Some might say that my “fright reactions” are often at an
elevated state. I’m easily startled by
people rounding cubicle corners, I overreact to drivers inching towards my lane
in the road, and static electricity in particular makes me jump back inordinate
and embarrassing distances. Those things
may all be true, but I prefer to re-label “fright reactions” as “anti-predatory
mechanisms.” I mean, my ancestors didn’t
survive billions of years just so that I would suffer cardiac arrest from a
fast-moving cubicle farmer balling out of control for the laser printer.
We all like to think that games release some intangible
level of endorphins or adrenaline into our bloodstream, relaxing or exciting us
in controllable doses. But Dead
Space? EA’s just-released sci-fi horror
game is certainly “exciting,” but in more of an “alarmed response” way than I’m
used to drinking up during a videogame. Onboard
the USG Ishimura, I’m experiencing
sensory overload – ironically – through sensory deprivation. Trying desperately to dig through the dark,
my pupils are dilating like I’m high on THC.
Straining to categorize between innocuous versus dangerous sounds, I can
practically feel my cochlea throbbing in my inner ear. My mouth is going dry, presumably to keep my unblinking
eyes from drying up and perma-gluing my contacts to my cornea.
Gee, other than that, I’m great. While I’m feeling the chemical reaction from
being “thrilled” from the expected cat-jumping-out-of-the-closet tricks, the
auditory frights are on par with anything being thrown at me visually on the
screen. Perhaps the audio is so
frightening because I have so little control over it. In the game, when a violently-disfigured
Necromorph is plodding towards me, I can (sometimes, definitely not always)
fall back, rapidly assess the situation, hone my target, and saw off a limb
with a prize-winning gunshot. And I
could do this with far less panic if I decided to cheat myself, mute the
volume, and nullify the $60 I just dropped at Software Etc, sure. But it’s that volume. The volume that pours horrible ambient
sounds into my ears. And the volume of
darkness poured into the set pieces making the blood pulse through my ocular
veins.
Dead Space is, and already has, set off a disturbing
number of dormant anti-predatory mechanisms in my brain. This, coming from a guy that’s already beset
with daily elevated fright reactions.