Darkwood — Reverence for Fear
Fear is a such a terrifying switch in our bodies. When it hits, everything starts changing. Our muscles tense up. Our focus becomes absolute. We become hyperaware of everything. But like elation, or like despair, fear is still an emotion. A feeling. A setting in our minds that we shuffle between, based on what we’re experiencing. Now, imagine that there are no settings but fear, and it has two settings: on, and about to be on.
Darkwood, by Acid Wizard Studio, is fear distilled into a gameplay experience. Darkwood is a game of emotions, of feelings first, with elements of gameplay second. Darkwood is a game of reverence, of respecting the world around you, and praying it will let you be for it. Darkwood is a game with pockets of good fortune when you may think “maybe it won’t be so terrible.” But more than anything, Darkwood is more a game of despair and, most of all, dread.
The player’s chosen difficulty revolves primarily around the penalty for dying: Normal (losing half of your equipment that you can pick up where you fell), Hard (Normal, but with limited lives), or Nightmare (one life). This may invoke more of a mechanical dread in players, rather than an atmospheric dread, if they enjoy the challenge. There’s enough to be worried about as it is.
A brief tutorial will throw players through the general controls. It is clunky, unwieldy. The world continues moving as players rifle through their inventory, so it teaches them to be ready for as many scenarios as you can with the readied/hotkeyed inventory. Players have to build and construct in order to survive. Weapons, defense, inventory space, survival itself is dependent on crafting. Combat is slow, awkward, nervewracking. Players prepare to attack, then attack, and are reduced to a snail’s pace the entire time they do so. There are no headshots in Darkwood, no critical hits. There is fight or flight, and there is something to be said for retreating from the forest’s denizens.
When the game begins in earnest, players have their objective: escape the forest. Every area in the first chapter is randomly generated, no same setup twice. Survival compels them to explore, to scavenge, but, curiosity compels players to dig, to discover, to infer. There is a mystery out there, a story, buried between twisted vines and roots. What happened here in the forest? What happened at these other houses and dwellings? Am I damning some other survivor by raiding these materials? Are they still a person who needs it? Was there a wedding here? How long ago? Questions upon questions. No answers. Only inferences. Guesses. Something to fill in the void.
There are other individuals, whether trapped like the player or residents of the forest, who will assist the player, but for a cost. That cost can come in the form of precious crafting materials, or simply surviving day-to-day. To call them “allies” might be stretch. But they will part with their wares in exchange for other goods. Everyone’s trying to survive. Human nature (“human” used loosely) still prevails in a forest of nightmares: everyone loves shiny rocks, and they will fetch a pretty penny. Whispers of who these people were, what they value, comes through in small ways like that. There is still something human in there. A glimmer of hope. Then, it’s back into the woods.
Darkwood’s main gameplay loop is the day-night cycle. During the day, players venture out into the world: trading, scavenging, returning resources to their main shelter, watching the sun…crafting, encountering characters, discovering areas, wondering how much time until sunset…uncovering story, fighting enemies, feeling the piece of dread as the yellow sun sets into orange, running for their life. There is safety in shelter, but the means to survival are outside. There is trepidation, nerves around every corner. Every part of the world wants the player dead, but the world provides the only means of survival. But be home by sunset, for your sake. Don’t lose track of time.
When night falls, players hunker down in their shelter. “It’s too dangerous to go outside at night,” they’ve been warned. Players will flip on their gas-powered generator, reinforce the windows as best they can, and wait in the limited light the shelter’s lamps offer. “It’s dangerous to be in the dark,” they’ve been told. And they will wait. And wait. And close a door that opened on its own. And retreat back to a safe corner. And pray. And watch. And wait. And defend themselves. And survive. And watch. And wait. And if players are lucky, the sun will crest over the world, and the cycle will begin again, and they will (hopefully) be more equipped to venture further with every night. No sleep, no hunger, no thirst. Only survival.
And still, at the end of all this, Darkwood’s strongest elements remain: visuals and sound design.
Visually, Darkwood is a feast of horror. From a top-down perspective, players can only ever see in the direction their character is facing (though they can move in one direction and look in another), keeping about 270 degrees of space unaccounted for at any moment. This freedom only exists at a leisurely walk. At a full-tilt sprint, you’re looking straight ahead. Just because you can’t see something doesn’t mean it ceases to be (comforting as the notion might be). And that’s only when it’s light out.
Caves and thick, wooded regions dot the landscape, demanding torches, flashlight, anything just to see in front of you. As sunset looms closer and closer, the green and brown world glows with an unsettling orange. At nightfall, your shelter lights flicker, almost menacingly, threatening to shut off and plunge you into abject darkness. Thick stalks obscure the view as players wander closer to small fields of corn. Windows are a vision into the outside…but perhaps it’s better to barricade those windows, even if it means you can’t see. That might be better. Not being able to see what’s outside. Praying for the red of sunrise.
The sound design, however, is the ruler of Darkwood. Noises, all seemingly magnified past a point of reasonable levels, will ring out. Outside, snapping branches underfoot rip through the air. Did anything hear? You saw something, and it charged. Its hooves are stamping out of view, getting louder. Don’t dare look back. Crows caw. Investigate? Avoid? That corn maze seems to be breathing. Rattled. Pained. Something howls in the distance. Or is that closer than you think?
There is very little background music, outside of character interactions and the earliest parts of the day. Other music tracks, if they can be called that, are ambient, but does nothing to create a mood, or a vibe. It’s bassy. It’s rhythmic. It’s windy. It’s a pulse. It’s breathing. There is more to the forest than it wants to let on. The silence is powerful. The silence riddles you with these noises, and does not play a harsh tune to guide your feelings. It demands you figure out how to feel, even if you immediately default to “afraid.”
Nightfall is the worst. Hunkered in the subjective safety of your shelter, the wind blows outside. Silent otherwise. Then, footsteps outside. Knocking on the door. At this hour? Answer, it’s only polite. The buzz of your flickering lamps. Footsteps again. Creaking. You didn’t answer the door. A gasping breath. Something’s inside. Fight or flight?
And with any amount of luck and preparation, the visuals and sound design will come together for a bright spot in your journey. A synth. Strings? Soft. Getting louder, slowly. The light that cracks through your windows, dark red, and gradually growing brighter red with every moment. Both audio and visual making a crescendo to a blasting white, the tone fading as quickly as it peaked, as you survive one more night. And for a second, just a second, fear is gone. Though fleeting, for this moment, you can feel relief. And you will.
Darkwood is scary, yes, but not in a way that people normally associate scary games. There are no jump scares, no sudden, screeching soundtrack to tell you to be scared. It is atmosphere in its purest, most gripping form. Here, trapped in these woods, there is only the forest. It’s up to you to decide how you’ll react to it. Try everything. Experiment. Engross yourself in it. Escape. And please, play it with headphones.
All images captured in-game.
