With a release date finally out for Death Stranding, it’s surreal thinking how P.T. is five years old now. The “Playable Teaser” took the world by storm, making for one of the most fascinating horror experiences in all of video games. The hype around P.T. intensified even more when it was revealed that the game was actually a teaser for the newest installment in the Silent Hill series, Silent Hills. Sadly, we are quite familiar with how all of this played out.

Developer Konami declared there would be no Silent Hills after it confirmed its split with legendary game designer Hideo Kojima. Along with Kojima, Silent Hills was to also involve the dark minds of legendary filmmaker Guillermo Del Toro and manga artist Junji Ito. The game’s protagonist was also represented in the form of a digitally rendered Norman Reedus.

But not only did Konami pull the plug on Silent Hills, it has since taken down P.T. from the Playstation Store. This is not only a tremendous shame for fans, but also upsetting news for Kojima, whose artistry more than likely would have brought some much-needed life to the Silent Hill series.

But while we can sit here all day and be upset about what Silent Hills could have been, I want to talk about what P.T. was and is. I want to take some time to revisit and celebrate this gem, exploring what makes it such an incredible achievement of video game horror.

Even though P.T. was dressed up in high-quality graphics, the game’s structure was simple. Players started out in a dingy room, opening a door in front of them to a hallway coated in dim lighting. There was no clear context about the home the player found themselves in. As they walked down the hallway and turned down the hallway following, they would notice photos and knick-knacks belonging to the home’s habitants. Towards the end of the latter hallway was another door; by walking through said door, the player would come out the door they originally began the game walking through. From there, P.T. continues by keeping players in this loop, the exception being when they can enter the nearby bathroom.

This simplicity, however, is meant to be deceiving and lull the player into a state of unease, guiding them into a nightmare. As the player begins to take additional trips down each hall, little elements begin to appear in the setting. The pacing throughout P.T. establishes an extremely uncomfortable environment. Having gone down the halls a number of times, you would think one would become use to their surroundings; that said, changes in the environment take place both subtly and abruptly. Because of these varying shifts in the setting, however, the game does a tremendous job of messing with the player’s senses. 

A brief bit of text at the game’s beginning mentions a shift in reality upon walking through the hallway doors; this existentialism is further mentioned by a talking brown lunch bag who also speaks to concepts of reality and the “self.” As the player progresses throughout the game, the environment shifts into much more of a surreal nightmare, the lighting sometimes becoming red or pitch black. Cockroaches crawl about, random faces appear, and at one point a refrigerator swings from a ceiling with the sound of a crying child coming from within it. These elements are just a couple examples of  P.T.’s chilling nature.

Upon entering the hall for the first time, the player hears a radio broadcast regarding a grisly murder. The announcer talks about a man who murdered his pregnant wife and two children, relaying graphic detail. He also speaks to how the man was believed to have heard weird strings of numbers coming from the radio.

Continuing through the loops, the player begins to hear an array of bizarre auditory sounds. From the slamming of a bathroom door, to that of a woman whimpering and a baby crying, these sounds create an unnerving sensation as they surround the player. Eventually the player is able to access the bathroom and find a flashlight, along with a nightmarish surprise. Lying in the sink is that of a mutated fetus; its elongated body and deformed head look up towards you as it lets out cries.

And then there is Lisa.

A few loops go by before an unexpected figure appears. During another trip down the hall, just as you turn the corner to the second hallway, you see a lingering body standing in the middle of the foyer. This is Lisa, and her presence makes for one P.T.’s most uncomfortable features.

When you come upon her that first time, your immediate reaction might be to stand still and see how she reacts. As you stand there, however, you notice she does not move. It is only when you begin walking toward the foyer that the lights around her go out. As you enter the foyer, the light turns on, a plethora of cockroaches swarming around the floor and walls. As you exit through the door at the end, your senses are heightened, aware that Lisa may appear again. But while this tension is at an all-time high, it seems that she is nowhere to be seen as you travel through the loop again.

This is another one of P.T.’s deceptive tricks however; for even though you may not be seeing Lisa, she can see you and plans on reappearing again. For those players who are curious enough to look at everything within P.T.’s environment, they might notice that the main foyer has an upper level. You can’t see much other than the railings and the walls, as well as a little shadowy section that leads deeper into the house. There is a particular moment where, if one is to look up, they will see Lisa staring down at them; her face wearing a haunting grin.

This grin gets up close and personal in one of the bigger jump scares in P.T. There comes a point where the voice from the radio abruptly spits out a random string of numbers along with other phrases. Among those phrases, the broadcaster will mention to look behind you; when you do, though, nothing is there out of the ordinary. Shortly after this, when the announcer once again says to look behind you, the camera drastically shifts and presents Lisa in your face. Her rotten flesh, blackened eyes and ghastly smile burn into one’s eyes, the player’s avatar collapsing. Upon reawakening, you continue the game’s loop, your caution and fright at tremendous levels.

 Unlike many other horror titles, P.T. doesn’t give much in the way of hints as to when something sudden may take place. Tension and dread are built within its atmosphere, along with a deceptive linear structure to distance the player from environmental changes. Some of the game’s auditory and visual shifts can suddenly take place, presenting jarring and upsetting sequences. P.T.’s masterful use of disturbing buildup establishes an uncertain air to the environment, leaving a lingering and haunting tension as players move forward.

 Beyond the game’s horror elements, what also stands out about P.T. is the level of involvement in its puzzles. The thing about these puzzles is that a lot of them are super obscure. One particular puzzle requires you to zoom in on a picture of a couple to open a door. While this is a simple puzzle on paper, there is no indication within the game that tells you to do this. It is thanks to the work of other gamers, having researched for hints and sharing results online, that other gamers were eventually able to move forward in P.T. We know that in Death Stranding, Kojima has talked about gameplay and themes surrounding the idea of people working together; it isn’t that much of a longshot then to assume that P.T. was the first showing of such potential meta gameplay.

 P.T. is an extraordinary work of horror. Since its release we’ve seen a variety of “P.T. inspired clones,” where other games pay homage to the surreal and chilling nature of P.T.’s environment. And while it’s easy to dwell on and be upset regarding the removal of P.T. and cancellation of Silent Hills, I like to think of what will be.

One of the amazing powers art has is its ability to inspire. P.T. raised the bar on how horror can be presented to an audience. P.T. was able to not only immerse players in suspenseful and terrifying horror, but also place them in a state of horror beyond the screen. By no means does P.T. fit into our societal model or understanding of what makes a mainstream video game, yet, it still amazed players. The game has become a blueprint for not only how to establish genuine chills and a creepy atmosphere, but that it is essential to take risks.

Kojima’s efforts in P.T. live on in Death Stranding and fans will never forget that. P.T. not only haunts the memories of players with grim fascination, but also represents a rich and remarkable horror.