The sound that strikes first is often enough to send shivers down our spines. In the world of horror games, it's a sonic boom that can transform a player into quivering terror. For Don Veca, audio director on Dead Space, it was a screeching, industrial noise captured in a San Francisco Bart train tunnel - "like demons in agony, beautifully ugly". This recording became one of the most chilling sounds in the game, creating an iconic sonic contrast that still haunts players today.
Veca's experience highlights the pivotal role sound plays in horror games. It starts with psychology – not the fear of what is, but of what might be. Real horror isn't a mugger with a gun; it's the shadow behind the door, the silence that lingers too long, and the certainty that something is coming ... but you don't know when, or what.
Jason Graves, Bafta-winning composer on Dead Space and Until Dawn, agrees. "Sound and music prepare the player to be scared – it's all about the buildup, the tension, and then the release when something jumps out at you." Graves even treated the score itself as a kind of infected organism. His techniques created an unsettling atmosphere that amplified fear.
One of the most effective horror game soundtracks is that of Soma, where Thomas Grip masterfully crafts an unsettling experience through silence and philosophy. The key to any horror story, Grip says, is that the audience fills in the blanks themselves. "If your story is just, 'Here's something scary, be scared,' it's not that interesting." Instead, Grip uses silence to create unease.
Fear can also come from the unknown and what we perceive as familiar yet unsettling. Poppy Playtime, with its adorable yet murderous toys, taps into nostalgia-fueled vulnerability. Zach Belanger of Mob Entertainment says, "Nostalgia carries vulnerability. When we think of childhood, we think of safety – and twist those things, the reaction is visceral."
Loop//Error uses pixelated visuals to create unfamiliarity, leaving detail to the imagination in the form of a blocky, black-and-white art style that leaves players' minds filling in the blanks. Koro says, "Using pixelated visuals and the deliberate absence of colour creates unfamiliarity – your mind projects things that aren't really there." It's like remembering a nightmare: blurry, incomplete, but emotionally sharp.
Finally, an interactive factor plays a huge role in horror games. As psychologist Kieron Oakland notes, "In a game, you're not watching someone else flee – you're in it, and that's why it feels good: your heart races, but you're still in control." Daniel Knight of Phasmophobia agrees, saying, "Games put you inside the fear... When you decide to open a door or step into a dark room, the fear is yours. You're responsible for what happens next."
For Grip, this interactive element makes horror games endure: "In games, you make the decision to walk into danger." That makes it personal. The fear comes from you being the idiot walking into the dark tunnel. After all, scary movies ask what you'd do in the dark. Video games make you find out – and that's terrifying.
Veca's experience highlights the pivotal role sound plays in horror games. It starts with psychology – not the fear of what is, but of what might be. Real horror isn't a mugger with a gun; it's the shadow behind the door, the silence that lingers too long, and the certainty that something is coming ... but you don't know when, or what.
Jason Graves, Bafta-winning composer on Dead Space and Until Dawn, agrees. "Sound and music prepare the player to be scared – it's all about the buildup, the tension, and then the release when something jumps out at you." Graves even treated the score itself as a kind of infected organism. His techniques created an unsettling atmosphere that amplified fear.
One of the most effective horror game soundtracks is that of Soma, where Thomas Grip masterfully crafts an unsettling experience through silence and philosophy. The key to any horror story, Grip says, is that the audience fills in the blanks themselves. "If your story is just, 'Here's something scary, be scared,' it's not that interesting." Instead, Grip uses silence to create unease.
Fear can also come from the unknown and what we perceive as familiar yet unsettling. Poppy Playtime, with its adorable yet murderous toys, taps into nostalgia-fueled vulnerability. Zach Belanger of Mob Entertainment says, "Nostalgia carries vulnerability. When we think of childhood, we think of safety – and twist those things, the reaction is visceral."
Loop//Error uses pixelated visuals to create unfamiliarity, leaving detail to the imagination in the form of a blocky, black-and-white art style that leaves players' minds filling in the blanks. Koro says, "Using pixelated visuals and the deliberate absence of colour creates unfamiliarity – your mind projects things that aren't really there." It's like remembering a nightmare: blurry, incomplete, but emotionally sharp.
Finally, an interactive factor plays a huge role in horror games. As psychologist Kieron Oakland notes, "In a game, you're not watching someone else flee – you're in it, and that's why it feels good: your heart races, but you're still in control." Daniel Knight of Phasmophobia agrees, saying, "Games put you inside the fear... When you decide to open a door or step into a dark room, the fear is yours. You're responsible for what happens next."
For Grip, this interactive element makes horror games endure: "In games, you make the decision to walk into danger." That makes it personal. The fear comes from you being the idiot walking into the dark tunnel. After all, scary movies ask what you'd do in the dark. Video games make you find out – and that's terrifying.