Hey guys! Ryuo here!

This is... kind of an experimentational thing. Lately, I've felt this urge to get a creative load off my mind. This VN has been a huge part of my life for the last couple of years, and I really want to talk about all the crap that goes through my head. I usually try to keep my thought process kinda hidden, but I thought... fuck it. So, I just sat down and wrote whatever garbage came out of my mind. Think of it as a kind of dev diary! I really struggle to answer the question 'what gave you inspiration for Soulcreek?', so this might give some insight as to why the story came out the way it did! If it works and people like it, hell... maybe I'll do more! Sorry it turned into something of a pretentious  essay... turns out I had more on my mind than I thought. So, if you want to know what's going on in this otter's head, enjoy! (Warning: there are mild-spoilers in this, so read up to the current build if you'd prefer to avoid those).

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What does cosmic horror mean to me?

A self-obsession essay where a dumb otter tries to figure out what the fuck he's doing.

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When I was a young otter...

I was about seven years old when I learned about the Titanic. I was particularly drawn to the actual sinking itself - the break-up, the foundering, and the depth at which the wreckage settled. For some reason nobody could quite understand, it utterly terrified me. 

I had frequent nightmares about sinking ships and falling into the ocean, slowly sinking to the bottom. People thought I’d developed a fear of water, but I was a good swimmer and still enjoyed going to my local swimming pool to splash about in the deep end. Others consoled me that those tragic historical events were a long time ago, technology has moved on, the cold was the real danger that night and so on - but, still, I was afraid. Traumatised, even.

Here’s the thing: despite my apparent terror at the concept of sinking ships, I didn’t want to stop thinking about them. I couldn’t. When we went to the seaside I’d still wade into the ocean, staring out and feeling the dread creeping in. It was an addiction. When I drew pictures in class, they were of sinking ships. I always remember turning the page portrait so I could draw the waterline and the ship at the very top of the paper to make the ocean seem as deep as possible. 

So why couldn’t I stop thinking about it? Why did I replay my nightmares in my head during my car journeys to school, as though they were the most fascinating things imaginable? I was transfixed by the Titanic’s fate.

I couldn’t possibly have understood the concept of thalassophobia as a seven year old. Neither could I conceptualise my allure for horror and the way it made me feel so alive and inspired. As an adult, I have a better grasp of what younger-me was thinking. Horror takes me outside of myself. I’m confronted with ideas and images my imagination is too shallow or afraid to create by itself, and the result is a physical reaction born of adrenaline that just can’t be topped - the beating of my heart, the sweating, the tingling of my fingers. I was obsessed. I wanted more. 

But there was something off with my growing horror-phase. As I got older, others opened up about the genre to me… but nothing really grabbed me. True horror films just didn’t interest me. To this day, they’ve never really replicated that same sense of dread I felt about the ocean. Those films weren’t real. The problem was that I hadn’t quite tweaked on why the ocean and the sinking ship gripped me so much as a child.

I know now that  it’s because I couldn’t explain my fear that I was so drawn to it. The conversation always goes something like this:

Why are you scared of the ocean?

I don’t know.

Is it that you’re scared of dying on a ship?

No.

Is it that you’re afraid of drowning?

No.

Then what?

I don’t know.

It was those words, ‘I don’t know’, that captivated me. The nightmares were always the same - I’m trapped underwater, paralysed, by fathomless water with no bottom. In front of me, some distance away, the sinking ship has its bow halfway into the ocean - huge, terrifying, as it slowly dips deeper and deeper with a deep, resounding groan. I could only watch. If I tried to swim, I’d just stay completely still. I can’t move. Oddly, I’m not drowning… breathing doesn’t matter. I’m just trapped, in this abyss, watching this monstrous vessel of steel being swallowed into darkness. That was the most horrible part - the ship. It’s in the water, with me, this… metallic citadel, beyond huge. It’s like it’s touching me with its mass. My skin crawls. I need to get out. I can’t bear it, being able to see this thing, even so far away. It’s enormous. Then, I look up, and see another ship sinking - right on top of me, about to crush me. I see the giant propeller, bearing down. That’s when I’d wake up.

Yeah, watching Alien for the first time was scary too, and I love that film - but nothing, nothing, will ever petrify me more than that dream.

If I close my eyes it'll go away, right?

As I got older, it was inevitable that I’d make the leap into cosmic horror. Stories where the protagonists are helpless in the face of unfathomable and inescapable powers. Lovecraft (whose views on the world are, shall we say, outdated!) stated that the strongest and oldest fear is the fear of the unknown. I remember discussing my fear of the ocean with a friend who said, “What if there were monsters in the ocean?” and I thought, “Eh. Monsters aren’t that scary.” He pointed out that it’s not the monster that’s important, it’s the fact that you’d never even know it was there. It’s the sinking ship again - colossal, groaning, slowly swallowed by the ocean and, then, it’s on top of you. All around you. Yeah, that was scary. What really awaits in the dark? Best not think about it, especially when we’re powerless to escape it either way. 

Concepts are more terrifying to me than monsters. The concept of the unknown. The truth we’d rather ignore. It could be a monster in the dark. It could be terrible trauma we’ve repressed and forgotten, gnawing at our minds. It’s always there: that elephant in the room. It’s the spider that has a nest under your bed, right where you sleep (you can check later if you like!) You know it. I know it. Just don’t look at it…

Writing Soulcreek

I had very little writing experience when I approached the idea of making Soulcreek. At first, it was going to be short. When people liked it, I made it longer. I put more thought into the writing itself. I want it to be good, after all! But did I want it to be scary? Yes… and no.

This was never going to be a visceral horror experience. Sure, you have those moments - you have Informed chasing the protagonists, and fleeing through the Boneyard from a rampaging Demon. If I’d labelled Soulcreek as a ‘full-on horror experience’ and set a bleak, bloody tone right from the beginning it would’ve felt flat to me. Soulcreek has romance, comedy - hell, there are moments where I feel like I’m writing a sitcom. I wanted the horror to be a concept. I’ve tried to recreate the feeling I experienced in that dream a few times before and it never really worked. So, for Soulcreek, I tried to spread it out. Put the idea into different layers. The clans of Illayla are thriving, but they live in the shadow of the Blackzones - a vacuum of dread that’s always there. The borders of the Blackzones are really important. They’re precise. Blackrunners are able to sense them to an exact inch. You’re either in them, or you’re not. There’s no middle ground. Or is there? Is safety an illusion? Just because you’ve got your head above the water doesn’t mean you’re not still dangling above an abyss too deep to contemplate.

Ironically, I said earlier that monsters don’t scare me but then included the idea of Demons into the story. There’s no sugarcoating it - they’re monsters. It’s a necessary inclusion, and for our protagonist he will encounter these creatures directly. The illusion of the unknown is somewhat broken. We know that they’re real.

I did consider taking the route of the protagonist never encountering, or even coming close, to a Demon. It didn’t feel compelling. The horror had to be a real threat. People who live with genuine trauma have their own demons to deal with - those demons are real, to them. So our Demons needed to be real, too.  The obvious solution is nothing original - just don't show they look like. Every description of Demons is vague and nonsensical. It's difficult to imagine them. Thus, the safety of the unknown is preserved, right...?

Eh. It wasn’t enough - I don’t feel confident in myself as a writer to create that sense of dread while presenting nothing but description. Maybe another writer could, but not me. That's why I wanted this to be a visual novel - you can use other mediums to create your story. I wasn't satisfied with just description. There has to be something to create dread, especially in a story where there’s also porn and comedy!

Obsessed with sound

I’ve always been fascinated by sound, especially in horror. Going back to my dream - I’m in the ocean, staring at the ship. Let’s pretend it’s night time. I can’t see a damn thing, but I know the ship is in front of me, sinking. Because I can hear it. That dull, deafening metallic groan as metal is stretched to break point like a slumbering abomination.

I’ll admit, while I’ve worked on audio dramas and semi-professional sound edits before, I’m no sound engineer. I can’t create my own sound, so I’m relying on the generosity of the public domain to create the soundscapes of these monsters. Sometimes you have to go with what you find, rather than what you imagine - but it still works. I’m learning more and more with every build. 

For me, it starts when you first go into the Blackzone on day 3. You get that atmosphere. I’ll admit, looking back, it was amazing to me at the time. Now, I’m only thinking about re-making it. Then there’s the Zonebaiting scene on the same day. When I visualised the story, that was the scene I came up with first. Again, I look back now proud of what it became but… wishing it could be more. I can do better, I think.

Where I am going with this?

I know you can’t riff off ‘fear of the unknown’ forever. The horror in Soulcreek needs to evolve as the story goes on. Eventually, there will be a climax - sooner or later, the curtain has to be pulled up. The lights have to be switched on. We’ll reach the bottom of the ocean. But that won’t be until the end, where the horror has nothing left to give.

As the protagonist learns more about the story, the unknown becomes more tangible. But with it comes terrible truths. The human learns things about his past that are horrifying - his ignorance was a great mercy, but now he’s forced to bear reality. It starts to drown him. At this point, his fate could go in a number of directions. He could be thrown a lifeline, and heal his trauma. He could drown and fade away. Or, with the right ingredients, he might accept the ocean. He might even become the monster in the depths himself, rather than the fool caught up in its inescapable currents that he seems to be right now.

But that’s still to be seen, and the topic for another dev diary.

Back on topic...

So. What is cosmic horror, to me? 

It’s an idea you can’t explain. You can try, and maybe even grasp its concepts. But the moment it’s fully understood, it’s gone. It’s something inexplicably terrifying and yet utterly mesmerising. It draws you in, no matter the danger. Maybe that’s madness? People certainly thought seven year old me was mad.  But to me, those willingly look away and refuse to acknowledge the dark that's always there? Now that’s mad.

But hey, as a wise chieftain once said, "Ignorance is the order of the world".