Developing Games: To scare players all around the world! Chapter 4: Dark Hallway

"I can't do this!" Natalie cried out, filled with sheer panic.

The game had barely begun, yet she was already second-guessing her decision.

"Don't be scared; it's not real! Go and check it out!"

"Natalie, we're right here with you!"

"If you keep going, I'll send gifts!"

It was clear the audience was more enthusiastic than she was.

Soon, the stream was filled with the incessant sound of gift alerts. Rockets, airplanes, and all sorts of rewards began flooding in.

It was... overwhelming.

"...Alright then." Natalie clenched her teeth.

The sudden influx of gift money inexplicably bolstered her courage.

For a bit of cash? Yes, she could definitely continue playing.

She slowly made her way towards the wooden door.

"Haahhh!" she abruptly shouted, kicking the door open with a tremendous bang!

"Fuck!"

"Can you not be so loud when opening doors?!"

"Forget the game, Natalie scared me more than anything!"

"My soul nearly leaped out of my body from that yell!"

The chat exploded with complaints and laughter, but Natalie remained on edge.

Beyond the door lay a long, dimly lit corridor.

It resembled a typical apartment hallway. White paint covered the walls, adorned with various framed pictures. Yet, something felt... off.

The hallway was narrow, only about 1 meter wide, barely allowing a single person to pass. The overhead lighting was so dim it plunged most of the corridor into darkness.

That combination—confined space and low light—signified one thing.

If something were to suddenly appear, there would be no escape route. And if an enemy lurked in the shadows? You wouldn't see it coming until it was too late.

An oppressive atmosphere washed over Natalie like a wave. Her eyes widened as she took a deep, shaky breath.

"Damn... this place is incredibly creepy."

She had to concede that the environment design was superb. Nothing had happened yet, but her legs already felt weak. The chat also fell silent, everyone seemingly holding their breath. The immersion was just that profound.

In such a constricted area, tension built effortlessly.

"Alright... let's keep going," Natalie whispered, steeling herself and venturing down the hallway.

Before she had gone far, she noticed a clock mounted on the wall. Its hands were stopped precisely at 11:59, the second hand oscillating but never reaching the midnight hour.

"11:59? So, it's just before midnight?"

"Look at the window; it's pitch black outside. It must be really late."

"Yeah... and that's the witching hour, isn't it..."

While the audience was engrossed in analyzing the surroundings, Natalie was visibly unnerved.

Suddenly, a burst of chaotic radio static crackled from up ahead.

"Oh my god, guys, what is that sound?!" Natalie shrieked, her heart instantly pounding.

The static rapidly morphed into a man's voice, delivering news in a somber tone.

"Breaking news. Three days ago, a man brutally murdered his wife and daughter within his own home."

"Natalie, don't panic; it sounds like a radio broadcast."

"Yeah, stay calm! It might just be part of the story!"

"Go listen carefully! It could be a clue!"

Acknowledging the audience's input, Natalie forced herself to calm down and continued forward.

Indeed, further ahead, she spotted a counter built into the wall. An old radio rested upon it.

"On the day of the murder, the man shot his wife in the hallway with a rifle while she was cleaning. His six-year-old daughter hid in the bathroom. However, the man tricked her into opening the door, claiming it was merely a game."

"He then shot her point-blank in the head. The wife, struck in the stomach, was pregnant at the time."

"When the police arrived, alerted by a neighbor, they found the man sitting in the hallway, listening to the radio."

The broadcast abruptly ceased.

That brief news segment provided a substantial amount of backstory.

"Wait... guys, don't tell me this is THAT house?!"

"Sounds like it! This must be the location where the murders took place!"

"So, this is a full-blown haunted house then?!"

"That guy didn't just kill his wife and daughter; his wife was pregnant. That makes it three lives lost!"

"Jesus... this is incredibly dark."

The chat was in an uproar, but Natalie was on the verge of unleashing a torrent of curses.

Seriously, did her brother absolutely have to make the backstory this grim?

Just hearing the report sent shivers down her spine.

Nevertheless, she gritted her teeth and pressed onward. The incessant chime of gift alerts in her headset provided the impetus to keep moving.

Ahead, the hallway veered sharply at a 90-degree angle to the right. Natalie rounded the corner and came to an abrupt halt.

Her large, expressive eyes widened in utter shock.

There was blood. An extensive amount of it.

A massive blood splatter coated the wall directly in front of her, with some of it dripping onto the floor and the adjacent counter.

"Holy crap, blood!!"

"Confirmed, this is the murder scene!"

"This must be where the guy shot his wife. That blood pattern signature indicates a rifle blast!"

"Wait, so the woman we saw in the doorway earlier... could she have been the wife?!"

"Bro... I've got chills. This is seriously messed up."

The chat simultaneously exploded with countless analyses. Between the unfolding news report and the grim reality of the bloody hallway, connecting the dots wasn't difficult, and Natalie had arrived at the same chilling conclusion.

"Stop talking about it already! The more you say, the more freaked out I get!" Natalie yelled, her voice betraying a slight tremor.

She truly, deeply wished this ordeal was merely a low-effort, jump-scare-laden production from some garbage indie game developer. That would have been infinitely more manageable.

Nevertheless, steeling her resolve and pushing past her fear, Natalie tiptoed cautiously around the dark bloodstains, eventually reaching a counter.

Upon it rested a framed photograph. It appeared to be a family portrait, likely belonging to the very family mentioned in the news report. However, the faces of the two individuals positioned on the left had been completely obscured by the violent spray of blood.

Only the man on the far right remained partially visible, though his features were indistinct within the hazy photograph.

He had to be the murderer, the husband, the father.

His expression was chillingly blank, yet his eyes seemed fixed straight ahead with an unnerving intensity.

Natalie found herself staring back at the photo.

And for a fleeting second, she could have sworn the man depicted was looking directly at her.

Was it merely her imagination playing tricks? Or had the game developers actually programmed the photo to track her movements?

Natalie immediately averted her gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. She desperately wanted to stop contemplating it, not even for another moment.

She continued her advance. Ahead, on the right side of the corridor, another door came into view.

Frosted glass panels were set into the upper half of the door, and a small, neat mat lay positioned at the threshold.

"That looks like a bathroom!"

"Yeah, the design fits. Natalie, you should try opening it!"

"Come on, go in already!"

The audience began to enthusiastically encourage her once more, urging her onward.

But Natalie suddenly froze, rooted to the spot. She distinctly recalled the details mentioned on the radio.

The daughter had supposedly been hiding inside the bathroom... until she was tragically tricked into opening the door.

This was evidently another site of a heinous crime.

"Don't be scared, Natalie! I'll send you a gift!"

At that precise moment, the familiar chime signaling a gift notification resonated in her ears, swiftly followed by the distinct sounds of rockets and airplanes.

"...Alright then." Natalie took a profound breath, mustering her courage. With deliberate slowness, she extended her hand and grasped the doorknob with her right hand.

The entire stream collectively held its breath in anticipation.

A distinct clicking sound emanated from the knob.

Natalie released a deep exhale, her shoulders visibly slumping in relief.

"It's locked. I can't open it."

Thank goodness.

At the very least, this meant she would not have to enter the bathroom. Not at this moment, anyway.

1272 Words.