Chapter 1152: Teaching the Craft of Horror Game Development
Chen Mo took off his Matrix glasses and placed them on the table.
Qiu Hengyang asked curiously, "What's wrong? Think they're all too poorly made to bother playing?"
Chen Mo shook his head. "No, I've already cleared all of them."
Qiu Hengyang: "..."
The playtime for these horror games wasn't very long, and most had some loopholes and shortcuts, so while the majority of the audience was still experiencing them, he had already finished them all.
After all, these designers were all fresh graduates. They had only spent less than a month preparing these horror games. In such a short time, it was impossible to create a standard twenty-plus-hour game length. Doing this much was already decent.
Back when Chen Mo had just graduated, he was still making pixel-art mini-games like Flappy Bird...
Next came the judges' commentary segment, where they reviewed the higher-voted works, each sharing their opinions.
Unlike the design competition Chen Mo had participated in long ago, this one no longer had a judge's veto power but instead had Chen Mo's single-pass authority.
However, Chen Mo hadn't used this "single-pass authority" much until now. It could only be said that most works were mediocre—what the judges looked down on, Chen Mo also looked down on.
The first prize went to a work called *Blind*.
The reason this game stood out was that it had a major highlight: innovation.
For horror games, using darkness to limit the player's field of view and stir the innate human fear of the dark is a very common and effective approach.
This game focused on that concept. The protagonist entered a haunted house during the day, but upon entering, realized they had gone blind.
Later, it turned out they weren't actually blind—a ghost had covered their eyes, severely restricting their vision.
Inside the haunted house, there were two types of items: blood and clean water. Using clean water on the eyes allowed the player to see the surroundings but not the ghosts; using blood on the eyes allowed them to see the ghosts but not the surroundings.
Players could collect clean water and blood, switching between them as they saw fit. Meanwhile, the ghosts in the house were of various types, each requiring different countermeasures.
Although the level design and details were still a bit immature, the concept was excellent, earning unanimous praise from the judges.
After the awards came the customary closing remarks.
In truth, many contestants joined the competition not just for the prize but mainly to see Chen Mo.
For many aspiring to enter the gaming industry, Chen Mo was undoubtedly their top idol.
Moreover, during every closing speech, Chen Mo would share some insights into game design philosophy. Even understanding a small part of it could be immensely beneficial.
As Chen Mo stepped onto the stage, the audience immediately erupted into enthusiastic applause and cheers.
This kind of scene was nothing new to him. Chen Mo hadn't prepared a script; he just improvised, speaking freely.
"Good morning, everyone. I'll skip the pleasantries. First, thank you all for overcoming your inner fears to participate in this design competition, especially since the theme was horror games."
"Many contestants probably felt lost when they got this theme. A lot of you hadn't dabbled in this area before, so you had to grit your teeth and push through. That made this competition quite challenging. It's no small feat that so many excellent works emerged."
"Here, I'd like to briefly share some small tips for making horror games, and also explain why *Blind*, despite not seeming particularly outstanding in quality, still won first prize."
The audience and contestants listened intently. Chen Mo's "small tips" couldn't be that small—after all, the terrifying legends of *Outlast* and *Silent Hill* still circulated in the industry...
Chen Mo continued, "Horror games are meant to scare players, to make them feel afraid. So what's the key to a horror game? Is it grotesque monsters? Eerie music? Sudden jump scares? Or copious amounts of blood, even physical pain?"
"One could say all of the above, but they're really just surface-level. The key to a horror game lies in atmosphere building."
"Take *Silent Hill*, for example. Why does it give players a completely different experience from traditional horror games? It's because of the atmosphere."
"Please remember this: the unknown is the most terrifying thing. That's why many horror movies heavily use darkness to obscure the players' vision."
"This is also why *Blind* stood out. Like *Outlast*, it uses night-vision cameras and batteries to turn the field of view into a resource players can collect and manage, while also using it to create varying difficulty levels. For instance, on the highest difficulty, you can only carry two batteries at most."
"What makes *Blind* unique is that it splits this resource into two: clean water acts like the night-vision camera and batteries, while blood serves as a tool to see ghosts. This enriches the game's strategic depth and gameplay variety."
The audience nodded in agreement. While playing the game, they had been thoroughly scared, but they also felt a thrill when finding clean water and blood.
A horror game that's too difficult and scares everyone away from the start isn't a good one. The key is to keep players hooked, give them a sliver of hope, then throw in a scare, gradually building up—that's sustainable development.
At that point, a contestant in the front row raised their hand and asked, "So, besides limiting the field of view, are there any other better ideas?"
Chen Mo smiled and nodded. "Of course there are."
As soon as he said that, everyone perked up, staring at him eagerly.
Chen Mo teased them a bit. "I'll release a new game next week. Buy it and play it, and you'll find out."
...
After the design competition, *Blind*, as an outstanding work, would receive guidance from professional designers at Thunderbolt Interactive for revisions and then be published on the Thunderbolt Game Platform.
For a novice designer, this was already an incredibly exciting prospect, because even a random recommendation slot on the Thunderbolt Game Platform could mean at least tens of thousands of yuan in daily revenue.
However, the players were more interested in the new game Chen Mo had mentioned.
Clearly, this game was a spur-of-the-moment decision, with a development time of less than a week, so it probably wouldn't be a big-budget production.
But based on Chen Mo's words, this game was sure to be an innovative work, at least significantly different from mainstream horror games in terms of gameplay.
And with Chen Mo making a horror game, did anyone need to worry about it not being scary enough...
Many people were both curious and terrified, caught in a deeply conflicted state as they awaited the new game's release.