SOMA is designed as a single, finite story rather than an ongoing hobby. Most players will see the credits in 8–12 hours, which fits comfortably into a week or two of 60–90 minute sessions for a busy adult. There’s no side mode, endless grind, or complex meta to manage once you’re done; the experience feels complete after one thoughtful run. Sessions are naturally broken up by area transitions, major reveals, and shuttle rides, which make great stopping points. The game autosaves often, and you can pause any time, so it handles real-life interruptions well. The main limitation is its checkpoint-based saving—you can’t always preserve progress at the exact moment you’d like, though segments between checkpoints are usually short. Coming back after a few days away is easy thanks to simple controls and clear short-term goals, though you might reread a couple of logs to refresh details. It’s entirely solo, so you never need to coordinate with others to make progress.

Moment to moment, SOMA asks for steady, deliberate attention rather than lightning-fast reactions. You’ll spend a lot of time reading emails, listening to audio logs, and studying rooms to spot cables, switches, and routes forward. When monsters appear, the tone shifts and you’ll listen carefully for footsteps and distorted sounds, peeking around corners and planning a path between bits of cover. These stealth sections feel tense, but they’re short compared to the quieter exploration and story moments. This isn’t a background “podcast game.” You’ll want to keep your eyes and ears on the screen, but the thinking you do is simple and grounded in the environment rather than complicated menus. Busy adults can handle it after work because it doesn’t demand heavy mental calculation; it just asks that you be present and willing to read, listen, and soak in the atmosphere.

Learning how to play SOMA doesn’t take long. Within the first hour, you’ll know how to move, crouch, interact with objects, and hide when something nasty is nearby. Puzzles follow consistent logic—trace cables, find power sources, look for keycards—so once you’ve solved a few, later ones feel familiar rather than tricky. There are no complicated combat systems, stats, or builds to manage. Because of this, there isn’t a lot of payoff for deep mechanical mastery. You can get a little better at stealth—reading enemy patterns, choosing smarter hiding spots—but that mostly makes a handful of sections smoother, not fundamentally different. The real “skill” SOMA rewards is careful observation and a willingness to think about its ideas. The more you pay attention to terminals, conversations, and environmental details, the richer the story feels. For busy adults, this means you won’t need to grind practice or relearn complex mechanics if you take a break for a few days.

SOMA is intense far more in mood than in mechanics. The game constantly leans on claustrophobic spaces, distorted audio, and broken bodies to keep you on edge. Even when nothing is chasing you, you often feel like something could be, which raises your heart rate over a long stretch of play. Occasional chase or close-call stealth moments spike the tension, especially if you’re easily startled by loud noises or sudden enemy appearances. Mechanical punishment is moderate: deaths usually send you back a short distance, and puzzles are rarely taxing. The real strain comes from the psychological weight of what you see and the bleak philosophical questions the story forces you to confront. If you’re sensitive to body horror or existential dread, this can feel emotionally draining. Safe Mode is an important option here, turning enemies into non-lethal threats so you can reduce fear while still experiencing the story. Overall, expect a gripping, sometimes exhausting ride rather than a relaxing evening wind-down.