“The Thing” starts with two elements that will define it—confusion and cold. You can feel the wind circling the camp like the helicopter of Norwegians trying to kill a fleeing dog. What the hell is going on here? The characters are introduced in a state of confusion, surrounded by snow-covered everything, and that confusion will only increase as the true horror of their situation becomes further defined. “The Thing” starts as pure, alien invasion horror—is there anything from that era more disturbing than the dog/alien hybrid, a prime example of one of the film’s greatest gifts: stunning practical effects? It’s a Lovecraftian vision of body horror, part dog and part something out of your worst nightmare.

And from that brutal scene, “The Thing” develops perhaps its greatest lasting strength as a story of paranoia. The crew soon realizes that their invader can take on the appearance of anyone at the camp. Some of the greatest horror cinema of all time has been built on a foundation of distrust. George A. Romero mined this vein of terror in nearly all of his films, but the thematic undercurrent of an enemy that looks exactly like your friend has arguably never been more well-mined for horror as it is in “The Thing.” As generations hand this film down, that’s an element that will never grow old—we will always have distrust in the other, and fear of betrayal of both those we know and our own bodies. And what do we do with that knowledge? What we do when we see that there’s a 75% chance someone is invaded and not who we think they are? The relatability of that situation defines the slow, burning horror of what might be John Carpenter’s best film.

Of course, Mondo’s game uses distrust as its main template as well. Four to eight players embark on a mission to stop the alien invasion at Outpost 31, but one of them starts as an “Imitation,” with the potential for other “Humans” to be infected as the game progresses. It’s a board game designed around subterfuge, as the “Imitation” tries to halt the success of other players without giving away that he or she is doing so. It’s a game that’s played on multiple levels. The instructions even say, “While playing The Thing: Infection at Outpost 31, talking about the current situation is expected. Players share information (which may or may not be true) and the Captain solicits volunteers to handle specific tasks. Chatter makes the game—don’t be shy, be sly.” This is such a brilliant way to capture why people still love “The Thing” in another property. A team of less-ambitious designers could have made a pure action-based board game in which humans fight an alien thing, but the team behind this game understand that “The Thing” is about way more than action. It’s a very complicated game, but it’s one that trusts the intelligence of the film’s fan base and their desire to have a tie-in that respects the complexity and the brilliance of its source material.