It’s well known that horror works exploit the unexpected and unknown. The Cthulhu mythos thrives on that very premise. But where most horror stories try to conceal and hide their monster as much as possible to drive tension up. Cthulhu stories thrive on different methods.

Given that, I would like to quote the opening warning you get after booting up Call of Cthulhu: Dark Corners of the Earth: “Cthulhu will occasionally manipulate graphics, sound, and controls in an unusual way. This is perfectly normal, and it is unlikely to be a problem with either your game disc or your sanity.”

Indie Horror Month continues this week with the still-in-development-but-still-really-good beta of Paranormal.

Paranormal is the gaming equivalent of Paranormal Activity: a found-footage ghost story. The two works actually complement each other quite well since the slow burn tension of the movie is the perfect primer for the game, which jumps right into the freaky stuff. You play as a man who suspects that his house is haunted, so he takes it upon himself to wander around at night to record the various weird things that happen. There are multiple pre-ordained hauntings that can happen in a room, but what you see at any given time is random. The fridge might burst open during one game but stay closed during another.

Creators always put themselves into their games in some shape or form—they cannot help it. We naturally infuse the things that we create with all the experiences, cultures, values, and ideologies that we call our own, even if we do not recognize them consciously. While these outside influences vary dramatically in size and function, they are ever present in the games we make. None of this is more true than in Papo & Yo, one of the few truly autobiographical games. The first game from the new Minority Studio undoubtedly sprang from the childhood of its lead designer Vander Caballero.

Papo & Yo wears its themes on its sleeves. Even without knowing the story ahead of time, it is hard to miss the game’s blatant metaphors. Quico, the game’s protagonist, begins his journey wanting to save the big pink rhino-like monster that is obviously a metaphorical stand-in for his father. The coconuts that make him fall asleep and the green frogs that turn him into a fiery vessel of anger clearly represent alcohol. I have serious doubts any player missed this, even before the game literally turns bottles of liquor into frogs before your very eyes. This is a very personal story about Caballero’s confrontation with his history of abuse.

I was listening to a recent episode of the Gamers With Jobs podcast, and one of the fellows on the show began discussing having recently introducing his 13-year-old daughter to console gaming.  He reported that when she showed an interest in playing a game that he sat down and asked her a bit about what she liked and disliked, and on that basis, determined that a story-driven RPG might best suit her tastes.

Thinking through several options, he landed on the idea of Fable II as a good option for a first serious gaming experience and then sat down to help teach her how to play.  He reported largely watching her play the game for much of the time and praised Peter Molyneux and Lionhead Studios for creating a game that is not only enchanting but accessible enough for a new gamer to pick up and play due to its very clear tutorials and other teaching methods.

Horror works by unnerving its audience. By taking them out of their comfort zone and presenting them something just a bit off. It creates a tension between the normal and the out of place. For every appearance of a monster, psycho, or ghost, there is the threat of death and harm. The threat creates fear, and the fear creates the tension.

So what happens in a game when that creates an unnerving atmosphere, but no threat?