The haunting sound emerged first. Inside the Bart Railroad tunnel in San Francisco, Don Veca recorded the piercing metallic screech of a train. “It was both beautiful and disturbing, like a demon in torment,” he reflects. This haunting audio became one of the most iconic elements of 2008’s Dead Space.
“We unleashed that industrial shriek at full volume right after a vacuum of silence, creating one of the most impactful sonic contrasts in gaming,” Veca recalls, having made a name for himself as the audio director for the Dead Space series. “Our game designers were not fans, but our higher-ups embraced it. Eventually, it became legendary.”
Nearly twenty years since Dead Space first had players gripping their controllers in fear, horror game designers worldwide continue to pursue that same thrill. So, how do they discover new methods to terrify gamers, and what drives our relentless attraction to horror?
sounds of fear
Ask anyone involved in developing classic horror games, and they will likely agree: authentic fear begins with sound.
Veca highlights that it starts at a psychological level. “It stems from the mind: not the fear of what is, but of what might come,” he explains. “The genuine fear isn’t from a thief with a weapon. It’s the shadow lurking behind the door, the unnerving silence, the certainty that something approaches… yet the timing and nature of it remain unknown.”
This element of unpredictability became a cornerstone of Dead Space’s audio design. “We created suspense like a rising tide,” Veca describes. “Something might happen… Something might happen… and then nothing occurs, just the household kitten. You laugh, the adrenaline fades, and moments later, there’s a burst of claws, blood, and screams!”
Jason Graves, the BAFTA-winning composer behind Dead Space and 2015’s Until Dawn, concurs. “Sound and music set the stage for fear. It’s about the build-up, the tension, and the moment of release when something appears.”
Graves even regarded the score as a form of infectious entity. “In Dead Space, something corrupts the crew and transforms them into monsters, so I ‘infected’ the orchestra,” he explains. “No peculiar techniques, no instrument tapping, no chords, just clusters and tension.” When a player thinks it’s silent, it could be each of the 60 strings playing a note softly. This creates a dynamic, constantly evolving soundscape.
If there are any doubts regarding the significance of sound, Graves offers a challenge. “My daughter played ‘Until Dawn’ and was frightened throughout. I suggested muting it, but she completed it anyway. This illustrates how our brains function; we can perceive an atmosphere even without visuals. Monsters lurking under the bed, shadows in the water—our imaginations amplify the dread. It’s ten times more terrifying than anything we show them.”
human element
For cult game developer Swery (real name Hidetaka Suehiro), horror transcends cheap thrills; it delves into the essence of humanity. He began pondering what truly frightens players when his mentor, Resident Evil creator Tokuro Fujiwara, posed the question, “What constitutes fear in games?”
“I was in my twenties and simply said, ‘Game over,’” Swery recalls. “He responded: ‘So, isn’t a game without a “game over” scary? What about a haunted house that doesn’t inflict damage?’ I was stumped. I’ve been searching for the answer ever since.”
This curiosity laid the foundation for 2010’s Deadly Premonition, a surreal horror experience set in a small town that combines absurd humor with existential dread. “Before we created the horror aspect, we established a clear vision: to construct a town and its inhabitants. We developed the story post-creation of the town,” he recounts.
“At the core of fear lies humanity,” Swery added. “Human beings possess inner complexity and suffering, are fragile, and can succumb to evil… that’s the essence.”
While monsters may symbolize our fears, for Thomas Grip, game director of the critically acclaimed 2015 deep-sea horror game Soma, horror is also about exploring the human experience rather than merely the malevolent.
“I believe it embodies a different type of fear,” he says. “There are no grand plot twists or constant frights. The focus is on compelling players to confront uncomfortable inquiries: What does it mean to be human? What does it mean to be conscious? What renders life worthwhile?”
Dismissing gore and dark surprises, at Soma, silence and philosophical inquiry become central to the experience. “The key to horror narratives across mediums is allowing the audience to draw their own conclusions,” Grip emphasizes. “If the narrative merely declares, ‘There’s something eerie, please be scared,’ it lacks depth. The most effective horror provokes deeper contemplation.”
The unknown and a twist on the familiar
Another element of delight is the fear of the unknown, with anxiety often stemming from what remains unseen. “You shouldn’t reveal everything,” Grip states. “Players are granted only a glimpse, allowing their imaginations—filled with personal fears and anxieties—to fill the void. That’s where genuine horror resides.” The creatures in Soma embody that notion. “The key lies in familiarity,” he explains. “The best monsters evoke the thought, ‘Something is off…’ and the more they are seen, the more chilling they become. People respond strongly to things that appear infectious and unhealthy, triggering a primal fear.”
In the 2021 indie horror sensation Poppy Playtime, horror takes on a playful twist within a charming yet deadly toy factory. “Nostalgia is inherently vulnerable. When we reflect on our childhoods, we often associate them with safety, but when those memories are distorted, we experience a visceral reaction,” comments Zach Belanger, CEO of Poppy Playtime Studios, Mob Entertainment.
“The effectiveness of Huggy Wuggy lies in our inquiry, ‘How can something feel both delightful and unsettling simultaneously?’” he declares regarding the game’s fluffy antagonist.
Psychological horror in 2025’s loop // error invokes dread through suggestion, leveraging a blocky black-and-white pixel art style that leaves details to the imagination. “Utilizing pixelated visuals and a conscious absence of color creates an unusual atmosphere; your mind visualizes something that isn’t actually present,” says Koro, an independent developer. “It’s reminiscent of recalling a nightmare: hazy and incomplete yet emotionally potent.”
“The horror in Loop//Error is not reliant on clichés,” Koro adds. “It springs from deep within the human psyche, observing your mental collapse and realizing that the most terrifying place you can be trapped is within yourself.”
interactive elements
Lastly, another significant component that heavily influences horror in video games is interactivity.
“In games, you’re not just passive observers; you’re immersed in the experience, which heightens your emotions. Your heart races, yet you retain control,” explains psychologist Kieron Auckland, a cyberpsychology expert at Arden University.
Daniel Knight, creator of the 2020 ghost-hunting multiplayer game Phasmophobia, concurs. “The game fully engulfs you in fear,” he describes of the title that captivated Twitch audiences upon its release. “When you open a door or step into a dark space, you’re the one who feels the terror. You bear the consequences of what unfolds.”
Grip also believes this aspect contributes to the genre’s sustainability. “In video games, you make choices that lead you toward peril,” he states. “It’s personal. The fear arises from you being the one stepping into a dimly lit passage.”
Ultimately, horror films revolve around actions taken in darkness, whereas video games afford players a chance for exploration.
Source: www.theguardian.com
