On Morbidity and Madness

2017/10/16

Mad ramblings about a visual novel.

Doki Doki Literature Club is a pleasant little visual novel made by the three-man-band Team Salvato. It’s about being in a literature club in school, where you hang out with cute girls and exchange poems with them. It’s very much a slice-of-life. Its romance elements don’t come out too forward, so it’s enjoyable even to those who aren’t into dating sims. I particularly like how it highlights the role of literature, and how it uses this theme to convey its characters.

It’s available for free, so I don’t see what’s stopping you from just trying it out. Even if visual novels aren’t your thing, it’s definitely worth checking out.

Warning: This game is not suitable for children or those who are easily disturbed.

Ok, let’s cut the bullshit. I wish they have put more warnings than just that on the game’s front page. I wish they have a proper list of triggers. I wish they make it a point that those with depression or suicidal thoughts should just stay the hell away from it, because your mental condition is more important than playing a visual novel that everyone else is playing for some reason.

[ Gotta remind you that this game is best played blindly. But only if you can handle it! There’s no direct spoiler in this post, but it’s still best to just play the game yourself. ]

Why on earth do we play horror games? How morbid are we as a species that we love to see horrible things happen? And why do we stay to keep seeing more horrible things?

When the game threw its punch, I knew the punch was coming. I was downright clamouring for it, because the slice-of-life parts, while pleasant (so, so pleasant), isn’t really anything new to me and I played the game expecting something new. So I knew the punch was coming. So thought I was ready for it. When it finally came, it messed me up. I shut the game down. I cursed it. I vowed never to try it again, to actually listen for the trigger warnings the next time.

I started the game up again the next day.

And this knowing that it will all only go downhill from there.

I don’t think I have depression or at least, not at the moment. But last year I was in a pretty bad shape, with some pretty bad thoughts. I guess some of that still lingers, and this game just yanks on all those strings. I had to do some mental gymnastics afterwards to keep myself from going mad all over again.

And that’s scary. That’s scarier than any monsters or jumpscares you can show me.

On most horror media it’s easy to distance yourself from, well, the horrors. It’s all just monsters in the screen. Nothing’s changed in real life. In fact, that was one of the reason why I liked horror, especially last year. It gives you ghosts and monsters, it gives shapes to your fears, and because they have a shape, they can be vanquished.

That’s not the sort of defence you can put up against this game. You know very well that it’s just a game, that it’s all premeditated. But it’s not the what that’s gonna scare you shitless. It’s that creeping fear that something very very wrong has happened, that because if that can happens, then all the horrible things you thought was impossible might just as well happen.

So by this point I know there will be nothing but horrible things in the game. And I also know the cutesy interface is just a paper-thin disguise. The game also has no problem, at this point, showing you all the tears and the holes in that disguise. It gives you all that you want, now that you’re still going on with the game: a peek into the darkness beneath.

No other scenes afterwards would rock me as powerfully as that first perfect whiplash (although to be honest, after that scene I keep the volume down, minimises the window, and had a friend next to me while playing, so haha to me I guess). Now that it knows there’s no way to surprise you with scenes like that again, the game amps up its creeping dread all the way to its conclusion. Things go very wrong. Horrible things happen. And you’re still going to keep playing, aren’t you? Impressed by that perfect first scare, you’re gonna keep playing hoping to see something more, huh? People are morbid.

The only happy ending you can hope for this game is if you stop. If you just stop right before it shows the tears in its disguise, then none of this would have happened. You’ll have a happy slice-of-life to go with in your head. But noo, you want to keep going, you’re here for the horror, and you ain’t leaving until you get it.

It’s curious in that by the end, I grew to love the monster in that darkness. I cared for her. I started the game up again hoping that there will be more to it, but there isn’t, really. The game is very firm about its end.

There’s a different, although equally horrible, ending, said the internet. But I can’t bring myself to reinstall it and try again. The game feels alive, in some ways, at least in my head. And I wouldn’t want to kill the illusion.

The truth is we’re all running on illusion.

OK, let’s get a wee bit into spoiler territory.

DDLC is hella well-written. It knows you knows what it is and it gets away with surprising you anyway.

I like how it tackles the theme of depression, and how words, poems, literatures, can be used as a way to alleviate that, or at least to interact with it. I don’t particularly like how they use it as a punchline, because of course she’s gonna kill herself, of course. Using this as the obvious psychological horror trope just feels like a kick in the face, after how tightly it was handling it before.

But I guess that’s why it scared the hell outta me. The declaration that not even this is sacred.

It’s funny how successful the game is at making its messed-up characters still relateable. It’s funny how they’re still played as straight creepypasta material, but still also like someone that might just be you. This might happen to you too.

I look forward to whatever twisted or pleasant things Team Salvato comes up with.