It's deathly silent. Tendrils of fog seem to claw at your legs, the thick
blanket obscuring your vision more than a few feet in front of you. The street
is deserted, the buildings either side in darkness, their doors locked tight.
You feel the rivulets of perspiration trickling down your neck, icy cold fear
that knots the muscles of your arm. Your clammy hands clutch at the broken steel
pipe, knuckles white with tension.
Something moves up ahead in the swirling fog. A quick glimpse and then it's
gone. You clutch even tighter at the pipe, seeking some form of comfort and
release.
Where did it go? Was it even there at all or was it just your fear-addled mind
playing tricks?
You wonder which way you came. Which way leads you back to the relative safety
of the car?
Suddenly the radio in your pocket crackles into life, a hideous burst of static
that pierces your ears and into your brain.
Up ahead, a shapeless mass lunges through the fog towards you...
Regardless of status, age or background we are all afraid of something. It is
this emotion of fear that has formed the core theme of a large number of games
over the last few years. Originally thought of as action adventure games with a
horror twist, it wasn't until 1996 that Capcom unwittingly spawned the term that
was to later become the name for a whole genre of video games - Survival Horror.
That year saw the Sony PlayStation release of the original Biohazard, or
Resident Evil as it became known in US and European regions due to trademark
restrictions. Set in a deserted mansion amid a tale of a mysterious virus,
mutated researchers, and lots of nasty things with claws and teeth, the title
proved phenomenally popular worldwide. Present on one of the loading screens
within the game was the phrase 'Enter the world of survival horror...’ which
fans latched on to. It quickly became synonymous with similar action/adventure
titles (a whole glut of which followed soon after, hoping to emulate Capcom's
success) that placed players in claustrophobic environments with limited
weaponry, facing an overwhelming amount of monstrous, supernatural enemies.
In truth, the roots of survival horror and gaming go back even further than
1996, long before the term was a gleam in a criminally underpaid translator’s
eye.
Horror stories and films have always proved popular, from Bram Stoker’s writings
on Dracula through to modern day cinematic re-imaginings such as Dawn of The
Dead. Some of the greatest literary and film creations have been brought about
through the medium of horror.
In its simplest form, survival horror was present during the era of the 8-bit
Home Computer when the classics of Dracula, Frankenstein and The Wolfman were
all converted into text adventures, alongside the formation of original titles
such as [The Lurking Horror] and Waxworks. Unlike today’s offerings, these titles
relied on the same tension and chills provided from reading a novel, with a
simple interactive element that usually punished the player for making a wrong
decision.
A sea of ravenous, poisonous rats surrounds you. In your hand is a flaming
torch. To the west is a fire escape.
Throw torch at rats
Your aim is poor and you miss. You are eaten by the pack of bloodthirsty rats.
Game Over. Do you wish to play again? Y/N
Y
A sea of ravenous, poisonous rats surrounds you. In your hand is a flaming
torch. To the west is a fire escape.
Go west
The fire escape is old and collapses. You are dead. Game Over. Do you wish to
play again? Y/N
N
The heady eight- and sixteen-bit days saw the emergence of a number of different
titles which centred on gore and horror as their theme, the improvement in
capabilities allowing them to deliver a more visual experience in order to
terrify and thrill.
Most notable was Capcom's early RPG creation of Sweet Home for the Famicom
system. The game was loosely based on the 1989 horror film Suito Homu which
followed a team of teenagers trapped in a mansion which was home to a host of
evil entities, all hungry for their flesh. The game (nor the film for that
matter) was never officially released outside of Japan, but nevertheless gained
a cult following: Shinji Mikami, who later went on to be the main creative force
behind Resident Evil/Biohazard, claimed this game was the inspiration for him
wanting to become a developer. Many believe the name Resident Evil actually
takes its name from a note found in Sweet Home, which refers to the 'house of
residing evil'.
The most influential horror game of the early '90s was Alone in The Dark.
Published by Infogrames - the first in the series was released in 1993 and
pioneered the 2D and 3D mixture that would later feature so prominently in the
genre.
Alone in the Dark’s innovation and direction came as a result of the combination
of several creative minds - Bruno Bonnel the game’s director, Frédérick Raynal
who created the game’s engine, and Didier Chanfray who was responsible for the
flat-coloured, origami-styled character models.
The first title was primarily puzzle-orientated, drawing inspiration from the
writings of H.P. Lovecraft. Giving the player a choice of a male or female
character and locking them in a deserted mansion, the aim was to escape while
unravelling the mystery through a series of journals and notes.
Alone in the Dark was heartily received, and this set in motion the production
of a sequel. However it was at this time that a split developed amongst the team
over the direction the series was taking. As a result Raynal and Chanfray (along
with several other key members of staff) left to form their own studio, Adeline
Software, and later went on to spawn the isometric Little Big Adventure for PC
in 1995, and Toy Commander for the Sega Dreamcast in 1999.
The change in direction for the second title clearly showed. Puzzles were
reduced in favour of combat, making it much more difficult and a departure from
the first. It wasn't until the game reached its third incarnation in 1995 that
Bruno Bonnel and Infogrames seemed to perfect the mixture of puzzles and
fighting.
While Alone in The Dark's graphical style of 3D models on 2D backgrounds were
copied by other titles such as Ecstatica and favoured until recently by games
such as Resident Evil, there were those that dared to embark on the fully 3D
approach. Overblood, released on the PlayStation in 1997, was arguably one of
the first, a full three years before the vastly superior Silent Hill.
Konami and Team Silent’s offering to the survival horror banquet was an
altogether different experience and a breath of fresh air at the time of its
release. Silent Hill still incorporated action but the series pioneered a
mixture of psychological techniques (and plenty of cheap scares) in order to
disturb. Thick obscuring fog and all-consuming darkness, both used initially to
reduce draw distance and keep within the graphical limitations of the hardware,
served to ratchet up the tension. It is this fear of the unseen and unknown that
has been further developed with great success by series such as Tecmo's Fatal
Frame.
Silent Hill also overrode another aspect of the genre by providing a cast of
seemingly everyday characters, complete with their own neuroses and fears that
players could understand or even relate to; perhaps more so than previous titles
which centred on highly trained, gung-ho Special Forces characters.
Of course, there are a number of titles that have remained unmentioned here so
far: titles such as the seminal hit Eternal Darkness with its mind-bending
sanity system , the extremely dark and twisted cartoon styling of Fear Effect 1
and 2, the RPG and action mix of Parasite Eve, and numerous Japanese titles that
never saw the light of day in the US or Europe such as Nanatsu no Hikan:
Senritsu no Bishou.
"That is not dead which can eternal lie, And with strange aeons even death may
die."
Extract from The Call of Cthulhu by H.P. Lovecraft.
Presently Survival Horror is loved and loathed in almost equal measures.
Embraced by some as the twisted, gothic sister of Action/Adventure, other
purists view it more as the sinister step-father, and try to distance the two
genres as far as possible. Certainly the two share common elements, although
recent titles have brought about less focus on puzzles, and more emphasis simply
on action.
Many feel the genre has become little more than a fetid, bloated corpse; unable
to move forward or innovate despite the vast number of titles that slither from
the darkness of developers’ minds.
So what could be done to provide a revitalising jolt to the neck bolts ?
One thing that the genre has been missing for some time is the presence of a
good, solid plot line. As well-known horror writers begin to delve into
lucrative ventures within video game territory, they bring with them a new brand
of horror. Clive Barker’s Undying is an example of the depth to which a game can
capture the imagination and tingle the spine with a combination of unseen and
visual horror. While far from perfect, the title was almost unique in its depth
of back story and character, along with some innovative settings and abilities
(of particular note the gift of scrying which manipulated reality and allowed
the player to see the otherwise undetectable evil beyond).
For a classification of game that draws influence from a long-established
repository of clichés , inevitably the games themselves will become a pastiche.
The genre has seen more than its fair share of haunted mansions, to the point
where they loose their impact and one darkened hallway from title X, invariably
melts into those from title Y and Z. The genre needs to shift itself to more
original scenario's, a change which seems to be coming about almost organically.
Shinji Mikami takes pride in Resident Evil 4's lack of a mansion based section,
preferring more a mix of more open environments which are still capable of
delivering atmosphere, along with traditional claustrophobic sections. Similarly
Sega's Deep Fear and the more recent (and not entirely dissimilar) Cold Fear by
Ubisoft with their oceanic settings deliver a much welcomed alternative, even if
they quickly dissolved into the standard corridor affair. Such titles present an
indication in the shift of thinking.
It is also Resident Evil 4 that will hopefully be responsible for the backlash against the slow moving zombified humanoid enemy. A terrifying gaming
opponent when faced with the awkward controls and tight, movement restricting
corridors of earlier titles, the staple decaying cannon fodder lose a lot of
their impact in faster-paced games or larger environments. The aforementioned
Dawn of The Dead film remake of 2004, and the earlier influential Danny
Boyle-directed 28 Days Later are perfect examples of how slow, lumbering enemies
(however plentiful) prove less effective in delivering scares over time. The
future of horror should be fast, furious and then some.
A vital aspect, integral to any horror outing either cinematic or gaming, is
that of character; with a rich and well thought out background, characterisation
often falls into place and goes a long way to making or breaking a title. If the
player cares about their on screen persona, ultimately the fear of a dangerous
situation will be increased indefinitely. Silent Hill strikes a chord for its
central cast of seemingly average Joes and Jane Publics. While nobody really
wants to play themselves in a game (it is about escapism after all) the
importance of building presence is an important one that can be expanded on
further.
Recent horror films have endeavoured to capture the imagination of today's
hackneyed MTV Generation using a number of subtle 'viral' marketing techniques.
The infamous Blair Witch Project, originally touted as being a true story, had a
more raw and shocking feel to it as a result of its supposed authenticity.
Certainly this was not a new concept as The Texas Chainsaw Massacre had played
on supposed true-story origins back in the '70s. Although up until recently
video games had yet to manipulate this powerful tool.
That was until the release of Tecmo's aforementioned Fatal Frame in 2002. On
paper the story of a girl's search for her missing brother while trapped in a
haunted Japanese mansion may sound like nothing more than a poor man's Resident
Evil, especially when considering the main character is armed only with the
destructive power of a camera. However, the original Fatal Frame was a highly
atmospheric game which created a believable sense of tension, and used the same
mixture of the unseen and unsettling found in Silent Hill. Though more than the
game's initial appeal, interests were piqued by the box stating it was based on
a true story.
The game's producer, Makoto Shibata, claimed the game's origins came from a real
haunted mansion in an undisclosed area outside of Tokyo. The site of several
grisly murders, the real Himuro mansion was said to be a hive of paranormal
activity ranging from ghostly cries, to bloody handprints that appeared from
nowhere. Rumour had it the mansion held some form of ancient Talisman, but all
those who searched for it had turned up dead, their bodies broken and with rope
marks around their wrists. It was said that if visitors to the site took a photo
of a particular window, a young girl's face could be clearly seen in the
photograph and it is this which clearly inspired the camera orientated gameplay.
In truth, Shibata based Fatal Frame on both the Himuro mansion story and another
ancient Japanese tale of two lovers from different social castes, whose love was
deeply frowned upon. A tale of suicide and lingering regret, Shibata fused the
two stories to create the game.
Speculation ran wild as to the location of the Mansion and the horrors that
lurked within. Internet sites scrambled for news and even pictures of the
supposed location. Many claimed to have visited the site, although conclusive
evidence and testimony always appeared just out of reach.
The debate still continues on many sites as to whether the Himuro mansion and
its paranormal happenings are real, with many supporters both for and against.
Some believe the mansion exists away from prying eyes on a private estate, while
[others] believe it is nothing more than a clever amalgamation of various
different traditional tales from all over Japan.
One thing is certain, the furore around its origins went a long way to capturing
the imaginations of gamers and propelling the game forward in terms of
atmosphere and immersion.
Given the recent success of such tactics in promoting films and consumer
products, and some limited usage for games such as Metroid Prime: Echoes and the
highly criticised UK campaign for Resident Evil Outbreak, it can be guaranteed
that more and more emphasis will be placed on creating believable stories that
cross over into the off-screen world.
Though this interaction with the real work means nothing without players being
able to interact with the world laid out before them on screen. With the
development of more sophisticated and powerful hardware, one thing designers and
the new breed of storytellers should not be fearful of is unlocking new levels
of interaction. Survival can be taken to new heights by increasing interactivity
between the player and environment, thereby giving a real sense of using your
wits.
We all know it. That instant wave of sinking fear from pressing the fire button
only to hear the click on an empty chamber, finding that we have no ammo left
and that the army of fork-tongued demons are still pushing relentlessly forward.
Only what if instead of providing the player with conveniently placed and ready
to use weapons/ammo, there was a need to scavenge and combine items from the
surrounding areas? While dependant on correct implementation and well thought
out design, this would invoke a different and more primal experience.
The Clock Tower series, in its very first outing for the Super Famicom ten years
ago, pioneered an early form of this idea to great effect. Playing as an
orphaned teenager called Jennifer, things take a nasty twist when a prospective
adoptive family turn out to be a collection of psychopaths. As little more than
a hapless young girl, the game embraced the term 'survival' in its rather
twisted arms, forcing players to hide from their pursuer - and when that just
happened to be a demented nine-year-old with a ridiculously large pair of
scissors, hiding was always the best option. Jennifer may have been a
traditional stereotype with her screaming and running away, but she was as
resourceful as the player behind the controls irrespective of their actual
gender.
The sequels which followed for Sony's PlayStation clung to the theory that
evading and hiding from your enemies presented a more psychological experience
than trying to cap them with a bullet, and were certainly all the more enjoyable
for it.
Key to a player's interaction is the motivation of what makes us frightened.
'Fear' is different things to different people, but it is our most primal
instinct and hardwired into our brains as part of who we are. As animals, many
things can provoke fear - the feeling of being threatened and the fear of the
unknown, right through to anything which conflicts with our paternal/maternal
instincts. While the study of fear is certainly a topic in itself, most people
have a pretty good idea of what scares them (and to a lesser degree an
understanding of what scares others). How developers use this understanding is
vital, and something with which they are certainly becoming more adept.
Although when you stop to think about your gaming experience, are you scared
because of the build up in tension before the abomination lurches out of the
darkness, or are you afraid that death at its hands will skew your playing stats
and result in failure to unlock an extra weapon at the end?
If designers can cleverly touch on the deep-seated fears that are locked inside
us, they can override the medium that it is being delivered through - something
players can all relate to at some point; that feeling of total immersion in the
game, where nothing else matters except what unfolds on the screen.
Rather than providing just cheap 'jump out of the seat' moments, designers are
realising the power of disturbing as much as entertaining. The key is to get
under the skin of the player and provide them with something that lingers in
their mind long after the entertainment system has been turned off for the
night.
As touched on, Survival Horror is a genre that is as broad as it is long, with
no hard or fast rules defining what fits. Titles such as the recent Doom 3 fit
the essential definition but are still traditionally thought of as First Person
Shooters. However more and more titles are turning to first-person viewpoints to
enhance the experience. These range from limited inclusion in Silent Hill, Fatal
Frame and Siren, to total use in Echo Night, Hungry Ghosts and the
next-generation title Condemned.
Whether these first-person viewpoints work or not is debatable. Certainly, when
handled correctly, they place the player in the shoes of the protagonist and
create an 'in your face' experience. Though with the lack of current technology
to simulate peripheral view (a necessary human function for survival)
first-person experiences will always lose some of their impact.
Graphical improvements mean that games are becoming more and more realistic,
adding to the sense of immersion. The Silent Hill and Resident Evil series, as
the longest running, have seen the most noticeable makeover, with characters
that now appear almost realistic. More often than not it is the poor voice
acting that drags the player back to reality and reassures that they are still
playing a game and not taking part in a video nasty. Notorious for their badly
acted lines, Survival Horror titles are not immune to the changes taking place
in other genres and recently this trend of badly voiced characters is waning.
However, visual improvements may come at a price.
Games have been the source of much controversy over the past few years. As the
line between fantasy and reality becomes even fuzzier, when does it become
unacceptable to have humanoid enemies when killing them is a realistic (and
necessary) event? Could the future see less and less of the staple diet of
undead human zombies as a censorship issue rather than one of progress, instead
concentrating on more impossible deformities which avoid crossing a line? |
