As someone who sits out scary movie nights and can’t even look at scraped knees because of the blood, this game was straight from my nightmares.
Starting in the sketchy bathroom, I (being the unexperienced gamer I am) struggled using my arrow keys to move forward, thinking something was wrong with my computer before I eventually found out I needed to click the door *head smack.*
Then we have the eerie synth music with strobe lights coming from some nondisclosed club below. I felt like a victim in some club from Gotham walking to my death sentence. Despite what could be considered a fun atmosphere, the grimy, rusty quality of the graphics and muted tones of the music gave me an ick that went under my skin.
When I got to the table and the Dealer gave me a waiver to sign, I did not put my own name; instead I signed “Hi,” a generic word that I believed would break my association with my character and the immersion of the game. Even so, I felt disgusted acting in the game, drinking beers, smoking cigarettes, and shooting at the Dealer, even if the creature put me in this scenario.
Every time I knew a shot was coming, or even just thought it might come, I leaned to the left of my computer as if the bullet would come through the screen.
The randomness of the game inspired more fear than excitement or fun. I couldn’t ever truly dissociate myself from the character, unlike if the same scenario of the game played out in cinema.
Though I ended up winning the game, it felt like I had died many times despite coming back to life with the defibrillators every time. The payout and stats of some $60,000 and several beers drunk was not enough to give me a sense of success, only survival. I’ll be honest, I probably have spent more time writing about this game than playing it. One win was enough for me, and then I left Buckshot Roulette behind me forever.
My only enjoyment from the game is the quick playtime and $2.99 price tag.
While I do not like it, I can value what I learn playing it. If I were forced to make a horror video game, I would try to emulate the fear and disgust I felt playing this game.
Audrey, I totally understand with this take. The game feels grimey and morally incorrect from the minute you spawn in a bathroom that has no mirrors and a giant spray painted “afraid?” on the wall. In fact, I too left the game behind as quickly as possible. However, I am curious about why you played until you won, even when you hated everything about it. You could have turned it off the minute you were shot for the first time. And yet, you (and I) didn’t. Why? Why can we both hate the game and still continue playing it? For me, that answer is simple: once I was desensitized to the violence and nastiness, I was hooked on the ability to “outsmart” the game and beat the odds, to determine the known of the unknown. The questions I pose are rhetorical questions (no need to answer them), but I think they serve as a good case study for how games can weaponize the unknown in a way that is so powerful that they get people to pay $2.99 to abandon their morals and shoot someone in the head for money.
Audrey, I totally understand with this take. The game feels grimey and morally incorrect from the minute you spawn in a bathroom that has no mirrors and a giant spray painted “afraid?” on the wall. In fact, I too left the game behind as quickly as possible. However, I am curious about why you played until you won, even when you hated everything about it. You could have turned it off the minute you were shot for the first time. And yet, you (and I) didn’t. Why? Why can we both hate the game and still continue playing it? For me, that answer is simple: once I was desensitized to the violence and nastiness, I was hooked on the ability to “outsmart” the game and beat the odds, to determine the known of the unknown. The questions I pose are rhetorical questions (no need to answer them), but I think they serve as a good case study for how games can weaponize the unknown in a way that is so powerful that they get people to pay $2.99 to abandon their morals and shoot someone in the head for money.
I completely get what you mean with how the several beers and only $60,000 cash prize was not enough to leave you feeling satisfied, but I find it interesting how different our experiences were. I personally only felt fear before I booted up the game simply because it looked unsettling, but as I continued to play, it seemed like my fear was turned into excitement at the next shot from the gun. My friend Josiah and I ended up playing multiple rounds of this game because we were having so much fun at shooting the dealer, drinking beer, smoking cigarettes, and the uncertainty, no matter how the odds were stacked, at whether we would live to see the end of the game or not. We both felt uncertainty, and yet, we had extremely different reactions to this game even while both of us could not disconnect from our player avatar, which truly showcases how uncertainty can not only affect how the game is run, but also how the player responds to the game.
It’s interesting how differently people reacted to this game. I also hate horror movies, yet, like some others in class, I loved Buckshot Roulette and laughed every time I shot myself in the face. The game’s atmosphere was almost too ridiculous for me to feel genuinely uneasy; I couldn’t fully immerse myself as the character on the screen. Especially because getting shot didn’t mean instant death, I became more desensitized to it over the course of the game. The absurdity of the entire setup, from the dealer’s face to the beers and cigs as special items, makes it feel more like a dark comedy than a horror game.
I totally get where you’re coming from. When I started playing the game, I too was also very freaked out from the lack of context, aesthetic choices, and the creepy looking dealer. I also physically leaned away from the line of fire from the gun when the dealer shot at me and I’m glad that I wasn’t the only one. I am curious about how you, or anyone in general, felt about the introduction of items into the game–I feel like it pulled away from my own fear because now I could strategize more than relying on luck. Additionally, as the player we’re afforded a lot of advantages over the dealer, such as always going first and getting to skip the dealer’s turn when we shoot ourselves with a blank, so it almost feels like the the game itself is on our side.
Quite an interesting post, I relate to your sentiment of the horror elements in this game being effective. I also admire how you are still capable to appreciate the work that went into making this game what is was, despite it not being the type of experience you enjoy.
I’m also someone who cannot stand or handle anything horror related — completely understand your sentiments.
I think your post heavily touches on the importance of developing atmosphere in video games. The reason why Buckshot Roulette feels so much like a horror game is precisely because of its dark and oppressive ambiance. The claustrophobic, soiled spaces and the stressful, tense music build a feeling of unease in the player even before the “game” begins. And even when the “game” begins, the simplicity of the gameplay also allows the player to become more aware of the space — almost causing the space to have a presence in and of itself.
Without the atmosphere of the game, Buckshot Roulette wouldn’t feel nearly as frightening (in the same way). Imagine this game took place in a fancy, clean palace with classical music playing in the background. Maybe you could argue, then, that the game becomes more absurd, and the disconnect between killing and the setting makes it more horrific. While the outcome of feeling discomfort may be the same, the way of reaching that discomfort is different because of the atmosphere.