Horror Game Developer: My games aren't that scary! Chapter 4: The Jester [3]
Previously on Horror Game Developer: My games aren't that scary!...
[09 : 59s]
Horror repulses me.
That fact was obvious in my mind.
Even a slight brush with it left me on the verge of vomiting.
On numerous occasions, I'd actually thrown up.
Still, my revulsion toward horror didn't drive me to abandon all logic.
After playing through countless horror titles over the years, I'd trained myself to push down the terror—just sufficiently to maintain sharp wits as I progressed.
A sharp pain twisted in my gut.
My mouth stayed clamped shut, terrified that bile might rise any instant.
Yet,
Rational thought remained possible.
So I began to analyze the situation.
By muting all the eerie tunes, letting quiet envelop the space once more, I reclaimed my mental clarity.
I glanced toward the wall, my insides churning violently in response.
How could they possibly know?
Had they gotten the system too? ...Or did some other factor explain it?
Eventually, my eyes drifted to the possessions I'd been given.
From my experience crafting many games, as a designer at heart, I grasped one core truth.
Nothing given is ever pointless or haphazard.
Every piece serves a purpose tied to the 'scenario', and since I'd already deployed three so far, the crucial ones were the paper clutched in my grip and the walkie-talkie.
A sudden notion flashed through my head.
I gulped quietly while eyeing the countdown.
[08 : 41s]
My heartbeat thundered in my ears while I compelled myself to stay composed.
But was composure even feasible now?
"Ahhhh—!"
A fresh cry ripped through the heavy air.
Even without the soundtrack, the sounds pierced clear
Then, the nightmare resumed its grip.
Identical to the initial fatality. They clawed at their own flesh with fingernails, howling at full volume.
Next followed the dull, gruesome snap as they bashed their skulls against the barriers—first once, then twice, repeatedly—each impact fiercer than before.
Crimson sprayed everywhere, soaking into the surfaces like dye on cloth.
My belly heaved. I clenched my jaw, battling to choke back the rising sickness.
The transmission from the walkie-talkie came out ragged, frantic.
I examined the visages of everyone nearby.
Ashen. Soaked in perspiration. Shaking uncontrollably.
Judging by the looks on all the faces here, I figured few would survive until the next musical piece.
And supposing any managed that,
Yet far more pressing—
The spectacle proved utterly haunting and bone-chilling.
Shutting my eyelids appealed strongly, yet I resisted. Observation was essential. I needed to spot an escape.
Ugh, this irritation...
Biting back words, I turned my focus anew to the scenario outline and scanned it over.
Victory over this lay within reach.
Every necessary implement for success sat with me. Now, I just had to uncover the 'key' to flipping the dire circumstances.
[04 : 37s]
The clock kept draining away.
Merely four minutes until the earplugs expired their magic.
Thoughts whirled frantically in my skull.
Swift reasoning was imperative!
".....!?"
Amid my pondering, a damp splash hit me. My body stiffened, breath catching for several heartbeats. It slid down my mask as I clamped my lips and willed my mind to divert.
Once more, I perused the scenario details.
A hint was vital.
Some lead.
Whatever form it took.
[03 : 43s]
Seconds marched onward.
Relentless, it eroded without mercy, mirroring the strain on my psyche, while my pulse echoed fiercely inside.
Dread began to claw at my resolve.
As the deadline loomed nearer, my unease swelled relentlessly.
It devoured my focus.
Gnawing bit by bit.
....!?"
My gaze jerked upward. An insight crashed over me with crushing force.
Stare fixed on the maestro positioned amid the platform.
His gestures flowed with graceful arcs, every wave of the baton exact. Intentional.
A concept emerged, though it seemed wildly unlikely.
Moments passed as I pondered.
[01 : 22s]
My breaths grew faint.
The deadline approached steadily.
A single minute lingered. That marked the span before the earplugs failed, before the melodies invaded my hearing anew.
At that point, doom would claim me.
No, maybe doom already loomed inescapably.
No. No, I wouldn't accept such a fate.
My mouth cracked open soon after, and amid the symphonic chaos, my murmur slipped into the atmosphere.
"This fucking sucks."
The orchestra and wails swallowed my utterance whole.
Nevertheless, as though attuned to my words, the conductor's motions faltered momentarily.
Fleeting, yet it didn't evade my notice.
A spark of possibility flared up inside me right then.
That's when I spoke once more.
"...I'm about to fall asleep."
Arms folded, I feigned drowsiness by letting my eyelids droop while my chin sagged. Simultaneously, I covertly peered toward the conductor.
True to form, his actions froze anew.
But just for an instant.
Despair tugged at my chest.
A response occurred, yet it fell woefully short.
[01 : 15s]
The timer pressed on.
I teetered perilously near the edge.
Insufficient. Insufficient.
In desperation, I rifled through the earlier supplies. With mask and earplugs expended, conviction grew that the solution hid within the pair I held.
Yet how? How to activate their potential?
Abruptly, my torso tightened as the count dwindled.
Panic surged, my gut twisting in knots.
[0: 59s]
Tremors ran through my fingers while my sight bounced between the objects I grasped.
Suddenly, clarity struck like lightning.
Without pause, I seized the walkie-talkie.
Slowly, my mouth opened as words escaped;
"If you want to live, do as I say."