This is a long one, so I’m putting TL;DR at the start ;) TL;DR: Prey is a game I almost completely misjudged in its opening hours. My first impressions weren’t particularly good, and yet, I’m putting it among my all-time Top 10 games. Talos I is one of the best environments I’ve ever explored, packed with secrets, interconnected spaces and some of the best environmental storytelling I’ve encountered. Prey rewards curiosity and trusts you to figure things out yourself. It isn’t flawless, but what it does well scratches so many of the exact itches I look for that anything less than 10/10 would feel wrong. I went into Prey almost completely blind. I knew it took place on a space station, and that was pretty much it. Very early on, exploring it reminded me of Resident Evil 2, one of my favorite games from my favorite franchise. Not because the games are particularly similar, but because they scratch the same itch. You find locked doors, inaccessible rooms, computers you can’t hack and objects you can’t move. You make a mental note and continue. Hours later you find something new and think, “Wait. There was that room…” Except comparing Talos I to the RPD eventually becomes ridiculous because Talos I is huge. The more I explored, the more areas I discovered, yet the station remained remarkably interconnected. I never knew exactly where everything was, but I started recognizing routes and remembering important places. What makes exploring it even better is that the obvious solution is frequently just one solution. You might find a keycard for a room you’ve already looted because hours earlier you found another way inside. Finding those keycards afterwards became strangely satisfying. “Oh. So THAT’S how normal people were supposed to get in.” Prey rewards curiosity constantly. One of my favorite secrets involved information I encountered early in the game that seemed unimportant. Hours later I found another piece elsewhere, made the connection myself, returned to a place I’d visited long before and tried something. It worked. A hidden compartment opened with valuable items and additional lore. That perfectly summarizes what Prey does so well. There was no objective telling me where to go or character explaining the clue. The game gave me information and trusted me to remember it. I made the connection. That feels completely different from simply following a highlighted solution. That attention to detail extends to the people who lived aboard Talos I. The environmental storytelling is easily among the best I’ve encountered. I read everything: emails, notes, computers, audio logs. Eventually there was so much interconnected information that I wondered whether I should have started taking notes several hours earlier. These aren’t just exposition dumps. You find relationships, arguments, friendships, hobbies and personal problems. You can follow little stories across the station and recognize names you’ve encountered before. There are people playing games together, coworkers discussing each other and relationships that have nothing to do with the main story. Even seemingly insignificant mechanics made sense in ways I didn’t expect. I spent hours wondering why the game allowed me to lock doors after unlocking them. Why would I ever do that? Eventually I learned why in the worst possible way. I won’t spoil the circumstances, but let’s just say the world doesn’t stop functioning because Morgan isn’t in the room. I was very annoyed. I also thought it was awesome. That became a recurring feeling. Occasionally something inconvenienced me, only for me to discover a logical reason for it within the world. A gameplay restriction I initially found frustrating had an in-universe explanation while also preventing me from exploiting a progression system too early. Instead of arbitrary, it became another piece of Talos I’s story. The progression systems took some time to click. Early on, I wondered whether Prey had too many: neuromods, recycling, fabrication, upgrades, scanning, human and alien abilities, tools and grenades. That concern disappeared as I learned how everything fit together. Junk becomes material through recycling, materials feed fabrication, neuromods form the core of progression, scanning opens new possibilities and tougher enemies make those hoarded tools useful. Each system found its place. Prey gives you a toolbox and lets you decide how to use it. Unfortunately, even my new all-time Top 10 game needed something I could complain about: combat. I didn’t particularly enjoy fighting things. The smallest enemies were especially annoying because they’re fast, difficult to hit on a controller and seemingly designed specifically to irritate me. Better weapons and upgrades helped, and learning enemy weaknesses convinced me to use all those grenades and gadgets I’d been hoarding, but combat mostly became easier rather than better. Thankfully, the story gave me plenty of reasons to keep going. I’ll keep this vague, but my understanding of the characters and their motivations changed repeatedly. People I distrusted started making sense. Things I thought I understood became more complicated. New information made me reconsider earlier events. The ending continued that philosophy. It answered enough while leaving me plenty to think about. I finished with questions, but they were questions I wanted to think about rather than things the writers had forgotten to explain. The side content plays a huge role too, frequently adding context to people and events discovered elsewhere. The achievements made it obvious I missed a lot. There are people I didn’t save, secrets I didn’t discover and apparently entire approaches I barely touched. For a game this dense, Prey is remarkably thoughtful about keeping you oriented. The objectives menu separates the stories you’re following, summarizes what you’ve discovered and reminds you what to do next. If you’ve discovered a necessary code, the game surfaces it when needed rather than expecting you to remember a random number from an email three hours earlier. Small feature, huge difference. Visually, Prey still looks great. It isn’t chasing photorealism, and it doesn’t need to. Talos I has a strong identity and individual areas feel distinct. Some of my favorite moments came from navigating outside the station in zero gravity. Seeing Talos I, the Sun and planets around you while moving through space is gorgeous. The sound design deserves praise too, with small details like weapons behaving differently acoustically outside the station. There are a few things I’d improve. Loading screens between major sections became noticeable, even if understandable for a game of its age. Controller aiming desperately needed better assistance, particularly against small enemies. And the amount of lore can become difficult to track, although “there was so much interesting information I wanted to remember all of it” isn’t exactly harsh criticism. And that’s the strange thing about Prey. It’s not a 10 because every component is perfect. It clearly isn’t. It’s a 10 because the things it does exceptionally well are some of the things I value most: exploration, environmental storytelling, lore, interconnected level design, player agency and systems that feel like they belong in the world. Most importantly, Prey trusts you. To explore. To experiment. To remember something you read hours earlier. To find your own way through a locked door instead of waiting for the key. Sometimes that curiosity reveals a secret. Sometimes it connects pieces of a story you didn’t realize were related. And sometimes because you didn’t think there was any reason to lock the doors. Oops.