

You’re never sure what to expect and, as the plot slowly unfolds, the questions keep on piling up. Story-wise you’re cast as an amnesiac man, Daniel, who wakes up in a strange castle with nothing by questions to keep him company. Most of that fearfulness and tension is bought about by the simple fact that Amnesia never lets you get really comfortable within the game world, going out of the way to remove safe havens where you might pause and plan your next move. It can make you scared at nothing, raising the thought of how terrifying it’ll be when something does happen. Then a thought strikes you and you wonder why was that so scary? Nothing happened! That’s how tense Amnesia can be.

Eventually you might muster the nerve to make a furious, desperate dash to the next well-lit area or point of safety, but if you’re anything like me then you’ll arrive panting for air. The opening hours of the game are spent inching along empty corridors, being occasionally unnerved by a flicker of shadow or a random noise, telling yourself that old reassurance – it’s just a game. It’s a more sophisticated approach to horror playing on psychological threats rather than physical ones. It must have been a terrible flossing accident
