Montas

Montas is a first-person survival horror adventure game set in the contemporary city of Montas, where players assume the role of Joseph Walker, a tormented accountant plagued by haunting nightmares, unsettling hallucinations, and growing paranoia due to stress, anxiety, and alcoholism. As recent murders in the area draw police scrutiny, players explore an immersive world filled with puzzle elements, atmospheric tension, and a gripping horror narrative, uncovering dark secrets about Joseph’s deteriorating mental state and the hidden mysteries of Montas itself.

Montas: Review

Introduction

Imagine waking up in a dimly lit office, the haze of a hangover blurring the line between routine drudgery and encroaching madness—a setup that echoes the psychological unraveling of classics like Silent Hill 2 or Amnesia: The Dark Descent. Montas, released in Early Access on March 24, 2014, by the indie studio Organic Humans, aimed to plunge players into just such a nightmarish descent, blending survival horror with introspective exploration in a contemporary urban hellscape. As a game that teases vast underground labyrinths and hallucinatory paranoia but remains eternally unfinished, Montas stands as a haunting artifact of the Early Access era, a period when indie dreams often collided with harsh realities. This review argues that while Montas captures fleeting moments of atmospheric brilliance and innovative VR potential, its stalled development and technical shortcomings render it a tragic curiosity rather than a landmark title, underscoring the perils of crowdfunding-fueled ambition in horror gaming.

Development History & Context

Organic Humans, a small indie outfit founded by developer JarthGames and a handful of collaborators, emerged during the 2012-2014 indie boom, a time when platforms like Steam Greenlight and Indiegogo democratized game creation but also amplified risks. Montas was born from this ethos, with its initial pitch on Indiegogo (though the campaign details are sparse in preserved records) emphasizing community involvement and VR experimentation. The studio’s vision, articulated in Steam announcements, was to craft an immersive “opera” of horror—metaphorical theater where players are both audience and performer—focusing on psychological dread over jump scares, inspired by the era’s rising interest in narrative-driven indies like Dear Esther and survival horror revivals such as Outlast.

Technological constraints were central to Montas‘ journey. Launched in Early Access using the Unreal Development Kit (UDK, essentially Unreal Engine 3), the game grappled with the engine’s limitations for dynamic lighting and VR integration, common hurdles for indies without AAA budgets. Organic Humans promised a shift to Unreal Engine 4 for the full release, touting full support for Oculus Rift DK1 (and planned DK2 compatibility) to enhance immersion in hallucinatory sequences. This VR angle positioned Montas at the forefront of emerging tech, aligning with 2014’s VR renaissance post-Oculus acquisition by Facebook. However, the gaming landscape was unforgiving: the Early Access model, popularized by Minecraft and Don’t Starve, encouraged rapid releases but often led to overpromising. By 2014, horror was saturated with indie titles emphasizing atmosphere over mechanics, yet Montas struggled amid giants like Alien: Isolation and the looming shadow of Bloodborne. Organic Humans’ small team, operating seemingly in spare time as per Steam forum admissions, faced mounting pressure from bug reports and community impatience, culminating in radio silence after 2016 updates. What began as a bold experiment in player-driven development fizzled into abandonment, a cautionary tale for the post-No Man’s Sky era of accountability.

Narrative & Thematic Deep Dive

At its core, Montas weaves a tale of psychological erosion through the eyes of Joseph Walker, an unassuming accountant whose mundane existence in the titular city fractures under the weight of unseen traumas. The plot opens with Joseph stirring at his desk, disoriented and nursing an alcoholic haze, as fragmented nightmares bleed into reality—visions of impossible events that haunt his steps. Paranoia escalates as police inquiries into local murders implicate the shadows of Montas, a sprawling urban labyrinth that mirrors Joseph’s unraveling psyche. Without a full release, the narrative remains embryonic, confined to Early Access glimpses: a subway ride devolving into grotesque hallucinations (dubbed “The Meat Train” in Yogscast playthroughs), office corridors twisting into nightmarish echoes, and descents into subterranean voids teeming with the “unknown.”

Characters are sparse and introspective, with Joseph serving as a silent protagonist whose internal monologue—hinted at through environmental storytelling like scattered bottles and cryptic notes—embodies themes of isolation and self-destruction. No bombastic villains emerge; instead, antagonists manifest as hallucinatory pursuers or environmental hazards, blurring the line between external threats and Joseph’s guilt-ridden mind. Dialogue is minimal, limited to overheard radio snippets or police chatter, which amplifies the horror through absence—much like P.T.‘s looping isolation. Thematically, Montas delves deeply into alcoholism as a metaphor for societal decay, with Montas itself as a character: a contemporary city hiding eldritch secrets beneath its veneer of normalcy, evoking Lovecraftian cosmic indifference intertwined with modern anxiety. Hallucinations challenge perceptions of reality versus imagination, positioning the player as an unwitting actor in Joseph’s “opera,” where survival interrogates free will and sanity. Though incomplete, these elements promise a profound exploration of mental health stigma in horror, akin to SOMA‘s philosophical dread, but the abrupt truncation leaves thematic threads dangling, frustratingly unresolved.

Gameplay Mechanics & Systems

Montas eschews traditional combat for a tense cat-and-mouse survival loop, emphasizing evasion, puzzle-solving, and environmental interaction in first-person perspective. Core gameplay revolves around exploration: players navigate Joseph’s world, scavenging for items to progress—perhaps a key hidden in a hallucinatory vision or a vent to crawl through amid pursuing shadows. Run-or-hide mechanics dominate encounters, with enemies (zombie-like apparitions or abstract horrors) forcing quick decisions: sprint through derelict subways, hide in lockers, or manipulate the environment, like triggering distractions with found objects. Puzzle elements integrate organically, such as combining tools to access underground labyrinths, rewarding observation over trial-and-error.

Character progression is rudimentary, tied to narrative discovery rather than RPG stats—no leveling, just incremental revelations that unlock new areas or clarify hallucinations. The UI is minimalist, with a heads-up display limited to health indicators and interact prompts, fostering immersion but occasionally clashing with clunky controls (keyboard or controller supported, though Steam reviews decry imprecise movement). Innovations shine in VR mode, where Oculus Rift support heightens disorientation—head-tracking amplifies paranoia as “ghosts” lurk in peripheral vision—but this is marred by UE3’s janky physics, leading to frequent falls through textures mistaken for gameplay (as noted in Russian Steam reviews). Flaws abound: no save system in early builds (frustrating restarts from “traps” or bugs), repetitive loops in unfinished sections like the park area, and a lack of polish that blurs intentional horror with technical glitches. While the hide-and-seek tension innovates on Amnesia‘s formula by incorporating real-time environmental hazards (e.g., collapsing floors in “imaginary” realms), the absence of a complete arc renders progression aimless, turning potential depth into a grind of unresolved potential.

World-Building, Art & Sound

Montas the city is a masterful stroke of world-building, a contemporary metropolis that transitions seamlessly from banal offices and bustling streets to cavernous underbellies and surreal dreamscapes, embodying the theme of hidden horrors beneath everyday life. The setting juxtaposes stark realism—flickering fluorescent lights in Joseph’s firm, rain-slicked urban alleys—with fantastical shifts: vast underground labyrinths pulsing with bioluminescent fungi, abandoned trains morphing into fleshy abominations. This duality crafts an atmosphere of creeping dread, where “safe” zones like the workplace subtly warp (e.g., colleagues’ faces distorting in reflections), blurring real and imaginary to heighten immersion.

Visually, the art direction leans on UE3’s capabilities for moody lighting and fog, creating diverse environments: bright, sterile offices contrasting dark, claustrophobic tunnels; new constructions crumbling into old ruins; safe havens turning dangerous via hallucinatory overlays. Textures, while dated by 2014 standards, evoke a gritty realism—peeling wallpaper, littered bottles—that supports the alcoholism motif, though bugs like clipping models undermine the polish. Secret areas, teased in features lists, encourage thorough exploration, revealing lore scraps that deepen the city’s lore as a sentient, oppressive entity.

Sound design is Montas‘ strongest pillar, a sonic opera that elevates the experience. Ambient tracks swell from subtle office hums to dissonant echoes in labyrinths, with footsteps and distant screams building paranoia. Effects like gurgling hallucinations or “farty ghost” whispers (as humorously noted in Yogscast episodes) add layers of unease, while a promised soundtrack in the Collector’s Edition hints at orchestral undertones for the full vision. These elements synergize to make the world feel alive and treacherous, contributing to rare moments of genuine terror that outshine many contemporaries—yet the unfinished state leaves atmospheric peaks without resolution, like a symphony cut mid-crescendo.

Reception & Legacy

Upon Early Access launch, Montas garnered modest buzz, with positive nods from let’s plays like the Yogscast’s Fright Night series (four episodes in 2014, praising its scariness and recommending purchase despite incompletion). Steam reviews are polarized: enthusiasts lauded the “own mood” and soundscape (e.g., German reviewer Tizzalicious appreciating diversity up to the park), while detractors decried it as “unplayable crap” riddled with bugs, poor controls, and no progression (common complaints from 2016-2019, including refund requests). No MobyGames critic score exists, and commercial performance was underwhelming—collected by only 14 players on the site, with RAWG noting insufficient ratings. Priced at $10 (unchanged from Early Access to promised full release, including a $30 Collector’s Edition), it failed to sustain momentum, with forums echoing sentiments like “It’s an actual shame this game will never be finished” (Dusk Golem, 2019).

Over time, Montas‘ reputation evolved from hopeful indie darling to symbol of Early Access pitfalls. Post-2016, developer silence—despite pinned update threads—fueled accusations of abandonment, mirroring scandals like Yacht Club Games wait times but on a micro scale. Its legacy is niche: a precursor to VR horror experiments in titles like The Forest or Kholat (similar exploration tags on RAWG), influencing indie emphasis on psychological immersion over combat. Yet, without completion, it exerts minimal industry sway, serving more as a historical footnote on crowdfunding risks (Indiegogo ties) and VR’s early teething pains. In horror’s pantheon, Montas lingers as an unfinished opera, inspiring cautionary analyses in game history texts rather than emulation.

Conclusion

Montas tantalizes with its descent into paranoia and masterful atmospheric strokes, from Joseph’s fractured psyche to the city’s shadowy underbelly, all underpinned by innovative VR aspirations. Yet, its Early Access limbo—plagued by bugs, incomplete narratives, and developer abandonment—transforms promise into poignant failure, a stark reminder that horror thrives on delivery, not just dread. As a historical artifact, it earns a place in the annals of indie survival horror as a bold but broken experiment, warranting archival play for enthusiasts but advising caution for newcomers. Verdict: A flawed gem (6/10), essential for understanding the Early Access double-edged sword, but ultimately a tragedy of unrealized potential in video game history.