Full-motion video games are like the VHS tapes of gaming: strangely magnetic, a little grainy around the edges, and inexplicably still.
Somewhere between a movie night and a mild identity crisis, FMV titles have clawed their way back into the modern gaming lexicon, flipping the bird at polygons and saying, “What if your main character was a real person again?”
So naturally, as a certified FMV fan, I found myself spiralling down another interactive movie rabbit hole – this time with Erica, a psychological thriller that’s part whodunnit, part cultish fever dream, and all wrapped up in a tidy 90-minute runtime.
Think Until Dawn if it ditched QTEs, fired its digital cast, and decided that British politeness was the scariest thing of all.
Lights, Camera, Slight Interaction
Let’s get one thing out of the way: Erica is barely a game in the traditional sense.
Your thumbs? They’re on vacation.
The gameplay loop consists of swiping to light candles, open latches, or pick dialogue options that make you feel in control, until the plot reminds you, quite firmly, that you are not.
If you’ve ever wanted to feel like a ghost whispering choices into someone’s ear from beyond the fourth wall, Erica delivers.
And that’s the magic-slash-maddening bit of FMV games, isn’t it?
They’re built for backseat drivers.
Play it alone and you’ll feel like you’re beta-testing a streaming service. Play it with friends, and suddenly you’ve got a popcorn-fueled group therapy session on your hands.
“Do we trust this creepy doctor?”
“Should Erica open the obviously cursed music box?”
“Can someone explain why we’re leaving her alone again?!”
The Plot: Now With 30% More Medallions
You play as Erica Mason, a traumatised young woman with a tragic backstory and a lifetime subscription to Cryptic Visions Weekly.
After receiving a severed hand in the post, she’s whisked off to Delphi House, a psychiatric facility with the comforting ambience of an abandoned boarding school and the narrative subtlety of a brick to the head.
Within minutes, the plot is off to the races: dead parents, shadowy cults, detectives who make baffling decisions, and more locked doors than a Resident Evil mansion.
If you’re expecting airtight logic, lower your expectations.
This is a game where the police think the safest place for a murder target is in the same facility where the last victim worked.
Performance Capture, But Make It Literal
Here’s where Erica genuinely shines, pun intended. The production value is excellent.
This isn’t your dad’s FMV game with green screen nonsense and melodramatic line readings.
Cinematography is tight, the lighting is artful, and the acting, particularly from Holly Earl as Erica, carries a quiet gravitas.
She does a lot with minimal dialogue, navigating scenes with a sort of deer-in-headlights intensity that’s weirdly compelling.
Even when the plot flounders, she keeps you watching.
Austin Wintory’s score also deserves applause. It’s moody and minimalist and elevates every moment like a musical chaperone guiding your emotional hand.
Honestly, if you muted the whole thing and just listened to the soundtrack, you’d still catch the vibes.
Choose Your Own Confusion
Despite being built for multiple playthroughs, Erica left me with that “once is enough” feeling.
Sure, you can go back and see alternate endings, but the mystery’s core doesn’t evolve much.
The big twist? It comes too early.
The real villain? Announced like it’s a LinkedIn promotion.
By the time the final act arrives, the narrative has shifted from a tense murder mystery to a lukewarm cult drama that forgot it was supposed to be scary.
To its credit, there are many micro-decisions, dozens of tiny narrative forks that give the illusion of control.
Choose to be warm, cold, silent, nosy, or whatever flavour of emotionally repressed British woman you’d like to roleplay.
But the outcomes rarely feel drastically different, like picking different icing for the same cake that’s already been sitting in the fridge too long.
Watch, Don’t Wield
Erica is a stylish and often beautiful experience that feels like a playable Netflix movie… if said movie occasionally forgot its own plot beats and used your fingers more for ambience than input.
It’s short enough to finish in one sitting and strong enough visually to feel worth the time, especially if you’re into FMV’s niche charm.
But if you’re looking for gameplay depth, character agency, or a plot that sticks the landing without tripping over its own mysterious medallion, keep walking down the hallway to another interactive story.
Something with a bit more bite and a little less bafflement.
