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I have yet to find a video game that labels itself as both cozy and horror. I mean, honestly, what does that even mean? You get scared, but you have fun doing it? You feel comforted by the horrors occurring all around you? I can think of a few ways such a strange scenario could play out, and I plan to develop a game to see what I can do with this esoteric genre mashup. In a different vein, many games use themes of horror and water, or horror and fishing, or horror and sailing. Sailing is pretty cozy when all the conditions are right: plot the course, anchor up, sails down, and hope you don’t get stuck in irons. Being stuck in irons is when the wind is going directly towards you, so there’s no forward lift, and you’re just unable to move. So that's the game idea. A cozy horror sailing game where you plot your course to different points of interest, direct your crew with various deck commands, and explore your boat as its captain. Pretty cozy, right? Oh yeah, and all of your electronics have stopped working, so you’re stuck on the open ocean with no lines of communication, no motor, and no land for miles. This is Stuck in Irons.


The brigantine Irving Johnson.

Let’s back up first and describe how this game idea even came about. I’m a student game designer with years of experience in both major game engines, Unity and Unreal. I’ve made many personal and group projects, but I haven’t put the time into officially releasing a game yet. On a whim, I decided to sign up for a seamanship and navigation course with my friends this past semester. There is so much to learn about sailing and its history, but what really caught my attention was the role of the fiddler. Bear with me. The fiddler (or general musician) aboard large vessels would play songs that would match different deck commands from the captain. Slower-paced songs would imply a sustained effort, like raising and lowering the sails, while a faster upbeat song asks for rapid motions, like pulling lines. This fascinated me, and I immediately wanted to figure out how to gamify this system. Additionally, the entire process of navigation with both stars and physical charts was so engaging for me, and I’m now highly invested in making a similar system with the same tactile and satisfying feel. And so began the idea I’m now calling Stuck in Irons (kudos to my friend for coming up with that one).


San Pedro Channel nautical chart.

But what is this writing actually for? I’ve always been a big fan of atmospheric horror games, where your imagination and fears are your own worst enemy. Some games that inspire me most are Iron Lung and Voices of the Void, both of which do atmospheric horror fantastically in different ways. However, I’ve never played any sailing games in my life, and it’s very hard to build off of a genre if I don’t know what’s already out there. Therefore, I’ve started this series to discuss various games that I have played or will be playing as market and design research. Each entry will contain a summary/review of the game, its main mechanic(s) of interest, and what I will be twisting/innovating on. And just for funsies, I’ll also talk a bit about the features of the main sailboat in the game, or my favorite if there is more than one to choose from.

Out soon.

Summary
I’m not sure if this was its intention, but Dredge gives me a (cautious) sense of comfort - even despite the various Lovecraftian horrors. It might be due to the calming soundtrack or the soft bells that announce the morning. It could also be from the simple fishing mechanic that feels so satisfying to master. Whatever the case, the strange comfort I feel is perfectly paired with the horror elements, and I get a visceral sense of dread whenever something uncanny happens. Dredge is a single-player horror fishing game, where you sail out and fish or dredge the waters, come back to town and sell your catch, then use the cash to upgrade your boat to get out farther. Between all of this, you also have to manage quests from the different village NPCs, be careful not to hit rocks or cause damage to your vessel, and don’t stay out at night. You really shouldn’t. The mechanics form a tight system that allows the player a lot of freedom of choice, while also giving some sense of structure through the NPCs' orders. The given map also displays your location automatically, and promises islands out of your reach when you first start exploring.



Main Mechanic(s) of Interest
The main mechanic I found most innovative was the horror atmosphere/sleep management system. First, though, something important to note is that time only flows when you’re moving or fishing. This gives the player a sense of security that nothing will happen unless they’re explicitly doing something. Sleeping, honestly, feels useless at first. It is pretty much pitch black at night, and rocks can seemingly come out of nowhere, but it’s more time to make money so why not do so? It’s not horribly difficult to stumble on a fishing spot in the dark, and there are certain fish that can only be caught at night anyway. But not sleeping has pretty dire consequences for your character’s psyche, causing them to see…things. And what I love about this system is it’s entirely the player’s fault. There’s no unfair roll of the dice chance you’ll sink your ship just because the horrors say so; every lack-of-sleep instance or ship damage from rocks is because of the player’s choices. Another element of horror Dredge does incredibly well is the corrupted fish you have a chance of catching. They are grotesque, horrid things that get pulled up with an eerie sound effect cue. You almost wish they didn’t fit in your boat. It’s a small event (at least at the beginning of the game), but it so clearly reminds you that this game is not meant to be comforting, or cozy, or calm, but terrible and ugly.


A corrupted fish.

The Twist/Innovation
Setting really is everything when it comes to horror. Figuring out how to design horror environments when the only setting is an ocean isn’t necessarily a challenge, but it does present multiple limitations. Stuck in Irons will be set entirely on the open ocean. No other ships, no land, just emptiness. Even with the ability to interact with your crew members and the constant presence of other characters, solitude on the open ocean gives ample opportunity for horror. In Dredge, it’s heavily implied that you are the only boat willing to go out and fish. At night, however, there’s a small chance to run across a ship that blows a foghorn to grab your attention, then disappears without a trace when you get near. This small event is incredibly unsettling and reminds the player that nothing is certain at sea, and they might not be able to tell what’s real. The main experience goal that I am working towards is that the player will feel a sense of unease as they navigate the open ocean to fix research buoys, while attempting to regain contact with…anyone, really. At the same time, they should feel comforted by their crewmates, enforcing the mentality that not all is lost. Being stuck at sea with no comms is immediately a pretty tense situation for the player to be in. However, there is an innate beauty about the sea, sailing on open water, and being surrounded by other characters that will keep the player grounded. Designing a successful horror environment that is also cozy will definitely be a challenge, but I will keep Dredge in mind while doing so.


A ghost ship in the distance.

Ship of Interest
The ship in Dredge is a small powerboat made for fishing, only equipped with a cabin for steering and a below-deck space for storing catches. It’s a very simple ship, but very versatile, with many different upgrades available depending on how you want to play.

Out soon.

Summary
I must admit something terrible. I did not play this game. Or rather, I literally couldn’t because all the servers have shut down, and the game has been dead for probably 3 years at this point. However, I did play the single-player tutorial, in addition to watching multiple captain gameplay tutorials to get the gist of it. In its heyday, at least, Blackwake was a 13 vs 13 PvP game where you play as a crewmate (or the captain) on various types of ships and engaged in battle against enemy vessels. You could have up to four ships battling each other at a time, which obviously became very chaotic very quickly. One player would be designated as captain to shout orders to the crew and steer the ship. I spent most of my time in the tutorial fixing sails, shooting cannons, climbing around the ship, and I got to board the enemy ship (at which point the game stopped working. Yay!)



Main Mechanic(s) of Interest
The main mechanics I found appealing are the repair jobs around the ship, as well as the general role of captain in organizing and ordering around the crew. For repairs, I specifically enjoyed climbing up into the sails and fixing holes and tatters. I appreciate that the design of this mechanic affects other aspects of the battle (the fewer holes a sail has, the faster the ship can go), which puts a sense of urgency on players to get things fixed quickly. For the captain role, I thought it was fascinating to see the organization and awareness that players must have for their surroundings. And, on top of that, the captain has to manage real people. All they can really do (besides steering the ship, which is a captain's exclusive job) is shout orders and point out danger and ask for help and just pray they’re listened to. They also have to protect themselves to the best of their ability, while also attempting to constantly assess the situation and adjust accordingly.


Shooting an enemy ship.

The Twist/Innovation
I do think the actual mechanic of repair was a bit simple (just hold E for 3 seconds), but this was a necessary design choice because of the real-time aspect and time pressure surrounding the player. I will be taking the idea of this mechanic and expanding it to take more time, to make the player feel like they are actually fixing something that is broken. I went on a sailing voyage in late February, and the main thing my captain said she hated about the job was when things broke. Having the player constantly checking and double-checking their surroundings is a good way to push them to explore their ship and get comfortable identifying problems when they arise. I would like to utilize a similar consequence system to Blackwake’s repair mechanic. Time is a big question for my game; how will players spend their time when they are not navigating or managing crew? If they don’t have much to do, scouring for repair needs will be a lot easier than if they constantly feel like they’re doing something. For managing the crew, I will have a few key NPCs who will have very specific jobs, whom the player will manage. So, considering a perfectly designed Blackwake team with the best captain and most responsive crew, the systems will actually be very similar. My crew will have jobs such as raising and lowering the anchor, as well as raising and lowering the sails. The captain will also manage navigation, course plotting, and steering, though I want to make it a bit more realistic compared to Blackwake.


A Galleon.

Ship of Interest
Blackwake offers various ships that give different advantages or disadvantages depending on their build. My favorite is the Galleon, a triple-masted, multi-deck ship with square-rigged sails. It’s the only ship in the game with a completely enclosed cabin below deck.

Out soon.

Summary
Voices of the Void is NOT a sailing game. There aren’t any nautical ships to be found. However, there’s an absurdity to this game, a looming promise of danger in a supposedly empty landscape, that results in a strangely cozy horror game I just can’t seem to put down. VotV is essentially a job simulator, where you play as a lone researcher in a remote base collecting signals from outer space. You complete a wide variety of mundane tasks, from driving your ATV to different satellite dishes every day for routine checks, to transformer and power repairs, to cleaning up your base. All while doing this, you begin exploring the surrounding area, an expansive forest with not a hint of wildlife. You are decidedly alone. There is no ambient music track to keep you company like every other simulation game. It is you, your ATV, and the signals from outer space. You have 14 full-day cycles, 2 whole weeks, where everything seems mostly fine. Then things get weird, and suddenly you know you aren’t alone, but you can’t pinpoint where or how or why. The false comfort of the initial quiet builds up a perfect atmospheric horror game, where your worst enemy is you and your overactive imagination.



Main Mechanic(s) of Interest
There are a multitude of complex systems in VotV, as well as narrative beats that I think are incredibly innovative for the genre. I greatly enjoy the design of the task system and day/night cycle, which gives a loose game loop and structure to playthroughs. Despite the outside horrors unfolding right outside your door, you still have to gather the requested data and process a certain number of signals. It also gives a great grounding point for players when they feel overwhelmed by choice, which this game has in abundance. One day/night cycle is also 45 real-life minutes, which gives the player a lot of time to get everything accomplished, but also not feel like they’re waiting around to sleep, so the next day can start. Finally, there’s a potentially unintentional narrative arc about companionship and reliance, and what happens when your routine gets disrupted, which is what makes this game so special. There is a very important late-game crafting recipe, the Kerfur-Omega, which is a robot that will essentially do your tasks for you. Your workload becomes nonexistent, allowing you to spend more time on cleaning, decorating, and exploring. Sure, the robot is a bit uncanny, sometimes coming back to base after doing tasks and standing right behind you (which is a certain jumpscare for me, at least). But it’s a companion, and you finally aren’t alone. Until one day it gets taken or hidden or broken (there’s a variety of ways you can lose Kerfur, sometimes even permanently). You’ve gotten so complacent working like a well-oiled machine with your companion that to take that help away, especially while everything else is horrifically going to pieces around you, is devastating. Screenshots can't come close to doing it justice.


Red sky event.

The Twist/Innovation
The biggest issue I’ve come across design-wise is how to fill the time spent moving between overarching task points. Voices of the Void gives the player a lot of choices for what they want to do during their free time, but that’s also because the map is so large that it has the space for all that choice. Being stuck on a boat greatly limits the options available to the player, but real-life sailing crews did have a variety of options. The player will be able to clean, make repairs, play games with the crew below deck, talk with the crew to learn more about them, climb around and explore the ship, etc. I also want to incorporate a similar day/night cycle, as I think that will create a good space for the player to slip into an easy routine. Here, though, there are more interesting things to do on a ship at night than just sleep. With anchor down, the player will have to take important data like position and bearings to make sure the anchor is tethered properly, as well as information such as sea state, wind direction, and barometric pressure.


Paper aliens that real aliens leave as gifts.

Ship of Interest
As of right now, there are no sailboats in the game - unless you want to print one with the industrial-strength 3D printer (I’m not kidding). Ships from…elsewhere, however, are frequent. If we’re counting those (I am), the warp arrow is my favorite.

Out soon.

Summary
As much as I want to say that Iron Lung is not a sailing game…it does kind of have the right idea. In Iron Lung, you play as Simon, a convict sentenced to be welded into what is basically a metal coffin, and sent to the bottom of a blood ocean to look for…anything, really. You have no view of the liquid you are submerged in; instead, you use an X-ray camera to take photos of the sea floor. You navigate through tight canals with a paper map and glowing coordinates on your dash, only able to speed up, slow down, and rotate. Your objective is simple: take pictures at the marked coordinates on the map, and you get to go home. There’s a specific type of terror that comes from being blind to your surroundings, but it’s also a weird kind of comfort. It’s convincing to think that “if I can’t see it, it can’t hurt me” and that semi-comfort carries through the game’s entire playthrough. You sense the danger all around you, but even with the oxygen slowly depleting, you feel semi-safe in your iron lung. At least whatever’s out there can’t get inside.


Navigation chart with waypoints.

Main Mechanic(s) of Interest
The entire game loop of Iron Lung revolves around plotting a course to a target, moving down that course, and adjusting as necessary. Then you engage with the target via the camera, earn a green check on the map, and plot to the next. There is a set number of targets, and checking each off makes the player feel a sense of completion and renewed hope that there are just a few more to go until it’s over. I think both the navigation and tasks are designed very well to give the player something to constantly focus on. For movement and navigation, the capsule doesn’t move unless the player presses forward. This means that whenever the player wants to move, they can’t be doing anything else, like checking the map for a wall. There are proximity sensors that tell you if you’re too close to something, and you can see your coordinates on the dashboard. However, there’s a frantic feeling that comes from switching back and forth between the map and the coordinates and your destination, and hearing the proximity sensor go off all of a sudden, even though you haven’t moved, which means that something else did. It’s horrifying (and really, really well executed). It also gives the player a bit of choice when it comes to their actions. Besides the oxygen counter going down, the pressure to move feels relatively low. You can stop in (what you think is) a large cavern, poke around the ship for anything interesting, and plot a course before moving again. Even though these choices are pointless and you’re hurtling towards certain doom regardless, the illusion of agency is important to make the player think they are still in control.


Photo taken for a task.

The Twist/Innovation
I think mundanity and routine in absurd situations is such an interesting concept to explore both narratively and mechanically. I want to incorporate a similar type of task system, but have the tasks spawn randomly instead of having a set number to complete. This will require some other form of progression to make the player feel like they’re working towards something. While I’m not quite sure what that will look like yet, having some sort of upgrade system that can slowly make the player’s job easier and give them more time to do other things is a good place to start. To start out, the actual navigation mechanic will be fairly complex, requiring the player to plot their course using triangulation and calculating distance and bearing and such. I would also like the player to have to check their speed and progress with a dead reckoning (DR) using their previous information. Over time, it would be nice to give the player upgrades to make parts of that system easier, so it doesn’t take the routine away, but lifts some of the weight.


The blood ocean.

Ship of Interest
The iron lung is…certainly a vessel, to say the least. It has coordinates, an engine, and a computer in the back, and more or less functions like a deep-sea diving contraption. Besides the fact that you’re welded in, of course.

Out soon.

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Out soon.