I enjoy scary things enough.

But I do have a limit.

Anything overtly grotesque immediately enters the chopping block. I’m not comfortable with people being tortured, excessive gore, and certain kinds of violence (I know it when I see it).

However, sit me down with a spooky tale about a crumbling reality, unexplainable architecture, or a horrific manifestation of the human condition, and I’m there for it.

I rarely get truly scared by something. It takes a lot to keep me up at night. When I’m truly scared by something, I feel it infecting my mind. A scene from a movie becomes something I see in the corner of the room at night. The pain described in a book creeps into my physical sensations.

I just want to talk about Alan Wake.

My next-door neighbor and childhood friend lent me his copy of Alan Wake in 2010. It was the first “scary game” I ever played. I remember putting the disc into my Xbox360 and feeling unsure about the whole experience of playing a game as scary as Alan Wake.

For those who know anything about the 2010 video game Alan Wake, it’s not scary. It’s more of an action game with a spooky vibe and a couple of jump scares, but at the time, I remember thinking I was playing something I wasn’t supposed to be playing.

Yes, the game is rated T, but maybe the ESRB messed up, and I’m actually playing a scary game made for smart adults.

Despite the horror facade, I played through the entirety of Alan Wake in my parents’ finished basement during a hot and muggy monsoon season, and I loved it.

I was particularly amazed by how the game talked about books. It felt new, it felt mature.

Alan Wake was the first game I played that felt mature and interested in talking about more than video games. That read probably doesn’t hold up today, but at the time i was amazed.

But it wasn’t scary.

I’ve been loving my time with Alan Wake II, and I’ll likely write more about it in the coming months, but I wanted to mention one tiny little detail that genuinely unnerved me and made me play through a 20-minute section over 45 minutes.

I sat down to play Alan Wake II after putting my daughter to bed and finishing the dishes. My wife was out, and I had some time for myself.

I was at a moment of the game that I consider to be an in-between moment. The way the game is structured, there are these bigger story beats, and in between those there are new areas to explore if you want. I thought, why not? I’m clearly invested in this, so I might as well see what I can.

I was currently standing on the beach of a lake (it’s not a lake, it’s an ocean) while a gorgeous sunset was turning the sky a peachy red. I started walking into the dark, freshly-rained Washington forest toward the newly unlocked section. As I do, the lighting gets darker and darker until I have no other choice but turn on the flashlight.

I was in the dark. And I began to explore.

As I explored the area, I noticed something. I could hear the main character breathing, and my heart beating. Things begame eery. The forest became suffocating, and now I was scared.

But what had changed? Earlier in the game, I had faced dark forests, darting enemies, and tense moments of danger. Why was this part so scary?

It was quiet.

The rain stopped.

I had realized that earlier in the game, it was raining. There was always some sound happening that made it easy for me to feel comfortable. My daughter sleeps with rain sounds; I used to sleep with rain sounds. Rain sounds are relaxing.

I was introduced to the nightmare of Alan Wake II with the sound of cozy rain sounds, but the developers made the choice to get rid of them, and now, I was scared in the noiseless, dark forest with unknown nightmares watching me.

Once I noticed I was actually scared, I started walking much slower, taking my time to look around trees, and trying hard not to waste any ammo or flashlight batteries. It was tense. Because it stopped raining.

This is just one way I love how Alan Wake II uses sound, and it’s a pinnacle example of how video games can use sound to create atmosphere, tension, and experiences that affect players.

It’s so small, but it feels so intentional, and I love that.