Is an area well-lit before the player arrives, and does the player need to drag something around or solve a puzzle more complex than throwing a lever? No monsters will appear there. What sort of details? Things like how many cues the game throws at the player that give away whether or not a monster is about to be encountered. It is impossible for me to be afraid of an invisible aqua-chihuahua named Wilson, silently nibbling away at my ankles, just as it became impossible for me to become afraid of any other monsters that eventually put in their appearances. After I lost my fear of the things in Amnesia: The Dark Descent, I started noticing all sorts of details about the game details that a person who hasn't accidentally shattered her immersion with a dog joke wouldn't pick up because she'd be too busy playing the game as intended. I promptly named it Wilson, as much like Tom Hanks in Castaway, I was stranded with the adorable little ankle-gnawing aqua-mutt. I was suddenly struck with the impression that I wasn't facing a terrible demon from the depths of Hell, but gazing down at an incredibly angry, yet adorable, water-breathing chihuahua. The monster, I presumed, glowered at me with its invisible eyes. That's when I realized the monster was invisible, that the water was two feet high, and that the monster was completely incapable of climbing up a three-foot-high box to actually kill me.
I uttered the last shriek I ever would while playing, and scrambled onto the top of the nearest crate. As I sloshed through the water, something suddenly charged me. I knew the exact moment Amnesia had irrevocably wrecked its illusion, and by extension, my immersion and the awareness that I was supposed to be afraid.įairly early into the game, I entered a flooded, brightly-lit hallway that was filled with boxes and crates scattered haphazardly along the walls. It all happened because Amnesia turned on a light… How did such a drastic change in my behavior occur? How did I go from being so afraid of this game to wishing that I could shut the game off and play something at least slightly entertaining? The remaining five hours were spent utilizing every ounce of willpower I possessed to not quit the game from sheer boredom. Three of those hours were spent in abject, pants-wetting terror wherein I gibbered madly to myself while locking the protagonist, Daniel, inside a dark room while he gibbered madly to himself in equal pants-wetting terror.
It took me eight hours to complete the game. My journey with Amnesia: The Dark Descent was a lot like that child's night terrors. What once caused the child fear and dread are soon forgotten, and as the child grows older, she marvels at what she used to cause her such fear. The toilet bowl is home to nothing more than water the bathtub murderer in the mirror relegated to a figment of the imagination. Suddenly, what was once a snarling mound of fangs is just a slightly stinky pile of clothes. Then, one day, the child's mother buys and installs several nightlights. Then, there's the act of flushing, and those few brief seconds where the water drains and the tentacles rise up from the pipes (for there are always tentacles in the pipes…) The bathroom mirror is a shadowy portal to another world, where men in dingy raincoats and rusty hooks for hands lie in wait behind the shower curtain. For a child in the night, that heap of dirty clothes in the corner suddenly becomes dark camouflage for a crouched monster, lurking with dripping fangs. WTF Why is Daniel mute? He's monologuing in flashbacks the entire time!ĭarkness is a powerful thing. HIGH Those first three hours of gameplay were the most terrified I have been of a game in my life. In Hindsight, I Should Have Named the Dog Toto
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