Simulation Game

Clive Johnson’s narration is the glue that holds *Simulation Game* together. His delivery is a study in controlled chaos—Felicity’s mounting hysteria never feels overplayed, and the dry, weary tone he lends to secondary characters (especially Felicity’s exasperated therapist) adds layers of dark humor to the suffocating dread. The production is crisp, with subtle sound design that heightens the uncanny: distant whispers in the trees, the crunch of leaves underfoot, the way silence itself feels like a character. That said, the story stumbles in its midsection, where the psychological horror starts to feel more like a conventional thriller than the existential nightmare Wixley seems to be aiming for. The twist, when it arrives, is telegraphed too clearly, and the book’s insistence on tying up every loose end—rather than letting the horrors linger—feels like a betrayal of its own unsettling premise. Still, the final act is so visceral and emotionally raw that it nearly washes away the earlier missteps. If you’re looking for a horror story that’s as much about the horror of memory as it is about monsters, this one delivers—but be prepared to sit with the discomfort long after the narrator’s last word.