In 1977, NASA launched Voyager 1, a space probe designed to explore the boundaries of the outer heliosphere and beyond, into the interstellar universe.
Outfitted with a radio communication system and two digital cameras, Voyager made flybys of Jupiter, Saturn and Saturn’s largest moon, Titan, from 1979 to 1980, capturing what have since become some of the most scientifically and culturally significant photos of the solar system to date. She continued onward, taking the final images of her mission in 1990, passing the termination shock in 2004 and crossing the heliopause in 2012, becoming the first man-made object to ever exit the solar system.
She will officially be beyond communication range in approximately 10 years.
Voyager 1 still flies, traveling through interstellar space at 325 million miles per year. It will take her 18,000 years just to travel one light year. The nearest star in her trajectory, Gliese 445, is 17.1 light years away. At just nine feet tall and 21 feet wide, Voyager will likely sail past it, unseen and unheard.
A small, silent ship in a sea of dead stars.
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Iron Lung, developed by David Szymanski and released for Windows in 2022, is a first-person horror game that takes place in a future where humanity has colonized interstellar space, only for all stars and habitable planets to suddenly, inexplicably disappear in what has since been named “The Quiet Rapture.” The only humans left alive are those aboard space stations and starships, which lack the resources needed to sustain the remaining population, leaving too few to rebuild and too many to feed. Left with no other choice, the colonists attempt to explore what little is left, including moons and asteroids, desperately searching for answers.
It is then, while combing the surface of Moon Z-8, that they find the ocean of blood.
And then they find another. And another. And another.
After finding the fourth ocean on Moon AT-5, they decide to begin navigating the depths in the hopes that something beneath the surface may prove useful. However, the fact remains that the survivors don’t have enough materials or manpower to waste on unnecessary expeditions; therefore, they decide to only sacrifice what won’t be missed.
You, the player, are a convict who has been tasked with navigating and charting the ocean on AT-5 from within a rudimentary submarine nicknamed the “Iron Lung.” You have been welded inside the ship and have no means of escaping or observing the outside environment except through an X-ray camera, which you will use to document landmarks. You have been promised your freedom upon completion of this mission.
A note left onboard the ship for you to discover says differently.
“This is not an expedition,” it insists. “It’s an execution.”
Iron Lung’s greatest strength is its embodiment of what director Mark Fischbach once called “the monotony of survival.”
The majority of the game is spent within a small metal room, using map coordinates and still images to navigate a space you cannot see, with only small audio cues to tell you when something is wrong. Progress is slow and halting, and it takes a certain amount of focus to maneuver your way around the jagged rocks and narrow tunnels within the depths without damaging the ship or losing progress. Make no mistake — this is a horror game, and there are moments when truly terrifying things appear — but these are often brief and cause little harm to the player. The remainder of this hour-long experience is quiet and uneventful.
The truth is, Iron Lung’s effect is largely psychological. Jumpscares are cheap; true horror lies in the dulled edge of terror, suspense blunted with time and boredom, brought to the surface in a panicked moment, only to be stifled as you log yet another round of coordinates. The tension builds, plateaus, and the cycle repeats.
This effect was explored in Iron Lung’s film adaptation by the same name, released in January 2026 to over 4,000 theaters worldwide. Written and directed by Mark Fischbach, the film depicts Simon, a convict forced to explore the depths in the name of a mission he’s repeatedly told is “bigger than him,” only to be confronted with the reality of what lies beneath the surface.
A good chunk of the film’s runtime is spent on Simon’s endless struggle with the navigational system — which makes sense, since that’s the main mechanic of the game. Still, despite interspersing this with bits of dialogue and unnerving images seen through the ship’s camera, many critics insulted the film for being “slow” and “boring,” insisting it should have gotten to the action sooner.
However, as Fischbach stated, that monotony is essentially the point.
Fear is exhausting. Adrenaline is electrifying, but when it leaves, you’re often worse off than when it began. To sustain fear over an extended period of time, to be forced to live on the knife’s edge of survival, constantly aware that something could strike at any moment — that is deadening.
In this sense, Iron Lung is successful as a horror-suspense game. But the film takes it a step further and turns the game’s initial message into something slightly different.
There is fear in survival, yes, but there is also agency. Throughout the film, Simon constantly grapples with his lack of control over his situation — quite literally out of his depth — yet he continues to fight for his freedom using any means necessary, doggedly making his way across AT-5 with the ocean at his back. He manages to maintain his sense of self and humanity, doodling on his map and apologizing to his chair after striking it in anger, crying from homesickness and cussing at every inconvenience.
And when he finally comes face to face with what is trying to kill him, Simon does not run, but simply turns to it and introduces himself.
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Attached to the exterior of Voyager 1 is a small, golden disc in the shape of a record.
It is a time capsule containing information encoded into grooves in its surface, including spoken greetings in 55 languages; a musical collection containing the works of Beethoven and Blind Willie Johnson, among others; and 116 images that depict everything from stills of gymnast Cathy Rigby to a Chinese dinner party to the Sydney Opera House.
Designed to be an introduction of our species to extraterrestrial cultures, the disc’s contents are presented objectively, with little room for emotional context. However, it makes an exception for a single photograph of our world, which is simply titled “Home.”
With nothing in space to erode it, the Golden Record will likely outlast humanity, as well as the Earth itself.
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Iron Lung is rated T for Teen. It is available on Windows, Nintendo Switch, PlayStation 5 and Android.
