Editorials
The Claustrophobic Horror of ‘Condemned: Criminal Origins’
The empowerment of arming the player has always been somewhat of a conundrum for the horror genre.
While necessary to the player’s survival, the inevitable firepower bestowed upon the player can be detrimental to the carefully crafted horror elements.
So, what happens when the player is stripped of that empowerment and trades in their gun for a lead pipe? Developer Monolith Productions wasted little time in establishing Condemned: Criminal Origins defining tone, which holds up remarkably well 16 years after the game’s release. Channeling the aesthetic and brooding atmosphere of iconic horror films such as David Fincher’s Seven, Condemned’s most distinctly unique feature is its claustrophobia.
Much like the films it emulates, the player is dropped into an unforgiving and filth-covered world. Players take on the role of FBI agent Ethan Thomas who finds himself framed for murder by the very serial killer he’s hunting. Making matters worse there is a mysterious wave of violence plaguing Metro City, somehow tied to Ethan’s case.
Monolith Productions does a terrific job of immersing players into this uncomfortably suffocating world. Ethan’s fugitive status forces him to adopt a “behind enemy lines” survivalist mentality that weaponizes his surroundings. Repurposing inconspicuous items such as 2×4’s, pipes, school desks, and even mannequin arms into instruments of death becomes his DIY means of survival. The inherently limited range of melee weapons makes combat an intimate affair as death is never more than an arm’s length away.
The result is a brutally refreshing approach to combat, as coming face to face with your attackers gives a constant, chilling spike of adrenaline. While the melee mechanics are relatively simplistic, the unpredictability of Condemned’s enemies allows it to avoid overly devolving into a mindless hack and slasher.
Crazed vagrants will feign injuries only to lash out when Ethan closes in, weaponize their environment, and retreat around corners to set up ambushes. For Ethan to survive, he must become that which hunts him.
And hunt him they will. Enemies will at times literally burst through drywall or ceiling panels in their hunt for Ethan. Emphasizing melee combat may, on the surface, seem like a gimmick when in actuality, it sustains the game’s horror aesthetic. The player is in a constant state of vulnerability, only ever as safe as a well-timed block to counter an incoming swing of a pipe.
Periodically, Ethan will stumble upon firearms though they are often anything but reliable. Most guns have less than a handful of shots or sometimes none at all. This lack of consistent ammo supply adds yet another layer of anxiety-inducing tension to combat, but more importantly, ensures the player never feels like a super-soldier.
Inversely, the unpredictable nature of firearms allows for moments of immense empowerment when the player discovers a fully loaded one. This can quickly alter the course of sticky combat situations but comes at a cost. These moments of firepower superiority, while briefly rewarding, reveal how vital melee combat is to the core of the game’s identity. Had there been more emphasis on firearms, the persistent sense of being hunted would be lost. The limited and unreliable nature of guns allows the strength of its visceral melee combat to shine.
There is also the seemingly inconsequential mechanic of ammo management. There is no continual ammo HUD display, and the player must activate a short animation to check their ammo supply manually. This animation leaves the player momentarily vulnerable and makes the already hectic dance of combat that much more so. There’s nothing quite like learning the hard way that your shotgun is empty until an enemy is charging towards you. This is yet another cinematic quality that provides a more grounded horror experience.
The close-quarters nature of combat works in tandem with Condemned’s suffocatingly claustrophobic environments. Leaving Ethan with little room to retreat or hide, the environments actively push him to face his current threat. While an abandoned school and decrepit metro station aren’t the most original horror settings, the difference is how Monolith Productions presents their vision.
The studio’s ability to inject nerve-wracking tension through subtle details, often due to exceptional sound design, exemplifies these stock horror settings. Whether it’s feet shuffling above the player or an enemy screaming incoherently from afar, Condemned’s world is an inherently volatile place.
Unfortunately, Ethan Thomas’ story would never see a proper conclusion. Despite receiving a sequel three years after its release with Condemned 2: Bloodshot, its campaign would end on a cliffhanger. The sequel was also a distinctly different game in terms of tone and gameplay focus. The focus shifted from an engrossingly grounded authentic crime atmosphere in favor of an overtly supernatural one and an increased emphasis on firearms.
What Condemned 2 did best exposed what makes the original such a timeless horror classic. Condemned’s challenging player empowerment and claustrophobic tension is interwoven into its foundation, which allows the game to hold up as well as it does, 16 years later.
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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