The Metadox Ombra does dampen gamer screams as advertised, but at the cost of bad Bane jokes in the group chat.
My fellow gamer husband will always have me beat on two metrics: KDR, because I’m awful at shooters, and DPS—which I’m temporarily repurposing to mean Decibels Per Second. The man’s loud on an average night in the Discord call and louder still on Rainbow Six Siege nights.
I’m accustomed to sleeping through the antics of my rowdy player two but when I was shown the Metadox Ombra soundproof mask, a product designed specifically to muffle gamer shouting for the benefit of their cohabitators, I gave him a “wouldn’t it be funny if…” nudge and he, ever a sport, said “sure I’ll do it.” So I attached a face silencer to my husband. Much to my surprise, the thing really does dampen sound to the degree advertised, but I just cannot imagine the cost—in dollars or comfort—being worth it.
The Metadox Ombra is priced at $139 with your choice between two sizes (S/M or M/L) and a left or right side microphone port. It includes the sound-dampening mask itself, a magnetically-secured microphone on a 3.5mm audio plug, a pair of wired earbuds, a 3.5mm splitter for mic/headset, and a second microphone enclosure for compatibility with your existing headset if you want. There’s basically no assembly and little setup so it’s about as plug and play as things get.
The Ombra mask really does dampen sound, I’ll give it that. Metadox claims it reduces 10-15dB at low frequencies and 20dB to 30dB at mid and high frequencies. We found it could reduce the average R6 Siege expletive by a reliable 20dB. Hearing it from the outside, the Ombra mask makes it sound like he’s shouting from underwater or like I’ve locked him in a house with a hunting ghost in Phasmophobia. The volume definitely is lower, but there’s still clearly screaming going on.
What’s worse is being in a Discord voice channel with him while he’s wearing it. The sound quality on the built-in microphone Metadox provides isn’t terrible—on par with most headset mic setups I’ve heard—but as soon as you attach it to the facemask it’s like listening to the garbled landing announcements of an airline pilot. Metadox got that feedback enough that it has a tutorial on reducing your microphone volume to combat the effect. As it sort of tacitly admits in those instructions though, that’s kind of just what microphones sound like when stuffed inside an enclosed, sound-dampened space. So the adjustment helps, but only some.
Regardless of sound quality, comfort is what really throws a wrench in the prospect of actually using the Ombra on a regular basis. The straps are soft and comfortable and don’t conflict badly with whatever other accessories you might need. My husband threw on his glasses, ballcap, and usual over-ear headset and wasn’t too bothered. It’s the mask itself that’s a real struggle.
The Ombra isn’t anywhere near the light cloth medical masks we’ve all gotten accustomed to wearing. It’s built for dampening sound and feels like it. My husband toughed out wearing it for about two hours of R6 time before needing a breather, literally, and I chickened out after about 20 minutes in a work meeting. The Ombra sits below your nose, not over it, which functionally just means you’re breathing right into its padded seal while steaming up the rest of your face inside the mask when you talk. It creates some mildly annoying pressure on the larynx, in his opinion, and if you’re sporting any stubble on your upper lip it tends to agitate that too.
What I can’t figure out is whose lifestyle the Ombra actually fits into. For about five years my husband and I rocked the now increasingly popular two bedroom apartment setup in which the spare bedroom becomes a shared gamer cave with side-by-side desk setups. We’re usually in a call with the same group of friends and if he’d been wearing the Ombra maybe I could have lowered the noise gate in my Discord input settings a little. Maybe.
I just can’t imagine that the indignity of having to give callouts to your teammates quietly is greater than the shame of putting this thing on your face for a night.
If I’d been in a separate call, or a meeting, or streaming on Twitch I don’t think I could have in good conscience sat there playing while he was five feet away wearing his cone of shame. Not to mention that the times I’m most interested in quiet are when I’ve gone to bed on a Friday night and left him to hang out with our friends, and wearing a giant face mask really isn’t compatible with the drinking a beer and snacking at the desk that the weekend hangouts usually include.
If you’re considering the Ombra because there’s someone you don’t want to wake up—whether you’re gaming after your kids’ bedtime or trying to respect the sleep needs of a roommate with an early-morning career—I’m not sure that muffled screaming is going to cut it, unless they’re also willing to sleep with a white noise machine. Plus, the Ombra mask can’t silence the sound of slapping your hand on your desk when you die, which comes included with the shouting habit for most competitive-minded gamers. At that point, any benefit from the mask is useless.
If you’re a regular competitive rank climber living alone in an apartment where you share walls with neighbors, this extra layer of sound proofing might reduce the noise complaints you’re getting. I just can’t imagine that the indignity of having to give callouts to your teammates quietly is greater than the shame of putting this thing on your face for a night.
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