his trusty torch, it represents hope and shines a light forward.
Saga is the perfect foil to Alan, as she is rooted in reality. Her caseboard is connected by facts (no matter how outlandish) and is unalterable. Her Mind Place also presents a strong connection to who she is and what she values, a stark contrast to Alan’s Writer’s Room. He doesn’t have room for anything else and is in a constant state of high alert - hence his mastery of the ‘deer in the headlights’ look.
I found Saga’s real-world chapters more terrifying to navigate - to the point I ended up interrogating a rubber duck. The threat to Saga felt ‘real’ and was harder to face. But, I could handle the abstract, psychological nature of the Dark Place. It felt familiar, something I understood.
Much like Alan’s comfort zone, it was mine. His self-narration was also comforting, talking himself through scenarios - much like I would to stay calm and maintain control (yes, including the rubber duck incident). It resembled how people handle themselves after a traumatic event. If you’re used to being in high-tension situations, it becomes the norm and your calm disposition can surprise people during a crisis.
Herald Of Darkness and Champion Of Light
Amidst the darkness, nightmares, flashbacks, and shifting landscapes, there’s occasional humour and levity that pokes through - as a means to deal with his demons. A person’s response to trauma doesn’t equate to a perpetually dark mind, and it does some weird, wonderful things while we sleep.
The game’s musical is a perfect encapsulation of that absurdity. Nightmares don’t follow set rules, and dark and brooding isn’t the only setting. While this is yet another way to put himself through the events of how he ended up in the Dark Place, his humour, creativity, and heart are still present.
Alan Wake 2 shows Alan at the point where he’s closest to a breakthrough. As our good pal Ahti says, “When the panic is biggest, help is also near.” After more than a decade, he’s realised something important - he needs help, a notion he was strongly against when he first arrived in Bright Falls all those years ago. By writing Saga into the story, his world began to overlap with reality, and for the first time, he felt an overwhelming closeness to home.
When you’re in your own Dark Place, it can be very difficult to see the love and support you have around you. It’s even harder to believe that they won’t just get up and leave. Here, you see the struggles of those brought into Alan’s story, the empathy, frustration, and distress they experience for the ones they love.
At the end of The Final Draft, Alan says: “It has taken so long. The process of changing reality is delicate. To be true in just the right way and still find a way past our flaws.”
By accepting the good, bad, and ugly, he can embrace his darkness without fully succumbing to it - you need the balance of light and dark, after all. Acknowledging the pain and the spiral he’s in, he understands that the first step to getting better starts with himself.
We can get too caught up in the need to handle everything ourselves, but remember: you don’t have to push through every step alone. Navigating trauma is a messy journey full of flaws, guilt, and pain, and I’m thankful to Alan. He’s a hero that you can look directly in the eye, rather than look up to.
Alan Wake 2
WHERE TO PLAY
Alan Wake 2 is the sequel to Remedy’s hit survival horror game. It blends two separate stories into one, following FBI agent Saga Anderson as she investigates both a series of brutal murders and a story written by Wake himself.
