Game:

Resident Evil (1996)

Duration: 42:55

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291

Commentary is a bit wonky, I know. I made the rookie mistake of being too far away from the mic in an attempt to maintain a posture that kept me awake. Recording at 4am is not the best of ideas.

You know, it's funny. I've never noticed just how much forethought it takes me to play these games. Most of my rambling in this is due to my mind being elsewhere, namely back in the mansion worrying about the segments I have yet to play. While pushing crates, I try to remember the location of the last large batch of shotgun shells tucked away in the Spencer estate. While being Walter White, I mentally mark all of the new enemy spawns on a map and try to calculate the best route to save the most ammo with minimum risk, and end up dropping a comment mid-utterance. During a loading screen between Dormitory 002 and the hallway, I think about when and where I'm going to use the acid rounds (do I save them for Yawn, or the army of green assholes between me and it), and literally forget where I am. It's bad.

No other game series has made me worry this much. It's not the fear that comes with unknown territory. I know these games. I know them well. That's where the worry stems from. Knowing what's there. Knowing what it takes to get past it. Knowing what screwing up means.

Knowledge is power--but in this case, you're not the one that wields it. That's what these games do so well despite their many, many shortcomings. They don't stop at 'fear the unknown.' They don't throw things at you and tell you to run. They don't rely on the players' base instincts. They make you think. They make you plan. They make you say, "Oh, no," when you remember what's coming next. That, to me, is survival horror. Games don't capture this anymore.

It makes me sad.

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