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‘Resident Evil’: How the Franchise Has Mastered the Art of Horror Through Perspective

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Horror is one of the trickiest genres to master in any aspect of fiction. Even when the discussion of subjective horror is left out, horror is at its best when the artists behind their respective projects not only understand how to make something aesthetically scary, but there must also come an understanding of what makes something scary, how it scares different groups of people, and what audiences will ultimately take away from the story.

Horror has long been one of the most profitable genres of fiction due to horror artists tapping into the collective fears of their respective audiences, which has increased tenfold with the introduction of video game horror. Starting as early as the 1980s, video games began experimenting with the horror genre, often being relegated to using text-heavy mechanics to make up for the lack of the graphical fidelity needed to bring some of the more ambitious ideas to life. Early horror games more closely resembled visual novels, but the seeds were planted for horror to take over the game industry.

A large part of its success had to do with the shift in perspective that became more frequent in the 90s. Though gamers were well aware that the character they were controlling was completely standalone in their creation, the horror became incredibly visceral simply having the players themselves control the actions of their protagonist. Suddenly, we were the hapless dopes walking down a dark hallway.

It wasn’t until Alone in the Dark was released in 1992 that “survival horror” began to take shape in video games. Though undoubtedly rough around the edges by modern standards, the game’s use of 3D models in a hostile environment served as a true breakthrough for horror in video games. No longer were horror games confined to textual scares, as the horror came at the player in real-time, offering up what felt like the most realistic depiction of a fight against zombies ever conceived.

Although Alone in the Dark planted the seeds for horror through perspective, the Resident Evil franchise perfected it for decades to come.

Resident Evil, first released in 1996, is often credited as the father of survival horror and while it wasn’t the first, it popularized the idea and continued to build on it thanks to the first game’s commercial and critical success. What followed were two decades full of sequels, spin-offs, movies, and a helping hand in perfecting the survival horror genre that continues to be lucrative well into the 21st century. 

But a decades’ worth of games all focused on the same concept of zombies trying to kill you sounds like a recipe for burnout, right? It’s foolish to believe that countless sequels building on the same concept won’t get old after a little bit. What was scary at first might not feel as scary with the second, third, and fourth game, no matter how many new enemies are added to spice things up. In order to stay fresh, a franchise should do whatever it takes to keep up with the latest gaming trends.

This is something that the Resident Evil franchise has thrived in, surviving 5 generations of gaming by consistently upping the ante. I’m not simply speaking in terms of the overarching lore itself. While the increasing government conspiracy-heavy story has made for loads of memes in today’s digital age for people to enjoy, Resident Evil has kept a tight grip on its most simple and popular concept: fight your way through monsters while trying to stay alive.

From the very first incarnation to Resident Evil 7: Biohazard and the recent remakes of 2 and 3, your goal throughout every game is to survive each respective ordeal with the various weapons at your disposal. It’s a thrilling concept even at a surface level, letting you feel in control of the monsters and zombies trying to kill you. That may seem like a simple thing for any action-horror video game to understand, but Resident Evil’s masterful handle on perspective gives it a leg up over a good chunk of the competition.

Perspective is one of the most crucial aspects of not only video game design, but deciding exactly how a game world will be viewed by the players. Artists can think up of some crazy and ambitious game worlds, but the perspective of the players will dictate whether those worlds will go to waste or not. While this seems like a mere aesthetic choice, the changes in perspective throughout the franchise not only reflect the gaming capabilities of their respective time periods, they demonstrate a masterful handling of survival horror and the various tones the games have gone through over the years.

The first Resident Evil took heavy inspiration from Alone in the Dark, adopting a similar look with 3D models operating in real-time overlocked and pre-rendered backgrounds. Playing as Chris Redfield and Jill Valentine, players would navigate through a twisty mansion filled with zombies and other nightmarish creatures while trying to figure out the mystery behind the mansion. 

The original game is undeniably dated, spawning countless memes surrounding the infamous voice acting (Jill Sandwich) and the now crude graphical quality. 3D gaming was picking up steam, but it was very much a work-in-progress at the time of Resident Evil’s release, hence why the camera is locked down for every angle shown in the game. Though that presented an obvious limitation to what the developers were reasonably able to do, it would also play an important role in creating the core scare factor of the franchise.

What the franchise, and eventually Silent Hill, would succeed in is fear through unpredictability. The monsters could pop out at the player with a simple change in angle. Perhaps the room the player has explored is empty, so they proceed to the hallway. After the famous loading screen with the opening of a door finishes, you can either be greeted by an empty hallway or a bloodthirsty zombie shambling towards you.

One of the most famous jumpscares of the game comes from a zombie dog breaking through a window as you walk down a seemingly safe hallway, ripping away any remaining sense of comfort in the mansion for the player. But what makes these scares so discomforting is the stationary position of the camera. No quick movements, pans, or perspective shifts apart from a different angle of the same room. 

The camera sits completely still, forcing the player to witness their avatars get chased by zombies as though being viewed on a security monitor, not unlike something out of a found footage film, which itself was rather uncommon in 1996. This type of distance from the character creates a fleeting sense of control through this 3rd person lens and when you factor in the clunky controls of the time, your character is close to helpless, even with weapons at their arsenal.

This is a strategy that would become a staple for the next two big entries in the series with Resident Evil 2 and Nemesis. Even with some minor graphical improvements, the two sequels would implore the same 3D-style gameplay over a locked pre-rendered setting, with the added bonus of having new giant creatures chase the player down: The Tyrant (or Mr. X, if you will) in 2, and Nemesis in 3. Even as the setting changed, the perspective still felt cold and strained as the players were conditioned to not feel safe in any corner of any map.

Though something like this is now a staple of most horror games, the first three Resident Evil games both popularized survival horror and had the accidental advantage of limited 3D play mechanics to help manipulate perspective against the players. But now that this format was familiar to players, it was inevitable that the scares would become less frequent. It’s only natural that players would adjust to the game world, risking potential burnout if the series continued in this direction.

But Resident Evil was aware of that, leading to the refreshed sequel that is Resident Evil 4, released in 2005. No longer hindered by dated developmental tools and with an updated graphics overhaul, 4 introduced the third-person “over the shoulder” perspective that is still going strong in 2020. Instead of the usual fixed camera angles, the perspective of the player was closer than ever to the main character while upping the violence to an action-horror level, straying away from survival horror in the process.

But just because the title was supposedly less “scary” than the first three games, manipulation of perspective still benefited the game by thrilling and scaring players through sheer chaos. While the first three games were pretty wild in terms of their violence, the shift of the camera meant that the player’s perspective was much closer to the action. The first three games were cold in their presentation of the monsters attacking the player, but here, there was a new level of intimacy that would create a whole new batch of nightmares.

The horror still tied to an unpredictable environment working against the player, but the new camera shift meant that the area behind you was a new source of caution. You’ve killed everything in front of you, but are you sure that there’s not something else lurking behind you? The fixed camera of the first three games at least gave the player a look at the layout of the room (from that angle anyway), but in 4, you control the camera, meaning that confronting the horrors of the village was almost entirely dependent on you. This could make for a more thrilling action game and as the likes of Uncharted and Just Cause have shown, it works well for the action genre. 

Yet there’s something visceral about the perspective of Resident Evil 4 and the following two sequels that feels like an update on the franchise formula without losing sight of its pulpy horror core. Even as the games switched to a more action-oriented tone, the terror of feeling overwhelmed by a seemingly endless wave of feral monsters made for a worthwhile substitute to the stilted security camera perspective of the first three games.

But soon, video game horror extended beyond the third-person.

Don’t get it twisted, 1st person horror was far from new even during the span of the first three games. Games such as Doom, Wolfenstein, System Shock, and Half-Life had already been experimenting with 1st person action-horror, slowly reinventing the video game format in a manner that we still see today with the likes of Call of Duty, Overwatch, Halo, and story-heavy walking simulators like Gone Home and What Remains of Edith Finch

Although horror had dabbled in the first-person, the 21st century saw a rise in first-person horror that would eventually come to define the survival horror genre. Games like F.E.A.R., Condemned: Criminal Origins, and Bioshock helped revolutionize first-person action-horror for the modern era, achieving the heights that just weren’t in reach two decades earlier. With first-person, over the shoulder became through the eyes, further bringing the player closer to the game world.

Amnesia: The Dark Descent, released in 2010, provided the launching block for first-person horror to enter untapped territory with the character being almost completely helpless to the terrors that players could once combat in more action-focused titles. Amnesia and soon games like Slenderman, Outlast, and P.T. put a stronger focus on atmosphere and helplessness over dynamic action gameplay and with Resident Evil 6 receiving mixed reviews for its lack of scares in 2012, it seemed as though the franchise had finally reached burnout. 

Amazing what a fresh perspective can do to change all of that, huh?

In 2017, Resident Evil entered brand new territory for the franchise with the release of the sequel/soft reboot, Resident Evil: Biohazard. Though technically taking place in the RE universe, Biohazard took the players away from the crazy government conspiracy story from before and only sprinkled it in here, making way for a standalone story about a man named Ethan Winters who searches a seemingly abandoned residence to find his missing wife, Mia. I’m sure we know by now that Ethan discovers that the house isn’t exactly empty.

What was namely an action-horror franchise about government corruption is mostly replaced with a contained escape story told entirely in the first-person. The nightmare that is the Baker residence is experienced in a new level of immersion by forcing the perspective through the character’s eyes. This applies to the cutscenes as well, playing out in front of Ethan’s and by extension our own eyes, applying a mean and visceral atmosphere to the House of Horrors that does everything in its power to throw everything at the player.

By 2017, first-person horror games were among the most popular in the market, largely thanks to YouTube Let’s Plays surging the demand for these games. The closest modern comparison to Biohazard is Outlast, given that both are first-person games from the perspective of an overeager man walking into the middle of a nightmare in a seemingly abandoned building. But Biohazard gets a leg up by adding a revamped combat system that brings with it a new level of unpredictability.

The guns and melee combat may not seem too different, but the 1st person perspective retrains the player to take everything they know about Resident Evil gameplay and apply it to Biohazard’s confrontational lens. Monsters are no longer just overwhelming the character you’re playing onscreen, now they want YOU and will chase you down in a manner not unlike the fear many have of staring down a darkened hallway, anticipating something to jump out at them. 

It truly is no wonder that Biohazard is considered a return to form for the franchise, updating its gameplay and going back to its survival horror roots sorely lacking from the recent installments. It’s this type of pure unadulterated pulpy horror that helped the Resident Evil 2 and 3 remakes succeed by keeping a firm grasp on survival horror, even as the remakes returned to over the shoulder third-person. The response to Biohazard only solidified this new direction for the Resident Evil franchise and the upcoming sequel, Village, and its 1st person perspective is concrete proof of this.

Additionally, it’s the proof that Resident Evil, in its near 20-year lifespan, has managed to use the power of perspective manipulation to consistently reinvent itself for an ever-changing audience. The start of the franchise was humble, yet influential for the state of survival horror in general. When audiences craved a nice mix of action and horror, 4, 5, and 6 delivered on that front and when 1st person horror became the next boom for video games, Biohazard came in late and still capitalized with a purely Resident Evil game in a new format.

To attribute the success of the franchise to shifting perspectives would be foolish, but the constant attention for a refreshed way to experience Resident Evil just shows the love and care poured into making RE a timeless horror franchise. Shifts in perspective can make or break a story and Resident Evil’s willingness to change up the presentation while keeping the formula of the franchise makes for a bold approach to video games, one that has paid off tremendously in the long run.

Editorials

What’s Wrong with My Baby!? Larry Cohen’s ‘It’s Alive’ at 50

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Netflix It's Alive

Soon after the New Hollywood generation took over the entertainment industry, they started having children. And more than any filmmakers that came before—they were terrified. Rosemary’s Baby (1968), The Exorcist (1973), The Omen (1976), Eraserhead (1977), The Brood (1979), The Shining (1980), Possession (1981), and many others all deal, at least in part, with the fears of becoming or being a parent. What if my child turns out to be a monster? is corrupted by some evil force? or turns out to be the fucking Antichrist? What if I screw them up somehow, or can’t help them, or even go insane and try to kill them? Horror has always been at its best when exploring relatable fears through extreme circumstances. A prime example of this is Larry Cohen’s 1974 monster-baby movie It’s Alive, which explores the not only the rollercoaster of emotions that any parent experiences when confronted with the difficulties of raising a child, but long-standing questions of who or what is at fault when something goes horribly wrong.

Cohen begins making his underlying points early in the film as Frank Davis (John P. Ryan) discusses the state of the world with a group of expectant fathers in a hospital waiting room. They discuss the “overabundance of lead” in foods and the environment, smog, and pesticides that only serve to produce roaches that are “bigger, stronger, and harder to kill.” Frank comments that this is “quite a world to bring a kid into.” This has long been a discussion point among people when trying to decide whether to have kids or not. I’ve had many conversations with friends who have said they feel it’s irresponsible to bring children into such a violent, broken, and dangerous world, and I certainly don’t begrudge them this. My wife and I did decide to have children but that doesn’t mean that it’s been easy.

Immediately following this scene comes It’s Alive’s most famous sequence in which Frank’s wife Lenore (Sharon Farrell) is the only person left alive in her delivery room, the doctors clawed and bitten to death by her mutant baby, which has escaped. “What does my baby look like!? What’s wrong with my baby!?” she screams as nurses wheel her frantically into a recovery room. The evening that had begun with such joy and excitement at the birth of their second child turned into a nightmare. This is tough for me to write, but on some level, I can relate to this whiplash of emotion. When my second child was born, they came about five weeks early. I’ll use the pronouns “they/them” for privacy reasons when referring to my kids. Our oldest was still very young and went to stay with my parents and we sped off to the hospital where my wife was taken into an operating room for an emergency c-section. I was able to carry our newborn into the NICU (natal intensive care unit) where I was assured that this was routine for all premature births. The nurses assured me there was nothing to worry about and the baby looked big and healthy. I headed to where my wife was taken to recover to grab a few winks assuming that everything was fine. Well, when I awoke, I headed back over to the NICU to find that my child was not where I left them. The nurse found me and told me that the baby’s lungs were underdeveloped, and they had to put them in a special room connected to oxygen tubes and wires to monitor their vitals.

It’s difficult to express the fear that overwhelmed me in those moments. Everything turned out okay, but it took a while and I’m convinced to this day that their anxiety struggles spring from these first weeks of life. As our children grew, we learned that two of the three were on the spectrum and that anxiety, depression, ADHD, and OCD were also playing a part in their lives. Parents, at least speaking for myself, can’t help but blame themselves for the struggles their children face. The “if only” questions creep in and easily overcome the voices that assure us that it really has nothing to do with us. In the film, Lenore says, “maybe it’s all the pills I’ve been taking that brought this on.” Frank muses aloud about how he used to think that Frankenstein was the monster, but when he got older realized he was the one that made the monster. The aptly named Frank is wondering if his baby’s mutation is his fault, if he created the monster that is terrorizing Los Angeles. I have made plenty of “if only” statements about myself over the years. “If only I hadn’t had to work so much, if only I had been around more when they were little.” Mothers may ask themselves, “did I have a drink, too much coffee, or a cigarette before I knew I was pregnant? Was I too stressed out during the pregnancy?” In other words, most parents can’t help but wonder if it’s all their fault.

At one point in the film, Frank goes to the elementary school where his baby has been sighted and is escorted through the halls by police. He overhears someone comment about “screwed up genes,” which brings about age-old questions of nature vs. nurture. Despite the voices around him from doctors and detectives that say, “we know this isn’t your fault,” Frank can’t help but think it is, and that the people who try to tell him it isn’t really think it’s his fault too. There is no doubt that there is a hereditary element to the kinds of mental illness struggles that my children and I deal with. But, and it’s a bit but, good parenting goes a long way in helping children deal with these struggles. Kids need to know they’re not alone, a good parent can provide that, perhaps especially parents that can relate to the same kinds of struggles. The question of nature vs. nurture will likely never be entirely answered but I think there’s more than a good chance that “both/and” is the case. Around the midpoint of the film, Frank agrees to disown the child and sign it over for medical experimentation if caught or killed. Lenore and the older son Chris (Daniel Holzman) seek to nurture and teach the baby, feeling that it is not a monster, but a member of the family.

It’s Alive takes these ideas to an even greater degree in the fact that the Davis Baby really is a monster, a mutant with claws and fangs that murders and eats people. The late ’60s and early ’70s also saw the rise in mass murderers and serial killers which heightened the nature vs. nurture debate. Obviously, these people were not literal monsters but human beings that came from human parents, but something had gone horribly wrong. Often the upbringing of these killers clearly led in part to their antisocial behavior, but this isn’t always the case. It’s Alive asks “what if a ‘monster’ comes from a good home?” In this case is it society, environmental factors, or is it the lead, smog, and pesticides? It is almost impossible to know, but the ending of the film underscores an uncomfortable truth—even monsters have parents.

As the film enters its third act, Frank joins the hunt for his child through the Los Angeles sewers and into the L.A. River. He is armed with a rifle and ready to kill on sight, having divorced himself from any relationship to the child. Then Frank finds his baby crying in the sewers and his fatherly instincts take over. With tears in his eyes, he speaks words of comfort and wraps his son in his coat. He holds him close, pats and rocks him, and whispers that everything is going to be okay. People often wonder how the parents of those who perform heinous acts can sit in court, shed tears, and defend them. I think it’s a complex issue. I’m sure that these parents know that their child has done something evil, but that doesn’t change the fact that they are still their baby. Your child is a piece of yourself formed into a whole new human being. Disowning them would be like cutting off a limb, no matter what they may have done. It doesn’t erase an evil act, far from it, but I can understand the pain of a parent in that situation. I think It’s Alive does an exceptional job placing its audience in that situation.

Despite the serious issues and ideas being examined in the film, It’s Alive is far from a dour affair. At heart, it is still a monster movie and filled with a sense of fun and a great deal of pitch-black humor. In one of its more memorable moments, a milkman is sucked into the rear compartment of his truck as red blood mingles with the white milk from smashed bottles leaking out the back of the truck and streaming down the street. Just after Frank agrees to join the hunt for his baby, the film cuts to the back of an ice cream truck with the words “STOP CHILDREN” emblazoned on it. It’s a movie filled with great kills, a mutant baby—created by make-up effects master Rick Baker early in his career, and plenty of action—and all in a PG rated movie! I’m telling you, the ’70s were wild. It just also happens to have some thoughtful ideas behind it as well.

Which was Larry Cohen’s specialty. Cohen made all kinds of movies, but his most enduring have been his horror films and all of them tackle the social issues and fears of the time they were made. God Told Me To (1976), Q: The Winged Serpent (1982), and The Stuff (1985) are all great examples of his socially aware, low-budget, exploitation filmmaking with a brain and It’s Alive certainly fits right in with that group. Cohen would go on to write and direct two sequels, It Lives Again (aka It’s Alive 2) in 1978 and It’s Alive III: Island of the Alive in 1987 and is credited as a co-writer on the 2008 remake. All these films explore the ideas of parental responsibility in light of the various concerns of the times they were made including abortion rights and AIDS.

Fifty years after It’s Alive was initially released, it has only become more relevant in the ensuing years. Fears surrounding parenthood have been with us since the beginning of time but as the years pass the reasons for these fears only seem to become more and more profound. In today’s world the conversation of the fathers in the waiting room could be expanded to hormones and genetic modifications in food, terrorism, climate change, school and other mass shootings, and other threats that were unknown or at least less of a concern fifty years ago. Perhaps the fearmongering conspiracy theories about chemtrails and vaccines would be mentioned as well, though in a more satirical fashion, as fears some expectant parents encounter while endlessly doomscrolling Facebook or Twitter. Speaking for myself, despite the struggles, the fears, and the sadness that sometimes comes with having children, it’s been worth it. The joys ultimately outweigh all of that, but I understand the terror too. Becoming a parent is no easy choice, nor should it be. But as I look back, I can say that I’m glad we made the choice we did.

I wonder if Frank and Lenore can say the same thing.

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