How The Quarry Won Me Over To Its Douchiest Characters

It’s the spooky season again, which can mean only one thing (well, aside from the dozens of jack-o-lanterns, abundance of pumpkin spice, trick-or-treaters, and other obvious signifiers of Halloween). For me, however, Halloween means that my partner and I settle in for another game from Supermassive: the masters of ‘make important life-or-death choices for an ensemble of characters’ interactive movie-type horror games.

I got into this particular flavour of horror with Until Dawn back in 2014, but have gone on to play most of the Dark Pictures Anthology—a quadrilogy of shorter games in the same vein. This year, I’ve finally gotten round to The Quarry, which some say is Supermassive’s best effort since Until Dawn.

I haven’t completed it yet, but so far I’m inclined to agree.

I’ve always recognised the limitations of these games—illusion of choice, blah-blah-blah—but the fact that every character you control can die feels legit enough for me, and really the success of these games hinges on creating characters that you actually give a shit about living or dying, not how many branching stories or endings the game has. In the way of character development, I thought Man of Medan wasn’t much good, and Little Hope a little more so, but The Quarry is a cool demonstration in how horror provides a great platform for seemingly douchey characters to redeem themselves, or at least can uncover redemptive qualities in characters who are, at core, douchey.

Nine’s Company

The Quarry really stretches opportunities for character development to breaking point, with a whopping nine playable camp counsellors to take turns controlling, as they try to survive the night at an emptied summer camp that’s been beset by all kinds of mystery ghoulies. It’s a lot to ask of the player to forge connections with so many characters, yet about halfway through the game, I’ve already come round to even the worst of ‘em.

It achieves this by organising the besieged camp counsellors into little clusters of romantic/social interest. There’s Ryan, Kaitlyn, and Dylan; easily the most likeable trio of the bunch, with the player able to direct the bisexual Ryan’s romantic interest towards Kaitlyn or Dylan as they see fit. Then there’s Nick and Abigail, whose dreary earnestness doesn’t elicit much emotion in me, though I can appreciate that they represent the more awkward, naive end of the romance spectrum. Max and Laura are the couple you meet in the prologue, while jockey doofus Jacob and sassy self-obsessed influencer Emma—who are navigating the fallout of their summer fling amidst trying to survive the goggle-eyed lycans prowling the woods—round out the cast.

The Quarry shows how horror provides a platform for douchey characters to redeem themselves.

That latter pair are a particularly interesting case in point of dislikeable characters arcing towards likeability through horror. Jacob and Emma are both awful: vapid, self-absorbed—one totally obsessed with her image while the other is totally caught up in his possessive emotions (problematically referring to Emma as ‘his girlfriend’ despite her making it clear to him that she’s no such thing, and reacting wa-hay too aggressively when he perceives people trying to muscle in on her, which they aren’t). Emma, meanwhile, is clearly toying with the poor, emotionally immature dolt like a cat with a yarn ball.

At first, I couldn’t wait for these characters to have their reckoning, while my apathy towards Nick and particularly Abigail marked them down as ‘expendable’ in my mind. If push came to shove and I had to decide who lives or dies in a given scenario, this bunch would be first on the chopping block.

But Supermassive’s astute handling of horror does a fine job of turning these characters around. Jacob, for example, is clearly way more sensitive than he lets on, and even though his outbursts are maddeningly immature, seeing him sobbing on the pier after Emma kisses Nick in a game of Truth or Dare does inspire a hint of ‘Aww, bless his cotton socks.’

But the real turnaround is Jacob’s ‘horror crisis’ moment. Running through the woods in nothing but his undies, he gets ensnared in a trap, strung up upside-down, and you need to navigate his escape from one of the mysterious hunter folks prowling the woods. His sudden physical vulnerability—quickly following up on the emotional vulnerability he showcased a couple of scenes prior—kicks me into gear, helping me realise that I do want him to live after all.

Should Jacob escape that sticky situation, his comical moment of turning up at the campfire to join the others, mystery blood smeared over his face, seals the deal, and now that the counsellors are all working together in survival mode rather than snipping at each other over petty grievances, Jacob rises to the role of ‘likeable doofus’ rather than ‘jock with anger problems.’

A Born Influencer

Emma’s turning point comes through a neatly presented segment where she finds herself alone on the island in the middle of the lake, and takes the opportunity to create some content for her followers. It kicks off a fourth-wall-breaking sequence where she’s asking questions about what she should do to the camera/her audience, but it’s you, the player, who is making the calls.

Unlike Jacob, Emma is totally oblivious to just how vulnerable she is, right up to where she opens a trapdoor that a ghoulie is clearly hiding behind. In her case, she handles the subsequent horror chase sequence (well, unless you screw up) with the same ruthless confidence as she displays up to that point. After this intense chase, it hits me that Emma’s a bona fide asskicker (and a bit of a psycho), and my respect for her shoots up twentyfold. Again, it takes that horror crisis for us to see what she’s really about. Does she become ‘likeable’? Not exactly, but she becomes someone you suddenly want as part of the story, and in a way that’s an even bigger narrative achievement.

These are all pretty small developments and character arcs, but it’s testament to Supermassive’s storytelling that they’ve squeezed in nine playable characters who we grow to care about. Even boring Nick gets his ‘Whoa, that’s cool!’ moment, though admittedly I’m still waiting for Abi to come good (something tells me she’s due for some kind of massive turnaround Super-Saiyan ‘I never knew she had it in her!’ moment later on).

The Quarry’s been a real treat this Halloween, and I thoroughly recommend it as a party game to enjoy with pals—each controlling their own character, if you have nine of ‘em—across a couple of spooky autumnal evenings.