1) P.T.
It’s fascinating, to me at least, that Hideo Kojima and Guillermo del Toro managed to make an hour-long demo more terrifying than any full-length video game I’ve ever had the pleasure of being traumatized by. More than anything, it’s a testament to the talent of both men’s craft that they were able to subvert the belief that repetition breeds familiarity, by making every subsequent run-through of that narrow hallway more intimidating than the last.
The almost overwhelming sense of tension present in P.T. comes not from the threat of monsters, as it does in all of the above entries, but from expectation. As each looped cycle from door A to door B plays out, you know that something on the way through is going to change, but not what. Is the locked bathroom door that so clearly has a purpose going to finally swing open this time around? Should I run the risk of losing bladder control and look over my shoulder as the ominous voice from the radio keeps telling me to?
The inevitable change that each cycle brings, coupled with the simple-yet-deliberate level design all coalesce together to form an atmosphere so oppressive that just putting one sheepish foot in front of the other becomes unbearable, to the extent that squinting as you turn the corridor’s sharp corner for the tenth time becomes a natural proactive reflex to shield your eyeballs from whatever awaits your arrival this time.
Even now, long after P.T.‘s secrets and scripted events have been well-documented, it still evokes a sense of uneasiness in me, and that can surely only be taken as a sign of excellent craftsmanship, surely? It makes me sad that the version of Silent Hills that P.T. promised will likely never come to fruition, but at least we’ll always have something to remember it by.