Thank you, Frictional. I mean it.
A word of warning; this is a long, uninteresting post about why I love this game and hate the makers for making me want to play it. Read it at your own peril.
So, four years ago, I saw this link to a tech demo called Penumbra. People were saying it was great, so of course I downloaded it. Soon, the game was loading, and I sat back, expecting an interesting horror experience.
I got into the second room.
Yes, I know there weren't any monsters there. But I just knew there would be some in the next one. Or if not there, in the one after that. Try as I might, I couldn't get out of there. So I fled, never to return. Or so I thought.
Over the next three years, I kept hearing the name pop up. Oh, so they made it into a real game? Three games? Wow, that's cool. No way am I playing them.
And then, bam. Humble Indie Bundle. Of course I bought it; who could resist World of Goo and Aquaria for a pittance? I could never play Penumbra, to be sure, but it wouldn't hurt to own it, would it? I never even installed the thing, and thought I was safe.
Until one day, it appeared on Steam. I didn't ask for it to install; I just got this code to my e-mail, typed it in, and the next thing I know, the shortcut is on my desktop. Taunting me. Inviting me, a black hole leading to darkness, like an eye on the face of the ancient mass of stone hiding horrors I never wished to face.
I looked away. Shivering as I dived through the Abyss of Aquaria, I occasionally laughed at the idea of owning a game that's real horror. No way would I ever play that. So I played with the Bundle for a while, and after completing the fun, lighthearted games I stashed them away, assuming I'd only return ten years later in a bout of nostalgia.
But over the years, something strange had started happening. Every now and then, I'd find myself playing a game with horror themes and liking it. Somehow, my bookshelf ended up containing the entire works of H.P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allan Poe. I watched the Return of The Living Dead alone, despite it freaking the heck out of me. And sometimes, I would catch myself talking about this stuff to my friends, as if I actually liked it.
Fall came once more, and one day, I stumbled upon a new game on Steam. Amnesia, The Dark Descent, it was called. By the makers of Penumbra? Oh no. No no no no no. Well, maybe I'll just take a peek at the trailer. Wow, that's eerie. What are..? Oh, they're just pigs. That's.. OHMYGODWHATTHEHECKISTHAT! Turn it of, turn it off! Phew! I'm glad I won't be playing that.
Really glad.
But like the memory of an ancient city in the middle of Antarctica, the knowledge of this game wouldn't let go of my mind. It kept popping up. All the game sites would praise it. A friend at a lunch table would comment on how it wasn't really that scary. And as Christmas rolled around, along came the big Steam sale. And every time I'd log in to buy another cheap gem, it was there. Staring at me. Telling me it would not let go.
I don't know when I realized I would be playing it. Perhaps it was when I saw the video of the guy screaming like a baby while a frankly-comical monster ran through doors to kill him. Perhaps it was when my father expressed interest in the game when I brought it up while chopping yams for the Christmas table. Whatever it was, on the second Christmas day, I found myself looking at my steam collection, and there, next to the name that had haunted me for months, was a percentage number, slowly but inevitably rising like a long-dead god from it's underwater palace.
I didn't dive right in, of course. Now that I had passed the point of no return, I'd have to pass the lesser challenge first. I would face the mines of Penumbra, and return triumphant to enter the darkness of Amnesia. And I did. It wasn't easy; I can't count the shivers the games gave me. I discovered every weakness in the game design, every loophole that would allow me to avoid the horror I was meant to face; I crawled through the tunnels, squinting, afraid to turn on the lamp lest I arouse the dogs. I'd run through tunnels like crazy, blocking my ears to the growling around me.
Until I found the pickaxe. The first time I swinged at a dog and heard it yelp, something took my over. No longer would I cover; I would fight them, and win. And I did. I ran at them, swinging like crazy, and didn't stop until I was pounding a mass of blood and fur. I'd charge at the pulsating spider eggs, not letting myself see the horrid things that jumped at me. By the time I realized I could have run from them, I was surrounded by tiny carcasses.
As I made it down to the deeper mines, I wondered when I had become one of the feral beasts haunting the mines.
I would soon be set straight on that.
The Infected were horrors, of course. I came close to screaming when they jumped at me, and every corner filled me with dread. But they were too slow, too predictable. Soon enough, I would just run, knowing they could never catch me. There were still scares; my heart pounded all the way through the kennels, and I could barely turn the crank when that poor thing came at me. But I made it, and I was satisfied. After this, the final episode was just a snack; a warm-up before the true challenge.
Now, I said I wanted to do Penumbra first. And I did. Only, I cheated a bit. It was just a little, really; I played a bit of the beginning of Amnesia, just to see what it was like. I'd wobble through the old Archives repeatedly, marveling at the beauty of the place, noting the abnormal size and frequency of cupboards. And then I'd turn the thing off without saving, thinking I'd return a bit later and really let myself be immersed.
"Let". Hah. How naive I was.
After Christmas, I was quite busy for a while, so no games for me. I'd find myself thinking of Amnesia quite a lot, though. Sometimes, I'd open up Steam and just look at it for a while, or start it and walk around the main hall a bit. I'd talk about it to my friends, telling them how excited I was about it.
And then, after all this - each step apparently inevitably following the other - I started to really play.
Did I mention that Frictional really learned from their mistakes?
In Penumbra, there were always loopholes. The dogs could be killed. The spiders weren't really that bad once you got used to them; even my arachnophobic self couldn't take the blocky things seriously once I could see them clearly. The Infected were so slow, once the initial shock passed, it was really just a matter of running to places, imagining I was listening to Rammstein without the instruments. And if all that failed, I could just turn off my light and sneak through the passages, crouched and seeing in blue like a very large cat. I rather enjoyed my transformation into a small animal living in the caves.
And every single trick I thought of, Amnesia had countered.
I'm sure I don't need to go into details; you all know why crouching through the darkness no longer works. Nothing will kill what's haunting these dark passages, and gone are the long, open passages that allowed me to just outrun anything that came after me. And if Penumbra had some good ideas about how to freak me out without showing me a single monster.. well, you remember how in Penumbra, you always kind of wondered what the spider laying the eggs must look like? Well, if Penumbra is the eight-legged squirrel jumping at your face, Amnesia just ate the mom without chewing.
Served with a helping of rockworms.
First time I played, I got to the Old Archives.
Second time, I got past the second piano. Oh god, I just walked past it and it's playing!
Third time, I found the key to the Wine Cellar, heard a noise, hid in a cupboard for five minutes, and ran out.
Fourth time, I paid a short visit to the Laboratory.
And the fifth time I could bring myself to start the game - incidentally, some ten days after finding the Archives - I entered the wine cellar.
Now, it should be said that I'm a coward, but a curious one. Which means I've read the reviews, and one of them happened to describe the experience I immediately recognized. I walked through dark hallways, shivering. I turned around, and there it was.
I could only see it for seconds, it's back disappearing behind a corner. Always the corners. But I knew what it was, and I knew what would happen next.
Of course I didn't follow it. I went back. I explored the small room where I knew it wouldn't be. And I huddled in the corner and thought of my happy place.
And that's where I am now. Curled up in a dark room, thinking about the happy times when I had the Internet, when I could play any game I wanted. I'm huddled behind a barrel, too afraid to turn on my lantern, helplessly watching my sanity drain, knowing that the only way to get it back is to go and face the thing, and then run like hell.
No, I'm not talking about the game mechanics. I'm really there, and until I muster up the courage, I'll stay there, no matter what other game I play or site I browse. And until I've reached the deepest part of the castle, I'll never be free of the place.
So yeah, I'm immersed. I didn't use headphones, and part of the time I had the lights on. Didn't change a thing. That castle is as real as anything, haunting me, taking up a place in my mind that should hold all those things that make me. And although I walk and talk, although I pretend to live a normal life.. I'm stuck in a dark cellar, far above the place I must go to.
So, what I'd like to say to Frictional games.. is thank you. Thank you for creating this world that is devouring my soul in a way I thought nothing could. Thank you for drawing me to a dark world, one which I'm not certain I'll make my way out of before your next piece comes out.
And when it does, I'll undoubtedly buy that too. I'm sure it will be even better than Amnesia. You sadistic bastards.
But anyway, I'm off to face that horror. Maybe not tonight, but soon. I can put it off, but I now realize I never had the choice to turn back.
I'll be back, eventually, to talk about how it wasn't really that scary once I got past the initial horror.
Or if I'm not.. well, I suppose the thing will have gotten me. At this point, I'm not sure that would be a bad thing.
(This post was last modified: 01-16-2011, 03:40 AM by Mirrorglass.)
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Thank you, Frictional. I mean it.
