Coil’s Containment Review (PC)

You’d have thought that after a dozen or more hours of flipping burgers alongside that caveman neighbor of mine, Toe, that I would be somewhat unbothered by the likes of a sinister snowman selling sea salt ice creams to a rather dull bunch of strangers. And yet, here I am, fresh out of my previous employment at Happy Humble’s Burger Farm, still just as clueless as to how on earth I ended up in this situation, and sitting tight with elusive optimism, wondering how I could possibly make enough cash to please the dainty entrepreneur that is Mr. Coil. It’s Friday night, and my shift here in Coil’s Containment has just begun.

The eleventh hour is a daunting phase; it reminds me that, even with so much revenue coming in, there just isn’t enough ice cream in the world to satisfy the demands of the boss and abolish gluttony altogether. But tonight, that’s my goal, whether I like it or not: to sell flavorful scoops of caramelized clotted creams and other wafer-thin confections to consumers in the hopes that they’ll tip me just enough for me to invest in other lavish perks—items that, if ordered correctly, will help me surpass this week’s quota and make ends meet. If I don’t score enough dough, then I imagine Mr. Coil will have something to say about it.

It’s gloomy here, and regrettably, the only silhouettes I can make out other than the parlor’s buttery white street sign over yonder are those that seem to be tiptoeing towards me like a tribe of lost ravenous souls. Perhaps I ought to flick the switch and put on my best apron for what’s the come. It’s time to scoop — even if it kills me.

A Scoop and a Half of Horror

Coil’s Containment is, above all else, a first-person psychological horror game based solely around—you guessed it—ice cream. Similar to Happy Humble’s Burger Farm, a game that centers its premise around a dauntingly ominous burger chain and a cast of warped folk disguised as seemingly joyous mascots, the game sees you taking to the counter in a quaint ice cream parlor. Here, in this hollow shell of a hellhole, you are greeted with an instruction: to earn enough money over the course of eleven days to keep ahold of your job and, with that, your boss, Mr. Coil, from terminating your contract of employment in a rather unorthodox manner. And that’s exactly what we’re doing here — selling ice cream. Ooo, the horror.

As I said, it’s a psychological horror, and therefore, while the actual process of scooping cream curdles from tubs and serving cardboard cutout patrons can be all rather harmless and, dare I say, fun, there are several underlying threats that turn an otherwise giddy chore core simulator into a deadly melting pot of ice-imbued jump scares and psychological effects. Okay, so it isn’t conceptually terrifying, the idea of filling out wafer cones with mint ice cream whilst a tally scribbles down your progress. However, this isn’t where Coil’s Containment comes into its own; it’s elsewhere, in the unsettling ambiance and sense of perpetual fear that something might go awry at any given moment. It’s there, whilst your mind is ajar and absorbed by an alternate reality, that you feel alone and distorted, as if something were happening behind your back, perhaps.

Working Overtime

Thankfully, the actual process of earning a quick buck isn’t overly complicated. As it turns out, it’s as simple as receiving an order, be it one scoop, two scoops, or whatever tickles the customer’s fancy at the time of their arrival, and fulfilling it in a timely manner in exchange for some pocket change. Like so, so many other business simulation games that foster a time-based gimmick, each order that you complete in an allotted time nets you tips—an additional in-game currency that you can use every so often to invest in better abilities and useful equipment. For instance, during the first quarter (that’s three in-game days, to be precise) you have access to a gum ball machine (it’s essentially a gacha machine but hey-ho), which allows you the opportunity to unlock more confectionary items, like snow cones, for example.

Believe it or not, there are some light strategy elements for you to juggle in Coil’s Containment. Aside from having the responsibility of shipping out ice cream orders in a timely fashion, you also have the job of choosing which upgrades to unlock. Simply put, if you happen to choose the least profitable upgrade when presented with a carousel of upwards of three possible options, then you will essentially lose out on revenue. And that is, in all honesty, the whole point of the game: to earn enough money before the eleven-day countdown reaches its climax. That, and to play a good old-fashioned game of hooky with Mr. Coil and his band of…whatever they are. Colleagues, I think.

From Burgers to Cones

I can’t bring myself to say that the art style is great, because it’s certainly a few components short of amounting to something mesmerizingly beautiful. It’s janky, but perhaps that’s the point. Again, it’s a lot like Happy Humble’s Burger Farm, in the sense that it purposely refrains from taking your breath away with picture-perfect visuals and authentic panoramas, and instead opts to focus on abstract imagery that makes you feel, I don’t know, uneasy. And that’s what it does: it makes you feel awkward, almost as if you’re an alien on a hostile planet, shackled to a countertop and forced to serve ice cream until your legs give out.

Verdict

For those of you who adore eccentric and highly unorthodox psychological horrors with melancholic tones and abstract themes of an otherworldly nature, Coil’s Containment is an ideal appetizer that you may just want to take a big ol’ bite out of the next time you’re scraping the bottom of the barrel for a fresh indie to slog through. It’s a weird game, though perhaps not as quirky as Happy Humble’s Burger Farm, I’ll admit. Still, if you can gloss over the fact that you probably won’t be treated to an elegant banquet of rotisserie treats and a compelling story, then you should find just enough to whet that bizarre appetite of yours.