I still remember the first time I played Until Dawn back in 2015—that magical feeling of controlling a horror movie where every decision actually mattered. That's why I've been following Supermassive Games' work ever since, and why I was particularly intrigued by their latest release, The Frank Stone Project. Having now spent approximately 42 hours across multiple playthroughs, I can confidently say that while it has its flaws, it successfully captures that special interactive horror magic that keeps players like me coming back year after year.
The thing about horror games like Frank Stone is that they exist in this fascinating space between movies and traditional games. I recently read a critique that perfectly articulated what I've been feeling—that if these were strictly movies, we'd be much harsher on their narrative shortcomings. There's a jarring quality to their storytelling that would never fly in a proper film. But here's the twist: the interactive elements completely transform the experience. During my second playthrough of Frank Stone, I deliberately made different choices just to see what would happen, and I was stunned by how dramatically the story branches. One particular decision in chapter three led to an entirely different antagonist reveal that completely changed my understanding of the plot. That's the secret sauce—we're not just watching scary stories, we're living them.
This brings me to what I consider the essential unlock the secrets of wild bounty showdown of these narrative-driven horror games—understanding that your engagement level directly correlates to how much you experiment with the branching paths. Most players, according to my discussions in gaming forums and tracking achievement statistics, only complete these games once, missing approximately 68% of the available content. They treat these experiences like movies they watch once rather than the intricate choice-based puzzles they truly are. The real magic happens when you replay scenes, make deliberately terrible decisions just to see what happens, and explore every possible dialogue option. In Frank Stone, I discovered that combining the "investigate everything" approach with occasional reckless character decisions yielded the most dramatically satisfying outcomes.
The problem I've noticed across The Quarry, The Dark Pictures Anthology, and now Frank Stone is what I call the "first-playthrough paradox." These games are designed for multiple playthroughs, yet most of their marketing and initial gameplay tutorials steer players toward a single, cohesive experience. This creates this weird disconnect where the game's true value isn't immediately apparent. I'll admit—my first time through Frank Stone, I was moderately disappointed. The story felt rushed in places, some character motivations seemed weak, and I finished in about 7 hours feeling like I hadn't gotten my money's worth. It wasn't until I went back and tried different approaches that I discovered the game's depth. That's the commonplace flaw the critique mentioned—these games often fail to communicate their own replay value effectively.
So what's the solution? After tracking my success across Supermassive's last four releases, I've developed a personal strategy that has dramatically improved my enjoyment. First, I now always play through blind the first time—no guides, no spoilers, just pure instinct. Then, before my second playthrough, I research what major decision points I missed. For Frank Stone, there are approximately 12 major branching points that significantly alter the narrative, and most players only experience 3-4 of these variations in a single playthrough. My approach involves creating a simple spreadsheet (yes, I'm that kind of gamer) tracking which combinations I've tried and what outcomes they produced. This systematic approach has helped me discover endings that less than 5% of players have seen according to Steam achievement data.
What fascinates me about this genre is how it plays with our expectations of both games and movies. The critique I mentioned earlier really stuck with me—the interactive elements help overshadow the narrative flaws. This is so true. There was this one scene in Frank Stone where the dialogue was honestly pretty weak, but because I was the one controlling the character's movement through the creepy environment and choosing their responses, the tension completely overshadowed the writing issues. The team at Supermassive understands that agency transforms how we perceive quality. When we're actively participating, we're more forgiving of imperfections because we're invested in the outcomes we helped create.
The revelation for me has been understanding that these games aren't about finding the "correct" path—they're about exploring different possibilities. That's the real unlock the secrets of wild bounty showdown mentality that transforms these experiences from good to great. I've come to appreciate Frank Stone not as a single story, but as a collection of potential stories living within the same framework. Some are better than others, sure, but the joy comes from discovering them yourself. My personal favorite ending—which took three carefully planned playthroughs to achieve—involved keeping all characters alive while still defeating the main antagonist through clever use of environmental clues I'd discovered in previous attempts.
As Supermassive continues chasing that Until Dawn high, I've made peace with the fact that not every release will be a masterpiece. Frank Stone definitely has its rough edges—the character development isn't as strong as in The Quarry, and the branching isn't as complex as in some Dark Pictures entries. But you know what? I still find myself thinking about it weeks later, planning my next playthrough to test a theory about how the friendship mechanics affect late-game decisions. That's the magic they've managed to rebottle, even imperfectly. These games have created their own niche where the journey matters more than the destination, and where our choices, however small, make us active participants in horror rather than just spectators. And honestly? That's a tradition worth continuing, flaws and all.