Reviews
Level P Review (PC)
Level P taps into a universal inconvenience: the act of finding your car in a multi-story parking garage. It’s a minor annoyance that any license holder would have had at least once or twice in their lifetime, naturally. And it is, in all fairness, a frustrating thing—to roam multiple floors and to continuously click a key fob as you struggle to recall where you left the darn thing. In Level P, however, you have a little more to bog you down—a hallucinatory energy that echoes in the halls, weirdly. Alas, you are not simply traipsing the garage floors, but volleying between anomalies and peculiar sounds, claustrophobic spaces and endless corridors.
The goal behind Level P is a simple one: find your car in a multi-story building. You have a key fob, which you can interact with to trigger the alarm on your car, and you have the freedom to explore airtight spaces. In any case, you could beat the game in a little under fifteen or twenty minutes. Hell, it’s a simple objective—to follow the chirping sound of a vehicle, and to find the dashboard so that you can leave the garage. But, herein lies a problem: the garage in question isn’t one that wants you to leave; the walls talk, and the longer you aimlessly roam, the harder it makes it for you to search. There’s a little more to it than that, but you get the idea.

As a psychological horror at heart, Level P comes with a few tricks up its sleeve. For example, if you trigger your key fob—an act that, in theory, should bring you ever closer to your final destination—you ultimately give your location to an oppressive force that lingers in the parking lot. Therefore, to complete your rather simple task, you must be willing to take precautionary steps. Will the fob alert a presence, or will it aid your search for the correct floor in the garage? You don’t know what your vehicle looks like, and you haven’t the slightest clue what lurks in the dark. But what you do know is that the fob in your hand is a blessing and a curse.
Atmospherically, Level P brings a sense of uncertainty to the table, with a claustrophobic tone, an ominous soundscape, and all of the usual psychological tidbits that you would naturally expect to find in a budget horror: flashing lights, leaky pipes, shifting shadows, and unnecessarily loud footsteps that echo through the full length of the room. With all of this in hand, Level P manages to do a lot with a small canvas. Even with a compact and somewhat dull setting that keeps to the same generic theme, it does take full advantage of all of the usual tropes. It’s hauntingly simple — and that actually works in its favor here.

Unfortunately, there isn’t a lot of gameplay to Level P. Armed with a key fob and a general sense of purpose, you enter the procedurally generated parking lot with a simple objective. There are no hidden areas to scout out, and there are no secret endings to unlock over a series of penultimate moments. In short, you receive an instruction, and then begin your quest to find your vehicle. And of course, the only way for you to beat that objective is to walk and occasionally crane your neck to ensure that the atmosphere hasn’t drastically changed to skewer your thoughts. Once you locate the car, the game sort of ends, and then it gives you the option to, well, experience the same thing a second, third or fourth time.
To give credit where credit is due, Level P does turn a rather ordinary predicament into a pretty harrowing experience. It’s one of those things—a game that can easily play tricks on your mind as you carelessly waltz through each room and search for a place to hang your head. Are the sounds of pattering feet yours, or do they belong to another? Are the flickering lights a warning, or a sign that you’re getting closer to your destination? Will the key fob illuminate a path that you haven’t seen before, or will it alert the one foe that you are trying to remain distant from? It’s an eerie affair, and thankfully, it serves its purpose as a game that wants you to think twice before plunging into the unknown.

There’s still a simple game here that doesn’t delve too deep into the details of a fully-fledged horror. While it may seem creepy and atmospherically on point, it does leave a considerable amount to be desired. With a lack of plot points, character development, and world-building elements, it is an experience that you can more or less breeze through in a single sitting and then push aside for another, slightly more demanding session. For the low asking price, though, it delivers a short and affordable budget-friendly horror that can, and often will give you something to quake in your boots about. Perhaps that’s enough to keep it afloat.
Verdict

Level P capitalizes on the universal inconvenience of losing track of your most prized possession in a world where hallucinatory side effects and anomalies collide in an attempt to skewer your thoughts and leave you feeling desperately helpless. Although rather short and lacking in any major plot points, character arcs or post-game thrills, it delivers an oddly engaging horror that has a natural appeal to it. Because let’s face it — car parks are naturally eerie places, especially when they’re coated in anomalies and all of the usual things that flesh out a cliche.
It’s easier to lower your expectations when sinking into a game like Level P. Clearly, it isn’t a brilliant game, but it is one that checks a lot of the right boxes and uses almost all of the anomaly-based components to construct a perfectly serviceable experience. If that piques your interest even in the slightest, then you should definitely consider getting behind the wheel — if, of course, you can find it.
Level P Review (PC)
Should’ve Taken the Bus
Level P capitalizes on the universal inconvenience of losing track of your most prized possession in a world where hallucinatory side effects and anomalies collide in an attempt to skewer your thoughts and leave you feeling desperately helpless. Although rather short and lacking in any major plot points, character arcs or post-game thrills, it delivers an oddly engaging horror that has a natural appeal to it. Because let’s face it — car parks are naturally eerie places, especially when they’re coated in anomalies and all of the usual things that flesh out a cliche.











