Drakevarg

I like to play through the game as a little bit impish: whenever I knock someone out, I not only try to put them somewhere comfortable, but I tend to pile two or three people into the same spot. Efficiency aside, it amuses me intensely to imagine them waking up together or being found in compromising positions.

I've heard the balance of buildup vs. payoff referred to as "sizzle and steak." You can tease the sizzle all day, but sooner or later you're gonna have to serve up that steak. I finished a playthrough of The Dark Project just the other day, and one thing that kinda struck me while playing is that when it came to the sizzle the game was masterful with its tension, but when the danger finally showed up I came away more frustrated than afraid. Particularly in the opening minutes of Down in the Bonehoard and Strange Bedfellows, I found myself consciously aware of just how alone I was and apprehensive about what I was getting myself into. But as things progressed, that tension slowly boiled away and was replaced with general annoyance once the curtains lifted. Either I could kill the monsters and they were just obstacles, or I couldn't and I just had to jog for my life. Perhaps somewhat ironically, the most sustainably "scary" level was Return to the Cathedral, which didn't have much sizzle at all. It was just the long, haggard experience of trying to find a way out with few ways to defend yourself and fewer places to hide that made it communicate "worst night of Garret's life" pretty effectively. The downside to that effective portrayal was that it wasn't actually any fun to play. Not sure what point I'm trying to make here, besides relay my own experiences with horror within the Thief series itself. Sometimes, payoff isn't really needed. Some of the best horror moments came from side areas in Thief II, with old haunted libraries and the like. The simple atmosphere of the hostile dark can leave all the lasting impression it needs without having to actually go anywhere. Some of the oft-cited scariest moments in games have little or nothing to do with the main plot, they're just random side areas with unsettling easter eggs. In its own way, the lack of answers is its own payoff. It makes the dark edges of the game world feel that much deeper. For a slightly silly example, I always wondered as a kid what exactly was down in those railway tunnels in Banjo-Tooie that made them keep me out. "Far, far below the deepest delvings of the Dwarves, the world is gnawed by nameless things. Even Sauron knows them not. They are older than he." That kind of thing, along with virtually everything Lovecraft has ever written. The important thing isn't necessarily to present something horrible. It's to worm the idea into the audience's mind that when they go into these places, they are not safe. It's perhaps equally important that they don't know why. Every basement needs that one door no one ever opens, at least not often enough to specifically recall what's in it. It's those little patches of darkness and forgotten corners that make it feel like the rabbit hole has no bottom.

That second part is a small miracle, since a lot of "well just turn those features off if you don't like them" arguments fall flat precisely because the game isn't designed with that in mind.