Resident Evil 0 – Dissecting Traditional Horror
March 6th, 2010
Recently I completed Resident Evil 0 on the Gamecube and have prepared a few articles snuffing out some observations. My primary interests this time around lie in the traditional Resident Evil template (that used in RE 0-3) which I’ll explore in the 2 mini-essays below.
Genre Origins and the Creation of Traditional Horror
The Resident Evil template is ultimately an evolution of the traditional point and click adventure, perhaps the first stage of migration after the genre’s demise from the mainstream. What separates Resident Evil from the genre previously is the inclusion of an entire offensive system, giving Resident Evil more than just a purely investigative, puzzle-solving feel. As with many point-and-click adventures however, Resident Evil‘s exploration and shooting mechanics take a back seat, not to narrative though (the narrative is atrocious), but to atmosphere.
The majority of the player’s time in a point-and-click adventure is spent investigating, sifting through for environmental clues and interrogating the locals in pursuit of the next lead. Resident Evil removes the people from the equation, leaving the quiet isolation of the player’s unassuming puzzle solving as the dominate part of the game.
It’s easy to see from here where survival horror comes into play, all we need is a little atmosphere to set the tone. The atmosphere is created largely through soundscapes. Of course, the realism of the pre-rendered backgrounds, particularly those in RE Remake and Resident Evil 0, discomforts the player and the limited supply of items work to suffocate the player, setting a tense mood. Sound, maybe just because it’s more dynamic than the visuals, is the primary director of the experience, it tells the player whether or not they should feel calm or frightened. A prime example of this is in Resident Evil 0‘s laboratory area where on the first floor the “tension” music is played in an empty hallway connecting multiple rooms of importance. Although I’m aware that nothing is going to happen (there’s tentacle monster directly downstairs and the music therefore seems misplaced), every time I enter this hallway I feel nervous and rush to the nearest exit.
Some other horror games just stop here, at the preparatory stage, and leave the player hanging with the illusion that horror will occur at some point, most likely when they least expect it. Resident Evil is pretty standard horror, I think, and there are usually two directions where the atmosphere may head, either a climax in tension or a jack-in-a-box scare. On the former, tension crescendos in, in lead-up to a dramatic event which then unfolds and spooks the player; horror which is explicit and affirms the players assumptions (ie. rooms with splatters of blood which leads to other rooms painted in blood, finalising with the source of the killing). The alternative is horror which scares through surprise, where discord is in fact created by the way atmosphere is interrupted by the invasion of a threat. Atmosphere, in regards to music, can be broken by the breaking of a long silence (and damn these games sure are silent, which is why the cheap scares are so effective) or by the clashing of one set of music with another. With this technique, your assumptions that the environment is safe is quickly subverted, leaving you in a panic. Between these two approaches, the build-up and the cheap scare, is variance in the middle, which I don’t think requires much exploration as it’s just a blending of the two aforementioned techniques.
On the whole, the puzzle solving provides the stage for the atmosphere to be set, the limited load-out and item slots along with the realistic visual and soundscapes set a tone where your assumptions can be subverted or affirm in the horror. The effectiveness of the horror is therefore dependent on the developer’s ability to massage the player into psychological states.
Contrasting Traditional and Contemporary Horror
We can learn quite a lot about the way atmosphere is constructed in this traditional mold of survival horror by comparing Resident Evil with similar titles. I choose you Eternal Darkness!
Eternal Darkness is far more dynamic at creating horror since, for one, the game is rendered entirely in 3D, but more importantly the means to horror, the insanity effects, are dependent on the player’s agency. The 3D environment offers more options to create tension than a still, 2D one, and Eternal Darkness capitalises on this, in my opinion, largely through the brilliant camera orientation. Ontop of this the player can shrink, objects can fly around, the player can hallucinate, sound will warp and other strange events will happen in-game; there’s an ample amount of variety. Not only is the horror dynamic, but the jack-in-the-box scares are still viable, and this gives Eternal Darkness a real edge.
With the horror now player-dependent, Silicon Knights forfeit part of their directive control, one would think. The player’s sanity meter drops upon catching sight of a demonic creature, and it’s here where Silicon Knights can regain control through the placement of enemy types within each chapter of gameplay. Silicon Knights can’t ever have total control, mind you, but they can increase the likelihood of the experience unfolding as they intend it. Interestingly, despite all the qualities this system offers, the psychological course run through each chapter is largely identical: a slow crawl building up towards a tightening squeeze of tension, culminating at insanity. A result of this, as with the repeated use of the same environments, is that the horror becomes routine and therefore less effective.
Resident Evil is less sophisticated and highly rigid in comparison, but it does use its assets well. The horror is scripted through cause and effect scenarios, ie. if the player walks to this point or enters an area, dog will jump out of window, music will start playing, zombie will start groaning. Since Resident Evil‘s graphics are 3D models over 2D stills, the stills can be more realistic and the models can support an increased number of polygons, as a result the Resident Evil are supremely more convincing and perhaps better at creating a general sense of tension.
Conclusion
Some people seem to get off on criticising the Resident Evil titles, but it’s pretty unfair really. The Resident Evil games are simply representative of a certain style of horror, be it the traditional style of the earlier games or the new mob-horror approach of Resident Evil 4 and 5, and there’s no denying that these games have each served their respective styles well. The future of the franchise (perhaps evident in this upcoming Resident Evil Portable game for the PSP), I think, comes in the series either A) finding new approaches to explore horror in video games or B) reinterpreting the origins and readapting these mechanics into the modern day. I would like to see both, and I certainly think that there is room for both in the franchises’ extended lore.
Additional Readings
Resident Evil Retrospective – GameTrailers
Resident Evil 0 [GC – Beta] – Unseen64
Play Impressions (25/2/10)
February 25th, 2010
Geeze, it’s been roughly 6 months since the last Play Impressions article. You can hardly call it a regular feature anymore, can you?
Sonic Rush
The quality of a 2D Sonic game hinges largely on the level design. Controllability and presentation tend not to really matter since the games follow an established template. Level design, on the other hand, is a huge point of contention. The main reason why we still crawl back to our Megadrives (/console of choice) to play the original Sonic the Hedgehog is because the levels are so richly layered with branching paths. Each level was seemingly intended to be enjoyed multiple times over, offering players a great deal of replayability. Furthermore, Sega motivated players to explore by 1) distinguishing alternative paths from the main route and providing a fair window of opportunity/sufficient scaffolding to reach them 2) occasionally slowing down the pace (in cramped areas, for example), giving players room to mine for secrets. Exploration gave Sonic shape and dimension, and is ultimately what propelled him up with the likes of the Mario series.
Sonic Rush is perhaps closer to a series reboot than anything else, since it largely forgoes the exploration elements in replace of high speed spills and thrills. Alright, alright, I lied. Exploration is still present, however it plays the role of rewarding macho, elite players who enjoy rote learning the stages, more than anything else. Sonic Rush is a much faster game than the original Sonic, and unfortunately the means to exploration haven’t been adjusted to match. There are fewer slower-paced exploratory moments in Sonic Rush and the prompts to branching paths (springs boards, jumps, and the race track construction as a whole) zoom by before you even notice them, offering minimal opportunity to diverge. On top of this, the number of huge leaps and dual-screen drops rule out any possibility of backtracking, and the number of branching paths have decreased too. Overall, the frequency and means to exploration are made so narrow, that the point is almost moot and, as a result, Sonic’s original sophistication has been cut to a single dimension (the run fast and be cool one). You see, this Sonic Rush is exclusively about speed, which means that most levels play out like roller coasters, where the best method to success is to hold right on the d-pad and watch the fireworks go off. There are some new moves adapted from the 3D titles as well as mid-air tricks, however, for most holding right and jumping occasionally will prove suffice.
When it’s all done and dusted, this new Sonic is fine, it’s just kinda shallow, I guess. Fans could rightly argue that the new move set replaces the exploration elements and rightly sustains the sophistication, and maybe they’re right. However, there’s only one instance in the game where the new moves are mandatory (World 2, Stage 2) and not enough leg room elsewhere for them to be all that useful, honestly. Actually, I didn’t even realise that these moves existed on my first play through and had no problems, so the mechanics are superfluous in my mind. In anycase, Sonic Rush only validates my comparison to Unirally, by heading further in that direction, and that ain’t half bad.
We Love Katamari
Rolling up a snowball of commodity items to wacky Japanese music certainly has its charm, yet I wonder, how long it’d take before the magic runs dry? Fortunately, we don’t ever get to find out in We Love Katamari as it’s surprisingly varied throughout. This variety in the mission-per-mission gameplay and the overworld of quirky characters wrapping it all together keeps the concept feeling suitably fresh. It’s ironic then that such a repetitive game can feel so new and exciting. I mean, every level requires the player to partake in what is fundamentally the same activity (push giant sticky ball to roll up random objects), yet there’s enough spin on the parameters and gameworld itself that each level, mission, you might say, is prevented from feeling overly familiar. In this regard, Katamari reminds me of Burnout Revenge, where each track/level is re-used multiple times over, sometimes reversed, sometimes with different parameters or objectives, and sometimes you’ll just venture down one of the track’s different routes/shortcuts. The same content is repeatedly farmed for gameplay and you’re primarily doing the same thing, it’s just that the individual approach of each “mission” gives the game a continually new angle.
What bugs me about Katamari is the king and his delusional legion of fans. After almost every level, the king and whoever he has on his shoulder will complain that you didn’t roll a larger katamari. I could deal with this criticism, if not for the fact that it doesn’t necessarily require more skill to roll up more items, just the luck of being in the right place at the right time. Most “skill”, the kind the game is dissing me over, one would think, would come from rote memorisation of the areas most densely populated with roll-upable (?!) goods. In which case, it feels like Katamari is taking cheap shots, which works against the relaxed nature of the game.
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Irrelevant question on stylisation: if I shorted a title (ie. the original Sonic, Katamari), do I still italise it? :$
GTA:LCS/VCS – Capitalism Allegory
February 23rd, 2010
It’s seems the harder I squint at GTA’s, please excuse me, f**king terrible storytelling, the more abhorrent and offensive it becomes. There’s a consistent theme though, where your regular, fair-dinkum crook climbs the criminal hierarchy by sucking off his scummy superiors. Perhaps it’s a lesson in power and the people whose inheritance of capital grants them power. In this way, the GTA games could be seen as an allegory for capitalist culture, after all, the radio stations are keen to critique American culture, so it would make logical sense for the narrative to participate also.
In GTA, drugs are the main form of capital. Drugs translate into money which can then be used to buy/facilitate the purchase of more drugs, so basically whoever runs the best drug racket runs the city. You’re goal, beginning from the bottom is to reach the top of the criminal hierarchy. Because GTA’s world is market-driven, you take missions which involve obtaining and securing your capital. Of course, being a game of capitalism, GTA is all about subordination since the weight of power in a capitalist system is akin to a pyramid, where power is held by as fewest people as possible. So, you’re not really obtaining and securing your capital, but the capital of your wanker superiors. (And as an aside, its the flamboyance of these characters which is the bane of my frustration).
Your correspondence between these gate keepers also mimics the capitalist system. You begin as a lowly hitman and climb the ranks, switching to people of continually significant power, until you’re granted a little bit of capital yourself. It’s often at this point where some form of manager steps in to assist in your affairs and the game approaches the final chapters as your connections grant you quick gains.
The most interesting part of GTA’s representation of a capitalist system is the endgame. The GTA narratives conclude only after the protagonist has climbed to the top of the ladder, thereon completing the “game of life”. Toni Cipriani doesn’t simply carry on as a contented hitman or chauffeur. Part of the decision to conclude the narrative at the top of the system is inherent. Games, as programmed creations need an absolute ends, and it’s much easier to justify a position of “maximum” power as the conclusion, rather than simply the contentment of the avatar which the player themselves co-authors.
GTA offers no alternatives to capitalism either, the narrative begins with the protagonist’s submission to a gang leader, the representation of the player’s newfound place at the bottom of the food chain.
Along the way the player is introduced to heroes and victims of the system. The heroes are the drug lords and gang leaders who commission the trade of capital and become the eventual lower rungs. The victims are the rival gangs and syndicates who succumb to the power struggle and the deceased which pave your way forward. It would be remiss of me to forget the real victims, the citizens who become caught up in and around and player’s activities. Most curiously, from my experience—and no, I haven’t played GTA IV—the only time the player’s narrative intersects with the people’s is in Louise Cassidy-Williams subplot in Vice City Stories.
So maybe all of that squinting had resulted in something after all.
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