Silence. Two crouched shapes silhouetted in the moonlight, breath held tight as somethign stirs. A torch beam slices through the shadows; strange grasping limbs slide into view; tension mounts, hearts pound, and then suddenly a voice cuts in, “Hang on a minute, I’m just gonna run to the loo.”
Co-op in horror games doesn’t have the greatest rep. The argument’s simple – so obvious, it barely qualifies as an argument at all: horror thrives in isolation, silence is the foundation of tension, so shove a second person into the mix and even before you’ve both subconsciously slipped into idle chit-chat, the set-up is antithetical to sustained atmosphere.
Before I started writing this, I did briefly have a go at disproving the theory, seeing if I could think of some horror games that successfully pull co-op off, using it to enhance rather than detract from mood. In the end, though, my list was pretty small. Supermassive’s run of cinematic horrors – The Quarry, its Dark Pictures Anthology – do, I think, make it work. These are explicitly designed as popcorn blockbusters; the video game equivalent of a James Wan movie where everything is ultimately in service of a good jump scare. This is horror as a communal experience; where you’ll clench together, jump, and laugh together when it’s over. And, of course, it’s fun making decisions together and seeing how you fail or succeed as a team. Here, not much is lost to co-op, I reckon, and everything is gained. And I think co-op works for something like Phasmaphobia too, where the safety of companionship is the starting point, and it’s then deliberately exploited, introducing contrasting isolation and separation to build fear.
As to why I’ve been pondering all this, that’ll be Reanimal; Little Nightmares developer Tarsier Studios’ latest foray into horror – which, if you haven’t read my four star review, is a damn good time. It’s the tale of two young protagonists lost in a bleak, violent hellscape at once eerily familiar and thoroughly unknown. It’s also wonderfully, darkly atmospheric, its masterful artistry creating a thoroughly enveloping mood. That’s playing solo though, and after reaching the credits, I was curious how things might change with a friend in tow. If co-op really is a mood killer, and Reanimal’s most obvious asset is its ambience – how would it fare in two-player? Would it still work? Would it be its undoing? Might it even be improved?
It is, though, immediately evident that Tarsier’s thought carefully about co-op here. It’s baked right into the heart of the experience, and it’s rare that more than a few minutes are allowed to go by without our two protagonists – Boy and Girl – interacting in some way. In solo (still a great way to play), the inclusion of an AI-controlled second character and a bit of streamlining means it’s probably not something you’ll find yourself thinking about too much, but two-player co-op brings a different sort of texture, a little more friction, to proceedings.
The most obvious example is Renanimal’s crescendo chase sequences. Unsurprisingly, two players attempting to orchestrate their escape in real-time is far more likely to end in disaster than just one. But more interesting is the way Tarsier constantly plays around with the rhythm of co-op. Some interactions are so intuitive they barely require thought at all; you might reach an obvious impasse, for instance – a ledge requiring a leg-up, maybe – and you’ll both instinctively hit the corresponding buttons, no discussion required. Other times, coordination and communication are more crucial – when you’re cranking a handcar, say, or turning a valve. It feels like an attempt not just to inject some variety, but to introduce a flow that doesn’t ride roughshod over the atmosphere by constantly forcing players to natter away.
I’m not going to claim Reanimal doesn’t lose some of its ambience in the constant companionship of co-op, mind. It’s definitely, perhaps inevitably, one to play solo if you want the full uninterrupted force of its insidiously creeping menace. But even so, I think Tarsier’s found a space where co-op feels additive. It helps that Renanimal isn’t really interested in traditional scares; jolts and jumps are minimal, and there’s no intricate escalation of tension that might be undermined if your attention is suddenly pulled elsewhere. And it helps, too, that there’s just the barest wisp of story to focus on. But more than that, co-op feels like it gets to the heart of Reanimal, its tale of two doomed siblings lost in something like hell. What better way to reinforce that narrative bond – that one tiny sliver of hope and humanity – what better way to accentuate its emotional core, than by piggybacking on players’ real-life connections, allowing them to face hell together with a lover, a family member, or a friend?
I don’t want to oversell it, though. There’s nothing revolutionary, or even especially remarkable about Reanimal’s co-op. But the couple of hours I’ve revisited, this time in two-player mode, have been an unexpectedly good time. We’ve “oooh”ed together as Tarsier’s gorgeously cinematic camera swings for another big reveal; we’ve “oh no”ed together as the studio sets up its next big set-piece; we’ve laughed in the ensuing chaos; and more than that, we’ve shared a bond – two small things fighting together, thinking together, hunting for secrets together, helping each other – in a dark, unforgiving world.
All of which is me saying co-op is an enjoyably different way to experience Renanimal’s impressive artistry, even if it does mean the intensity of the mood is inevitably dialled down. And with split-screen couch-play and online co-op supported – even a friend pass so you only need to buy one copy to rope in a pal – it’s clear this isn’t a facet of Reanimal Tarsier is trying to hide away. But don’t be the mood killer – pee first, play later. That’s the golden rule.
