The derivative brainchild of a moron that thought being in the same building as the developers who created the original Dead Space gave him any understanding of what made that game a celebratory benchmark, The Callisto Protocol is a clunky, lifeless mess of an experience hampered by an even clunkier, sleepwalking narrative. Contemptibly stale in nearly ever facet of design, this bumbling pastiche of every space horror trope in existence offers players the chance to test their patience with plodding hyper-linear navigation and turgid melee combat that becomes an unbearable slog on higher difficulties. (It's like Striking Distance knew they weren't cooking and had to automate dodging so their QA department wouldn't rip their fucking spines out.) Unlike its obvious influences, the game does not understand how to build tension or craft genuine horror, with some hilariously tripe jump scares sprinkled throughout its anemic runtime to jolt the player awake between bouts of mindless pathfinding through the same gray hallways they've seen in countless other, better games. The gall to structure its story with a deflating cliffhanger in mind as both a consequence of micro transaction grifting (buy our season pass to see how it really ends!) and an unearned confidence is truly the icing on this shit sundae, and I'll be glad to never find out the fates of what's-his-name and who-fucking-cares.