Content Warning: Outlast is graphic, as are some of the images I’m using in this article, and deals with disturbing sexual content.
Thanks to Hamada for helping with edits.
Outlast is a game I have a long, strange relationship with, but only a few weeks ago did I finally touch its Whistleblower expansion. Unsurprisingly, it offers more of Outlast’s gameplay, jump scares, and story. An anonymous source told journalist Miles Upshur about inhumane experiments occurring within Murkoff Coorperation’s Mount Massive Asylum corrective facility, spurring his investigation in the base game; Whistleblower opens with its protagonist, Waylon Park, sending that email. Soon, he’s forced through his own horrific ordeal, but not before briefly meeting one of many people Murkoff is experimenting on:
Reception to Outlast: Whistleblower was positive enough, even if criticism was leveled at it for being more of the same. But fans of the series seem to really like it, especially its standout villain: Eddie Gluskin, “the Groom.” The spooky season may be over, but I’m seeking one last scare, so let’s see how Whistleblower’s flagship wrongdoer measures up.
Eddie Gluskin’s History
Long before the events of Outlast and Whistleblower, a young Eddie Gluskin was repeatedly abused sexually by his father and uncle. Upon starting Whistleblower, a now-grown Eddie had developed murderous, misogynistic tendencies and was ostensibly being treated for them at Mount Massive Asylum. In reality, he was experimented on in its Underground Lab, where Waylon works. Everything goes south, however, when the Walrider escapes its containment, which causes the Variants—the subjects of Murkoff’s testing—to break free, too. Amidst the chaos, Eddie carves out a home for himself within the Vocational Block wing, reunites with Waylon, and ultimately kills himself by accident. Eddie’s only appearances since were a cameo in Outlast: The Murkoff Account and a lighthearted Valentine’s Day message.
So, what’re my thoughts on Eddie?
My feelings towards Outlast are complicated. I did have fun going through the original game back in 2018; I rarely play horror games, so it was a novelty. Outlast certainly boasts positive qualities, too, with Dr. Richard Trager’s chapter being a genuinely strong highlight. Regardless, the game couldn’t be much more formulaic, and by the time I entered its closing act, I was desperate to reach the credits.
Incidentally, sprinting away from the Walrider in its linear lab is where I realized something that undercut the whole game: at least on the normal difficulty, you can easily outrun every threat. That lesson served me well during Whistleblower: why bother engaging with its threadbare stealth mechanics when legging it is a faster means of accomplishing the same goal? Unsurprisingly, a lot of the base game’s other issues—simplistic level design, technical hiccups, and poor, exploitable enemy AI—carry over into Whistleblower, too. And its asset reuse can be kind of jarring. It’s hardly game-ruining that characters reuse voice clips from older, unrelated characters or that most prison guards look identical, but they still weaken what should be a grim ambiance.
This isn’t to say the downloadable campaign is a compete bust, however! Mount Massive Asylum is a strong enough setting to power a second campaign, especially since Whistleblower flips the script. Miles gradually descends deeper into the establishment while uncovering its secrets, ultimately landing in the lab. That’s where whistleblower Waylon starts, and his romp deals with him slowly but surely escaping. Anyway, after emailing Miles and walking by a few awkwardly animated coworkers, the mute scientist meets a terrified Eddie Gluskin, who begs Waylon for help. He does nothing and is soon imprisoned himself.
Whistleblower’s relationship to the base game gets…a little disorienting. Miles and Waylon never bumping into each other until Whistleblower’s finale makes sense; Mount Massive Asylum is huge, chaos enveloped the place, and the timing between their romps doesn’t sync up until the ending anyway. But some elements of Whistleblower—Eddie, namely—don’t cleanly mesh with Outlast. See, the guy’s made a name for himself: Variants fear him, know him by multiple nicknames, and offer him “brides” so they can avoid his clutches. Which, retroactively, makes it odd he’s never even alluded to in the original game (nor are Whistleblower’s other newcomers, like the boring cannibal we spend half of it evading). Still, Eddie’s thing is mutilating others, so I guess his presence can potentially explain why so many Variants lack genitalia?
Still, within Whistleblower itself, the dread Eddie’s name invokes is great; he’s built up well. You’ll find documents discussing the bachelor and maybe catch a glimpse or two of him. Your paths will cross, and considering Waylon’s earlier negligence, it’s reasonable to assume Eddie won’t be thrilled to see him. One of Whistleblower’s better segments also leads nicely into Eddie’s: Dennis, a Variant who alternates between four different personalities, deliberately chases Waylon down towards the Groom’s lair and then laughs at him. By this point, Eddie’s had very little screen time, and I respected Red Barrels’ restraint in saving him. Chris Walker, Miles’ personal nemesis, was doled out so frequently it became comical, so I was hopeful Eddie’s chapter would approach the craft of Trager’s.
And…well, Eddie’s den is gross. Yes, sure, this is a place where crazy, sinister people do crazy, sinister things, but seeing two breasts crudely sown on a corpse’s torso and its head where its manhood should be isn’t scary; it’s gratuitous. Oh, and the level design for this chapter is quintessential Outlast: you sprint and maybe hide through a linear obstacle course (Trager’s floor, for comparison, had multiple hallways and rooms, offering some freedom in how you evade him). There is one nice detail, where a fall out of a window leaves Waylon with a limp (well, it goes away briefly at the beginning of the final chapter), but mechanically, it only further undermines Eddie—how scary is this serial killer if he can’t outpace Waylon now?
But credit where it’s due: Eddie is striking. Unlike the litany of rag-wearing Variants, Eddie’s sense of style never wavered: he dresses like Clark Gable, smiles plenty, and has a charming, gentlemanly voice. Actually, he’s really chipper—he frequently sings “I Want a Girl (Just Like the Girl That Married Dear Old Dad),” which is how the game communicates he’s lurking nearby. Like Chris, Eddie’s somewhat meatier backstory is a boon. His files and the context clues scattered throughout his base convey his trauma, addressing why he seeks attention, a “bride” (since no women are around, he makes due by mutilating the men), and children (whom Waylon will somehow bear, apparently). And the fact Eddie never runs after you exudes confidence and conviction; he knows he’s strong, capable, and will catch you. His measured stride sorta brings Micheal Myers or It Follows’ nameless entity to mind.
After Eddie grabs a locker you’re forced to hide in, he drugs Waylon—“darling,” he dubs him—and makes the former Murkoff employee watch one of his lacerations. It’s gross, but at least our view’s limited; leaving a little to the imagination is preferred and creepier than that bizarre corpse. Then it’s Waylon’s turn on the chopping block—literally. But a wayward Variant appears and decks our amorous aggressor, letting us grab our stuff and escape. It’s a little weird that the amateur surgeon threw out the batteries from Waylon’s camera, but whatever; Red Barrels probably wanted to make Whistleblower’s final stretch slightly more challenging by weakening your night vision (which batteries replenish).
That Variant clearly didn’t last long, since Eddie’s soon hot on our tail. He shouts misogynistic slurs. Waylon’s breathing, like usual, is heavy. Ultimately, the barbaric romantic, in a predictable jump scare, grabs us once it seems we’re about to escape his turf. He drags Waylon to the gymnasium, where most of his victims dangle from the ceiling. He attempts to do the same to his “darling,” but a quick time event saves us—and makes the giant unintentionally impale himself with a pipe. As he dies, he holds Waylon’s hand and utters, “We could have been beautiful.” It’s another string of Outlast-y events.
But his death elevates it. Part of Eddie is sympathetic: he’s been victimized countless times, several of them as a defenseless child and through no fault of his own. And though the savage was in dire need of psychiatric help, he received the opposite: Murkoff’s testing only exacerbated his mental illness. Eddie’s wistful farewell even underscores an amusing difference between the cynical Miles and sentimental Waylon: the latter did not mourn his stalker’s death—he was even holding in laughter, as was I (honestly, I was just happy to be nearly done with Outlast)—while Miles, kindly, did. Given all the abuse Waylon’s also suffered, it was uplifting to see him score a victory.
Unfortunately, I never saw Eddie as the terrifying figure his fans see; Trager is still Outlast‘s gold standard. But he’s a decent runner up and fitting choice as Whistleblower’s—and, by extension, Mount Massive Asylum’s—final boss: he helps open and close the ordeal (similarly, the Murkoff suit who imprisons Waylon and the Walrider are technically his final obstacles, but they’re dealt with in cutscenes). And Eddie’s cheerful demeanor is a welcome reprieve within the oppressive Outlast, helping end the series’ first chapter on a memorable note. Here’s hoping the cast of Outlast 2, whenever I decide to try it, hones in on his strengths.
Congratulations, Eddie! You can hang like the rest of them.
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