Since we’re in the new decade, I was looking over different gaming “Top 10” lists and came upon the top 10 horror games of the 2010s. It got me thinking about what makes a successful fright scenario, and how audio can play such a huge role in the overall impact. But after taking a look at several “long-plays”, I noticed that one of the most frequent uses audio in horror games was in conjunction with the Jump Scare tactic. At its core, a Jump Scare is simply a sudden, unexpected loud noise with accompanying visuals. Sure, it’s quite effective at getting one’s heart racing, but surely there is more to the genre than jump scares? I’ve selected 6 games most frequently found in the “best horror game of the decade” category to do some analysis on how their audio design strengthens their fright factor beyond simple jump scares.
Reverse Jump Scare
The Slender Man games have a pretty unique machanic that I’m conveniently calling the Reverse Jump Scare. The premise of the games is to search for objects while avoiding contact with the Slender Man. When the Slender Man is near, the player hears static. The greater the danger, the louder the static and accompanying sound gets, until ultimately it builds to a climax when you are captured (the exact opposite of an abrupt LOUD to quiet jump scare).
Because the player has the capability to escape from those situations, that sound of static solidifies itself as the sound of imminent danger and death, thus forcing the player to change course and stop what they are currently doing. The buildup of that sound cue can be especially terrifying if Slender Man himself is not visible in the general vicinity.
Silence
Faith is a neat little experience of minimalism in every theme. The art mimics early 8bit titles, and the audio follows suit. You’re greeted by a rendition of Beethoven’s Moonlight sonata (classical music being used in horror is a different article entirely) as you explore the dark forest in search of the main house, accented by some really weird occurrences. Entering the house marks the start of the second half of the game. What’s different here is that while you wander around the house searching for clues, soundscape is completely silent. You only get one single sound effect as feedback for shining a flashlight on an interact-able, and major “cut scenes” have some noisy sound effects. No music, no background sound effects, nothing. This provides an odd sensation. As one of your senses (hearing) is essentially rendered useless, your other senses (sight and touch) are heightened. The odd pixellation of the game’s design at times makes certain objects seem less definite, and your eyes begin to play tricks on you.
Eventually you gather enough clues to cause the demon to start chasing you. All you get is a singular note swell and fade out every so often, punctuated again by continued silence. Did something in the corner just move? What is that shape supposed to be? Even the lack of your own footsteps making a sound is unnerving.
An overarching theme of silence provides the opportunity to to give extreme contrast and impact when any sound does end up playing. It was surprisingly effective at bringing me goosebumps for seemingly no reason.
Hyper-detailed sonification of the world
Alien: Isolation went into a completely different direction. The world is superbly detailed in terms of the sound it makes. Every little computer, device, machine, and trinket makes a sound. It’s a very mechanical environment, with human footsteps and other interactions being the only “natural” sound. The player is thrust into this world from the start (for quite some time as well), and as they get familiar with the game’s controls and mechanics, they grow accustomed to how the world sounds and behaves. One may even say that it becomes somewhat familiar. You go about the station trying to find your way out. Until suddenly, more than an hour into experiencing the world, something doesn’t sound right. You hear breathing that isn’t human. You were told about the alien, but this is the first time you’ve come face to face with it. And as suddenly as it appears, it leaves. While this first encounter is a semi-scripted event, it sets the precedence for what the player now needs to be listening for to survive.
The world is busy. The space station is moving. The people you encounter are moving and fighting. The machinery keeps beeping and booping. But now you have this new breathing and stomping sound that you have to keep a look out for. Because the sounds that have a direct danger to your character start out buried in a dense sound scape, the player’s ear might have a higher chance of giving a “false positive” for that danger. The player now has an additional difficulty to worry about, furthering the feeling of stress, and ultimately providing a great opportunity for an effective horror situation.
Ambiguous non-diagetic sound
Deadspace 2 takes it’s sonic world into a more fantastical direction. While the setting of a space ship/station is similar to Alien: Isolation, it is a lot less real. While the player is still exposed to doors and computers that make sounds, the overall ambiance has a much different feeling. We hear wind sometimes (wind in space?). We hear a singing voice deeply manipulated by a space station sound (is it real?). We hear whispers around us (are you going crazy?). Exposing the player to these kinds of sounds, especially when their origin is ambiguous, gives the opportunity for such questions to arise and become common.
The player is then unable to completely trust the surroundings that they are exploring, fielding an environment of uncertainty and horror.
The downright creepy
Thousands of years of human evolution have ingrained certain instincts into our brains. There are certain sounds used to signify danger. The snap of a twig could be a predator. A baby crying is distress. A scream is danger. A rustle of leaves could either be wind or something unknown. A squish or splat could be a feeding animal. All of these could signify death.
P.T. Silent Hill capitalizes on these instinctual responses to certain sounds to create a really stupid scary experience. I made the mistake to watch someone playing this game at night, and then had to stop. There simply is just is a collection of sounds that are inexplicably creepy, and they start to cause irrational fears in a given situation. Games like this one blur the line between effective design and jump scares. I really can’t say much more about this one because it’s making me sick just thinking about the game.
The brain is a marvelous object that can be frightened quite easily, especially with the very common trope of using Jump Scares. While I will not deny that there are groups of people who enjoy that kind of horror, for the rest of the population there is a craving for deeper horror mechanics. These examples certainly aren’t the only way to effectively use audio for fright purposes, as there could be an entire article just focussing on the relationship between music and horror. Nonetheless, it was really interesting to see how certain games embrace a unique technique of audio horror to craft the overall experience.