Finlay "Fin" Muir isn't your typical video game protagonist. He's not a space marine. He isn't a wizard. He's just a guy from Glasgow with a thick accent, a complicated past, and a very bad day at work. Honestly, when you first boot up Still Wakes the Deep, you might expect a generic horror lead, but what The Chinese Room actually gave us is a masterclass in grounded, human storytelling. The game drops you onto the Beira D, an oil rig in the North Sea circa 1975, and then it proceeds to tear your heart out.
Muir is the emotional glue.
Without him, the game would just be a very pretty, very wet walking simulator with some tentacles. But because we're seeing this cosmic disaster through the eyes of a father who just wants to get home to his wife, Suze, the stakes feel impossibly high. It’s personal. You aren't saving the world; you’re just trying to survive long enough to say sorry.
The Man Behind the Beard: Who is Finlay Muir?
Finlay Muir is a fugitive of sorts. Not the "wanted by the FBI" kind, but the "running away from his mistakes" kind. He took the job on the Beira D because he got into a fight back home and needed to disappear before the police came knocking. This context is vital. It’s why he’s so desperate. He’s already failing his family, and the rig disaster is the ultimate physical manifestation of his life falling apart.
He’s an electrician. Think about that for a second. In most games, you’re a warrior. In Still Wakes the Deep, Muir’s primary interaction with the world is through a screwdriver and a flashlight. He’s vulnerable. He breathes heavily when he’s scared—which is basically all the time—and his voice cracks when he yells for his friends. The voice acting by Alec Newman is genuinely some of the best in the medium. It doesn't feel like "acting." It feels like a man who is cold, wet, and utterly terrified.
The Beira D is a labyrinth of rust and salt. When the drill hits "The Shape," everything changes. But for Muir, the horror isn't just the biomass growing on the walls; it’s the voices of his coworkers. He knows these people. He knows Brodie. He knows Rennick. When they start turning into... whatever those things are, Muir’s reaction is pure grief.
Why Still Wakes the Deep Muir Works Where Other Horror Leads Fail
Most horror games rely on a "silent protagonist" to help you project yourself into the role. Still Wakes the Deep takes the opposite approach. Muir talks to himself. He swears—a lot. He prays. He begs. This makes the isolation of the North Sea feel even more oppressive because we are trapped inside his head.
📖 Related: FC 26 Web App: How to Master the Market Before the Game Even Launches
There’s this specific moment early on where Muir has to crawl through a vent. Standard gaming trope, right? But the way Muir reacts to it—the claustrophobia, the way he mutters about his wife—turns a boring mechanic into a character beat. You realize he isn’t a hero. He’s a victim who refuses to give up.
The relationship between Muir and his boss, Rennick, is another layer of brilliance. Rennick is a prick. There’s no other way to put it. He’s the corporate sycophant who ignores safety warnings for the sake of profit. But even when the rig is literally screaming, Muir’s interactions with the surviving crew show a level of empathy you rarely see in the genre. He cares. Even for the people he doesn't particularly like.
The Scottish Identity and Authenticity
Let’s talk about the Scots. Often, in media, Scottish characters are caricatures. They’re Groundskeeper Willie or Braveheart. Muir is just a guy from the 70s. The slang isn't forced; it’s just how he speaks. "Aye," "Cannae," "Braw." It adds a layer of texture that makes the Beira D feel like a real place with a real history.
The game doesn't translate for you. You’re expected to keep up. This cultural specificity makes the horror feel more "real" because the characters feel like people who actually exist. When Muir talks about his kids, or the letter he’s writing to Suze, it’s heartbreaking because we recognize that specific brand of working-class regret.
Dealing With "The Shape" and Muir's Path to Redemption
The monster in Still Wakes the Deep is an unknowable, cosmic entity. It doesn't have a name, really. The crew just calls it "the thing" or "that stuff." For Muir, the monster is a physical barrier between him and his redemption.
Every time Muir survives an encounter, he isn't getting stronger. He isn't leveling up. He’s getting more exhausted. By the final act, you can hear the toll it’s taken on him. His movements are slower. His voice is raspier. Most games make you feel like a god by the end; this game makes you feel like a flickering candle in a hurricane.
👉 See also: Mass Effect Andromeda Gameplay: Why It’s Actually the Best Combat in the Series
Key Narrative Beats That Define Muir:
- The Phone Calls: Every time Muir finds a working phone, the desperation to hear Suze’s voice is palpable. It’s his North Star.
- The Engineering Puzzles: These aren't just "gameplay." They show Muir’s competence. He might be a screw-up at home, but he knows how to keep a rig running. It’s his one bit of pride.
- The Sacrifices: Seeing Muir watch his friends transform is worse than the jump scares. The psychological weight he carries is immense.
The game is short—maybe six hours—but Muir’s journey feels epic because the emotional arc is so tight. He moves from a man running away from his problems to a man who finally stops running and stands his ground.
Navigating the Beira D: Tips for Playing as Muir
If you’re jumping into Still Wakes the Deep, you need to understand that Muir isn't a fighter. You cannot kill the monsters. You can only hide, distract, and run. This is a game of "Vulnerability."
- Listen to Muir’s breathing. It’s a mechanic. If he’s panicking, your controls get slightly more erratic. Take a second in a safe spot to let him calm down.
- Don't ignore the environmental storytelling. Muir’s locker, the notes left by other crew members, the photos of families—these all flesh out why Muir is so desperate to save what’s left of the crew.
- Use the yellow paint. It sounds "gamey," but in the context of an oil rig, the color coding actually makes sense. Muir is an electrician; he knows how to navigate industrial spaces. Follow the logic of the rig.
The pacing of the game is relentless. Once the drill hits the entity, the Beira D begins to sink and tilt. The verticality of the levels means Muir is constantly climbing, swinging, and shimmying. It’s physically taxing, and the game does a great job of making you feel Muir’s fatigue through the haptic feedback (if you're on PS5) and the sound design.
The Legacy of Muir in Modern Horror
We don't get many characters like Finlay Muir anymore. Everything is either a massive RPG with a blank slate protagonist or a high-octane shooter. Muir reminds us that horror works best when we care about the person holding the flashlight.
The Chinese Room has a history of this. They made A Machine for Pigs and Dear Esther. They know how to write "sad men in bad situations." But Muir feels like the pinnacle of their character work. He’s more grounded than the leads in their previous games. He’s more relatable.
If you haven't played it yet, go in for the atmosphere, but stay for the man. By the time the credits roll, Muir won't just be a character you played; he’ll be a person you genuinely rooted for. The ending is... well, it’s a lot. It’s beautiful and devastating all at once. It’s exactly what Muir deserved, and exactly what the player needs to see.
✨ Don't miss: Marvel Rivals Emma Frost X Revolution Skin: What Most People Get Wrong
Actionable Insights for Your Playthrough:
To get the most out of the story, play with high-quality headphones. The sound design is 50% of the characterization. You need to hear the subtle shifts in Muir’s breathing and the way the rig groans around him to truly appreciate the scale of his struggle.
Secondly, read the letters. Don't just skim them for codes. The letters from Suze and the notes from the other workers provide the "Why" behind Muir’s "How." It transforms the game from a horror flick into a tragedy.
Finally, embrace the failure. Muir is a man who has failed most of his life. If you mess up a stealth section or fall into the freezing water, don't get frustrated. It’s all part of the desperate, clambering energy that makes Still Wakes the Deep a modern classic.
Check your audio settings to ensure the "Dialogue" is prioritized. You don't want to miss Muir’s muttered quips and panicked prayers under the roar of the ocean and the screams of the transformed. This is a character study disguised as a disaster movie—treat it like one.