I'm crouching in a dimly-lit stairwell, eavesdropping on the garbled barks of a squad of FEAR's enemy clone soldiers below. They're holed up in an office at the foot of the stairs as I plot my attack.
I could try a Bruce Willis style of negotiation: akimbo pistols blazing or the thunder crack of my SPAS-12 shotgun atomising my foes in a single shot. That's to say nothing of my nail gun, which can literally stake my enemies to the wall like oversized voodoo dolls.
Or I could be sneakier: if I blink my flashlight towards that window, one soldier is sure to investigate. Pick him off and it’ll make the fight 25% easier.
Instead I toss out a proximity mine. It lands beneath the window and gleefully pings in activation, immediately drawing the soldier’s gaze. “Contact!”, one screams, instantly returning fire. I take a couple of hits as I scramble to cover. I guess we're going loud this time.
I equip my trusty shotgun and press control to slow down time. As I peek out from behind a [[link]] pillar, two of the soldiers leap through the window to engage me… right onto my proximity mine. It detonates, a shockwave of fire, blood and glass radiates out in slow motion. A severed leg lands beside me.
Another soldier tries to flank me from the door to the office. He's quickly dispatched with two swift blasts of my SPAS-12, the second one gouges a chunk out of the wall behind him. Parallax maps were cutting edge in 2005 and they still look cool today.
“I need back-up, now!” the final soldier yells, now cowering in the office behind some shelves. I switch to the nail gun and, without hesitation, pin him to the wall by his face.
FEAR’s combat encounters never play the same way twice. After 20 years, I'm desensitised to most of its iconic jumpscares and have memorised its plot almost to the individual voicemails that unfold it. But what keeps me engaged even after all this time is the combat. A symbiosis of a (then) innovative goal-oriented AI system and cunning level design that complements the enemy’s propensity to flank and take cover rather than simply push up and engage. It makes each firefight endlessly replayable.
And while the iconic Alma-at-the-top-of-that-ladder moment is now as cliché as The Specials on a Halloween playlist, time has not diminished the palpitation-inducing atmosphere of FEAR. The dark shadows concealed darker horrors. The eerie drones of Nathan Grigg’s minimalist soundtrack. The crackle of static whatever something paranormal is near. It’s still a case study in how to make a human do that weird arched back thing cats do when they’re petrified.
It’s spoopy season, so now is the perfect time to switch off the lights, turn up the volume and revisit one of gaming's most iconic horror shooters, which this month celebrates its 20th birthday. Still not convinced? Check out the video above, where I break down FEAR, its influences and its lasting legacy. I certainly had a blast replaying it for this video, so I’m sure you [[link]] will too.