Fatal Frame: when we become the directors of our own fears

Why are we afraid when we play a horror game? What is it that inspires that strange but delightful feeling of terror? A simple jumpscare at the corner of a corridor? The monsters you face? The soundscape? If the answer is somewhat complex, we can say that it’s a mixture of all these elements. After all, from its very beginnings, survival horror has always used these tools to frighten us. Nevertheless, there’s someone whose role is often overlooked. Especially nowadays.

This tool is the camera. Our anchor in a hostile videogame world. Our eyes, our means of finding our way in the shadows. Survival horror is a genre in which the camera shines brightly, as we are truly challenged by the way it is “manipulated”. The quotation marks are not insignificant, because sometimes you’re not quite in control of it. It can be imposed on us, and we then have to learn to make it our own, to unravel its mechanisms. Sometimes we’re aware of it, but the opposite is also true.

On the whole, the use of the camera, at least in horror, is beyond our grasp. This is especially true of the genre’s infancy, which began in the early 90s. It doesn’t belong to us, but to the developers. They decide on its placement, and when they don’t, they dictate the staging. Everything is calculated with millimetre precision so that we are immersed in fear, without being able to remedy it in any way (unless we turn off the screen). But what if we swapped roles? If the director’s hat passed from the game’s creators to us, the players?

The role of the camera in survival horror

Camera placement has always been a great art in survival horror. If we go back to the very beginnings of the genre with Alone in the Dark in 1992, we can see that there was already this desire to frighten through the use of the camera. But how? By using fixed viewing angles. They block the player’s vision, leaving him unable to see what’s going on around him. If he wants to find out, he has to venture to the edges of the screen to make the camera change angle. A simple concept, but one so effective that it will find its way into a multitude of future creations.

In fact, fixed camera angles became very popular, thanks in part to the Resident Evil franchise, which appeared in 1996. Many examples should come to mind, all of which had an impact on the public at the time, such as the dog scene. It’s no coincidence. The camera was the studios’ main weapon of terror. For some, it was even a good way of getting around the technical limitations of the media at their disposal. Where, for example, an action game lets you move the camera as you please, survival horror takes away all control over how you see your space. A setting that makes us suffocate, a loss of our usual landmarks: what could be more conducive to conveying dread?

In a different vein, the very first Clock Tower used Point & Click gameplay combined with a tableau structure to distill panic in the player. Once again, the use of the camera eludes us. It moves from left to right at the same time as our character. If you’re in the middle of a large room, and you hear a sudden noise, it’s impossible to know where it’s coming from. You have to make a decision that isn’t a decision at all, take a leap of faith and flee. A real toss-up that must have traumatized more than one person.

The same applies to the first Silent Hill. Fixed angles of view are swapped for a camera that follows us from behind. However, this placement is not insignificant. We’re constantly turning our backs on any threat that might be there. This use of point-of-view increases tenfold the role of the fog, itself a barrier to our gaze as players. It’s as if we’re powerless, plunged into a vast, unknown ocean where danger can come from any direction. It may not be as effective as Resident Evil, but it’s no less interesting. We get to know our enemies, but not the virtual camera, which keeps its trump cards up its sleeve.

As you’ll have gathered, one of the specialties of survival horror in the 90s and early 2000s was the camera. You may not realize it when you’re holding the controller, but nothing is left to chance by the developers. The reduction of our field of vision, the noises that draw us towards a blind spot, are all ways of making us realize that the camera is not an ally. It’s an enemy in its own right, and it’s going to get in our way throughout the adventure. And one of the masters in that field was born in 2002, making history in the process.

The Fatal Frame case: you’re the director

Indeed, in the early 2000s, Tecmo brought us a new franchise called Fatal Frame on a silver platter. A series of horror games plunging us into the heart of places haunted by ghosts with dark pasts. Our objective is often the same: we must shed light on the events that led these spectres to remain in the mortal world. The fact that we’re dealing with wandering souls is not unimportant for what’s to come, but for the moment, we’ll set that aside. At first glance, there’s nothing to declare in terms of camera placement compared to its contemporaries. It can follow us from behind, or sometimes adopt fixed angles. In short, it’s a mixture of everything we’ve known since Alone in the Dark.

However, there’s a very specific element that upsets our usual survival horror perspective: the Camera Obscura. It’s a camera with supernatural powers. With it, you can repel ghosts that attack you. All you have to do is equip it, frame the spirit and take the photo. This action makes them disappear, but not only. One thing all Fatal Frame games have in common is that they are played in third-person view. A great classic of the time, where subjective view is now the norm. However, the use of Camera Obscura, in all the games of the series, causes a shift in the point of view. It switches to first-person view, and we are then free to move the lens around us. That way, we become a true cameraman, analyzing every nook and cranny of our surroundings to unearth whatever might be lurking there.

We’re not dealing with the kind of horrific mechanics we’re used to seeing. With the press of a button on the joystick, the player is given direct control of the camera, giving them a sense of power over the game’s threats. It’s an ingenious way of giving us a stronger grip on an element that usually eludes us completely in third-person survival horror. We’re at once confident, since we’re handling a weapon, and wary. Not only is our field of vision limited, we’re left to our own devices, free to move the camera as we please.

That’s the difference with a third-person viewpoint. But in the end, isn’t it just the same as a subjective view camera? On paper, one might be tempted to agree, but there’s a distinction to be made here. Fatal Frame is still a game that is played from sometimes fixed angles, or with a camera that follows you from a distance. It’s when we take out the Camera Obscura that we switch viewpoints. In other words, we become the director at that very moment. And not only if a fight is called for. At any time, you can use the camera to scan your surroundings. It’s as if we were taking pictures, but for a very specific purpose: to scare ourselves.

For example, if you arrive in a corridor and can’t see what’s at the end, you can simply pull out the Camera Obscura to see what’s in front of you. This runs the risk of coming across a nasty surprise, which makes the action all the more frightening. To make matters worse, moving the camera is cumbersome, unlike a simple first-person view where you can move the camera at speed. Here, to change the angle of view, you have to put the camera away, then make a U-turn with a character that spins as fast as an ocean liner. No pressure. That said, sometimes you’ll simply scan a room you’re in with the camera to flush out an object or find out where to go. But even with this banal action, you still manage to feel fear. This is because the game has accustomed us to using the subjective view in the event of danger. As a result, in any situation where we use subjective view, tension builds, even though there isn’t necessarily a threat in front of us.

It all comes full circle once you get used to this aspect of the gameplay. Wielding the Camera Obscura puts you in a perilous position, but it’s also a good way of finding the horror where it’s hidden. Hence the comparison with the role of director. We’re here to get the adrenalin from using this second virtual camera. We enter a building, scan the corridors, the rooms, the walls, for the macabre pleasure of being able to scare ourselves. And we’re the ones who go looking for it. We can arrive in a new place, our hearts pounding from the threat lurking in the shadows, all exacerbated by this subjective point of view, only to realize that there’s nothing there. Whereas a purely first-person horror game might be more predictable. In Fatal Frame, you never know when terror is going to strike: when you’re walking around, or when you’re most vulnerable with your camera? That’s where a technique well known to many of the arts comes into play: over-framing.

Over-framing

First of all, what is overframing? It’s a way for an artist to highlight an element in his or her work by “framing” it. A frame within a frame. For example, a shot in a film showing a door opening onto the outside world falls within the definition of over-framing, provided it is clearly visible. Below, this shot from the film Inglourious Basterds (2009) is an over-frame: we’re inside the house, and the door and what lies beyond it are highlighted by the obscured appearance of the rest of the décor. There is the outer frame, that of the director’s camera, and the second, symbolized by the horizontal and vertical lines of the door in question.

It’s easier to show than to explain, but at least you have some idea of what it’s all about. Well, once again, it’s a question of perspective. In Fatal Frame and many other similar productions, when you’re in the third person, it’s hard to talk about over-framing. The specificity of our interested party is its ability to change its angle of view, leaving us with literally two cameras in our hands: that of the player and that of the main character. So, since we’re in charge of directing these subjective-view moments, isn’t the same true of the over-framing technique? After all, we’re the ones “filming”, so we can frame whatever we like.

Any game in the franchise will put you in this situation. You take out the Camera Obscura and, perhaps without realizing it, frame an open door leading to an empty room. Two frames will then appear, the same ones we’ve already mentioned: the outer one, symbolized by the edges of the camera, and the inner one, represented by the vertical and horizontal lines of the object being filmed, in this case a door. This is not to say that there’s no such thing as a third-person view, but in the case of Fatal Frame, it’s obvious when you’re in subjective view. Without the use of Camera Obscura, there’s little to no over-framing, because it’s the Camera Obscura that puts us in the shoes of the cameraman or director.

Now the question is, what effect does the use of over-framing have on the player? In concrete terms, it accentuates a situation designed to convey a sense of dread. Sometimes, the game encourages us to use the Camera Obscura to take a closer look at an area. That said, there are also times when we’ll use it uninvited. At that moment, we don’t necessarily expect to come across a threat or a horrific element. Which makes its potential framing terrifying. In fact, we even have a specialist in this field within the franchise, in the person of Fatal Frame 3.

Fatal Frame 3, the double game of staging

If the focus is now on Fatal Frame 3, it’s because it occupies a singular place in the license environment. And for a reason that may escape us at first glance. However, it is unique in the way it puts into perspective our use of its most iconic tool. His technique is simple: oppose two worlds. First, the world of dreams, where we spend most of our time. This is where we investigate, confront ghosts and risk our lives at every turn. Then there’s the real world. Every morning, we wake up in bed, and before we leave, we take stock of what we’ve learned. It’s precisely this part that interests us here.

Rei, the game’s main character, is a photographer, so she has her own camera that she almost never leaves. It’s not the Camera Obscura, because we’re not in the other dream world where she is. So there’s nothing special about it. Yet the game gives us the freedom to use it. But why? What’s the point, if not a storyline logic linked to our protagonist’s profession? That’s the subtlety of this mechanic, because it’s taken in the wrong direction. We’ve been created a habit which, in the process, has given us confidence in our ability to survive and face up to the fright. But when we return to reality, we’re helpless, with only a camera to use. What to do if there’s a threat?

We become paranoid. If we’re given the opportunity to take snapshots in the real world, it’s because something bad is going to happen to us. There’s no other plausible reason. So we start using it, framing here and there, like a ghost hunter trying to peek into an invisible world. After all, it’s no coincidence that you’re being attacked by spirits. In Fatal Frame 3, reality is supposed to be our refuge, but when the first-person camera pops up again, this sense of security is turned on its head. And although strange and inexplicable things happen in our house, in truth, we’re never really in mortal danger. It’s just a matter of putting our heads together. Once again, the virtual camera is at the center of our preoccupations, and we prefer to stay in the third person, which takes us further away from danger than the first.

In this sense, over-framing is prominent in this opus. As I’ve already explained, in the real world, we’re not in any real danger. Instead, the game will invite us to direct our gaze, the virtual camera, to specific areas of the screen to highlight inexplicable events. This is when we’ll use our camera, narrowing our field of vision to a given point. Admittedly, we lose some of the naturalness of the staging, but the intended effect remains the same. We’re afraid of a tool we’re so used to wielding in the medium.

Now there’s a question. Attention is focused on the Fatal Frame franchise, but aren’t there other examples? Is it really the only one to give such a singular role to the camera, turning us into directors of our own fears? The successors seem to be numerous, and I’m sure you already have a few titles in mind. We’re tempted to say yes, but the truth is, it’s a bit more complicated than that.

Dreadout, Outlast, Blair Witch, worthy heirs to this use of the camera?

When we think of heirs to the unique use of the camera in a horror game, a few titles come to mind. The first that springs to mind is Outlast. A name that must resonate in you, for better or for worse. Our character is equipped with a modern camera that enables him to see in the dark, thanks to night vision. As a result, we find ourselves using it quite often, which offers a different perspective on the experience, almost verging on found footage. A found footage that we, the players, have discovered and whose events we unravel in this game.

However, it’s difficult to draw a comparison with Fatal Frame and the place the camera occupies in the franchise. Firstly, because there’s a drastic difference in point of view. In Outlast, we’re in first-person view, so there’s no clean cut when we pull out the camera to light up in the dark. Unlike Fatal Frame, where the basic point of view is third-person. It’s the use of Camera Obscura that switches us to subjective view. The only thing that catches our eye is the battery level, which we have to keep an eye on to avoid running out at the wrong moment.

In the case of Outlast, for example, it’s hard to speak of over-framing, since there’s little distinction between having the camera down or in your hands. The point of view remains the same, and we use it more as a simple game mechanic to get our bearings. To put it another way, it adds almost nothing in terms of staging, and there are few times when Outlast uses the camera to scare us. Very often, it’s not needed, and we’re more likely to get our adrenaline fix through jumpscares. As for Fatal Frame‘s Camera Obscura, while it remains a gameplay tool used to conjure up clues or repel ghosts, its role goes beyond its entertainment aspect.

But Outlast isn’t the only example we have. What about a horror game like Blair Witch? After all, in the only film that exists (any sequels? What sequels?), there’s this idea of a flickering, amateurish, panicked handheld camera that heightens the tension during viewing. We’re not omniscient, removed from the action by an outside point of view. We’re trapped by the frame, with no release, it’s suffocating. That said, the game is quite different, in the sense that the camera is an anecdotal mechanic. It’s not a replacement for the subjective viewpoint, but rather a gameplay tool like any other. This isn’t a bad thing, far from it, but once again, the comparison with Fatal Frame‘s Camera Obscura is irrelevant.

So far, I’ve been deliberately citing “bad examples”, but there are many that can easily be linked to Fatal Frame, one of the best-known being DreadOut. This duology by Digital Happiness is a direct successor to Koei Tecmo’s license, and rightly so. To put you in the context of the first opus released in 2014, we take on the role of a high school girl who finds herself trapped in an abandoned town. Things quickly get out of hand when she comes face to face with paranormal entities trying to kill her. And to defend herself, she’s going to use her cell phone.

DreadOut adopts a third-person view, but as you’ve probably guessed by now, if you’re using your phone, you switch to first-person. However, it’s not quite like Fatal Frame. Once we’ve taken it out, we can see it in our hand, and it can illuminate what’s in front of us. As a result, our gaze is drawn to the bottom of the screen, not to the middle like many first-person horror games. It’s only when you want to take a photo that the camera comes to stand in front of your face, like the Camera Obscura. You could almost say that there are three distinct points of view, two of which are merged within the first-person view. An ingenious method that reinforces the fear of using this new virtual camera, perfectly integrated into the game’s universe.

In that regard, DreadOut has revived this approach to staging in horror, where we can change our point of view and manipulate the virtual camera as we see fit. Unlike Fatal Frame, this translates into a more modern device, namely the smartphone. However, the mechanics of these games are essentially the same. Only the method differs, but not the heart of the proposition, which seeks to remind us of those old days when we could wield the Camera Obscura. Nevertheless, unlike its ancestor, Dreadout is perhaps less versed in the technique of over-framing, being more dirigiste in the way it directs our gaze towards points of interest on the screen.

What’s more, the phone is mainly used for defensive purposes, which means we’re less likely to come across passages where we’re trying to get a closer look at certain places thanks to it. The staging doesn’t have the same flavour, although this isn’t the case for the players’ roles. The fear of taking out the phone and switching to a more threatening viewpoint, far from the sense of security offered by the third person, is always present. As a result, DreadOut is probably the closest thing we have to a worthy heir to Fatal Frame, something it makes no secret of.

The videogame camera is a fascinating object of study, and survival horror exploits it in a very special way. If Fatal Frame has been in the spotlight, it’s because of its unique use of the camera, which is not found in many other productions. Despite its long history, this franchise remains fascinating for what it offers in terms of staging, point of view and the player’s role as director of his or her own fears. It only takes one detail – that of giving us back control of something that usually escapes us in horror – to stimulate our imagination and breathe new life into the definition of fear in video games.

The examples may be difficult to find, but this is what makes it such an interesting case. In an era where the subjective view is privileged, and where we have a free handling of the camera, one can think that it has nothing new. And yet, it is this change of point of view, this transition from the third to the first person, that is peculiar. This constant overshooting of our playground, to get out of their hole the horrifying elements left by the developers. This is what gives us the illusion of shaping the staging during our wanderings in this sinister universe.

This is how we become aware of another side of the camera, oh how powerful in survival horror. We may tend to forget its importance, where it is more obvious when its positioning is fixed. The latter forces us to comply with its demands. Fatal Frame juggles these two concepts: on the one hand, we are subject to its placements, and on the other hand, we use it freely and feverishly in subjective view. A brilliant feat that probably helped to make the license into the history of the genre. If the desire to live a horror story on the background of Japanese folklore takes you following these few lines, I hope you have learned the lesson: the camera is not your friend.

Sources

David Rivet. Séance 7 : qu’est-ce que le surcadrage ?. Upopi. 2014.