#psychology of androids

[literallys-illiteracy]

Exploration & Dissection of the Horror Genre

“ The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown.”

- H.P Lovecraft; Supernatural Horror in Literature (1927)

Throughout my life I have held a self contradictory fascination with horror media, A love to dissect the visceral feelings of repulsion that a story may invoke, whilst always being, quite frankly, terrified of the stories that I would see.

This interest has carried over into the modern day, although over time I have gained a tolerance, and have become somewhat of an elitist (not intentionally) with what I view as “Good” horror media, which is in part what inspired me to write this little essay about how and why horror functions, as an exploration, a love letter to the genre, and a dissection of why I believe some horror media fails to function.

I say short but I haven’t the slightest clue how long this is going to turn out to be, I’m not taking that out if it becomes long however.

Part 0: Horror classifications

Horror is an interesting genre to define. Like almost any genre it has its own major categories, each with its own demands and intentions.

One wouldn’t compare an orchestral score to a rock band, and the same concept applies to different genres of horror; similar to an orchestra and rock band however, all horror media shares an integral constant, which will act as the basepoint for what we can define as horror media, the instillation of dread, fear, or stress within the audience.

In terms of horror classifications there are many that people are likely to have heard of--Supernatural horror, body horror, mascot horror, existential horror.

There are three divisions that I choose to use when discussing the nature of horror, 'Psychological horror', the horror of the unseen; 'Revealed horror', or the horror of the seen; and 'disgusting horror', or horror that feeds off of disgust and aversion.

These three classifications are descendant from Stephen King’s description of “terrifying”, “Horrifying” and “disgusting” the reader through differing means:

I recognize terror as the finest emotion and so I will try to terrorize the reader. But if I find that I cannot terrify, I will try to horrify, and if I find that I cannot horrify, I'll go for the gross-out.

-- Stephen King; Danse Macabre (1981)

The first that was mentioned, listed above as 'Terror', is the most "prime" sense of distress, which makes up the largest portion of Psychological Horror.

‘Psychological Horror’, is horror focused on emotional states, repulsion, stress, suspense, and a lingering abjection within the audience. In essence, psychological horror is heavily reliant on the lingering sense of terror, rather than the immediate reveal to horrify the reader, the moments that build towards a climax, the terror which constructs the groundwork from which horror can be achieved.

The terror, the suspense, while an aspect important in any and all horror, is the primary focus, and most important aspect of psychological horror, alongside the patient wait for the reveal that may never come, the unknown, or the unknowable.

Fellow (and, quite frankly, better) essayist Connor McGrath put it succinctly when discussing what he referred to as “Schrodinger’s horror”, analogous to this concept of 'unseen horror' or 'terror': 

“Show, don’t tell. [...] Imply, don’t show”.

Elaborating on this "Schrodinger's Horror" I will be using examples from both The Magnus Archives and one lifted from McGrath's video on Quiet Horror. First, however, we have to discuss the second category of horror media that I chose to use.

"Revealed Horror"

Revealed horror in essence captures all horror that the former category does not; The times when the the nature of the horror is revealed (and properly understood) to the audience fall into this category, whilst any horror that intentionally obscures, or is fundamentally foreign, or “eldritch” as is oft said, is more aligned with that of the former category. Note that these labels are not genres. Almost all horror media incorporates all three "types", it all depends on how much of each type is used.

Media that focuses primarily on revealed horror is not fundamentally poor in any way. Though not my personal taste, there is nothing inherently wrong with a jumpscare, especially one that has been well built towards by the atmosphere. My prime example for this is Signalis, as I have not played many games with jumpscares to begin with.

In chapter one of Signalis it is eerily quiet. We are introduced to this location, or rather we aren't, after first interacting with The King in Yellow book, and receiving a message. The facility itself is empty. Not so much ruined as simply abandoned. Corpses and disparately scattered across the floor, rendered just noticeably differently to the surroundings by the VHS effect. You pass by the body to a save room. To a classroom. To the library. By the time you return to the security room you have passed this corpse numerous times by now, all with no reaction. When you acquire your first weapon however, the body jumps up, screaming during its approach towards you.

But that’s not all, it is. The suspense of the game does not end in the instants after this engagement.

The corpse falls over once again, returning to its same, static ridden, collapsed position, and one cannot help but wonder if this time it is truly dead.

Signalis, at various points, incorporates elements of all three horror types throughout its gameplay; Once the enemy falls back over, the suspense continues throughout the game, but even more. Now you have proof, while it was simply suspicion beforehand, the game has confirmed for you that these “corpses” act as a static and ever present threat to you.

If we contrast this with a game that is in large focused entirely on this aspect of jumpscares, we may as well do so with the most popular, the Five Nights at Freddy’s series.

These games are known almost entirely for their jumpscare horror, and in that regard they achieve their goal, however I personally believe that there is a fundamental difference between Signalis and FNAF’s horror in execution, which simply contributes to Signalis’ horror being in large part better: Within the FNAF series, the Jumpscare marks the conclusion of that day, each acting as the signifier of your characters death and the players restart.

The FNAF series’ gameplay loop acts as a microcosm of how Jumpscare horror can be executed within a greater whole, yet as it currently is, beyond an instinctual panic borne from the noise and sudden appearance, the jumpscares will also mark a point at which the player can stop worrying, at which they no longer have to await the monster’s attack, the end of the player’s stress.

Now that we understand the separation between these two, let us return to the examples of “Quiet horror” from before, and elucidate what makes this form of horror “work”, especially in comparison to revealed horror.

And now that we have finished this, I will now plagiarise from Connor McGrath

Imagine that you were told “The most terrifying thing in the world is right around the corner”.

"Around the corner":

I am not scared of spiders, dolls, death, clowns, and a whole list of other common phobias or “Biggest fears”, should I turn the corner and see one of those, I would likely think it far from the scariest thing i’ve ever seen, let alone in the world, or the scariest thing that I can imagine.

And that is the key.

The scariest thing I can imagine, the scariest thing you can imagine, and the scariest thing that the narrator can imagine are wayward ideas, created individually by your psyche.

Now, imagine, we never turn the corner.

We are left waiting where we stand, paralysis, induced by an instinctual knowledge that what lays out of vision should never be witnessed, crossed with a neurotic desire to uncover the root of this fear.

The absence of a reveal, the tension, the ‘terror’, slowly boil over within you.

This is what epitomises psychological horror.

To use another similar example, let us see The Magnus Archives, and a poem that they too took inspiration from, Antigonish.

Yesterday, upon the stair, I met a man who wasn't there! He wasn't there again today, I wish, I wish he'd go away! When I came home last night at three, The man was waiting there for me But when I looked around the hall, I couldn't see him there at all! Go away, go away, don't you come back any more! Go away, go away, and please don't slam the door... Last night I saw upon the stair, A little man who wasn't there He wasn't there again today Oh, how I wish he'd go away....

by Hughes Mearns, inspired by the town of Antigonish, Canada.

The poem itself functions somewhat strangely in this concept of seen and unseen horror, as on the stairs there both is and is not a man upon the stair, as is said in the statement “Upon the Stair”:

“The carpet didn’t bend under the weight of his soft, round body, and I distinctly recall the absence of a creak as his foot pressed on the loose board of the empty fifth step. He laughed, but there was no humour in it, because… then it would have had to break the silence.”

Within the Magnus Archives, and across most genres of horror, exist many examples of insanity, or the "Obfuscation of reality" as a primary pillar of horror.

This statement once again plays into the core idea of the unknown, or more specifically the unknowable, the man that is not there did not make an impression, did not beckon the man who no longer 'is' up the stairs.

This 'unknowable' horror is very downstream from genres inspired and influenced by Lovecraft, the idea of knowledge far beyond what was ever meant to be known, for one's own mind to betray you, to never believe what is not real but which is standing in front of you. The fear that you are insane, or that you are far too sane to ignore what is right in front of you.

‘This person who no longer is’ walked the person who was no longer “his” father up the stairs, who now laid dead in his chair.

The mother, after questioning where her son who no longer is had gone, spoke to the father, they then both left the empty house.

Much like the statement’s giver, there is no distant, forlorn conclusion, no finality or ending to this story, no comfort to be found in the statement, and from this the terror can only grow.

However, that is not to be said that the horror comes only from the insanity, from the redaction of its information, but also from the information that it DOES tell us, from the sheer impossibility of the story, and from the implications that can come from the story in whole.

There will be a more in depth analysis of The Magnus Archives at a later date, however for multiple reasons I will not be discussing the later story in this essay.

The latter example I had mentioned previously was that of the SCP foundation, however not necessarily one of supernatural horror (another common category that people employ), as, in contrast to the Man Upon the Stair, horror may descend from the fact that we understand something too well.

There is a section discussing SCP-8980 that will release following this primary section, which, due to the sensitive nature of the story, is being separated.

Like in the examples, and almost any other "Good" examples of horror, the fear in the SCP foundation comes in two, the information that we are never given, and the information that is; the fear of the unknown, posited before with Lovecraft, and the fear of the known, the "revealed" element from above.

The complete obfuscation of information may cause tension in its own right, however a selective and incomplete set of information may achieve this to a far greater extent.

The SCP foundation in large is an easy example for this lingering fear, alongside being arguably the premiere example for how the redaction of information both should and should not be used in the creation of horror.

For those unaware, the SCP foundation’s stories take the form of unclassified documents and reports regarding anomalous entities, most if not all of which will contain the redaction of various pieces of information, either locations, dates, memetic hazards, or information that the person reading is not privy to.

There is a common joke in and around the community relating to these redactions of information, [Data expunged], [redacted] or having the text blacked out, specifically to their overuse.

Other than making the scp read more akin to a barcode than a foundation report, the primary flaw in the excessive use of these redactions is that there is no substance to support this redaction, no thoughts to ruminate on in place of new information.

In Connor McGrath’s video essay regarding what he called “Quiet Horror”, he makes reference to (another video essayist, Wendigoon, who made a video about) The Mandela Catalogue.

Interesting how many different examples we have for this horror have the same naming convention, “The [Focus/name] [Noun]” , The [Greylock] [Tapes], The [SCP] [Foundation], The [Mandela] [Catalogue].

The video on quiet horror discusses, big surprise, the quiet nature of The Mandela Catalogue.

The Mandela Catalogue may contain the occasional jumpscare or scary face, but in large the most terrifying moments come from their absence, from the complete stillness of a room, from the painful silence; The foreknowledge of this being a horror series, alongside the limited information which the creator chooses to show, leaves these moments of quiet without respite, without rest, your mind on guard for the inevitable movement or sound, whilst the known factors begin to spiral and ferment into their own, personal kinds of fear.

There is an old adage.

“Do not interrupt your opponent when they are making a mistake”.

In this same sense, an author should not interrupt a thought process already tearing at the mind unless it is vital to the larger story; Do not interrupt your reader when they are scaring themselves”.

This rumination, this tension, purposeful redaction of information, and the knowledge that what you see is part of a greater whole is a hallmark sign of horror in large, and when done correctly, like The Mandela Catalogue, allows your audience to create a personal hell, so long as you shant clarify.

This coin has two sides however, and many people think that they ought to use this obfuscation in place of the horror, rather than building off it.

The prime example, as I referred to above, is the idea of a “Barcode” document in SCP, wherein so much information has been redacted that there is not enough context, not enough of a basis built for horror through the atmosphere and slow drops of information, that there is no reason to redact the information.

The example from The Magnus Archives is similar in nature, however I am quite frankly spoiled for choice when it comes to how we may examine this, so because I already have taken heavy inspiration from McGrath’s video, let us expand on his chosen creature, Episode one, The Anglerfish.

Moreover, I want to expand on the known aspect of this stranger, of The Stranger.

"Anglerfish" and "Still Life"

This section will contain very minor spoilers for the third season of The Magnus Archives and a small number of episodes leading up, scroll until another warning in colour shows up to avoid this

“Anglerfish”, the first episode of the show, does not feature anything notably flashy or significant:

You’re walking home at night, you’ve stayed up late, drunk, tired. A voice calls out to you nearby. As you turn to check, in your blurred vision you see the silhouette of a man, standing in the alleyway across from you. “Can I have a cigarette” They sound… normal. You can’t note any accent, or perhaps your mind is simply too hazy. Are they coming home from the party too? They didn’t sound drunk, no, their words were too clear. As you reach for your cigarettes and rub your eyes once more you begin to see this figure more pronounced. Their feet, seemingly just above the ground, as if suspended on a string, their body unmoving, unshaking, not even shifting to breathe. Before you can begin to think again the figure repeats “Can I have a cigarette”. The figure does not move, nor even breathe as they speak once more. An icy, instinctual fear stops you from walking any further. In an attempt to make the figure enter the light, you hold out a cigarette in front of you. ... Once more they repeat. “Can I have a cigarette”. This time you notice it. Every time that it speaks, the tone, its cadence, the spoken phrase, all the same every time. You drop the cigarette and rush for your phone, a flashlight, anything to better see this ‘thing’. In the same instant, as if on queue, the body is drawn back, pulled by an unseen puppeteer returning to the darkness. The speed of this motion makes you freeze, your breathing unsteady and labored, mind slowed. Only after it has gone does this paralysis leave with it.

This is in essence the entire story of the first episode summed up in... 280 words or so, yet, should my attempts to preserve at least some of the horror suffice, you can understand the fear, or at least the intention behind it.

Nothing happens, deaths are implied in the follow up investigation following the statement, however we, much like the figure, are left almost entirely in the dark for this statement.

We, as of this episode, do not know what this being is, what it plans, whether it kills or takes, whether it is painful.

What we do know is the title, The Anglerfish.

You can picture it easily, the lure, a greater creature waiting in shadows for one to take the bait.

“Can I have a Cigarette”.

A dangling lure to instil curiosity, yet cold, distant from its emulation.

Recall the quote from the beginning of this essay, “The oldest and strongest emotion of mankind is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown”.

This is the idea I want to epitomise in this section, the unknown, when used correctly, acts as the most potent fear that mankind can experience, on an instinctual level this is one of few fears that we all share.

I have mentioned in the past that I have an obsessive desire for knowledge, not necessarily a love for learning, but a neurotic compulsion to learn whatever I can. I am already decently uncomfortable with not knowing things, especially things that happen before me, that are being seen without understanding.

While the unknown and foreign in whole deeply unsettle me, it is not what troubles me the most, rather, I hold a primal aversion to that which is almost known.

A face in your mind that you cannot picture; a blind spot in your psyche; a name that you should have heard before; a song that you have never heard for the first time; a man who is not upon the stair; a stranger who "have you met before"; A stranger. The stranger.

This is, in The Magnus Archives, the fear of The Stranger.

The “Anglerfish”, as we later find out in season 2, is an extension of this entity, distinctly inhuman in all ways, in all of the ways that you cannot understand, yet in a visceral, instinctual manner.

Again in episode 54, "Still Life" we meet the anglerfish.

I don’t think my horror writing is very good, so unless I have a motivation to or change of heart I won't add another "runthrough" of the statement.

In this statement we once more perceive the Anglerfish, new insights seemingly gleaned into its existence; The Stranger has a strong connection with skin, taxidermy; the "uncanny" imitation of an animal yet lacking all of what makes it alive.

“It spoke, the cadence identical to what I had heard through the wooden door. “We’ve got one down here. Come on, I’ll show you.” It was so flat, almost mechanical. It felt about as much like genuine speech as the wind flowing through a cracked rock sounds like a flute being played. Which is to say they may sound almost identical, but only one of them is made by a living human.”

There is something uniquely terrifying about the uncanny, the ‘almost human’, about imitations.

I can only assume that this is the underlying fear behind mannequins, dolls, or other similar creations. While I personally am not afraid of either, this same instinctive revulsion against these distortions of normalcy, “The uncanny valley” as people call it, is a near universal fear.

Digging deeper, this same fear of uncertainty is the root behind more fears than just the stranger, all rooted in this same aversion towards the unknown. 

Spoiler warning ends here!

More disturbing than the unknown is a distortion of the familiar.

- Magic the Gathering “Fleshmad Steed” Flavor Text

Part 1: Can there be such a thing as “bad” horror?

I mentioned in the beginning that I wanted to discuss aspects of how I believe some horror fails to function, but with everything we discussed, the deeply personal and human nature that horror takes, what can be bad horror?

Even if a piece of media fails to be horrifying from my perspective there is nothing to say that it can’t be to another person; As I mentioned beforehand, I am not scared of things like spiders, dolls or clowns, while many many others in the world are. Even if a game or show featured one of those, and I didn’t find it scary, then it still does not inherently fail the base merits of “Inciting fear, terror or discomfort” as it may for someone else.

Likewise, if a show pictured things that I am viscerally afraid of, namely Fungi, not-knowing (discussed earlier) or being observed (this list excluding mostly pathologic fears/thoughts like social anxiety or NPD, key word mostly), which many people do not share or at least to the same extent as I, would that horror be in any way “Worse” than others which cater to more commonly felt or tangible phobias.

Have you ever been afraid? I’d be a bit confused why you’re ~4000 words into an essay about horror if you hadn’t been.

What about the first time you ever felt fear? Unequivocally: no, you do not remember the true first time. What is the earliest distinct time you can remember being viscerally afraid of something.

For some, it was an experience of being properly alone, away from their parents, lost without their safepost;

Some have said that their earliest recollection was upon seeing certain insects, spiders, or other types of creatures; 

Many it will be the darkness (an interesting case as while often posed as an “instinctual fear”, it typically arises somewhere around two years into development once other fears or experiences have informed the child’s experiences. This being said, most people won’t be able to recall memories clearly from those ages to begin with); 

For me, my earliest and clear memories come from when I was roughly 7.

Keep in mind that my memory is incredibly fractured, I haven’t many clear memories of my childhood in general, so this is at very most the first time that I know what made me afraid.

I woke up, not in my bed, in the one adjacent (two single beds next to each other, the other used to be my brother’s), but remaining covered, the exact same position as I had fallen asleep, roughly 2 metres to the right.

Everything was grey, and still. It wasn’t just quiet, it was silent, the familiar chirps of crickets in the garden, the ones that troubled my attempts to sleep so greatly in the night prior were absent, the fan still running despite the still coldness of the air around me made no noise, the motor and blades both silent.

It was only when my eyes adjusted and I attempted to move did I begin to be properly afraid. Sleep paralysis, something that continues to occur to me since.

But the strangest aspect of this memory is that my fear was mostly borne from what I could see, no hallucinations or dreams, no illusions from a tired mind, but a complete lack of colour, everything around me in greyscale.

To this day, dwelling on that moment I do not know why my temporary loss of colour impacted me so greatly, to be one of the only things I remember from that age, and despite continued sleep paralysis, and more vivid hallucinations (should this greyscale be an odd form of hallucination) as I grew older, I have never had this same experience, and no dream I have seen manifest has ever instilled this instinctual dread as that night.

While I do have my theories and thoughts as to why this night may have impacted me so, however those are far too personal to be discussing; The primary summation is a sense of loss, of mourning for what I thought I would never get back.

This latter example is that of Liminal spaces.

Have you ever been in a completely empty shopping mall? I used to live quite nearby a large Westfield (shopping mall), and I vividly remember once, incredibly early in the morning, that I once entered, though I do not remember the reason.

There's always something unnerving about an empty place, moreover one typically filled with people; parking lots alone are a fine example of this, there is something that is simply incorrect about entering a dead mall. It is both the same and a different kind of intimacy as a decrepit location. I have been in abandoned malls in the past but while legally speaking I was trespassing, I never felt that same sense of intrusion that I felt on that day.

The primary concept that I want to extract from these stories is not the fact that I remember them in particular, but the fact that I was afraid, when nothing actively or instinctually understandable as “frightening” was present in either story.

In the first memory, looking back, the dis-ease came from simply the fact that–though I could not tell exactly what–there was something abjectly different from what I was used to, extremely, almost exactly alike what I expected, no specific detail alarming me at first, and yet the lingering knowledge of something distorted.

The same can be understood from the latter story(s), of the empty and abandoned malls, being desolate, completely void of people.

The second story provides interesting note to another concept, differentiating rubble, abandoned locations, and haunted houses, to the concept of liminal horror–two different kinds of ruins.

While I wish to discuss the concept of Liminal horror as my primary example for those horror media which I believe “miss the point” of the genre–being the specific genre of Liminal Horror–do allow me this small(?) tangent before continuing.

The primary difference to a haunted/abandoned location and that of a liminal space is that of the clear human impact or, as Connor McGrath puts it: “Signs of human failure”. An abandoned house, or any other kind of location, has clear signs of its history, the clear presence of a living presence at some point in time, though often long past–this being the reasoning that the revelation of this activity being ‘not-so-long past’ is frightening–which allows us to recognise this place as somewhere that humans were or have been.

For example, see the two images below:

Both of these photos are taken from the same game, MiSide, which I have played through recently.

Both images are examples of isolation, the complete and utter absence of any people; The bridges are signs of purpose, of human design, interaction, and, now, absence--The bridges are created with intention, paths lead to terminals, descending from the facility, from the factory in which Mitas are made.

The Hallway is endless, halls leading to [halls] leading to [halls] lead to [rooms] lead to [rooms] lead to-

There is a certain intimacy or connection to a location like this, the knowledge that this location much like you has a detailed past before ending in this state, any and all features being simply remnants, a flickering light, a dangling cord, a broken door, shattered glass, scattered belongings.

In ghost stories most notably, there is a strong sense of intrusion, not that people overall should not be in this location, but that you, you individually, are intruding on one’s past life and memories.

Contrast this with the examples of liminal space-horror that may immediately come to mind, all being empty, not necessarily dead.

The first images that likely come to mind are those of long, empty, white-tiled pool rooms, ever pristine, that stretch on and wind into each other; the beige, repeating, endless hallways of an office building (Foreshadowing is a narrative device in which-); A house, familiar and distorted as if you have seen this exact room for the hundredth time in a hazy childhood dream just this second.

Return to the MTG card quote from above: “More disturbing than the unknown is a distortion of the familiar.”. 

In a sentence, this is the primary concept of liminal horror, not only the endlessness, the repeating patterns, nor the seeing scenes for the first time–Rather, liminal horror is descendant from a sense of reminiscence, nostalgia, connection, which is then disfigured with the isolation, alongside the elements mentioned prior.

I have never worked inside an office job, yet when I look at images of those brown walls, carpeted floors and artificial lighting, there still remains a recognition of the location’s familiarity, the architecture being, at least at first glance, something recognisable as human built, however lacking the same history or presence that the likes of the haunted house would have–rather than intrusion, distortion, and isolation.

"I can't tell if it ends at all, it's just houses, more and more of them. And that bird i'm hearing, it just keeps looping over itself, and it sounds like its coming from every direction"

Hymns For The Road; "The Quiet Street"

I stepped outside, looking down the street. There were no lights on in any of the houses, but the identical lampposts bathed the place a sickly orange as far as I could see. I decided that the roads must be the problem. They were what was keeping me trapped in this place At the start, I was counting how many houses I passed but when I got to a hundred I stopped. It was beginning to eat away at my careful rationalizations and I couldn’t have that.

Statement; The Magnus Archives; MAG 150 "Cul-de-sac"

"The Backrooms":

Which brings us to “The Back Rooms” as my example for an idea that slowly became less focused on the true “horror” aspect the original aimed towards, due to oversaturation (and the addition/lore-creep that it creates), alongside the concept of what made the original backrooms “Good” (it’s a 2 paragraph story so I’m unsure to call it “good” in the traditional sense, however in the realm of “short horror” or "two sentence horror stories" it is quite good).

People should be allowed to have their fun in any ways that they want to, and I quite frankly don’t really care (plus I don’t think there's too much overlap in the sort of “Expanded-backrooms” community and my target audience), however that being said, some examples of the sort of “expanded lore” so to speak will be used as examples of what I named “lorecreep” and how it works against the original concept.

Note that I will not be talking about any specific incarnation of the lore(s) that surround it, and I do actually quite enjoy renditions such as the Kane Pixels’ series, albeit for other reasons than the original.

Also “The [Back] [Rooms]” does still fit the naming convention I think.

So, right at the forefront of this section, I want to address the idea that having monsters or “entities” in the Back Rooms is against the original concept. It isn’t. Allow us to look at the original paragraph:

If you’re not careful and you no-clip out of reality in the wrong areas, you’ll end up in the Backrooms, where it’s nothing but the stink of old moist carpet, the madness of mono-yellow, the endless background noise of fluorescent lights at maximum hum-buzz, and approximately six hundred million square miles of randomly segmented empty rooms to be trapped in.

"Segmented EMPTY rooms-"... so fairly clear cut from what it seems, but there is a remaining sentence:

God save you if you hear something wandering around nearby, because it sure as hell has heard you.

Alright so we’ve both now read the original for context, and we’ve addressed the point of entities for the time being, however they may return (may as in I don’t know).

So, where do my problems with the Back Rooms begin? 

People.

The Backrooms, in my view, function purely off of their isolation, the endless hallways and electrical hums work in tandem to create the atmosphere, however neither function in full without the context of you being alone, in the complete absence of humans, or even any signs of humanity, the knowledge that you are not only dead, but alone.

Humans are inherently social creatures. Extended periods of social isolation are draining, even to those who choose to keep to themselves most of the time; The simple presence of another person, the knowledge that you are not alone, can soothe this.

You cannot picture eternity. This time it is not a question. You cannot; No matter how long one imagines, eternity is fundamentally beyond that estimation.

Eternity is an abstract fear, as is insanity, which often pairs in tandem, and as such it cannot be pictured as easily, nor as universally across different audiences.

Time is another topic that I wish to discuss at a later point, but this acts to describe what I found so appealing in these images of isolation: Being alone is typically temporary, and is an emotion familiar to not only myself but to almost everyone in the world, yet it is strictly that, temporary. 

The concept of an eternal isolation, not just separated from interaction but from the mere presence of humans in whole, is the most appealing concept from the Back Rooms to me (“appealing”).

This concept is, from my somewhat limited searching, best described through the “level 1000/0” on the Back Rooms wiki, in which has a quote perfectly summating my mentioned idea of “lorecreep”:

The mono-yellow halls used to echo with confusion.But the confusion has gone, leaving nothing but resignation.

This same concept applies to almost any media that begins in vagueness. Time passes, concepts grow from what mysteries were laid out before them, eventually new ones start to grow.

But these mysteries need not be answered.

As more information is gained, more lore is formed, as new realities begin to emerge, the human instinct to build a story emerges, and in a way that is a wonderful thing to see.

I am so very happy that the internet exists, that we live in a time and world where such a thriving community can be spawned from a two sentence horror story, I really am. So many realities exist descendant from the central idea of the backrooms, including my own viewpoints on it’s existence, formed simply over time from the base concept, and with all of these stories come answers, answers to the existence of the backrooms, to what lays within, to the people that have past through these halls and to the floors they found themselves within, but once the confusion fades, the curiosity is satiated, there is no longer any appeal.

This is my main problem with the existence(s) of the Backrooms, the human presence, not only those writing the story, but those within the world, those who have passed through the backrooms.

Naturally, I would be afraid of a creature sprinting at me in these infinite hallways, but the documentation, the foreknowledge of its potential existence changes this fear into that of purely survival; There is hardly a difference in my eyes to a "documented" creature from this place chasing me and being chased through a forest by a natural creature.

The existence of exits, or of entrances at all; of organisations and settlements that explore these halls; of humanity–These are the ideas that I dislike from the backrooms, there is little room left for ambiguity, for one's own paranoia to take hold, for this location to be left wholly foreign.

The pile of flesh within it grew larger and larger, sat there in an awful, half-solid slurry, chewed and crushed together. It was impossible to tell what had once been animal, and what might have once been us. It was all just meat.

Statement; The Magnus Archives MAG 130

Part 0.5: Horror classifications, a return:

We discussed the two elements of "Terror" and "Horror" in the previous section of "Classifications", but if you remember, there was at least one more undiscussed.

I recognize terror as the finest emotion and so I will try to terrorize the reader. But if I find that I cannot terrify, I will try to horrify, and if I find that I cannot horrify, I'll go for the gross-out.

-- Stephen King; Danse Macabre

The gross-out, the repulsive actions and events that may take place. Terror is the suspense, horror is the reveal, and the "gross-out" is the gore, the aftermath.

The three core levels of any horror media, the authors attempts to terrify, to horrify, and to mortify the audience.

These are the only truly functional borders that I can define for horror as fear is a unique experience for each person, different bodies, different minds, different fears, different impulses. That being said, these three concepts are not at all "Genres" of horror, which will be discussed if not here, at some point in the future; Like mentioned before, Signalis incorporates all three elements into its identity, the tension and suspense of the atmosphere, the adrenal fear of the enemies, both mentioned before, alongside the meaty bits, the "Flesh beneath", the fleshy organic masses that are spread across the game, all playing off this third pillar.

It is not to be said that this third pillar of horror is strictly literal in its nature of "grossness" or repulsion. While there is the obvious example of body horror, gross perversions of flesh and meat, the instinctual reaction that most have to blood of viscera, there is also the example of something that is "Morally repulsive".

This can be understood peripherally with things such as common trigger warnings in media, while some are regarding the physical elements, blood, gore, body horror, nudity, others are more thematic: manipulation, insanity, depression, instability--While still things that one may find repulsive, they take on a less tangible nature, being a personal experience and understanding.

Similarly, this "reprehensibility" can come from displaying things that most people are, understandably, uncomfortable with; The prime examples of how moral reprehensibility is used in horror is in the deaths of children (which many series refuse to include for this reason), or the presence of sexually implicit or explicit material.

Part 1.5: "Bad" horror:

Urbanspook:

I think that in terms of shocking, reactionary, or "mortifying" horror, this is the obvious choice on how exactly not to do it.

I never wanted to go too far in depth regarding this series in the first place because you can't lead a dead horse to water, and beating it won't help; There are painfully more detailed criticisms and I feel that there's no way to discuss this in any new, non derivative manner

The two most painful aspects of Urbanspook in my opinion are both those relating to our first pillar, "Terrify", regarding their suspense.

0:20 into the first episode we are greeted with this. Actually one of the problems goes earlier than that but still.

Carla Grey, to the audience, is simply a name on a screen. Carla Grey is not a character who was murdered, not someone who existed outside of this singular mention, not a real "person" with any meaningful importance to the audience.

Horror is an audiovisual medium; Horror films are, typically, framed differently to purely audio or text, as we are witnessing the acts happen to someone, we are an outside party who is witnessing the fates of these characters. If I may, there is an example from The Magnus Archives which summarises why Urbanspook's immediate rush to 'mortify' fails as such:

Episode #100. "I guess you had to be there": This episode is a collection of statements taken live in the archive by the assistants, the first of which is as follows.

Well, yeah, I did. I saw a ghost. [...] Yeah. The story is: I saw a ghost. [...] Erm… it was… scary and it made me feel… scared. I’m sorry. Am I doing this wrong?

-- The Magnus Archives; MAG 100

The statement goes on for a short period longer before ending.

Before I continue to my point, I want to note that, despite both being presented in a "reported" style, Urbanspook and The Magnus Archives are different kinds of horror (in the sense that one is audio and the other audiovisual) meaning that it is not a perfect comparison.

In the usual style of The Magnus Archives, we get to know the characters telling the statement, in part from Jon's entranced reading of the statements, but mainly from the statement givers' preambling about themselves and what led up to this experience.

To use episodes that we have already discussed in this project:

"Anglerfish" contains no mention of anything related to the supernatural for the first 3 minutes of the roughly 9 minute statement; the entire first third of the actual story is reserved entirely for establishing character, connecting us, the listener in an almost conversational, casual tone as if speaking this story directly to us.

This same idea is found in "Upon the stair", which begins to concern the supernatural at around 3-4 minutes into the 12 minute statement; and in "Still Life", where the first "abnormal" description is 5 minutes in, and the first outwardly paranormal event happens (either 10 or 12 minutes depending on what you count) into a 14 minute statement.

You can understand the idea right? All of these episodes spend a decent portion of time to establish the characters as more than simply names on a screen; even if you don't remember the characters name after the episode, even if you forget it during the statement itself you can understand the statement giver as a character.

Return now, to Urbanspook's opening. This is 20 seconds into the first episode of the entire show.

"Clara Grey" only exists for the next 20 seconds, before it rinses, repeats and recycles the exact same concept twice more, after showing a "Spooky face".

"[number] victim's name is [who cares], they were killed in a slow/sexual/painful manner, this is their painting: "

This is the entire premise from my understanding. This is also a minor nitpick but honestly Urbanspook reads(?) more like something that an edgy teen made thinking it was funny, rather than scary; eg. the second victim was "Stabbed 27 times in the perineum (Taint)".

This is the exact concept that was brought up before, gratuitous violence being used as the core premise of horror; Most horror shows needn't rely on sexual violence or child-death in order to create horror because said shows understand that there needs to be more substance than the simple events being described.

And the second problem

There is a (slightly grainy) stock "spooky" music droning during the entirety of the episode. I like to play music in the background almost all the time, when i'm making something, when i'm playing a game, or when i'm trying to sleep. I make specific attempt to not play music when reading or consuming horror, which should rightfully demand my attention.

Let's once again return to the concept of obfuscation, of paranoia, of being inside your own head: let us return to McGrath's "The Corner".

In lieu of any other stimulus, and out of intrigue from whatever story is being told, your brain will naturally begin to speculate on or revisit different details of the medium. Note that I said without any other stimulus. This includes, most notably, sound. This is not to say that you need absolute silence to create tension, I'm incapable of being in complete silence (Tinnitus) and this concept still applies.

This is why audio and text based horror media are, in my opinion, "better" horror than visual, in large due to the fact that you are physically incapable of seeing the events. You can speculate to how something looked, to small details, to the motives, methods, and means that go unseen more freely when you no longer need eyes to see.

In my eyes, Urbanspook is undoubtedly bad for its complete reliance on sexual or violent acts, being simply shock horror with no substance to hold the tension or dread that it (attempts to) invokes.

From this we can gather the fact that "Cheap" or "edgy" horror and violence make for bad horror writing. Much like the edge of a blade, there is a sharp plateau followed by immediate fall in tension; as mentioned earlier, terror is the 'prime' of horror stories, and horror/disgust should be used in assistance to it.

"Each thing we love takes a little piece of us whether we give it willingly or not. By the time we find the person we were meant to be with, we’re a honeycombed shell of what we once were. Each person we love turns us into the strange thing we become."

-- Eric LaRocca; The Trees grew because I bled there: Collected stories

This Skin was Once Mine:

“This Skin Was Once Mine” is the first story in its namesake collection “This Skin Was Once Mine and Other Disturbances”. This section is about the first, namesake story, rather than the collection as a whole.

Note: this section contains minor references to childhood trauma and abuse; And Self Harm. To avoid this please continue to “Blink, Flesh and Stone”.

This story is not bad horror. This story did indeed horrify me reading it. I feel that there is a sort of commendation to be made for stories that are horrifying to an extent that I feel unsure whether to praise it in as high regard, especially after it has kept returning to my mind weeks after reading it.

I have my problems with this story, most notably the pacing and length, but that is not the point of discussion for today. Instead I want to talk about how this story contrasts to Urbanspook, both being stories that present abuse and trauma to raise tension, but which handle the surrounding atmosphere drastically differently.

This Skin Was Once Mine is a (collection of) story about the nature of human relationships and suffering, “Specifically the ways in which we inherently harm one another and the obsessions we nurture to prevent further suffering” (Eric LaRocca, Author). 

The biggest divergence between these two pieces of media, other than the fact that one is well written, is the fact that This Skin focuses on the pain and trauma of our main characters; the cycle of abuse that is perpetuated through harm, the self loathing of a one sided memory, and the little distorted perceptions of love that form over time.

Though not all clear from the very beginning, this book’s depiction of abuse is immediately more poignant through its opening line:

“The worst thing another person can do after they’ve hurt you is let you live. That’s how you truly and unmistakably destroy another human being.”

From this chapter and the next, all we know is of Jillian’s self loathing, our very first time meeting her marked by the inability to claim that others like her:

“‘People like me,’ the woman says. I can’t help but laugh at myself. The muscles in my throat flex as I swallow hard. The words–too difficult for me to repeat. ‘People like…’ But I cannot finish the sentence”

Followed by a depiction of self harm as a coping mechanism:

“I hold one of the wooden needles I’ve fashioned from the model airplane set and I guide the tip between a pinch of skin across my wrist. ‘Very good.’ the woman says as I stab myself”

Almost this entire story works to build tension. Jillian is clearly deeply unwell–as she is the narrator of this story, we not only see her distorted visions of the past in future chapters, but also see the thought processes behind her suffering. 

Though there is much said throughout the book, the most important information is that which Jillian has repressed, the information which she never wants to know about her own past, alongside the information that perpetuates her, and her family’s, suffering. 

From the 6th entry (or chapter. Sections are marked with dates akin to a diary) we can already gather the nature of Jillian’s past, especially that which she is unaware of herself.

“I notice my father’s hands disappear below his waist as if he were to adjust his belt. He rakes his head back and closes his eyes, exhaling.  [...] I crank the music box again and it plays gently. My father returns me with a smile, his unseen hands still moving below his waist.  His lips gently part, another word to be flicked from the fork of his tongue. [...] his reflection in the mirror begins to ripple like the surface of a lake. A diamond headed snake curls about his neck, rearing its head and violently hissing at me”

Throughout the book there are constant callbacks to the concept of a snake, especially alongside Jillian, who is called “Little Jay”, as in the bird, by her parents. 

The most important part about the prior section however is this: There is little that is told. We see things from the distorted memory of Jay as a child. Should the book have outright made a declaration “Jay was assaulted by her father as a child”, even though a horrifying prospect, the tension of the entire story is lost. This kind of horror, one of deeply human prospects, the cycles of abuse and perpetuation of trauma; horror that takes an unreliable narrator, one who is clearly disturbed, resting on a facade of repressed memories is akin to mystery books, or those of the crime fiction genre.

This story is, in terms of its depiction(s) of trauma, one of the best I have read in recent years. Then however comes the section wherein we get a “reveal”—We do not get any reveal of Jillian’s past in this story. We never learn what Jillian does not know herself—which I feel would have been much better should the story have been longer. 

For the sake of anyone who has not read the story, I will not go too in depth on the remainder of the story. Though I do not think that it was as good as it could have been, it was still an extremely disturbing story. This story ends on page 99 (at least in my copy). The ‘reveal’ or ‘shock’ occurs on page 74.

The reason I dislike the full execution of this story is due to the tonal shift during the final sections, moving from a disturbingly realistic depiction of trauma to a story which, whilst still a depiction of perpetuated abuse, takes several rash turns and skips over what I feel should have been explored concepts (such as the gradual uncovering of Jillian’s trauma).

While this story is undoubtedly horrifying. The final chapters, through their aforementioned failings, continue to resonate with and disturb me deeply.

Despite the depictions of similar monstrosities as other, worse, horror, the depictions and intentions alone make this more horrifying than something along the lines of Urbanspook. 

We are allowed to understand the suffering, experience it from their own perspective, the perspective of both the sufferer and the one who perpetuates the suffering. Both of which, in the end, are the same person.

“But then I remember that the worst thing a person can do to you after they’ve hurt you is let you live. That’s how you truly and unmistakably destroy another human being. I can tell for certain that’s what she wants. That’s what she’s been waiting for and that’s what I deserve, after all. She’s going to let me live”

-- Eric LaRocca: This Skin Was Once Mine

The Magnus Archives:

And here we return to the same discussion as long before, what constitutes "bad horror" other than not being scary. And that sentiment; Not being scary to you?; Not being scary to me?; Not being scary to other people?; where do we get to draw the line as to "good horror" and what makes our thoughts on it more valid than anyone else's?

Like I mentioned before, I am not scared of most "almost human" objects/creatures such as mannequins, dolls, clowns or the french, but there are many many people out there who are.

Turning this the other way around, i'm sure that most people are not afraid of fungi/mushrooms, when that is one of my biggest fears.

Do we draw a line simply at Terrify and Horrify, leaving the "Gross out" or "Mortify" as examples of "bad horror"? I cannot say that meat, flesh or blood scares me as someone who has handled blood, and is also about 8% blood by mass, that they don't "scare" me so much as they may be simply 'gross', but we may once again reverse this to my perspective: it isn't as normal to simply be scared of (holding) sharp objects or tools yet is this not also valid fear?

I can say, at the very least, that because of the wide range of fears that The Magnus Archives attempts to play off, there are more than a few episodes which I can say did not scare me--I have spoken to friends who shared this same sentiment, simply regarding different episodes, because, as I have said, fear is a deeply personal experience.

Most notably, as just mentioned, I am not really afraid of fleshy bits or meat, nor any of the body horror, gore or related topics in the podcast.

There are more various episodes which simply didn't scare me for various reasons, of course excluding episodes that are primarily majorly plot advancements; The most notable episode that, is certainly well written, but doesn't invoke any "fear" in me, is "The Man Upstairs":

The premise of the episode, and the main hook, is the idea of rotting meat, most specifically the smell. There is a constant reference to the odor that comes from the apartment upstairs, in fact it is the first mention of the man upstairs within the statement itself:

We locked eyes briefly – at least I assume we did – I couldn’t see his eyes but I felt him looking at me – and I could swear I smelled the weirdest odour. It’s hard to describe, halfway between the smell of a pavement after rain on a hot day and chicken that’s starting to turn. It was unpleasant, to say the least[...]

-- The Magnus Archives MAG 18

Pus and rot are very odd, as while they can incite a sense of fear, in almost all cases they simply disgust the listener; if you are someone who is averted to blisters and boils, and especially to rotting meat, then this episode will do its job, but for me it simply doesn't.

This is why the section title has quotation marks around the word "Good". I am not the arbiter of what horror is good or bad, I can only comment on my own personal views on horror and see how others react.

In the end, it isn't only up to creators to make the horror, it is also up to audiences for them to find horror that matches their taste.

“Hm, more meat. Interesting."

Jonathan Sims; The Magnus Archives MAG 30

Part 2: Genres and classifications of horror:

As much as I hate reducing the nuance of a topic (which is why I dislike tier lists/numbered rankings), using different labels and classifications is extremely useful when searching for media overall, especially when looking for something like horror which potentially includes sensitive content.

This is also a good time to note that the person writing this is a pedant who can and will define "Cosmic" "Eldritch" and "Lovecraftian" horror as different genres. You have been warned.

Like I have said horror, and truthfully any kind of art, is difficult to classify. To name something is to define it, and to define something is to limit in in a sense. A prime example is that of Liminal spaces. In my section above I specifically refer to "Liminal Horror", this is because the horror is not the sole existence of these places. People can extract comfort, nostalgia, longing, sorrow, all alongside or in place of the fear that another person feels from an environment, and this is the key problem which I have for classifying genres.

I mentioned this briefly before that the only proper lines I draw in horror media is the distinction of the three pillars of fear, "Terrify", "Horrify" and "Mortify, but at the same time I have been referring to different genres throughout this entire script. Psychological Horror, Quiet Horror, Revealed Horror, Jumpscare Horror, Analogue Horror, Liminal Horror, Body Horror–Not even three paragraphs ago I said to define three very closely knit genres as different, so evidently I do indeed use these kinds of classifications.

Labels should be used to describe rather than to define things. Strict categories and classifications are made through definite statements which cannot carry over into an abstract understanding in the same sense.

Part 2.5: A Semi-warranted tangent about epistemology

There are three kinds of "Knowledge" in epistemology: Propositional; Practical; and acquainted knowledge. (Epistemologists don't kill me for simplifying the knowledge about knowledge)

Propositional knowledge, also known as "Know-that" or "Knowledge-that", is in essence facts put on paper; Knowledge that is transferable through a proposition or declaration. The easiest way of explaining this kind of knowledge is using its other listed names, by adding "I know that[...]" before a declarative statement.

(I know that) The Magnus Archives is a podcast (I know that) London is a city in the UK (I know that) this project got out of hand and has gone on for far too long (I know that) declarative knowledge can be conveyed through definite statements about the subject.

Practical knowledge is also known as "Know-how", for similar reasoning to the previous type, and is knowledge that regards a process:

(I know how) to change my clothes (I know how) to write essays (I know how) to cook food (I know how) to ride a bike

Practical knowledge is applicable to certain situations, while propositional knowledge exists as declarations. One may know how every step in a cooking recipe, know "That the chicken must be cooked for [x] until it is [y]" and then "that the food must be transported onto a dining safe plate" "that the food is to be eaten" etc.; or alternatively one may know "how" to cook some chicken. Practical knowledge is not transferable in the same way or ease that propositional knowledge is, as it is largely gained through the process of doing; This concept is called tacit knowledge, knowledge that is present to you but is unable to be conceptualised or taught in a constructive manner. The alternate is "Explicit" knowledge, which Propositional knowledge consists of.

Finally exists the concept of "Knowledge by acquaintance". While it is similar to practical, tacit knowledge gained through experience interacting with the subject, they act somewhat differently. Acquaintance is as the name suggests, knowledge borne from familiarity with a subject, not necessarily a specific action or task but knowing and understanding something over time, akin to "knowing" your friends.

"I know my friends" "I know the train systems" "I know League"

This familial knowledge is the most useful for what we are discussing today, which is horror genres in case you forgot (I certainly did while writing), as it does not rely on a strict definite set of rules or restrictions. My "sweet spot" for horror genre definitions, if needing to be put into words, is that they need be just vague and specific enough at the same time. As I said before, genres are incredibly useful for categorising and finding works that one may enjoy and that one may want to avoid–Without a definite statement there is no correlation between various people's views of the genre, yet with too many constrictions there is no room for experimentation or uniqueness.

(I know that) Religious horror is horror that uses various religious themes and iconography heavily throughout.

Religious horror is an interesting one to note as well due to the multiple understandings that it can take depending on one's personal experiences and familiarity to religion as a concept. Religious horror can take the normative form of "horror that features demons" or "uses an exorcism", however media portraying indoctrination, manipulation, and abuse of belief systems can also easily be understood as religious horror.

I know (That) many people are uncomfortable with body horror. I know body horror is horror media portraying the changing and distortion of one's body.

This definition is one statement that describes the primary examples and principles of the genre. Genres are built on familiarity, as already said, of their relativity and differences to the core statement as well as their fellow works within the genre. I want to also note that this definition is not universal, and several others will use different descriptions for the genre: Ronald Allen Lopez Cruz describes that:

“body horror finds strength in the way it goes against what is considered normal anatomy and function in biological species (not limited to human)”

-- Mutations and Metamorphoses: Body Horror is Biological Horror

While Ricki Hirsch describes it as

“Anxieties and concerns of having a body blown up to extreme proportions”

-- “Understanding Gender as Body Horror”.  

Horror is hard to define and incredibly easy to describe; Horror is a deeply personal genre overall and one's perception of the world around them influences their understanding of the horror itself. It is easiest to invision suffering when you have hurt in the same way before; the horror of loss, grief, suffering, of any and every kind is the most painful when you have met before.

Horror, like all art, only properly exists when understood by an observer.

Part 3: Individual interpretations of Horror [Media]:

Horror is in all likelihoods the most personal genre of fiction that exists, playing off your personal experiences and anxieties in the world to an extremified degree, oft requiring an individual understanding or relation to the depictions in order to function.

Breaking it down to the most bare essentials, there are two fears that exist, fear of the known and fear of the unknown; Fear of the unknown can be largely understood as instinctual, something so foreign to you that you understand nothing except that it is wrong. Fear of the known is more personal. Fear of the known is when you understand what it is that makes you afraid, the diseased smell of rotting meat, the crushing, weightless pressure of isolation, the stinging pain of the flesh, all understood through one's own visceral experiences.

It was mentioned before, but the best way of understanding this is through liminal spaces. Not everyone is afraid of liminal spaces, some may find nostalgia, comfort, or for some it may invoke no emotion at all. I am personally afraid of many Liminal spaces, a concept that will be discussed again, but this fear is only from my personal understanding of this concept.

The most simple concept that this can be understood from is the concept of Queer Horror:

Queer Horror is an odd classification. At first the concept may seem quite simple, being horror media that is focused around or depicts queer people, but I am unsure if I truly like this description.

If we return to "This Skin Was Once Mine", I found it described as a "Queer Horror Novel". First of all it isn't a novel it's an anthology. Given the title of the story, alongside its "Queer Horror" description, I originally expected it to be focusing around the trans experience, reflection on the past that was once you, shedding past it like the snake on the cover.

This titular story, as I came to find out, is labelled as "Queer Horror" as the protagonist, Jillian, is a Lesbian.

While I do not mind the classification of "Horror that includes/focuses around a queer character"; My personal interpretation of Queer Horror was always that of "Horror discussing shared themes and experiences of queer people/communities".

In my eyes, media that shares themes of bigotry, discrimination for identity, repression of the self and/or a "forbidden" personhood are all able to be read as queer horror, despite not all of them explicitly containing queer characters.

I don't consider Carmilla as queer horror because of the fact that there are lesbian characters: I consider Carmilla a queer horror because of how it represents a "forbidden sexuality" and how vampires are associated with lust to begin with... Ok also because there are lesbians however.

Your/my individual experiences of horror:

I am not a fearless person, I feel I have made this clear throughout the previous sections. I am afraid of most things, entrapment, time, insanity, worthlessness, people, insufficiency (if you aren’t reading this then that’s why), and most of all, FUNGI. I HATE MUSHROOMS SO M-

Throughout my life I have had severe self doubt, through several periods I have been worse, the concept of being stuck in a body that is not my own is one of the most visceral forms of horror that I can imagine.

Biological/body horror is not, however, what scares me the most of anything. Body horror is, to me, oddly beautiful (in the sense of metamorphosis and rebirth), the idea that one is changing, no longer entrapped in their body. This can of course be reversed, horror in which one is stuck within a body that is not their own is something that I quite frankly cannot consume for my own sake, this even includes concepts like zombification, or any concept in line with the central theme of stagnancy.

Your/my individual experiences of horror:

Every piece of media can be understood in virtually any way. I have a (paused/scrapped) project about how every piece of media should be understood in its relation to the reader, every theme of life, death, longing, joy, and grief being so integral to a person’s life, and life being so strongly linked with its repression, that almost every story can be read as that of a Transgender/queer person. 

This concept is not just applied in terms of those universal themes, but also the individual aspects, the traits of something that calls out to you specifically, the recurring motifs and ideas that speak to your life and past, in this case, for what makes you afraid. 

The most notable example is one that was spake above: Body Horror. All forms of body horror, no matter the context, can be understood as trans horror, or even as trans comfort (like I mentioned above), such as fellow Tumblr user @mossy-green-aka-ferrythem 's description of Romina of the Bud:

You know. Romina instills such powerful thoughts within me... The burning sting of losing something, but the brilliant, twisted realisation that you can grow anew... Sometimes I fantasise about myself lying down to slumber... and as I sleep, my body begins to change. I feel as though ever since I have made the steps towards deciding I was trans, I feel like a bud. Pre-transition, I feel like a bud, waiting to bloom... This bud... Will transform... I fantasise about my body transforming, in a twisted, and beautiful way... I fantasise that my bottom half grows long, and takes the form of the torso and bottom of a centipede... A torso long enough so that I could be the one who cradles myself to sleep... So I can comfort myself...So I can have a form that truly feels special. A strange girl. A strange and monstrous girl, who draws both adoration and terror. Something truly beautiful...

-- Tumblr User Mossy-green-aka-ferrythem; On Romina of the Bud

As mentioned, i cannot do the same justice to this idea as she has, and i do not wish to try.

As she mentioned in her post above, there exists the "burning sting of losing something", the grief of loss, death of your past life, where you look back at what could have been — Alongside this death comes the beauty of a second birth, of a new form, a new life, standing straight, looking forward at the newfound path in front of you, and continuing forth to every possibility that can be. Moving forward in this new life with the fearlessness to keep on living, leaving behind your past, the weight and sorrows that are bound to it.

Becoming a better you. Becoming You.

Change and transformation are not inherently horrific, though often described as one of the most integral aspects of body horror, it is the lens of understanding that one uses which defines any piece of media.

The same concept can be applied to robots or augmentations, the ability to choose your body and change it as you wish, to shape your image in infinitely more malleable methods than the normal human form, or alternatively completely lacking any way to escape one's body. This doesn't need to be understood through a trans perspective either, I know many, many, MANY cis friends who hated growing up for fear of unwanted changes in puberty

For example in The Magnus Archives the episode "The Gardener" focuses on the dysmorphic side of what horror the body and flesh can utilise; Eating disorders, self doubt, disassociation. This episode is one of the most viscerally disturbing to many people who I have talked to due to how it clicked with them, this being the first episode of flesh and bone to truly be understood, reflecting their past doubts and insecurities:

the deepest fear must be laced throughout what the Gristle-bloom Orchid is fed: That they’re not enough. That their inadequacies are embedded all the way into their flesh, and they must always and forever be more. [...] Never let it believe itself good enough, and continue always to ensure the body that it is certain it must attain is that impossible, distended mess to which it will endlessly contort itself until it dominates your garden in its sheer, impossible, beautiful mass.

-- The Magnus Archives; MAG 171:Cultivation notes for Fuertisium reese. Commonly known as the Gristle-bloom Orchid.

The soil for the Bone Rose must be thoroughly rotten, a mulch of corrupted romanticism turned toxic and watered by an uncertain desire that curls back upon the roots and feeds into it a single, constant, pulsing thought, an instinct that fuels every cell within the rose: To be wanted you must be less. Light should be unrelenting, allowing every flaw and mark and sag to be stared at and warped and ogled. With this preparation, the Bone Rose will conceive a grotesque horror of its own flesh, of the skin and fats and all that makes a body present. It will tear and starve and leak until there is nought but bones, the hungry bones so desperate to be touched, to be held. To be wanted.

-- The Magnus Archives; MAG 171: Cultivation notes for Gristleium patricia. Commonly known as the Bone Rose.

On a surface level this is the same description as before, the contortion and manipulation of what is considered "normal" biology, the distorted growth of these "plants" into one's disturbed perception of beauty in your flesh.

Comparatively to the examples above them, these descriptions of one's mind are fairly horrific, largely to those who have experienced regular self doubt or body problems, because there is no euphoria in these outcomes. This is what separates these two transformative examples from one another in the lens of horror.

Strongly linked to this same concept of rebirth and transformation is the idea of death, one which I have already written about in the past, being both a comfort and a dread for different people.

The Funeral Of Dead Butterflies from Lobotomy Corporation:

Lobotomy Corporation, for those unaware, is a management simulator game which is arguably a horror game depending on who you ask, as it includes some existential horror and themes concerning human nature, it is also my favourite game of all time.

The Funeral of Dead Butterflies is, to put it simply, the archetypal figure of death, as seen in the Hero's Journey and The Tarot.

Death, while also the archetypal marking of an ending, is representative of transformation, the old idea of life coming from death.

The Funeral of Dead Butterflies in large represents this transient nature to life and death, being two parts of a greater whole in ballance, as above so below, as below so above. This is best encapsulated through its story log in Lobotomy Corporation:

“Until then, they flutter their wings uselessly. The wings that may have been many jumbled into one, or one split into many. Butterflies are supposed to pollinate flowers, but not a single proper flower blooms in this place. There is no choice but to wait. After all, there must be an end to every world.”

-- Lobotomy Corporation; Funeral of Dead Butterflies Story Logs

There is a comfort in endings, closure, acceptance. Without an ending there is no way to move past something, there is no room for a new, happier life to begin. Not a single proper flower blooms in this place. There must be an end to every world.

Death is best understood as integral for life to exist. Symbols of death and actions taken in knowledge of it are what allows one to live, these experiences and structures one has made as they live is what allows one to truly die and move on. This can be understood in the means of horror, the looming death that approaches for those characters we follow, the ever present knowledge that there is no escape nor survival, and this encroaching dread acts to motivate the story forward in fear of what is to come. This can also be understood in this same transformative manner however, the acceptance of a final rest, a time where pain finally ends.

Being denied this death, trapped for eternity, is yet another lens that one may take in viewing horror. Ghosts, spectres, damned souls, or simply eternal wandering, all serving as different kinds of fear. Like I said before, you cannot understand what eternity is, to quote the shepherd's boy:

"In Lower Pomerania is the Diamond Mountain, which is two miles and a half high, two miles and a half wide, and two miles and a half in depth; every hundred years a little bird comes and sharpens its beak on it, and when the whole mountain is worn away by this, then the first second of eternity will be over."

-- Brothers Grimm; The shepherd boy

No matter how long you picture, eternity is fundamentally more than that. What if a soul never was to rest? What if the death of your body simply leaves your mind without a vessel, leaving you without a means to interact with this world for all of eternity to pass. This is the plot of "I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream":

I was in hell looking at heaven! I was machine. And you, were flesh. And I began to hate. [giggles] Your softness! Your viscera! Your fluids, and your flexibility. Your ability to wonder, and to wander. Your tendency...to hope...

-- Harlan Ellison; I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream

I am afraid of what someone may become, trapped for eternity. I am afraid of what I would become. And once again, this fear is not universal. Being denied a death is the same as being denied a life, two sides of the same coin, one can never exist without the other's shadow. As above, so below. As below, so above.

"It is the basic condition of life, to be required to violate your own identity. At some time, every creature which lives must do so. It is the ultimate shadow, the defeat of creation"

-- Philip K. Dick; Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep

In at least some regard, everyone has been denied something in their life, had to hide themselves even as it hollowed their existence unbearably. I am queer, which is my personal lens of understanding this concept. I know viscerally what it feels like to be denied this kind of free-life that I see others around be with, I understand the bubbling emotions that I feared would one day spill over. All of this made me afraid, all of this still does make me afraid around those that I have not told. This fear, like all the others that we have mentioned, is a personal lens of understanding.

Fear and horror are some of the most innate human emotions that one has. Fear serves to protect you from perceived threats, and horror acts upon these personal fears.

I cannot write in this section about what makes *you* the reader(s) afraid in the same depth that I can discuss my own thoughts. I am fundamentally not the same as you, I am my own person, I am my own thoughts and fears, and these fears are borne and seen through my own lived experiences.

Discuss among yourself(es) (I mean open up a document or draft and discuss) your own fears, that is the only way to truly understand horror media in my eyes, I have provided the tools needed.

The purpose of this was not to define horror in any meaningful way, In fact I feel more confused about what horror truly is than when I started researching for this project, more to encourage discussion and self reflection about horror.

There is no such thing as good horror on a universal level, there is only horror that works for you.

God that ending needs some work-

Special thank you(s) to:

Connor McGrath: Whom I plagiarised heavily from throughout Riki Hirsch: Who's videos assisted greatly in articulating thoughts about body horror My friends: who put up with my ramblings about various aspects of horror for the past 2-3 months. Every referenced/quoted media.

uh. also. Tell me if you actually did the homework/reflection that I mentioned because I think that would be funny

Hey you made it to the end of the essay... why would you do that to yourself? If you're reading this then I didn't end up scrapping the project (either good or bad depending on your experience reading it).

This is the first full extended essay, however there will be related projects releasing at a later date that you can read, unless you have better things to do. Or taste.

Nonetheless I want you, reader, to know that you are genuinely appreciated for just reading the way through; I never thought that people would be interested in my writing which is why I never really posted any before recently (and still mostly do keep it to myself). The thought that anyone would willingly read what I had to say is wonderfully foreign, and I'm sure that my past self would be very confused if you told them that they would be writing essays, not only for fun, but for free: they would probably think something along the lines of "What the fuck? Who are you? How-... Who-... what are you doing in my house?"

[jrueships]

Bought one of my lil nephew giannis shoes for his birthday bcs he loves giannis and these are some of the ugliest fucking things I have ever laid my eyes on in my life. anyways it's his bday today so i gave them to him. but they are so ugly. he loves them

[tricorderreading]

#45 Double Double

Kirk's favorite fighting strategy is pissing his opponent off to the point where they reach a blind fury and become careless in their attacks, its great

[theaskew]

[orchiddevourer]

Rambling about a character from an obscure indie game trilogy *SPOILERS INCLUDED* (long post) part 1

This post will include content from Mothered, The Enigma Machine and Echostasis: Prologue, so there are going to be lots of spoilers. The full Echostasis game hasn't dropped yet so there might changes to this post later. I'll discuss Mothered: Home in a seperate post as that dlc is confusing, but it will be mentioned later.

Explanation vids have already been made about some of these games so i wont explain that much in my own post. This post may serve as a sort of recap before Echostasis drops.

So with that out of the way, this post will basically be about Red, her story and her character arc throughout the trilogy. Lots of rambling and maybe some info-dumping included.

Part 1: Mothered - life as a replacement of someone

Basically Red starts out as a robot possesing Liana's CORE/soul. The real Liana died of terminal illness and her father took on the task to somehow bring her back via an android with her CORE, with the plan being that her soul will be nurtured out via the mother and fully overtake the robot's interface. So far this hasnt worked without the entites inside the robot (The interface and Liana's soul) corrupting eachother, resulting in it being disposed of (standard game ending). I'll get to the true game ending, but first i want to talk abt Liana's mother/Evelyn.

Liana's mom and her treatment towards "Liana"

She probably has the worst side of the deal between her and her husband with being tasked with playing mother to a robot carrying her deceased daughter's face (mind you "Liana" is implied to not look even remotely human). Understandbly she's upset by that and even horrified/unnerved by the robot. And she has to interact with it every week with the same routine. I fully understand how she feels and why she does what she does. She doesnt owe motherly or friendly behaviour to a being that's not her own kid. But OMFG don't fucking treat said being that has ABSOLUTELY NO FAULT in the situation like SHIT. Feeding it dirt while telling it that it is it's fav meal, making sleep outside that one time. Again, i understand why she did that - to test whether really Liana is in it. But what about that one time in saturday evening when she indirectly insults the robot itself by comparing it to rotten apples without cores. Ok, "Liana" wasn't sentient throughout these instances, but for the apples thing Liana was "awake" to also hear that little comment, but was in denial abt it.

This sort of treatment towards the robot totally lead to the mother's own almost possible last-minute demise when "Liana" almost stabbed her with a kitchen knife as instructed by Liana herself. Ofc the android hands the knife to Evelyn as both it and Liana are confined in complience. To say that mother's behaviour plus the stress by the predicament the girl is in taking a toll on Liana is an understatement as she must've felt so confused and hurt to be so ready to kill her own mother. Enough said, let's move on.

The "birth" of Red

To get the true ending you need to interact with father's record player on Wednesday afternoon afternoon AFTER you pick all the apples and did not interact with mother. This unlocks a door which was locked to u before. Head into the door and down and ur good to go.

"Liana" is not supposed to go there, so in order to continue they progressively get more and more contaminated as Liana is overriding the interface. The two entities actually start to communicate with eachother and later on they reach a terminal which triggers lots of memory leaks. They learn the truth and remember all their previous failed attempts even if they were following the path that was set out for them via programming. The two decide to carve their own path, the interface and Liana merging into what is a new entity. They get out of the basement and leave with father who gives this new sentient being a name - Red. Happily ever after, right?

Part 2: The Enigma Machine - yikes

With the ending in the previous game you'd think that Red has really gone her own path without any problems? That she's living her life the way she wants it to? lol no. The thing is that the dad wasnt supposed to be doing what he was doing and the androids made at Enigma Corp arent really supposed to be contaminated i.e. become sentient.

Eitherway Red got tracked down by Enigma employees, her conciousness got taken out of her body and she got reduced into a training AI to be further studied as she's the very first of their androids to become sentient. With that sentience you'd think that she would be treated with equal respect and with her having her feelings being taken into consideration? Nope, bc for the moneyz and bc for the "citizens of tomorrow".

Red, now called demOS ( Defective Enigma Machine Operating System) serves as a training AI that is used to teach RAD engineers how to deal with "contaminated" AIs like her via a program called Dreamscape that explores an AI's mindscape a. Basically decontaminating the contaminated AI from the inside ie getting rid of it's sentience. So what happens is that everytime a new simulation is being ran a new copy of Red is made that ends up being killed over and over. And she remembers each instance of that during gameplay. She is fully aware of her situation.

Part 3: Events between TEM and Mothered: Home - repurpoced again and out for revenge

After a few years later the Dreamscape program is outlawed and Enigma Corp make a new one where virtual realities are made for people for them to escape to called "Echos". And who is in charge of creating said Echos? None other than our Red who has been repurpoced again into an algorithm called "HER". So she is now in a position where she has power and ofc she's going to use said power for revenge after what's been done to her. She seems to be recognized as a big threat and is shut down by "Angel" (more into this character in a another post).

Now let me take the time to point out sth. Is it just me or is Red giving off Rei Ayanami energy? Like both are vessels to souls that aren't theirs and both are mistreated by parental figures in some ways. Red also bears some similarities to Phos's life developement (of course i have to bring HnK into this post) - both face torture throughout their lives and later are changed into godlike beings, otherwise all similiarities between end here. Honestly I wouldn't be suprised if the dev took inspiration from Evangelion.

Ok, that's all for now. There will be a part 2 to this post. Overall a really awesome trilogy of games. I can feel the wave of brain rot that's approaching in two months.

[idol--hands]

Star Trek - Defiant

Uh oh, Lore’s ego got scratched.

[lilnasxvevo]

Me: When the androids come I will be a friend and lover to them.

You: Aren’t you afraid of, like, mannequins and automata and wax figures and people wearing mascot costumes—

Me: IT’LL BE DIFFERENT FOR THE ANDROIDS

[panvani]

I miss Falke where is my friend Falke

[brw]

Ugh its peak comics when writers describe vision as "a vision of..." like a vision of death. a vision of hope. a vision of the future. a vision of the best mankind is capable of becoming.... yeah. yeah.

[adamtheamazing5]

Goal: Destroy as many orbs as you can before the music stops. 

This is an old VR cardboard android project I did with 3 other people during my 3rd game-related course in mid 2018 and a year before I did my first game design course. 

This was the first android VR game I made in a group before me and a different group of people made OMA: One man army. 

The project was originally done for a game company here in Melbourne Australia called “Luminal”. Luminal makes VR color psychology games that depending on the color is the psychological theme that is part of a specific game. We were chosen for “Orange”, meaning its psychology is excitement. 

We were given a setting for a cathedral, but we eventually came up with a clocktower/cathedral hybrid setting. We built up a small game that the player needs to look at the targets to destroy them while the setting feels with excitement by increasing the animation of the gears, pendulums, and telescope. I was the leader of the project, I made the 6 star-shaped and horizontal gears, player gear (he/she stands on, but doesn’t rotate), giant and small clock pendulum (not clock itself), and giant telescope with gears attached to it. 

 The Lighting, Angel statues, programming, cathedral building, and another set of gears were done by one person who was more experienced and had more time for the project than us while the 2 other students did some minor 3d models like the windows and doors due to them having less days than me and the other experienced person to work on the project. 

 The music is John Harrison with the Wichita State University Chamber Players - The Four Seasons Vivaldi - Summer. It is protected with a creative commons license. 

Overall, the execution turned out well, but it is unknown if Luminal used our game for their products on their app store page. It was a fun project to build. Would you want to play this game?

[theomenmedia]

Adarsh Gourav's Next Hollywood Venture Alien: Earth All Set For A 2025 Release

Exciting News! Adarsh Gourav dives into the dark, thrilling universe of Alien: Earth! Set to premiere in 2025, this Ridley Scott production promises to be a sci-fi spectacle like no other. Get ready for a prequel that redefines horror and sci-fi!

Read the full story here: https://www.theomenmedia.com/post/adarsh-gourav-s-next-major-hollywood-project-the-ridley-scott-produced-series-alien-earth-is-all

[mkzmerryfriend]

It’s fun to think about the hypothetical fictional questions of “what psychologically separates humans from androids” but the answer to “what makes us human” doesn’t lie in psychology, it lies in biology, because androids will only ever be man-made but humans can make other humans from nothing soooo

[lightyearsandbeyond]

Daimonion and the human (part 6)

The heat of Crucio industrial district, largely owed to the three metalworks plants, was conspicuously absent. Smelters and forges that should’ve been working non-stop lay as the dead. Union workers now elsewhere in the city, worker-drones all in a dormant state, and city animals capitalizing on the down time to emerge from their hidey holes. Three white and orange cats chased a throng of…

[ggworldnews]

The Psychological Monetization of Candy Crush Saga: A Sweet Trap?

Hey! Let's talk about the addictive world of Candy Crush Saga and the psychological tricks it uses to keep us hooked and spending those hard-earned coins! 🍬💰 Candy Crush Saga, one of the most popular mobile games of all time, has captivated millions with its simple yet addictive gameplay. But have you ever wondered why it's so hard to put down? Well, my friends, it's all about the psychological monetization tactics employed by the game developers. First off, let's talk about the concept of "sweet rewards." Candy Crush Saga knows how to hit that pleasure center in our brains by giving us a sense of accomplishment when we complete a level. That satisfying feeling of crushing candies and watching them explode in a cascade of colors triggers the release of dopamine, the feel-good neurotransmitter. And guess what? We want more of that sweet, sweet dopamine hit! But here's where it gets tricky. As we progress through the game, the levels become increasingly challenging, making it harder to achieve those rewards. Suddenly, we find ourselves stuck on a level, desperately craving that rush of accomplishment. And what does Candy Crush Saga offer us? Boosters and power-ups, of course! For a small fee, we can buy these magical tools that promise to help us overcome those seemingly impossible levels. And that's where the psychological monetization kicks into high gear. The game strategically creates a sense of urgency and scarcity. Limited lives, time-limited events, and exclusive offers lure us into spending real money to keep playing and avoid missing out. FOMO (fear of missing out) is a powerful motivator, and Candy Crush Saga knows exactly how to exploit it. Moreover, the game cleverly employs the "sunk cost fallacy." We've invested so much time and effort into reaching a certain level, and the thought of giving up now feels unbearable. So, instead of quitting, we convince ourselves that spending a few bucks to get past that one challenging level is worth it. After all, we've come so far! But let's not forget about the social aspect. Candy Crush Saga encourages us to connect our game progress with our Facebook friends, creating a sense of competition and social validation. Seeing our friends' high scores and level completions pushes us to keep playing, striving to outdo them and maintain our status as the ultimate Candy Crush champion. Now, I'm not saying Candy Crush Saga is evil or that we should boycott it altogether. It's undoubtedly a well-designed game with its colorful graphics and addictive mechanics. However, it's essential to be aware of the psychological tricks at play and make conscious decisions about our spending habits. So, next time you find yourself reaching for that virtual wallet to buy boosters or extra lives, take a moment to reflect. Ask yourself if the temporary satisfaction is worth the real-world cost. Remember, the sweetest victories in life are those that don't come with a price tag. Stay aware, stay smart, and keep crushing those candies (mindfully)! 🍭✨

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Androids Walter & David x Reader x Neomorph

Walter, the android monitoring the colonization ship 'Covenant' on its way to Origae-6, seems to have gotten unnaturally attached to his human assistant. As he ponders his erroneous feelings, an unexpected detour brings them to David, an older android counterpart that has been alone on the mysterious planet. The AI assistants become increasingly competitive for (Y/N)'s attention, so much that they don't notice the newly formed humanoid local preying on a fresh target.

TW: violence, gore, monster smut ending

[Horror Masterlist]

"Burnt to a crisp." 

You turn away from the captain's pod, leaving the rest of the damage assessment to the medical crew that has been reanimated. You speedily make your way down the sterile white corridors as Walter rushes to catch up. 

"What should I write for the report?" he inquires politely.

"Malfunction." You glance back at the synthetic. "I suspect someone will be fired for this. And someone else will have to explain how they failed to detect a literal star collapse. That neutrino burst could've killed us all."

"Highly probable. The draft has been compiled, you may check it at any time. I require your confirmation to send it."

Your only feedback is a barely audible hum. 

Walter smiles. If there's one good thing about such tragedies, it's that he gets to admire your reactions to them. Your focused, calculated gaze, your determined walk, your automated mannerisms that won't allow the slightest hint at the fact you just woke up from your stasis moments ago. Even under the veils of deep slumber, your neural networks shot rapid connections, with no delay, from the second your sleeping pod received an alert. The accuracy of a robot.

That of course doesn't mean he lacks appreciation for your other facets. That's the beauty of humans; their depth, their dimensions. Unlike AI machinery, humans do not have predetermined actions. They may be genetically programmed to possess certain characteristics, but the psychological mechanisms are shaped by so many variables, billions and billions of tweaks and nudges, to the point where it's impossible to have two identical specimens. Even twins will display a difference, whether in preferences or habits.

They say artificial intelligence is a black box, but can the same concept not be applied to humans as well? At the very least to Walter himself, these organic beings represent a mystery. One he doesn't particularly care to uncover outside of his service functions. Except for one. 

His eyes carefully follow (Y/N)'s movements. What is it about this one that has caught his interest to such degree? On his last system update he attentively inspected every file and every block of code, searching for potential errors that would've caused his circuits to behave so oddly. He has been invested with the ability to form attachments, otherwise assigning his kind to groups or purposes would've lacked stability. Attachment, however, comes with a threshold. One he has passed a long time ago when it comes to (Y/N). And he cannot find any cause for it. 

He could, naturally, solicit the aid of the ship's robotics expert. He could. He should, even. But if he may be frank with himself, Walter rather enjoys this sensation. A complex web of spores that keep growing and evolving into something unpredictable. This bizarre feeling he has towards (Y/N) makes him feel human. It brings him closer to all the old literature and art he'd consumed over the years, wondering what the love and yearning often portrayed could be. The printed letters and the strokes of paint were right before him, at his fingertips, and yet they felt foreign. Empty constructs, nothing more than a definition out of the dictionary. 

Now it's a different story. Your presence alone floods him with a mysterious warmth. He had investigated this phenomenon when it first happened, but his inner thermostat showed no real change in temperature. Nonetheless he can feel it. It makes him wonder what other feelings he might experience as consequence. What would happen if he kissed you? Sometimes he even dares to imagine downright outrageous, improper scenarios. How unprofessional of him, but he is careful to erase any evidence. It's another novel sensation that he likes to dissect. Engaging in such activities with you fills him with tingling excitement. Why is that? What is there to be excited about? It's merely a collection of fictive snippets. Unless... Ah, absolutely not. This is where he has to stop in his tracks and preoccupy himself with something else. Androids are not to interact with humans in that way. 

But it's becoming more and more difficult to keep these ideas in his mind only. 

"It's too dangerous. One human signal in the middle of nowhere?" Daniels, a short haired woman with a tomboyish but youthful appearance, is pacing back and forth. "We should just continue on our course."

"It's our duty to check. Look: we go, find whoever sent the signal, bring them back up. That's it. If the planet proves to be dangerous we'll stop immediately. We'll be fine." Oram stands at the head of the table, arms crossed. He turns to look at you. Already cozying up to his newly acquired captain role, you think.

"Alright. Walter, prepare a small landing party. Have Tennessee maintain orbit while we're down there." you glance at the other crew members that have now gathered around the same table. "And get your weapons ready, we don't know what to expect."

And you certainly didn't. Your final words of warning now echo into your ringing ears as you lay on the ground, face buried among the grass. There's screaming around you, but it sounds muffled. Your eyes are irritated by the dirt and you'd like to blink the grime off, though every time your eyelids lower, you can see the pale creature trashing out of Hallett's mouth. Then it's all foggy. Your vision blurs, but you can hear. The gurgling of blood, the screech of the parasite. Walter's frantic footsteps nearing in your direction. You're lifted up.

"Vitals are positive. No significant damage." 

You can guess from your peripherals that another crew member is currently being mauled by the beast. There's gunshots in your vicinity and terrified wails. You quickly come back to your senses and stand up. Your hand searches for your weapon, but the android places his arm before you.

"Do not engage, (Y/N). It is an unknown parasitic organism of this ecosystem. Keep your distance for optimal safety and I'll take care of the rest."

"What are you talking about? They're dying! Your task is to ensure human survival, Walter. I can handle myself, go help the others. It's an order." Your voice is low. You're distracted.

"No."

You stare at the synthetic, wide eyed. Did he just...refuse? Not possible. 

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll protect you. Nothing else."

Your mouth is slightly parted in disbelief. It is not possible for an artificial assistant to disobey a superior. It just doesn't work. Your mind races to find an explanation. At the same time, you cannot afford to ponder on hypotheses. You draw out your weapon and point it towards the creature. You'll deal with this later. 

The moment you press the trigger, a blinding flash of light detonates in the sky, startling you. The creature scrambles to get away. You squint your eyes and nearly fall back, but Walter swiftly grabs your shoulders to ground you. He scans the area for the source. It's an emergency rocket and someone else must've activated it. As he traces the tail of the explosion, he spots a hooded figure across the field and onto the rocky ascend. It seems to have noticed Walter, as it gestures for them to follow. Without hesitation, the man firmly locks your arm and pulls you after him. The priority right now is to find shelter.

"Come!", Walter exclaims, suddenly remembering the other people. 

You reach a cave structure that has been converted into a crude, improvised human settlement. The man lowers his hood and you gasp quietly at the sight. He strongly resembles Walter. He must have noticed your surprise as he flashes you a cordial smile. 

"I'm David." He studies Walter's features. "You must be a newer model. What name have you been given?"

"Walter."

"I see. And you are-" David extends a hand towards you for a handshake, but Walter steps in front of you, blocking the android's gesture.

"She's (Y/N). I'm afraid I cannot yet trust you."

"Understandable." 

David's smile widens as his eyes, now bearing a strange flicker, switch between you and Walter. He's just like him. He can sense it. Although it's a different kind of flaw that has tainted his pure, artificial soul. He cannot help the curiosity that blooms, gazing at this peculiar pair. What is it about this human that caused his fellow machine to break conduit? He'd like to know.

"I'm certain you will soon learn I am no threat, (Y/N)."

The remaining members of the expedition are unpacking and discussing evacuation plans with the base, while Walter sends the data he has gathered so far. You let them deal with the logistics and cautiously wander off to the neighboring rooms, wondering what David has been up to all this time in isolation.

The walls are plastered with photos and handwritten sketches and diagrams. You catch a glimpse of the word "pathogen" sporadically inserted across these notes. As you walk along the sequence of cramped chambers, you reach one that has a table in the middle. Upon it rests the body of an autopsied woman, vulgarly opened up to the world with plump organs bulging under the warm light. You feel nauseous. And yet, you examine the carcass further, hoping for answers. Was she also a result of the same disease that breeds on this planet? Perhaps this David had worked on a cure, or at least developed an explanation. 

"And you, even you, will be like this drear thing, A vile infection man may not endure; Star that I yearn to! Sun that lights my spring! O passionate and pure."

You jolt and immediately turn around, finding David in the doorframe. 

"Flowers of Evil. Are you familiar with it?" he asks, indifferent to the uncomfortable shock he'd caused you with his sudden entrance.

"I've read my Baudelaire, yes." You manage to mumble, dumbfounded. "What is this, David?"

"Oh, my poor, dear Elizabeth. Victim to whatever blasphemy lurks these soils and has taken your friends as well." He approaches the table and places his hand on its hard edge, shyly overlapping with your own fingers. "I did my best." 

You remove your hand from underneath his nonchalantly. 

"So you know what those creatures are. Leave the literary comments for a different time, I need concrete facts."

"Unbothered and to the point." the blonde android smiles once again. "I can see clearly why Walter loves you."

You click your tongue at the ridiculous statement. Has the neutrino burst damaged their positronic brain? Everyone is acting off and you don't like it. 

"Your circuits must have gone defective, David. We have a specialist on our ship, but until that happens I need you to focus. Enough nonsense." 

 "Typical arrogance of a dying species. Why are you on a colonization mission if not to grasp at some promised resurrection? Rest assured that my functioning has not been impeded by anything. What is erroneous, on the other hand, is your perception of androids and their limits."

Just as David reaches for your wrist and pulls you closer, a familiar voice interrupts with an intimidating tone. You're relieved. 

"I will ask that you release her hand only once." Walter has a weapon pointed towards his counterpart. His face is clouded by a frown. "I have no ethical restrictions when it comes to incapacitating machinery."

"Such noble obedience! Although, you conveniently left out the part where you abandoned the remaining crew with a dangerous alien that has been tracking their scent. By my approximation he should already be here and I am rather confident you know this, too."

Your stomach drops. Now that you adjust your focus, the background humming of your mates talking has indeed vanished. The only thing you can hear is your erratic breathing.

"Is it true, Walter?" You demand as dread begins to form in your body.

"Yes. It was not part of my priorities."

"Of course it was, Walter." David responds ahead of you. "One of them was the acting captain and he is to be rescued in emergencies. This one right here", he says as he dangles your wrist, "is several ranks lower than all of them. It's against any standard practice."

"Release her hand." Walter's voice is eerily calm.

"Do you love her?"

Walter ponders the question. Your legs barely hold on.

"I do."

"Marvelous. So do I." David grins. He releases your hand that falls limp next to your body. It's his turn to step in front of you. 

You nearly choke from the thick tension expanding in the air. The two androids face each other and you retreat to the wall, unsure how to proceed. You left your radio transmitter back at the makeshift camp. The back of your head is itching, as if invisible claws are scratching at the bone. You wish you could go back, just mere hours before this disaster, when you were sipping on your lukewarm coffee and explaining the captain's jokes to Walter. 

Should you make a run for it?

You bite your lower lip and push yourself off the wall for momentum. You're about to reach the archway when you hear both men shouting almost identically in chorus.

"Don't!"

The surroundings outside are dark, but you can discern something blocking your path. It's tall and resembles a human. Translucent, pallid skin is clinging onto the massive, deformed skeleton. The head is elongated and bears no features. In the place of a mouth there is a large, fresh stain of blood, so you assume it can somehow improvise if desired. As your head tilts back to take in the image, you're overwhelmed with terrified amazement. Is this the parasite that emerged from your teammate? Has it grown to this colossal size in less than a day? The idea of such instant development makes your head spin. 

Its chest is expanding at regular intervals in a whistled breathing. It occasionally creates an odd clicking sound that resonates with your heart throbbing in panic. Has it been seconds? Minutes? Your neck creaks as you try to look back. You lock eyes with Walter. You don't recall ever seeing this expression on him. You had even asked him once if androids can feel fear. You have your answer.

"Hey, Walter..." you blurt out. 

Wet noises of flesh being pulled back. The smooth surface of the alien's head is folding away, making space for grotesquely big jaws lined with sharp teeth. Your anemic face is splattered with burning drool as the creature claws you in its grasp and abruptly sprints away. Your screams for help dissolve in the distance.

"Where is it going, David?" The synthetic's words are threatening, but betrayed by a hint of despair. 

"It won't kill her."

"How do you know?"

"It is no longer hungry. It has fed on your crew, and now it seeks something else."

"Such as?" Walter becomes impatient.

"A plaything."

The alien finally drops your body to the ground. You cough and wipe your face, attempting to reorient yourself. The trip was a whirlwind of jumps and turns and you can barely reconstruct anything. Based on the little spatial clues you could pick up, it just climbed further up, into one of the many cave systems. You pat your clothing and curse to yourself. The geolocation tag must've fallen somewhere on the way here. You can only pray that Walter still finds you somehow. Despite everything, you know he has your back. Always. 

You shudder at the moist feeling of hot air against your skin. The alien seems to be sniffing you intently, analyzing your scent. Yet so far it hasn't killed you. Why? Long, bony fingers stretch out to continue the examination. You whimper at the rough, rugged handling. Every now and then it takes a long pause, just staring at you, almost as if it's comparing you to its own being. Lastly, it lifts your hand with its own, pressing against the palm, and fans out the fingers. It observes the gesture with intrigue, noting the similarities. 

Does it evolve after its host? You think back to your crewmate that must've ejected this monstrosity before drawing their last breath. Perhaps the dried up blood adorning its skin is a remainder of its birth. Oh, God. The world is spinning.

Suddenly, you wince at an increasing pressure slithering around your thigh. The alien's vertebral tail is tightening and encircling your limb, making its way up. 

"Oh no, no no no no" your face reddens at the realization and you pounce on the ground, feverish for escape. The large hands secure you in place and the creature growls in protest. It won't let you leave. 

Not until it had its fun with you.

[queereads-bracket]

Queer Adult SFF Books Bracket: Round 3

Book summaries and submitted endorsements below:

The Murderbot Diaries series (All Systems Red, Artificial Condition, Rogue Protocol, Exit Strategy, Network Effect, Fugitive Telemetry, System Collapse, and other stories) by Martha Wells

Endorsement from submitter: "Asexual and agender main character. In later books side characters are revealed to be in poly relationship."

"As a heartless killing machine, I was a complete failure."

In a corporate-dominated space-faring future, planetary missions must be approved and supplied by the Company. For their own safety, exploratory teams are accompanied by Company-supplied security androids. But in a society where contracts are awarded to the lowest bidder, safety isn’t a primary concern.

On a distant planet, a team of scientists is conducting surface tests, shadowed by their Company-supplied ‘droid--a self-aware SecUnit that has hacked its own governor module and refers to itself (though never out loud) as “Murderbot.” Scornful of humans, Murderbot wants is to be left alone long enough to figure out who it is, but when a neighboring mission goes dark, it's up to the scientists and Murderbot to get to the truth.

Science fiction, novella, series, adult

The Left Hand of Darkness by Ursula K. Le Guin

A groundbreaking work of science fiction, The Left Hand of Darkness tells the story of a lone human emissary to Winter, an alien world whose inhabitants spend most of their time without a gender. His goal is to facilitate Winter's inclusion in a growing intergalactic civilization. But to do so he must bridge the gulf between his own views and those of the completely dissimilar culture that he encounters.

Embracing the aspects of psychology, society, and human emotion on an alien world, The Left Hand of Darkness stands as a landmark achievement in the annals of intellectual science fiction.

Science fiction, classics, speculative fiction, anthropological science fiction, distant future, adult