Returning to the Noisy aesthetics of the turn of the Millennium

In the early ’90s, Frederick develops small video games while working as a technician in an electronics store. In the meantime, he devours dozens of B-Movies and becomes a fan of directors like Dario Argento and George Romero. During his first job at Infogrames, he becomes obsessed with 3D after working on an unsuccessful project that is decisive for him. At that moment, he has a vision: he understands that the simplicity of the plots in his favorite horror films would be perfect to design the prototype of an adrenaline-pumping and terrifying video game.

It will be during this period, amidst still primitive technologies and makeshift yet ingenious solutions, that one of the earliest video game adaptations of the horror genre will come to life. The story then unfolds, as if following a script, with a producer rushing the team, not understanding the technical requirements, and ultimately causing the destruction of his own product.

Even Frederick himself will admit to coming to hate his own creation. But let’s return to a specific moment, a moment that is a key element with far-reaching consequences, an undead entity destined to remain awake for a long time.

We take the story directly from Frederick’s words.

“With only a few polygons at our disposal, I would have needed text to make the situation believable and dark. So, I thought of photographing backgrounds. We went with Franck (Manzetti – today we would call him a level designer) to an old mansion to take some photos. Unfortunately, the processing power needed wasn’t available at that time. After a few miserable tests, we returned to 3D design on bit maps. The functional conceptual test of the game, with a working character model and a couple of rooms from the mansion, was completed in September 1991.”

It was the dawn of the new millennium when we transitioned from the 16-bit era to the 32-bit era of the new PlayStation (PSX). The attempted alchemy between the horror genre and consoles hadn’t yielded particularly convincing results, except for a few unintentional cases that only later gained recognition as valid experiences, albeit with some forced elements. Titles like Resident Evil and Silent Hill made their appearance during those years. This marked the beginning of a video game tradition that still holds its place today.

A tradition born out of limited resources and creativity at all costs. Iconic were the fixed camera scenarios of Resident Evil, which inadvertently concealed the creature positioned just beyond the frame in which you moved. Paradoxically, this lack of control added an imperceptible touch of adrenaline to the entire gaming experience.

Not long after, Silent Hill made its appearance on the shelves. The fog present in Konami’s title was actually a tactic to conceal a technical limitation. Unlike a true open-world game, it couldn’t handle significant amounts of information.

Today, the ongoing reuse of patterns and resources has replaced those necessary solutions which, in their time, sought to overcome technological limitations and managed to create unforgettable moments, even though they weren’t planned during the initial design phase. These technical tricks offered something novel, intimately tied to the technological medium on which they operated.

Pre-rendered CGI scenes and fog to allow for culling (more info on our dev-log) are small solutions that evoke the 1990s, that 1990 of Frederick grappling with his obsession for 3D and how to represent that world on machines that couldn’t keep up with imagination. Solutions that still endure, in less powerful systems where one must possess the technical knowledge of graphical representation and how to allocate it within physical memory.

Or, they are stylistic and artistic choices that inhabit an underground of creations still holding the charm of niche products and the value of experimentation. These games fully leverage the creativity born from limitations and the wonder of being able to develop untargeted narratives that can never find a place in a consumer market.

Emerging closer to the surface, we find titles like “Lake Haven,” which draws inspiration, almost entirely borrowed, from the world of Silent Hill. An engaging story within an entirely new atmosphere will gift you a valid experience, making you reflect on the deceptive nature of the current entertainment landscape. A title that could even run on a smartphone manages to deliver the exact same intensity as the latest Triple-A monsters hastily created with the Unreal Engine in a matter of weeks.

What seems to have now become a cult finds its ultimate form in an “inception” effect. Recently, the phenomenon of “Demake” has gained momentum. I suggest searching on YouTube to understand what I’m talking about. In essence, games released in 4K resolutions are transformed into versions with fewer polygons and realistic gameplay, imagining how they would have looked during the era of the PlayStation (PSX).

In conclusion, this desire to return to a more symbolic scenario rather than the photorealism that the market invests in is something already known and cannot be reduced to mere nostalgia. Survival horror was a niche genre on a niche system like the Atari. It was unimaginable at that time that entire IPs would be turned into cinematic experiences. The direction of reboots and remakes will make room for the familiar return of grit, the grudge, and the desire to create something outside mainstream concepts, democratizing creativity once again, starting from the underground, where something stirs… have you also heard that noise?