With horror video games, as is similarly present in all forms of artistic media, inspiration is often taken from specific foundational works which were instrumental in the introduction of a new style or gameplay concept. Games of this monumental originality attained a level of popularity and acclaim which other developers understandably are often desirous of replicating, or capitalizing off of, in their own contributions to the genre. In many instances, however, their dissection of these important titles is cursory, and the success of said games is erroneously attributed to a simplified, enumerated list of its unique features. This shallow understanding of these features or set-pieces strips them of their brilliance by ignoring the intricately crafted context in which they were employed. Subsequently, any created facsimile of this nature will fail to cultivate the same emotional experience despite seemingly having the same general features as the works they intended to copy. Clone games commonly fall victim to this, for example, PT clones having a repeating hallway without emulating the tension or feeling of mounting insanity the original elicited. Additionally, if new games continuously attempt to be distillations of past standards, then inevitably the uniqueness and luster of these experiences will be tarnished by how common and tiresome the tropes have become. A new vision, and the passion to experiment and bring individuality to a game, seems, at least in my opinion, a fair place to start when angling to create a game of one’s own.
To me, a paramount component of an effective horror game is the precisely planned pacing of its set-pieces. I have frequently seen a horror title with interesting gameplay lose its sense of intimidation and fear the longer a particular segment lasts. It seems that the constant repetition of gameplay scenarios has diminishing returns with respect to elicited fear. Since trepidation in the face of the unknown is an apodictic contributor to a fantastic horror atmosphere, the familiarity born from doing the exact same actions again and again compromises them of their unpredictability and, consequently, their intensity. For instance, the first time you have to run around in circles in a town avoiding people chasing you until you find where you’re supposed to go can be heart-pounding, however, the fifth time you find yourself in yet another town, the sense of expectation renders the inevitable “running around in circles” more of a grind than a fearful flee for your life. Situations like this are immersion breaking, forcing the player to tepidly endure another monotonous section once again. Talented directors understand the necessity of altering the gameplay set-pieces throughout the duration to prevent them from becoming stale. There have been numerous effective means of accomplishing this, typically a combination of changes to location, enemies, items, characters, etc. Or, the game can be shortened before issues concerning repetition would arise.
There also seems to be an underlying theme of incurring an instinctual, almost primal, feeling of fear associated with the sense of powerlessness in the face of that which can bring harm. I think this is perhaps one explanation for the effectiveness of games like Amnesia and Outlast, as physically condemning the player to flee as opposed to fight ensures that this disparity in power is an intrinsic, insurmountable aspect of the game. However, contrary to what some might believe, forced defenselessness is not a necessity to accomplish this. To exemplify, in Resident Evil 4, that irrepressible feeling of being overwhelmed and closed in, uncertain of your own survival, is achievable even when weapons are at your disposal. In the hands of a knowledgeable designer, availability and strength of weaponry should be meticulously planned so as to ensure that each new set piece incurs this same visceral response in the player regardless of how well-armed or prepared they might have assumed themselves to be. Essentially, the threats should be escalated and altered in accordance with upgrades and character progression to maintain the fear of helplessness and the unexpected throughout the game.
One of the commonly residing issues in psychological horror titles is their inclination towards the inclusion of bizarre, esoteric visuals that contribute little to the conveyance of atmosphere or the overarching narrative. Evocative, symbolic imagery should certainly be purposeful and not just present for the sake of the player remarking on or reacting to its oddity. There is a delicate balance in crafting these images, especially considering the point is usually to imply the existence of some underlying truth or eventual reveal without giving it away prematurely. Properly cultivating the information you present and how to present it can be a daunting task, as you have to avoid being explicit and expositional while ensuring that your intended plot is not so intangible as to fail at being comprehensible or sufficiently resonant with your audience. Additionally, letters or notes in games are frequently relied upon as purveyors of the main narrative as opposed to supplementary features to embellish the existing tone. “Walking Simulators” tend to encounter this issue often as well, which to me represents an inability to appropriately use the innate interactivity and visual nature of the medium of video games to convey the designer’s desired idea or story. As stated, minor details can contribute significantly if the available capabilities afforded by the medium are taken advantage of to their fullest extent. Conducting a player’s movement through crafted set-pieces, directing their attention or sight-line to a particular area using lighting and sounds, depicting the protagonist’s feeling of being trapped or isolated by physically trapping or isolating the player, etc. are just some of the multitudinous examples of the versatility offered to any designer harboring an inventive mind and the passion to create an experience of their own.