Stranger Things review: invigorating outside-the-box storytelling

This highly ambitious production from Tender Claws—a studio with a history in delivering innovative VR works—is the equivalent of a television anthology series, in the sense it’s divided into 11 distinct but thematically connected chapters, each taking place in the Strange Things universe. Don’t go in expecting a smooth-flowing overarching narrative or a standard video game experience. There’s a focus on exploring the nightmarish parallel reality The Upside Down (which features prominently in the show) and unpacking the character of Vecna, a hideous villain visually reminiscent of the comic book baddie Red Skull—with splashes of Freddy Krueger, Voldemart, and Venom.

Vecna can move using terrible tentacle-like vines that protrude from his body. These become our quasi-limbs, controllable through a satisfying gameplay mechanic that allows us to cover an environment with these vines, then use them to hoist ourselves up and around. This embodiment of a villain reflects an unorthodox decision to unfold the story from the perspective of a baddie (although we play other characters in some chapters). But in terms of unconventional elements that take risks and think outside the box, the party’s just getting started.

The easy option for Tender Claws would’ve been to structure Stranger Things VR like The Twilight Zone VR, which is separated into three scenarios, each repackaging familiar gameplay styles and mechanics, stemming from stealth games and first-person shooters. Tender Claws had loftier visions in mind. Like their wonderfully idiosyncratic The Under Presents, based in a surreal nightclub on the edge of existence, Stranger Things VR eschews video game conventions and experiments with largely untested areas of immersive storytelling. Much of the experience is conferred with an understanding that VR storytelling is about using space to reveal narrative information. The ride is a bit bumpy, but there are many “wow” moments.

Take, for instance, a section of the first chapter set in a surreal and cavernous space, neither inside nor out, where we learn basic mechanics a la the ability to telekinetically grab, move, and crush objects. Our instructor announces that we’ll practice “remote viewing,” which enables us to open portals by pointing and holding the trigger button. These portals are essentially a series of windows through which we observe various dramatic scenarios unfolding in the town where the story’s based. In one, we observe an everyday moment in a supermarket; in another, an exchange in a diner. They get progressively darker: a couple in a car discuss a serial killer, for instance, and kids dare a demon to show itself. 

These scenarios last for as long as we allow the portal to be open; when we release the trigger the window closes. These are much more than cutscenes—emerging from the space around us, for a period of time determined by the player. This approach avoids overt cuts, which, while often unobtrusive and sometimes invisible in films, can have an intensely displacing effect in VR. At other times, Stranger Things exploits that sense of displacement to disorient and surprise us. Tender Claws have thought about when to abide by the “rules” and when to break them. 

Another example of transforming the methodology of a conventional “cut” into a more VR-centric flourish occurs in chapter three, when we embody the character of Will and pick up a View-Master device, which were popular in the 1980s. The game labels this a “memory viewer,” with each “slide” (changeable by pressing the trigger) loading a different scenario. The first takes place in a video games arcade, the next in a comic book store, the one after that at a sleepover party. I won’t get into what happens in these scenes, story-wise, suffice to say that we’re returned to the same surroundings, which become increasingly monstered, creating a sense of spiraling terror—the sticky, icky feeling of mutating memories clinging like leeches. 

Another chapter, in which we embody the character of Henry, takes this repetitive approach—reusing the same settings to convey a kind of looping horror—further, returning us to identical or near-identical scenarios (inside a military lab where we’re experimented on) what felt like dozens of times. This was long and draining; there were times when I felt like ripping my headset off and throwing it out the window. But the arduous nature of it was also clearly intentional: not quite an attempt at simulating torture, but getting there. Another chapter applies a looping structure to a car-set framing device in which we drive, like a bat out of hell, through slightly different environments, navigable by operating a radio knob. A spirit of innovation permeates the entire experience. 

The generally lukewarm reviews Stranger Things VR received from several outlets says more about the video game-oriented perspective of reviewers than the experience itself. Productions that excitingly experiment with emerging kinds of storytelling grammar are rare and beautiful beasts. This beast is rare, beautiful, and, in a very deliberate way. terribly ugly: a genuinely unsettling experience that does a fine job reflecting and extending the spirit of the source material.