Editorials
Revisiting the Post-Nuclear Horrors of the ‘Fallout’ Franchise
Fallout was my first M-rated game. While I was way too young at the time to truly appreciate Interplay’s satirical odyssey through a dystopic wasteland, I still remember opening that jewel case in awe of a title that was clearly meant for a more mature audience. Unfortunately, I was also really bad at the game, which led to an overwhelming sense of dread whenever I decided to boot up this strange world where everything was out to murder my woefully under-leveled Vault Dweller. Even the loading screens and ambient music gave me the heebie-jeebies, but I soldiered on anyway, eventually becoming a massive fan of the franchise.
I may not have gotten very far during those initial playthroughs (I only managed to finish the original two titles during my last year of High-School), but Fallout certainly left a lasting impression as a spooky post-apocalyptic simulator. Of course, nowadays I’m aware that the franchise is mostly known for its dark humor and satirical writing, using the retro-futuristic setting as an excuse to explore the sociological consequences of a nuclear holocaust while also satirizing real-world issues. Nevertheless, I’m still convinced that the more unnerving elements of this setting are a crucial part of the series’ massive success.
These games have come a long way since 1997, starting out as isometric adventures and eventually evolving into the FPS/RPG hybrids that we know today, but the heart of the franchise is still based on the same unsettling philosophies. It may be the wacky post-apocalyptic escapades that keep players coming back for more, but it’s the little moments of genuine nuclear terror that make this such an effective and immersive world. That’s why I think it’s worth revisiting some of the horrific influences behind this weird and wonderful Wasteland.
Even with the tongue-in-cheek approach to the nuclear holocaust, it’s no surprise that a setting inspired by the terrors of radioactive warfare has spawned its fair share of nightmare fuel. While there are obvious examples of terrifying abominations roaming the Fallout wastes, the original games actually relied a lot more on atmosphere and body horror rather than traditional atomic monsters. From the social isolation enforced by Vault-Tec (which was later revealed to be using the Vaults for their own unethical experiments) to cannibalistic raiders, and even the mere existence of Ghouls (zombie-like humans cursed with immortality after being ravaged by radiation), these games featured all sorts of disturbing content that would oftentimes be overshadowed by humor.
It’s enough to make David Cronenberg blush.
That’s not to say that players won’t be facing off against all manners of monstrous mutations while exploring the Wasteland, as the original games featured a veritable smorgasbord of now-iconic enemies. From the demonic-looking Deathclaws (somehow descended from genetically-enhanced chameleons) to the disgusting Floaters (mutated flatworms with a penchant for human flesh), the early Fallout games actually did a great job of conveying terror despite the crude visuals. One could even make the argument that the lack of visual clarity actually made these creatures more terrifying, as these pixelized depictions of radioactive atrocities would force players to fill in the blanks with their own imagination.
Many of these horrific designs would actually be physically sculpted before being scanned into the game, with media like Fred M. Wilcox’s Forbidden Planet and Richard Matheson’s I Am Legend (plus its adaptations) being cited as the inspiration for some of the mutated denizens of the Wasteland. Of course, some of the most disturbing material was inspired by real-life accounts of radiation poisoning, leading to the Ghouls’ exposed flesh and the iconic two-headed Brahmin. This just goes to show that fiction can rarely compete with the horrors of the real world.
Nevertheless, these serious elements were also accompanied by an unexpectedly entertaining amount of primitive gore effects. While the exaggerated bloodshed would often be more humorous than disturbing (the developers even included an optional “Bloody Mess” character trait/perk for players with a thirst for more ultra-violence), this penchant for schlock would become a staple of the franchise even as it transitioned into the third dimension.
While the highly-detailed models of later titles weren’t quite as grungy or off-putting as the isometric sprites of earlier games, there were still quite a few frightful creatures that successfully made players soil their pants while exploring the three-dimensional ruins of Bethesda’s (and Obsidian’s) Fallout games. One might even argue that the added detail actually made some of the designs even creepier, as we were now able to take a closer look at decrepit Ghouls and even the revolting Centaurs.
I still have nightmares about these guys in New Vegas’ Quarry Junction…
The cinematic flourishes of these big-budget sequels also allowed for some more direct inspiration from the horror genre. Fallout 3 featured obvious references to H.P. Lovecraft’s The Dunwich Horror (with one quest-line even involving a mysterious tome named Krivbeknih, inspired by the Necronomicon), and New Vegas boasted an entire DLC add-on (Dead Money) that felt like a post-apocalyptic heist designed by Jigsaw. Hell, even the terrifying Lake-Lurkers look an awful lot like a certain lagoon-based Universal Monster.
Benefiting from the New England setting, Fallout 4 would continue referencing Lovecraft, with one side-quest even serving as a loose adaptation of Pickman’s Model. The game would also add some more appropriately fishy monsters and locations with the foggy terrors of the Far Harbor DLC, though the main storyline focused on more traditional sci-fi conflicts.
More recently, Fallout 76 has been making a big deal out of incorporating irradiated versions of North-American cryptids into the game, featuring everything from Mothman cults to ravenous Wendigos and even the Flatwoods Monster. The multiplayer elements may have distanced the game even further from the horror genre, but it’s nice to see that the franchise is still paying homage to its scary roots.
Ultimately, Fallout is at its best when balancing the genuinely horrific nature of a nuclear apocalypse with darkly humorous writing and addictive role-playing mechanics. While the experience gets progressively less spooky as your character turns into a radioactive badass, the Wasteland never stops being a terrifying place, which makes your eventual conquering of it all the more satisfying. These horror elements might not be the explicit focus of these games, but the series definitely wouldn’t be as popular as it is today without that eerie touch that makes us hesitate before looting a giant mole-rat.
That’s why I think any future Fallout projects (including that recently-announced Amazon Studios adaptation) should try and remember these scary influences when trying to immerse fans in a new version of this iconic setting. After all, what’s scarier than the end of the world?
In this day and age, the word “troll” is often used to describe various online nuisances. Yet as abundant and irksome as the modern troll can be, they aren’t usually as fearsome as their mythological counterparts. I’m not talking about the small and gentler versions that have become more common to see in media. No, there are much bigger and scarier trolls out there—and André Øvredal’s movie Troll Hunter is one of the best places to find them.
It doesn’t take long for Troll Hunter (or Trolljegeren) to dump the Blair Witch Project-esque setup and aim for something a lot fresher. The trajectory of the story is augmented by Otto Jespersen’s character Hans, the titular Troll Hunter. The second he comes barreling out of the deep, dark woods and shouts “troll” at the camera, this movie takes a turn into what feels like uncharted territory. Not only subject-wise, but also conceptually.
For fantastical and made-up subject matter in cinema, found footage is a fast way to add a guise of believability. After all, what we accept to be the most crucial aspect of documentaries—the truth—rubs off on pseudo-documentaries, despite our understanding of the pretense involved. That is what Øvredal delivered with Troll Hunter: a movie so convincing that some viewers wondered if trolls really do exist. So, had this been straightforwardly made, it likely wouldn’t have been as effective. Conventional narratives would be more inclined to treat something like trolls as flat out unreal, and never try to convince the audience to think otherwise.
Hans petrifies the three-headed Tusseladd troll.
The viewers, like the characters trailing Hans, are quickly thrown into the deeper end of that extraordinary story. They have to process all this new information while staying on the go. So, although there is no significant amount of meandering, narratively or physically, there is still a good amount of atmosphere, not to mention tension building. It’s never anything frightful, but then again, Troll Hunter isn’t your standard offering of horror; it’s more on the low end of the dark fantasy spectrum. We aren’t ever spirited away to a faraway world—we stay in rather familiar surroundings, as well as dip into those less so. The outcome is a movie where you’re constantly more in awe than in terror.
As fantasy fiction might do, Troll Hunter prefers not to deal with incredulity. There is no time to waste on doubt, as interviewer Thomas (Glenn Erland Tosterud), soundperson Johanna (Johanna Mørck), and cameraman Kalle (Tomas Alf Larsen) all follow Hans around, recording whatever this character is willing to reveal about his bizarre job. Of course, the Troll Hunter himself is not an open book; in that respect, the diegetic documentary fails to fully capture and unpack the more interesting of its two subjects. Yes, all those giant, monstrous trolls are indeed incredible, but understandably, your mind wanders to their pursuer. What kind of person signs up for this gig and then chooses to stick with it for so long?
Reviews have called out Troll Hunter for its lack of character development. In regard to Thomas and his fellow documentarians, that criticism is valid, but bear in mind, they aren’t the focus of the story, either. Meanwhile, Hans is a well-crafted character. At least better than first realized. Before he was introduced, Hans had already grown tired of the troll grind. Fed up with that low compensation for his services, resentful of the bureaucracy, and wanting to expose his employer on a large scale, Hans’ discontent is glaring.
Then there are those finer details about the Troll Hunter, such as that indifference to both the natural splendor of his everyday surroundings and the affections of an obviously smitten colleague, that also suggest some level of despondency. So it is fair to say this movie doesn’t feature any sizable growth for its characters; however, the namesake isn’t underwritten. No doubt, putting a real-life character like Otto Jespersen in that role is partly why Hans is so fascinating—maybe even relatable.
Otto Jespersen as Hans the Troll Hunter.
There is always a small risk whenever using the term “mockumentary” to describe a found-footage movie, as the word could imply humor where there is none. In the case of Troll Hunter, the term’s usage is appropriate. Some folks have claimed the English-dubbed version has the more comedic tone, however, the Norwegian cut isn’t exactly humorless. Apart from the trolls’ absurd appearances, this is a movie where the characters nearly choke on the monsters’ farts, and Christians are like walking targets. Hans’ complete apathy towards everything is another cause of laughter. Overall, the comedy is intentionally dry and inconsistent. Unfunny, though? Absolutely not.
In a movie where endemic creatures are maltreated, as well as disavowed from living freely and peacefully, it’s hard not to notice the ecological message buried beneath the story. In addition to that is the unmistakable political satire. There is this whole business about intrusive and unsightly power lines—like trolls, they’re big blemishes on the land—that leads to what is perhaps the movie’s funniest moment. The scene in question is that one where certain electric lines, the ones secretly being used to keep the trolls at bay, go in a loop and don’t actually send power to any residents. Yet the monitors of said lines don’t find this at all weird. So it stands to reason that Øvredal was having a go at those who accept the government’s doings without question.
Looking past the fact that trolls aren’t actually real, this movie is an enlightening source of information. And not just for international audiences; Norwegians, too, get schooled about their homeland’s own mythology. It’s also evident from everything on screen that Øvredal and his crew were enthusiastic about the topic. The creature designs are the most indicative of that zeal; those imaginative yet myth-accurate manifestations are equally amusing and grotesque. One second you’re laughing at their phallic noses, the next you’re white-knuckling during a hairy sequence. Most surprisingly is how well the trolls’ visual effects hold up after fifteen years. It’s not all spotless, but on the whole, they remain impressive.
Vouching for a mockumentary about trolls isn’t easy, but those who do come around and give it a shot will more than likely be grateful for the recommendation. For Troll Hunter is a real find in that vast and varied genre we call “found footage“.
A bridge troll reaches up for food and finds Hans decked out in armor.
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