When the apocalypse comes and the undead rise from their graves, I’ll be prepared–will you?

You might be, if you’ve played the right video games.

It all began with the original Doom. I’m sure everyone’s played a version of this game. In 1993, id Software decided that zombies on Mars sounded like a great plot idea and thus Doom was born. The basic story of the game is that you’re an ex-Marine on the moons of Mars when the gates of Hell open and undead come out. Your entire squadron is dead, and you have to fight your way to freedom. The premise is so simple that the main character doesn’t even have a name. Despite its simplicity, or perhaps because of its simplicity, the original Doom was a break-through game and grew into a successful series. What Doom taught me at the tender age of eight or nine was that I was helpless in the wake of the living dead as well as prone to screaming.

What Doom taught video game designers, however, was much more important. The game was revolutionary. It started with a character whose only equipment was a pistol, isolated him in a foreign environment, and included dark design with narrow corridors. This disorienting experience gave a sense of panic. Adding to that, everything was real time and enemies came from all over. You had no time to think and pause if you wanted to live. The camera also made it impossible to see what was behind you, generating unease and vulnerability from the player. Using these techniques, Doom taught video game designers the concept of immersion. Without immersion, there is no fear. You do not fear Bowser when he captures Princess Peach, unless you’re a complete pussy. Similarly, you don’t really get too scared when playing Final Fantasy VIII even if you’re fighting a boss. This is because you are watching the story, not experiencing it. You are actively withdrawn.

A lot of this withdrawal has to do with ambiance. Another is pacing. House of the Dead and its sequel took what Doom offered and raised it a notch a few years later. The game was predominately distributed in arcades and actually had the player shoot with a gun-shaped controller. The screen was also bigger, and graphics had undeniably improved in the three year gap from Doom’s release to HotD. Along with the graphics, the plot developed more, offering a bit more of an attachment to the hero and his plight of escaping the hordes of undead. Of course, it was nothing complicated; a scientist goes mad, and releases his creations upon the unsuspecting world. Still, it was a little more close to home than, say, zombies on Mars.

The biggest thing HotD did to zombies was the pace change. The player was swarmed by zombies from all sides and often forced to choose which path to take in a split second. House of the Living Dead was the first game to implement the branching path scenario; to make actions have real consequences other than life or death, consequences that change the overall path and ultimate conclusion of the game. For example, if you saved a man in the opening of a game from the zombies, you would end up taking an entire different path with different encounters than if you let him die. This is a lot more realistic than an entirely linear path with predetermined outcomes such as Doom was.

Perhaps the mother of all zombie video game series, Resident Evil, was inspired by these lessons learned from Doom and House of the Dead. The creators certainly took heed to them, anyway. RE was the defining zombie series and it still is today. When you think of zombies in video games, you think of Resident Evil. You think of Raccoon City. You think of the Umbrella Corporation.

This is because Resident Evil is the first zombie game to get it right, or at least get in the ballpark.

RE followed the guidelines for immersion that Doom had provided. The character always starts with a pistol and a knife, nothing fancy, no matter which installment of the series you play. It’s always a foreign area, as well; for example, the protagonists Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine don’t know anything about the dark and dreary mansion in Arklay Mountains. They have no idea what has killed their comrades. They have no idea what they’re going to do. It’s also night, because there are no truly successful zombie games that take place entirely in the day.

To make the setting even more terrifying, Chris and Jill are immediately separated from each other a few minutes into the game. Again, isolation is key here. Everyone knows there’s strength in numbers, and people are creatures of comfort. Take away the numbers and take away their support and you have a recipe for true horror. You have unlimited potential for fear.

Resident Evil also follows HotD’s concept of fast pacing–then adds its own twist. The game starts off fast, the opening cinema is rapid and graphic, but then slows to an almost halt as the characters realize what has happened and realize the dead are living. This formulaic pattern of stop and go, stop and go, actually gives a more realistic interpretation and plays a bit of a mind game on the player. Just when the player thinks they’ve escaped the horror, just when their nerves are finally settled, just when they’re catching their breath, when they’re least expecting it, Resident Evil throws in a zombie jumping out of a previously empty room or a startling flash of lightning.

The point is it’s jarring whether it’s a monster or a trick of the eye. You’re absorbed and startled, you’re feeling the mansion as if you were there.

The Resident Evil series succeeds, then, in total immersion. It is by no means perfect, but as it the years go by, it gets steadily better at drawing the player into its world and environs. It works because it was the first zombie series to get that sometimes, knowing what’s behind the door isn’t half as scary as not knowing. It also got fear is not something that can be instantly obtained. It’s the product of a well-crafted, multi-faceted invention. An invention that is three parts the designers, and one part us.

You read right. Us. The players. Our own mind. It falls right into the trap that the designers set up for us.

And that’s how I learned how to survive the zombie apocalypse. You just have to avoid the trap that’s been set of fear. Fear is our own creation, but the counter to fear is knowledge. If we know something will leap out at us after a short reprise from the waves of undead, if we know that it’s just a game, and if we know it’s trying to scare us, we won’t be too scared.

To the people too “scared” to play survival horror, you should be listening up here.

In the end, though, isn’t it a more fun to be scared sometimes? I mean, maybe as gamers we owe it to ourselves to let our guards down. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Maybe we should let ourselves, just once, maybe twice, dangle our feet over the edge of our beds and see what grabs them. You never know what you might find.

This entry was posted on Sunday, September 9th, 2007 at 12:28 pm and is filed under Video Games, Game Design, Survival Horror. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.