Amnesia: The Dark Descent

Developer/publisher Frictional Games Format PC, PS4, Switch, Xbox One Release 2010

Felix Kjellberg is out of tinder. He is visibly nervous, combing the bookshelves of Brennenburg Castle for something, anything, with which to strike a light. The screen has started to pulse and the sound of grinding teeth can be heard as protagonist Daniel begins to lose his mind. Kjellberg, broadcasting under the alias PewDiePie, finds what he’s looking for, sighs with relief – and turns around to see a gaping horror stumbling towards him. The resultant stream of Swedish profanity will become legendary, part of a reaction compilation viewed millions of times on YouTube. It is 2010, and Amnesia: The Dark Descent has just scared the Let’s Play into existence. Well, notoriety, perhaps. It turned out that watching people in their bedrooms freak out over horror games scratched multiple itches for YouTube’s nascent userbase: it attracted game fans curious to see someone else’s playthrough, sure, but also a mainstream audience who were enjoying the ‘prank’ and ‘fail’ videos popular on the Internet at the time (later, it’d spawn yet another genre, the ‘react’ video). Quite simply, it was fun to watch a generally quiet Swedish boy lose his shit. And he’d chosen the perfect enema in Frictional Games’ virtual psychological torture device. The Dark Descent was not a typical horror game for its time: it didn’t really do the kind of bloody-face-and-scream jumpscares that defined the early days of viral media online. What it did do was build an atmosphere of dread so thick you could cut it with a knife, or indeed a piercing Scandinavian shriek. And this was in spite of it being technically rather basic: its monsters patrol set routes that are (theoretically) easily sussed, and aren’t particularly shocking close up. But The Dark Descent’s ‘sanity’ system was Frictional’s newest, nastiest twist. Staying too long in the dark drains Daniel’s sanity, and so you must find tinder to light candles and oil to keep your lantern burning. However, huddling near a light source to dispel the hallucinatory effects of his decreasing sanity puts him in danger of being spotted by an enemy – and hiding is your only weapon in the fight against your foes. The result is an feedback loop of tension, created partially by the game and partially by the player’s own mind. The paranoia becomes such that you’re convinced there’s a monster around every corner – the enemy count is actually fairly low – as you fumble with objects, puzzle pieces and door handles, pitting trembling hands versus Frictional’s physics engine. Later, it toys with you by confirming your fears: in the flooded cellar, you’re pursued by an invisible assailant, rapidly approaching splashes the only sign of your impending doom. The “water monster”, as it came to be known on YouTube in countless viral playthroughs, is emblematic of The Dark Descent as a whole. Not only did it conjure up the ubiquitous horror of the 100-decibel Let’s Play, it was part of a shift towards a more inventive kind of horror game, spinning frights seemingly from thin air by using efficient design to engage the ultimate instrument of fear – our own brains.