The memorability of a scare is orchestrated prior to its occurrence. Be it in the infamous examples seen in the 2001 Japanese techno-horror Pulse, helmed by Korochi Kurosawa and its insistence on holding upon the inescapable terror or the impenetrable silence of William Peter Blatty’s 1990 film the Exorcist 3 and its now infamous hallway scene. Both weaponise the passing of time, reducing the pacing to a crawl, establishing the mounting dread and the inevitable crescendo which ensues. This is the anatomy of a jumpscare, its shared DNA with narrative formula is evident in its ability to lead the viewer from a realm of comfort, toward one of distress. 

It is this series of elements which are employed with tremendous effect in Hidetaka Miyazaki’s 2015 title – Bloodborne. From the initial opening cutscene these elements are present. It establishes, within minutes, a world afflicted by disease, puppeteered by cosmic forces and the feral beasts which lurk within its tenebrous shadows. These themes are only further explored as the player gains control of their character. Our intended death leads us to the liminal confines of the Hunter’s dream, acting as this game’s hubworld, a feature seen in the precursive instalments of the renowned Dark Souls series and Demon’s souls. It is a place of safety, an established refuge akin to a safe room in a survival horror title (think the comforting chimes of Resident Evil’s safe rooms) yet we must depart with haste, beginning upon our adventure to explore the cobbled streets of Yharnam, the game’s initial area.

It is here, in the immediate plaza where the narrativity of the jump scare is first employed. Pushing onward we stumble across this scene.

Before the player stands a looming, crudely erected crucifix, a hung wolf draped from it, burning voraciously. This atrocity Acts as both signifier and guardian to the Yharnham atrocities, which lay beyond its position. At its foot, charred corpses lay piled high and rotting amidst the open air of the streets. Ornate coffins are propped up on every corner of the courtyard, sealed doors concealing the visages of madmen who scold you with their jittery, unkempt tones. They vehemently condemn you, branding you a fool for being “stuck out on the night of the hunt”. The mounting dread, building to its crescendo, shattered only by our triumph over this virulent horde, is met with – silence. A deafening lapse in the bristling audioscape, pierced only by the solemn tones of an unseen creature chastising the surface of the nearing gateway. Thus, the lull of the jumpscare ensues the prelude. 
After the initial triumph over the rabid horde, the player can remain here, guided on forth by a glimmering item lying in wait up ahead. The frenzied tones of the Yharnhamites now dwindle off in the distance. Progressing onward toward the staircase brings with it an audible interjection. Laughter, reverberating off the interior confines, concealed behind an incensed door. Upon approach they belittle us as all others prior have done too – though their laughter sounds out with greater clarity when paired with the barren audioscape. Their haunting, senseless cackles sound only more horrific when set against the bellowing cries. Now, if the player can turn around, choosing to descend the stairs. Wherein there can be sighted a recurring  Fromsoftware design technique.

The presence of this lightsource is intentionally unnatural. Fromsoftware have frequently implemented this technique, whereby a non diegetic lightsource acts as an environmental guide for the player. See above,  as the player arrives at the foot of the stairs they will be immediately drawn toward this hue. Casting down its rays upon this nearby carriage. Drawing them toward the source of the groans. Optionally, they can refrain. If you are like me, having played prior Fromsoftware entries in the Souls series, you’ll find yourself approaching with the knowledge that there will be a challenging encounter or at least an unwanted surprise lurking just around that corner. And as I did, you can divert from this intended route in the aim that the mounting tension will dissipate upon your retreat.

This is where the gift of player agency can subvert this formula. Unlike the traditional cinematic tension build we can betray the narrativity of the scare, instead choosing to go to the opposing end of the courtyard. The cries of the unseen beast slowly ebbing away into the background behind us. Before us rolls the vista of the Yharnham spires, in all their gothic incandescence just begging to be mulled over. Their appearance provides a brief respite from the claustrophobic streets we’ve been confined to. And, if like me, just long enough to distract you from the malformed corvids which bristled aside the ledge. I managed to miss them, as they were seemingly so purposefully well-camouflaged when set against the neighbouring pile of coffins which shatter as they begin their attack. Their design is also rather unnatural. Their wings are feeble and malformed, seemingly useful only for propelling them flailing forward. This is a great example of accounting for player agency within a sandbox area. Having diverted from the developers’ non-diegetic guidance and instead choosing to venture toward this viewing point, yearning for relief, if only momentarily. Yet this desire is cruelly denied. Resulting in a furthering of the pre-established dread that had begun to build upon entry into the courtyard. 

Now, if the player remains curious as to the source of the hammering and groans, even after the petrifying assault of the crows they can proceed toward the carriage. Noting along their path, as I know I did, the vacated prams which lay strewn around, amongst the various other signs of clutter which the Yharnhamites have left abandoned. Akin to a mass exodus, an immediate withdrawal indoors, driven by fear, by frenzy. all their possessions left upon the streets tell a tale of an impromptu retreat, of a city in panic. Now snaking on through, approaching ever further, guided on by the hue the player shall be faced with the source of the sound. 

The cinematic jumpscare as exemplified in the aforementioned films does not account for the agency of the audience, nor does it have to. Yet in gaming, this is a key element when the player is given agency over their approach to the intended sequence. Fromsoftware’s design here displays that in its entirety, the accounting of agency and thus establishing a form of nonlinearity in its tension building. Though the player can avoid the hammering upon the door, they can proceed onward only toward the crows, upwards toward a pack of Yharnamites and their feral hounds or retreat back to the corridor thus stifling their progress. The action of which seems all the more humiliating when one must proceed past the laughter that comes from the incensed door.

Bloodborne, akin to Kurosawa’s Pulse, akin to Blatty’s Exorcist 3, builds its tension masterfully. Subverting pre established conventions of both genre and its precursive titles in the series. As it lures us, unknowingly, into a false sense of security.  Met only with further strife no matter what option we, as the player may choose. The dread I felt after first entering this world, be it ranging from the unease , the awe, the confusion and even the beauty only deepened further as I continued on with the earliest moments of my playthrough. Player agency and the accounting of has always been a stalwart pillar of Fromsoft’s approach to the design of their games. The nonlinearity of their tension building and the fear it imbues within us as players is inseparable from our agency as controllers of our characters. Though its structure is akin to its aged cousin, the filmic medium, it establishes a fresh precedent wherein games both give and account for choice. A trend I hope will only expand into the wider reaches of the medium.