Gaming is an interactive experience. We play games -- but at the same time, games play us. In this column, psychologist Nicholaus Noles explores how video games manipulate our thoughts, feelings, and behaviors, all in the name of fun.
Fear Itself
Everyone likes a good scare. The developers of scary games want to make us sweat, flinch, grip our controllers, and pee our pants (just a little) -- and we pay them for the privilege. Alan Wake capitalizes on our deeply rooted fear of the dark and the unknown; Dead Space 2 floods players with disturbing imagery; BioShock's underwater setting conveys a sense of claustrophobia and dread. Some games (usually carrying the names Resident Evil or Silent Hill) incorporate all of these elements, forcing you to experience some degree of emotional and physiological distress while you play them. Critically, to be successful, a good horror game makes you feel these things and then describe the resulting experience as "fun." But these feelings are not usually associated with pleasure.
The feelings that scary games evoke are fundamentally negative; we normally experience them either just before or just after something terrible happens. For example, thinking that an intruder is in your house causes the same physiological and emotional reactions that developers hope to make you feel. Dread is our mind's way of telling us that something bad is about to happen. We feel it when we suspect that someone is ill, or that we're about to lose our jobs. Terror is what we feel when we're in danger, whether that danger comes from a hungry animal or an armed assailant. So, if scary games induce negative emotions, why do we seek them out?
Unlike other animals, humans can derive pleasure from physical and emotional pain. This phenomenon was coined "Benign Masochism" by psychologist Paul Rozin. Rozin studied this strange relationship between pleasure and pain using an interesting tool: chili peppers. He asked people to eat increasingly hot foods, and then asked them which one they like the best. Most people said that the hottest food that they could stand was also the tastiest. Rozin concluded that we fool our bodies into thinking that we're in distress so that we can then enjoy the feelings associated with being in danger.
Somewhere along the line, humans developed an interesting trait: We crave the illusion of physical and emotional danger. When we feel distress in a safe context, we experience pleasure. Roller coasters are fun because they're safe, but riding one with a loose seat belt is terrifying; the effectiveness of the seat belt doesn't change the physical and emotional sensations you feel on the ride, but it changes your experience of the ride. Another possibility is that humans have developed an attraction to negative feelings as a protective measure. We seek out negative emotions in small, safe doses so that we're prepared when we encounter similar feelings in real life. In this sense, our experience of a sad scene -- like the death of Aeris in Final Fantasy VII -- makes us better prepared for real tragedies, such as the death of a loved one.
We enjoy scary video games because they allow us to experience powerful and complex emotions in a safe way. Of course, other factors also influence whether or not specific people enjoy scary games, including differences between individuals and perceptions of control. Different people are comfortable experiencing different levels of emotional intensity. For example, some games with no real horror elements, like Call of Duty: Modern Warfare, may be too intense for some people -- but other people may barely be affected by games that are quite scary. The boundary between entertainment and genuine discomfort is different for everyone, and the difference between the two can be quite fine. Games are generally "safe" because, like movies, they can't actually harm the viewer, but even safe experiences can be emotionally upsetting.
Perceptions of control also influence our experiences. This is true of most games, but control is especially important in scary games. Putting players into dangerous or frightening situations and giving them limited options can create uniquely scary experiences. For example, Silent Hill: Shattered Memories is a very effective horror game because you aren't given any real means of defending yourself. In contrast, Left 4 Dead features horror elements, but relatively abundant ammunition and cooperative play gives it the feel of an action game -- some levels are difficult, if not downright frantic, but players are mostly surprised by what happens in the game, not frightened.
Atmosphere, pacing, imagery, and sound can all be used to create feelings of fear and anxiety. We enjoy scary games because they capitalize on our uniquely human desire to safely experience negative emotions. So, the next time that you have to turn off a game when the sun goes down and the house gets quiet, try to remember that you're having fun.
To go deeper, read Dr. Paul Bloom's How Pleasure Works: The New Science of Why We Like What We Like.
Nicholaus Noles is a dad and avid gamer. He writes about psychology, games, and the psychology of games. Nicholaus received a Ph.D. in Cognitive Psychology from Yale University, and works as a developmental psychologist at the University of Michigan, but he learned the most important lesson in life early: Don't play Contra with your older brother, because he'll jump in a pit just to make you angry.