If you died in Colonial Marines, it was your own fault for letting go of the trigger, and of course, like most video games today, you'd respawn at a nearby checkpoint. Failure meant nothing. For the most part, we're glad that save systems have evolved to keep us in the action, but as much as this has allowed developers to more deliberately guide the pace of their narratives, generous progress markers have all but sucked the gravity out of more modern, in-game life-or-death situations. Thankfully, not every modern game is willing to compromise the meaning of mortality, something Dark Souls, Day Z and XCOM have used to legendary affect. Following their deadly footsteps, being mauled and murdered in Alien: Isolation is no saving grace. You will die... a lot. You won't always know why and it will almost never be a good time. In order to save your progress, you'll have to manually punch your film-accurate, security card replica into one of the few, sparsely-placed, automated work-stations strewn about the Sevastopol. Remember, each save happens in real-time, so you're not actually safe and clear until you've pulled the card from its slot. We never died this way, but just knowing it's possible makes the save box's signature beep a massive sigh of painful joy and a tense reminder of your mortality all at once. Running the emotional gambit of draining terror followed by defeat to dizzying relief and survival by the skin of your teeth isn't for every gamer, but if you get-off on hardcore fear in a controlled-setting, Isolation is definitely for you. The uncertainty of what dynamically fatal circumstance you'll find yourself in next, teamed with the very real risk of losing progress with every last breath, lets Isolation soaks you in unrelenting tension, operating on a spectrum of tonal extremes we're proud to see again in mainstream horror games.