Dead Space, Outlast, Amnesia, Scorn, Resident Evil, Silent Hill.
Almost as far back as horror games go, so does that aesthetic.
They often mimic movies like The Thing, Alien, and Jacob’s Ladder.
But all of that belies a terrifying world.
Your first encounter with the true nature of the backyard may not be the same as mine.
The second it sees you, it’ll do two things: scream and charge.
And this is the dichotomy that informs the deceptive intimacy of Grounded.
It feels small, cute, and friendly.
You’re in the safest place in the world: a backyard.
The scales have shifted, both in size and power.
This isn’t a hospital corridor or an empty classroom.
And they’re not photorealistic, either.
Insects have big, round eyes.
Bombardier beetles are yellow and green, and bees have their usual vivid yellow and black stripes.
Ladybugs are as cute as you’d imagine until you bother them.
In my home state of Minnesota, mosquitos are a summertime hazard.
Annoying to be certain, but not dangerous the way they can be elsewhere.
Even the sound they make when they fly is annoying but never worrisome.
When you’re near a mosquito in Grounded, you know it.
Grounded almost feels like a trick.
30 hours ago, I was running in terror when an orb-weaver would round the corner.
Now, the things that scare me are far enough along that I dare not spoil them for you.
Suffice it to say that there are other things lurking in the upper yard.
Instead of priming you for scary events with rusted fences and endless staircases, Grounded hides it in cuteness.
Who wants to stick their hands into all of those fleshy holes?
But if you want to feel true terror, install Grounded and find a spider.
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