Answer:
Too damn good.
I’m not the type to tag scores and numbers to my
opinions, but I can see why people would give Platinum’s latest such high marks
(including a hyper-rare ten out of ten from Gamespot!). There’s plenty of good stuff in the
game. And even if the ride’s destined to
end -- albeit after a healthy play time -- it strikes me as the sort of game I
can and WILL play through again. I did
the same with Devil May Cry 3, after
all. Dat Vergil battle…
Still, I’ve had The Evil Within on my mind for a while now. I…didn’t care for it, so you can chalk
it up as yet another disappointment in the eighth-gen library. But while I don’t have any problems heaping
hate on stuff like Watch Dogs or Destiny, a part of me feels bad for
being unable to like Shinji Mikami’s latest.
It could have been the one,
man. But it wasn’t. And the more I think about it, the more I
realize that there’s a reason for it. TEW may have been botched, but it made
me realize how much potential and how many possibilities there are when you
make good use of horror elements.
Too bad I have no idea how to do that.
I don’t think I’ve ever written anything “scary”. Ever.
I haven’t even conceptualized anything.
The closest I’ve come on that front, if you can call it that, is
cobbling together some half-assed story about skeletons in the closet to scare
some friends when we were in a dark room…and even then, I had to bank on a jump
scare (i.e. throwing a stuffed animal at a girl’s face) to finish what my words
couldn’t. Because I’m nothing if not a
master of mashing the panic button and hoping for the best. Tact be damned.
I guess if you’re lenient -- and I am too --
there’s an argument that some of my present-day stuff has scary stuff in
it. It’s got ghosts and junk, and plenty
of bad things happen, but my stories aren’t even close to being in the horror
genre (at least in its purest form).
That’s obvious in my eyes; I’m the sort who makes characters and the
tales surrounding them based on what superpowers I can give them. How much horror can you possibly have when
your main character can and will punch ghosts in the face?
I’m mostly okay with the general arc and nature of
my stories, so I’m not going to suddenly shout “I NEED TO DO HORROR NOW!” And trying to shoehorn in horror at this
stage will probably do more harm than good.
Still, I want to at least consider
horror for future reference. A story can
do a lot of things and inspire a lot of emotions. Fear is just one of them, but I’m guessing it
can have an even greater impact than the most heartwarming moments or the hypest
showdowns. Or if not that, then…hey,
it’s something different.
I went into TEW
expecting some display of “how to do horror”, but if anything it felt like
it knew even less than I did. Like a lot
of modern games, it has issues with power; to its credit TEW isn’t a straight-up power fantasy (or
one of my ever-beloved predator games), but I felt as if I had control over
nearly every situation to the point of excess.
Or some semblance of it. I long
for the day when devs realize that A) not every game needs to have instant-kill
knife takedowns, and B) instant-kill enemies do not automatically mean tension.
If anything, it feels more like tedium -- a game of “Who Can Expose
Their Soft Underbelly First”.
But if I had to point to a better example of how
to do horror (in games, at least), I’d point to P.T. It’s surprising how
much it could accomplish with just a hallway, a bathroom, and a staircase; if
the full release is anything like this showing, then it’s going to make for a
very good title. Part of that, I’d bet,
comes not from its ability to scare, but its ability to not scare -- its restraint.
Sure, it’s got a couple of OOGA-BOOGA-BOOGA moments and bloody ephemera,
but the majority of the time is spent bumbling around trying to figure out what
to do, while dreading what the game can
do to you. It feels paradoxical that
people playing a game designed to scare them wouldn’t want to be scared come
play time, but oh well. Let’s not think
about that too hard.
My takeaway from P.T. is that making anything horror-tinged is all about dread. Like
I said last time, it’s all about creating the feeling that “there’s something
coming to get you, and there’s nothing you can do about it.” P.T. accomplishes
that, and makes good on the promise of frightening illusions. That’s the clincher; viewed as-is, the teaser
is nothing but a bunch of scare tactics presented in one of the most
lavishly-rendered hallways to date. But
the beauty of it is that the game’s
illusions get layered on the player’s illusions. Thinking back, I’m not even sure it’s
possible to conventionally die; the worst it can do is keep you in that hallway
until you quit the game. The way people
talk about it, though, you’d think it tossed you into a pit full of Nemeses.
I’m not about to call P.T. the perfect game (let’s just say some of its solutions are esoteric), but it does what it set out
to do: scare people. It manages to throw
players off their game, using its oppressive atmosphere to make them feel weak,
vulnerable, confused, and reluctant to see what nightmares are around the
corner. That absolutely stands for something, in my eyes. There are a lot of answers to the question of
“how to do horror”, and I’m glad one team managed to figure it out.
But let’s not rely solely on someone else’s
answers, yeah? This is your chance to
solve the puzzle: what’s the key to a good horror story? Is it the threat of violence? A crushing atmosphere? The unknown, and unknowable? Skeletons, perhaps? Or pretty much anything from deep enough in the ocean?
Don’t get spooked.
Ready? Set…comment!
Or could you just watch Plague of Gripes’
videos on the subject. Because I’m
nothing if not obsolete.
…I need an out.
Pumpkin-headed guy in a leotard, play me out!
Halloween ain't over till it's over!
*checks calendar*
Oh.
"I don't want to spoil the ending either"
ReplyDeleteNo worries there. I spoiled the ending for myself almost as soon as I was able. Whoopsie-daisy! I mean, splendid.
Anyway, horror. Yeah, I get what you're saying here. I mean, all things considered, do we really need fiction to create horrifying scenarios when you can find some nasty stuff just by cracking open a history book? (Or, alternatively, just running a Google search for ocean life.) I'm the sort who thinks that people are pretty cool, but even I can acknowledge that there's something scary about one's potential to bring harm to others.
So there's something to be gained from real -- or real enough -- threats. Sounds fair. And I can see myself working with that more than anything else; it seems easier than trying to come up with some new type of monster. On the other hand, it sounds as if there's a lot that can be done just by letting the audience fill in the blanks. Let THEM make the monster, and the threat, for me. Definitely feasible, assuming that I or anyone else has the right touch. Subtlety's the word.
Then again, subtlety goes a long way in plenty of things besides horror. That's a lesson that a lot of stories could stand to learn, but whatever. It's cool.
...And now to begin feverishly worrying if my stuff has the proper level of subtlety. Considering that it features not only ghost-punching,but ghost-wrestling, I suspect the answer's already clear.
I AM THE PATRON SAINT OF SUBTLETY!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GkV2pp1Y6cY