In
the wake of the release of Outlast 2, I thought it would be a good time to make
a start on one of the games that has been languishing in my Steam backlog, the
original Outlast, released in 2013. Having played for the first hour or so, I
thought that the opening was a great example of pacing in modern horror games.
Entering
Mount Massive Asylum was one of the most nerve-wracking, tension building experiences
I’ve had in a horror game.
From the first moment, the tension builds as I drove
up an abandoned-looking road at night, the radio playing ominous news
announcements as I drew in closer. The signpost to Mount Massive Asylum passes
by on your left and I arrived at the edge of an empty courtyard.
It
is here I was able to first control my character. After reading a note
detailing my reasoning for entering the asylum (to expose some kind of inhumane
experimentation by a big evil corporation), the first thing I noted was the
sense of atmosphere. As I have previously stated in blog posts, the sense of
place is one of the most important aspects of a horror game, as it gives you
the backdrop and the context for the horror.
A mental asylum may be a cliché place
to set a horror title, but here, it definitely works. The setting and
environment looks ominous, the choice of night-time for the story obviously a
deliberate choice. Shadows dance in a sinister way in the dark, and I am already on
edge as I am looking for any movement, which, thanks to poor visibility because
of the darkness, could sneak up on me any second.
Another
thing I noted was how vulnerable my character was. Being told that I could not
fight, only run and hide to survive, this was another deliberate choice by the designers.
An important element of fear is the feeling of vulnerability, of fearing what
could happen. I then learn that my mission as a journalist is to capture
everything on tape, meaning I have to spend most of the game with a camera
glued to my face, further reducing visibility.
Experimentation with the
controls reveals the game’s night-vision mode, which overlays the grim scenery
with a green-tint, and, as I found later on, a creepy glow in the empty,
lifeless eyes of the dead corpses I walk past. On top of this, when
night-vision is active, while you can see somewhat in the dark, my vision of
anything long-distance is drastically-reduced, and the overall blurry quality
of the camera makes it harder to see.
Given the inability to fight, the player’s
only option being to run or hide, the fact that an enemy can so easily sneak up
on me, given how limited my vision is, only makes that feeling of vulnerability
worse.
The
tension only continues to build, the music proving a dramatic masterstroke as I
slowly make my way into the facility, every footstep an echoing boom as my
over-sensitive ears desperately listen to the surroundings for anything that
could be out of place.
As I climb some scaffolding to get into the asylum
through an open window upstairs (my character, Miles Upshur, seems oddly determined
given how terrifying the game’s atmosphere is), the tension is at risk of
swallowing me whole, thanks to a buildup of nerve-wracking noise from the
music; that familiar building screech of any good horror film as the sound
engineers give you a sense that something horrible is about to jump at any
minute.
Then,
as I enter the asylum proper, a horrible loud burst of static from the nearby
TV, sounding like the shrill scream of an unspoken horror, startles me into
alertness. I am not normally for jumpscares, but here, the jump serves only to
terrify me more and build up that sense of foreboding, that overwhelming
feeling in my gut that I shouldn’t be here, as I reluctantly gather my wits and
continue.
As
I delve deeper into the asylum, the horror in my surroundings notches the
terror back up to a peak, thanks to the grim atmosphere of a broken-down
facility, my imagination is wild wondering just what happened here, and seeing
bodies moving just in the corner of my vision only serves to ratchet up that
paranoia again.
Following
this, I stumble through a dark room full of disembodied heads staring at me
with pained, terrified expressions, and I’m jumpscared again, this time by a
man impaled on a spike sticking out of the ground. He warns me of the horrible
creatures I am due to encounter before he dies in agonising pain.
This
jumpscare was enough to scare the wits out of me and put my every sense on high
alert, as I continue onward, squeezing myself through a gap until I hear a
gruff voice mutter ‘Little pig’ at me from behind.
Miles Upshur is just as
horrified as I am, as he is thrown through a wall and onto the ground floor of
the asylum below, as this nerve-wracking introduction draws to a close.
What
I think makes this introduction so effective is the atmosphere. The
developers of Outlast may have been aware that the setting for their iconic
horror game, a broken-down mental asylum, is among the most cliché of
locations. However, this doesn’t matter, as here the scares are done so effectively.
Your surroundings all serve to build up the tension. Abandoned military
vehicles and a locked front door hint at something sinister going on, but what exactly is happening here?
The messy interior of the asylum itself, complete with nightmare inducing
scenery and messages, hints at something horrible coming for you, allowing your
imagination to dream up all kinds of horrific fates to befall the character.
The sound is perfectly-paced, the intensity ramping up and down with expert
pace as the game develops and you slowly unravel, and the fake-out jumpscares
are well-timed, enough to let you build up that fear just enough to let the
scares feel more real and visceral.
It
is clear that many lessons can be learned from Outlast as to the pacing of an
introduction section. So much has to be done in the introduction of a horror
game; setting up the sense of place, leaving enough breadcrumbs of mystery
behind for the player to be drawn in by the plot, and setting up the
atmosphere so that the player feels horror in their surroundings.
In just one hour, Outlast has done all of those things so expertly well, and it
is clear how this title has influenced later survival horrors - with one sideways
glance at Resident Evil 7, I can clearly see the lessons learned by the latter
on how to introduce a horror story to the audience.
So
far, my impression of Outlast as a horror game has been good; I do find issue
with the part immediately after the introduction, however, as I found the
enemies themselves somewhat lacking in effectiveness. The expert pacing of the
introduction seems to have died down as the game has gone on. However, from the
introduction alone, Outlast has been a terrifying treat that has gotten my
adrenaline pumping and I am eager to delve back in for more.
I’m
just going to wait until daylight before I play again.
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