I've been playing the video game "Psychonauts" a lot recently. As a matter of fact, I just finished my third playthrough of the game, right before I started writing this. There is a lot of strange and interesting things to see in this game, and I highly recommend it. One thing in the game I found especially intriguing is the usage of bizarrchitecture (a building or buildings that are constructed in impossible ways or just highly outlandish). In most cases, such presentations are justified, as they exist not in the real world, but in the minds of people (many of whom are not entirely of sound mind).
The most notable exception, and in my opinion, the most disturbing, would be the nearby insane asylum: Thorney Towers Home for the Disturbed. Long since shut down, though not entirely abandoned, Thorney Towers presents the player with a nightmarish landscape to navigate. While the Asylum Grounds show signs of neglect, and the Lower Floors are in shambles, it is the Upper floors that are the most unsettling to navigate.
The state of disrepair starts off relatively tame, a hole in the wall or ceiling, a portion of the floor has collapsed, pipes sticking out where they shouldn't. However, as you climb the tower, the structure becomes increasingly unsound. Now large sections of the floor/ceiling and walls are missing. A staircase curves around in a manner that makes it quite impossible to climb, and the interior shifts ninety degrees; everything is sideways. Furniture now hangs from the walls, and the floor is littered with doors and windows.
An open room where the floor (the wall? the ceiling?) has caved inward; stone arches stretch out, serving no apparent function, and a doorway hangs upside down. Climb higher, and everything seems to fall away, leaving only scattered beams and crumbling sections of walls. The odd piece of furniture sits abandoned, and pipes ending in appliances jut out into space. Climb even higher, and you are granted respite as the building becomes more whole once more, though more dangerous things lurk even higher.
I find this section of the game to be horrifying, in various subtle ways. First is the obvious state of disrepair; the building is in such poor condition that it might very well collapse at any time...with you still in it. Much of it has already caved in or fallen away. How long before the rests follows?
The second is the sideways portion; this portion of the building is recognizable, but at the same time, clearly wrong. As previously mentioned, the building is falling apart, and a significant portion has already given way.
The third is the usage of space, though this has two parts to it. At the beginning, space is limited, giving the environment a claustrophobic feel. (This comes as a sharp contrast to much of the game, which feature (mostly) open environments; here, everything is confined by walls and ceilings, with narrow doorways and sharp turns.) Then you reach a wide-open space, which provides a new set of challenges and fears. The platforms here are few and often narrow; it's easy to fall off, and it only takes one errant misstep to fall several floors down.
The fourth is the noise, or lack thereof. There is no soundtrack here, only the howling of the wind, the groaning of the (decrepit, unstable) tower, and the squeaking and scuttling of rats that will explode if they are able to get too close. And all too often, you can't tell where the rats are coming from until it is too late.
Finally, there is the fact that it is real. This isn't taking place in some random person's head - this is the real world. If things get dicey, you can't pull out the smelling salts and return to the waking world - you're already there!
No comments:
Post a Comment