Friday, July 31, 2009

Resident Evil 4; My Reintroduction to Survival Horror

One of the few games I played when I was younger was the original Resident Evil. The classic “zombie dogs crashing through the hallways windows” scene scared me for weeks! The idea of a game scaring me well after I left the TV was impressive (not that I was or am a difficult scare). When I revisited the Resident Evil series two years ago with Resident Evil 4, the game had lost none of its creepy content or gameplay for me. Replaying RE4 this term has offered me a chance to review my gamer experiences in terms of the theory and concepts presented this term. This academic distance, and ten years maturity, result in a significantly less scary game experience.

RE4 tries to keep you on your toes (or, on your fingertips) by constantly changing the mechanics of how you play. You play as Leon, the main character and Ashley, the President’s captured daughter, in a typical action-adventure survival horror game fashion. Interspersed in the normal gameplay of navigating the environments and aiming and firing various weapons are sporadic (usually introduced by a short cut scene) quick-reaction button-mashing fevers (“press A to sprint” or “press L + R to dodge”). Some bosses, in addition to whatever particular puzzle or obstacle required, are played by totally different schema. The first boss fight is played by fighting a lake monster with a harpoon and motor boat. Though the button-mashing is the same, the order and presentation of the mechanic differs. This emphasis on variation keeps the game scary, because I am never able to get to a place of comfort within the game.

When a new monster or threat appears on the screen or in my ears, I characteristically shriek and mash whatever button allows me to go to the menu and as a result pause the game. I breathe deeply, make sure I am appropriately armed, and return to the horror. This “pause” allows me to recoup from my fright and prepare for whatever the fight offers. If I weren’t playing the game like such a wuss, the scariness of the “boo!” moment (often diegetic) and the gameplay battle itself (non-diegetic) might meld together a bit more.

My penultimate example comes in the form of the scariest enemy in the game, one of the only scenes I remember truly scaring me in my first playthrough. When I approach a zombie imprisoned on my way to a lever, the zombie bursts out of his metal bars and begins to attack me. This zombie is shown (in a cut scene) to have his eyes sewn shut. The blind “Wolverine”-like zombie chases after me when I run, but cannot hear me when I walk. To beat this character, I must distract him with sound (firing a gun, running footsteps, ringing a bell) to a place where he will charge and thrust his scissor-hands into the wall and get stuck. Shoot him in the back a few times, repeat. After spending the whole game running (not just moving directionally, but moving directionally and pressing B), taking my finger off the “run” button and walking slowly around this zombie (who is running) is petrifying! My expectations are defied as I have to re-learn game mechanics under these new conditions. The monster is relatively easy to defeat, but the initial re-learning of gameplay makes the slow walk around the monster terrifying.

In my brief reading about “survival-horror” games, I found the key characteristics of survival/horror to be content, under-equipping and overwhelming the character. The gore of RE4 (for instance, my cut-scene decapitation by a chainsaw-wielding zombie with a sack over his face) and the story of RE4 (a parasitic virus that eventually turns you into a ‘zombie’) never capture my imagination too much, and I blow through the game assuming an archetypal content behind the “posts” and “communication logs” I’m skipping. The gore, though occasionally inventively gruesome, is dismissible and almost boring compared to the “realistic” zombie situations my imagination is flooded with from film. I found the scariest aspects of RE4 to be the tension of consistently introducing different “types” of gameplay (described above) and when the game takes familiar situations and re-work them to surprise you. For instance, small open cabins line the pathways through the Spanish forest, but after the 5th or 6th empty cabin, I stopped entering with caution. Later, a zombie is hiding in one of these cabins, defying my expectations and scaring me in what I thought was a ‘safe’ space. Other, less dramatic examples keep the player alert- a portrait of the antagonist, a wooden box, a particular background rock- previously non-actionable, background aspects are rendered actionable and foreground. These somewhat mechanical changes in the gameplay and in my expectations of what the game would offer me were what made the content and gore of RE4 relevant, and ultimately ‘horrifying,’ to me.

9 comments:

  1. I would appreciate even technical comments or advice for these blog-writings, like the grammatical comments on mackenzie wark's book. it'd be nice to have the final submission a little more informed, groomed. thanks!

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  2. Hey Anna,
    Great post! It is really interesting, I think, that the scariest part of the game is how it changes the gameplay, requiring you to walk instead of run or to use an unfamiliar weapon--or a familiar one in a unfamiliar way. This is an element unique to gaming. I suppose that films could require you to think about things in a new way, but nothing else can require you to act in a new way. Maybe you can expand on this idea in later posts; do you think that the fact that this aspect of fear is unique to games is effective because it scares you in a new way? You should check out Resident Evil 5. People say it isn't as scary, and maybe with a background in the series you'll understand why they're right or wrong. I'm also interested to see how you feel about other games like Bioshock and Deadspace, which in my opinion are scary for atmospheric reasons and "boo!" moments (to borrow your phrase!) respectively. I actually think that gore in games often makes me a bit less scared. I plan to talk about that in an upcoming post of my own!

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  4. I have to agree with your last point. Usually when I'm playing a 'survival horror' game I'm more scared by the tempo of the gameplay-- the changes in situations, the stuff popping out at me, etc-- than by the story. Though I really like story in games I also sometimes find myself breezing through plot-- often, in horror games, optional plot-- to get back to the gameplay.

    When we did the proposal for this project we put a question on the list of possible topics about whether horror games try to engage with players on an intellectual level, if this is successful, or if the real genius in horror games lies on their visceral, non-intellectual gameplay than on plot and so forth. I was ambivalent at the beginning but, despite the fact that a lot of horror games with god plots exist, I'm starting to agree with you. The best scares are usually not in the story.

    How would this relate to text adventures like the Lurking Horror, though? what do they do differently? It's something to think about.

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  5. Hey Kent,

    Thanks! The "boo" moment reminds me of an "A-ha!" moment, both sort of silly phrases to express something *so* affective, metaphor is a more effective way of describing it. Horror games are a great study in 'affective' games I think, even more than Res (though I have only played that 2-3 minutes in front of class, and without the 'pocket vibrator'...

    Really cool thought, Kent, that films cannot make you act a different way during your viewing experience, but that games can might introduce a new element of effectively (and affectively!) scaring people.

    Horrifyingly yours,
    A

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  6. *can/might

    *does anyone else have thoughts about the tension of games/films and action/viewing in terms of horror?

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  7. Laura,

    I would say the aspects of RE4 that i find scary relate to text adventures like lurking horror in that even if the text adventure doesn't have the technical capability to produce a visceral "boo," the situations and environments created might allow the text to create a 'horrifying' experience without the horror lying in the narrative of the story-- This relates to the discussion of the development of space as an 'environmental' narrative we read about recently.

    a

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  8. I think the difference between horror movies and games again comes back to the inherent freedoms a player has to create the plot in a game versus watching the plot unfold as in a movie. Both types of media often rely on suspense (high pitched single violin noise... uh oh), in a movie the viewer can often curl up in their seat, close their eyes, and wait for the scary part to be over. In a game, the player must choose to move ahead and, once the monster jumps out or other scary event occurs, the player must then deal with it themselves.

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  9. I hope this isn't saying the same thing, but shifts in gameplay style is a huge factor for what scares me in horror games. The biggest shift for me is facing invincible monstrosities. Typically horror games have you liquefying zombie head left and right. Taking that ability away is extremely jarring. Moreover, having to flee for your life really captures a sense of player vulnerability. Furthermore, with regards to tempo, always having things jump out and scream "boo" at you isn't as scary as the up and down motions of tensions. Falling back into a false sense of security definitely sharpens the next scare. Try sneaking up on a person that has just been surprised moments earlier. It just doesn't work as well. It's the same thing Dead Space. I remember a particular moment in the game when I was ambushed right after exiting a work bench. Turning around to zombie jowls after admiring the newly added power to your force gun is preetttty scary.

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