Editorials
Horror on Wheels – Revisiting ‘Twisted Metal: Black’
The demolition derby is the perfect template for a video game. It’s fast, exciting and focused heavily on the sensory experience. During the late 90s and early 2000s, the car combat genre, a natural evolution of the demolition derby, had its moment in the sun. Games like Carmageddon, Interstate ’76, Vigilante 8 and even Cel Damage all brought their unique perspectives to the genre, but none made as big of an impact as the series that popularized the genre: Twisted Metal.
In 1995, Twisted Metal took the core concept of the demolition derby and merged it with the game design of Mario Kart. Players race unique vehicles around levels loosely based on real-world locations picking up powerups that range from missiles to napalm to a good old fashion oil slick as they eliminate each other one by one until only one remains. Each of the over-the-top drivers is brought to the competition with the promise of having a wish granted by Calypso, the mysterious figure behind the contest. The single-player campaign plays out like a fighting game, with the player battling a series of matches until they face the final boss.
The theming of the characters have always been horror-adjacent, featuring a sinister clown and the Grim Reaper himself, but the game never took itself too seriously. Character endings often had a tongue-in-cheek, Twilight Zone-style “be careful what you wish for” twist to them. As the series went on, it seemed to lean more into the goofiness, especially after the original developers left the series starting with the third entry. By the time Twisted Metal 4 rolled around, it was clear the series had lost its luster and was in need of retooling.
Enter Twisted Metal: Black. Series creator David Jaffe and his studio comprised of developers of the first two games rebooted the series for the still relatively new PlayStation 2. The gameplay was a more finely tuned version of what was already there. It was prettier, bigger and much faster than the game they could make on the original PlayStation, making it all the more satisfying in your hands. But what made the game stand out the most was its shift in tone. Black took a turn down a dark road, fully embracing the horror in disturbing and gruesome ways.
Twisted Metal Steering Towards TV Carnage?
Many of the same characters were present in the game, but they were all re-conceptualized as patients from Blackfield Asylum. Gone are the campier days of the first games, replaced with a thick coat of darkness. Whereas the earlier version of Mr. Grimm was the literal Grim Reaper, he’s now a broken Vietnam War veteran who wears the skull of a man he was forced to eat while captured. Needles Kane, the iconic driver of Sweet Tooth, is now an unrepentant, vicious serial killer cursed with a flaming skull, one of the few instances of the supernatural in the decidedly more grounded game.
Each of the characters tells their tale in the single-player story mode, which remains relatively unchanged from previous iterations. You select a character at the beginning, and are presented with three cutscenes throughout the campaign. In the beginning, you see the character getting recruited by the Calypso from the asylum, giving you a quick intro to what the character wants from the contest, but only tease the horrors they have experienced.
After fighting Minion, the mid-game boss, the full backstory of your character is revealed. These stories are some of the most upsetting elements of the game, diving deep into gruesome tragedy. My favorite backstory involves one of the new characters, No-Face, the driver of Crazy 8. No-Face was a small-time boxer who was badly injured in a big fight. Without much money, he went to a back alley doctor to get fixed up, only to find that the doctor had bet on him big and lost. After putting No-Face under, the doctor removed No-Face’s eyes and tongue, then stitched him shut, giving him his nickname.
When you finish the game, you are treated to one last ending scene where Calypso grants the contestant’s wish. Some of them do have a cruel twist of fate vibe like the earlier games, but often times characters end up getting violent retribution on those who wronged them. In the end, No-Face ends up with the doctor at his mercy and is handed a barbed wire-wrapped boxing glove. These finales aren’t quite as satisfying as the mid-game backstory cinematics, but they are a nice little black bow on the depraved gift that is the story mode.
Twisted Metal: Black shows you just how far strong and consistent aesthetics can go into changing the perception of your game. Even though the cutscenes are completely separate from the gameplay, this dark tone gives the combat a more desperate and vicious feel without having to make many tweaks, and made it the most memorable entry in the series. This tactic could definitely be applied to other genres in order to create unique and impactful new horror properties. Catherine gave us a glimpse at a horror-puzzle game hybrid, Mortal Kombat has been making horror-themed fighting games for decades, but what would it look like to put a dark coat of paint on a sports game? Or a superhero epic? Hopefully, some creative developers can find a scary angle on a well-worn genre to recapture this feeling.
“Elevated Horror.” Of all the combinations in the English language, that one is the most insufferable.
It represents almost a decade of scary movies that, for the most part, took themselves too seriously. Horror responds to the moment, so its “why so serious” lean makes sense as we scuttle through the “worst of times” equation of Charles Dickens’ famous opening lines. But there’s still an opening and a need for a lighter approach; one that not only has fun with its audience but takes the piss out of a genre that is seemingly letting its newfound “respectability” go to its head.
Wes Craven believed devotees see horror films to let out their fears one primal scream at a time. At their core, these movies are roller coasters; they bring us as close to the edge as possible before pulling us back into a safety net of reality. The need for a bigger and badder coaster increases during times when the size of that net decreases.
There’s a thrill that comes from imagining being in a foot race with a madman, or outthinking the hordes of zombies on the other side of the door, plus the scavenger humans coming behind them. There’s even a rush that comes from imagining how one might deal with possession to see good triumph over evil in the end. It’s all about building tension and releasing it through catharsis. That cathartic release usually sounds like screams followed by laughter, which signals relief. Genre heavy hitters over the past 10 years offered very little of that respite when the credits rolled. Films like Hereditary, The Witch, Talk to Me, and even Smile (pick one) keep that tension going after the screen fades to black.
Hereditary
As the genre became obsessed with creating trauma metaphors, that lack of release made sense. Anyone with even a small sample size of traumatic experiences knows those emotions don’t magically resolve themselves in an allotted run time. But how much trauma can one take? Especially when there’s a mess going on outside that few of us can escape from. Movies offer that off-ramp, no matter how short.
Everything can’t be, nor should it be, “elevated.” Audiences need thoughtful explorations of life’s ills via monsters as much as they need murdering masked maniacs with kitchen knives. And no, it doesn’t have to go any deeper than that. Sometimes, a knife is just a knife, and it’s still worth our time and respect. As weird as it sounds, that simplicity is comforting not in spite of the trauma but because of it.
The worst of times should manifest more than just anguish. People need to laugh just as much as they need to think seriously about this moment in time. Even the Scream franchise forgot the meta rock upon which it built its church when the latest foray sacrificed the subtle comedy for serious drama. Scary Movie returned at the perfect moment. It provides the necessary laughs, but it’s not a cure-all.
This isn’t a call for Scary Movie imitators but a return to a mainstream landscape where Killer Klowns from Outer Space sat with The Serpent and the Rainbow, nestled neatly with the latest Nightmare on Elm Street, which took nothing away from The Vanishing.
They Live
Even They Live, John Carpenter’s horror sci-fi satire sandwich, kept its tongue firmly in cheek while discussing serious ideas still relevant in 2026. Yes, a film about aliens taking over the world through subliminal messaging only visible through coded sunglasses is, in fact, a tad silly. Carpenter understood that mainstream horror can’t become so self-important that it never looks itself in the mirror and laughs at that inherent silliness.
The thing is, horror historically excels at poking fun at itself. Most of the Scream franchise, The Cabin in the Woods, or The Blackening show adoration without kowtowing. They recognize tropes and trappings but invert them for an audience already in on the joke, but one that also finds solace in said conventions. This keeps the genre on its toes; once something gets parodied, it’s usually time to evolve. That breeds new ideas and fresh filmmakers, which not only strengthen the genre’s collective voice but also amplify it.
Get Out, as “elevated” as some critics want us to believe it is, is a cathartic, populist scary movie that spoke to an untapped audience rather than speaking down to them. Backrooms is one of the biggest horror hits in years, partially because it’s fine-tuned for modern-day teenagers instead of their parents. Movies like these tell everyone the genre is open for business; open for innovation and, yeah, open for new ways in which people can lovingly poke fun at with a wink and a nudge.
Horror needs dread as much as it needs laughter.
Catharsis is just as important as tension, and pulpy populism has the same merit as more high-brow material. Respectability shouldn’t come at the expense of an experience akin to walking through a haunted house. At a time when joy seems in short supply, horror should look to its past to map out its future, and make things just a tad brighter for audiences.
Backrooms
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