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Unsolicited Scares: St Eva from Breath of Fire II Loves You Thiiis Much

Circumstances beyond my control got me thinking the other day about Breath of Fire II, Capcom's SNES RPG for totally buff men (unless the US box art is lying to me). Breath of Fire II was my first experience with a God-slaying JRPG, and it stuck with me for a few reasons. Reason one: it nearly made me crap my pants.

Every good Messiah hunt includes a foray into the Master's den of cultists, and Breath of Fire predictably sends the hero Ryu and his pals into the heart of St Eva's town towards the end of the game. St Eva is God, but he's not benevolent. What a twist!

The story makes it obvious that St Eva stinks of corruption and rancid food (flowing robes are catch-alls for cheese and salsa drippings), so Ryu is a bit put off when he walks into St Eva's town and finds it a bustling, happy place. Revelers comment on the beautiful weather, the lame can walk, the blind can see, and every dog has a wagging tail.

Ryu thinks, “Well, maybe I had this Eva fellow pegged wrong,” and decides he needs to reconsider his options. He exits the town--

--and finds himself back inside the town gates.

Suddenly, the warm air is icy, and the friendly townspeople have transformed into cackling, shambling husks. I'm making the event sound especially chilly because it had a personal effect on me. See, there was this time I was in a death cult, and—just kidding. But there is a specific reason I never, ever forgot my trip to St Eva's Land.

Unsolicited Scares: Threed, Zombie Central

All this talk about Earthbound and related disappointments made me hungry for a Skip Sandwich DX. I ate the sandwich with a mayo packet and began remembering what parts of Earthbound I liked best.

Earthbound is an unsettling game for a number of reasons. First, the party consists entirely of kids, and even though kids have a deserved reputation for never shutting up, Ness and his pals are quiet, stoic and very much focused on the task at hand. Second, the threat they're up against is ethereal, but Giygas' influence on the grown-up world is unmistakable: adults' greed is amplified, corruption amongst authorities is rampant, and there's that one town with the whole cult thing going on.

The third and possibly most potent reason for Earthbound's dark humour is its masterful blending of innocent colour and mood-setting music. If something bad is going down in a scenario, the sound will tell you before the visuals do. Any game that starts you off investigating an unidentified falling object in the dead of night with disjointed alien percussion as background music is a game that's not going to deliver warm fuzzies if it doesn't bloody well feel like it.

Obviously, Earthbound isn't meant to make your heart stop at any one moment—final battle excluded, maybe—but I've come to think of the party's visit to the town of Threed as Resident Evil Crayola.. Zombies and ghosts have taken over the city, but they're pretty goofy looking critters (less so with Handsome Tom and Smilin' Sam; sorry, I hate puppets). Even so, the darkness surrounding the town is oppressive, and the background music hardly indicates that Ness and Paula are attending a kids' Halloween party.

Unsolicited Scares: Terranigma and the Desert

When we talk about games that made us scream like grandmothers treed on a kitchen chair by mice, we default to the obvious. “Ohhh, Resident Evil 4 made me poop myself in fear,” one contributor gasps. “That's nothing,” another counters. “Silent Hill made my poop poop itself in fear!”

And so on.

It's only natural that we think about the survival horror genre during these conferences of memory. But I've been thinking lately about games that gave me the chills when I certainly didn't expect them to. I won't say I have the hardiest soul around, but even JRPGs and Super Mario games have some genuinely creepy moments that can blindside you. Not necessarily the whole game (unlike Resident Evil or Silent Hill), but maybe a specific scenario that comes back to haunt me when I wake up from a nightmare and fail to conjure something soothing to help me sleep again.

First example: The “Desert” music from Terranigma.

Terranigma was Enix's follow-up to Illusion of Gaia for the Super Nintendo. It's best known for never showing its face in America despite demand. It's known almost as well for its haunting soundtrack.

“Desert” is a sound clip that tends to visit my memory when I'm alone in some dark place, usually when my imagination is already engorged with fear. The clip doesn't have to be taken in context for its haunting whine to skittle down your neck and back, but it helps a bit.

about the blogger

John Constantine, our superhero, was raised by birds and then attended Penn State University. He is currently working on a novel about a fictional city that exists only in his mind. John has an astonishingly extensive knowledge of Scientology. Ultimately he would like to learn how to effectively use his brain. He continues to keep Wu-Tang's secret to himself.

Derrick Sanskrit is a self-professed geek in a variety of fields including typography, graphic design, comic books, music and cartoons. As a professional hipster graphic designer, his recent clients have included Nerve, Pitchfork and MoCCA, among others.

Amber Ahlborn - artist, writer, gamer and DigiPen survivor, she maintains a day job as a graphic artist. By night Amber moonlights as a professional Metroid Fanatic and keeps a metal suit in the closet just in case. Has lived in the state of Washington and insists that it really doesn't rain as much as everyone says it does.

Nadia Oxford is a housekeeping robot who was refurbished into a warrior when the world's need for justice was great. Now that the galaxy is at peace (give or take a conflict here or there), she works as a freelance writer for various sites and magazines. Based in Toronto, Nadia prizes the certificate from the Ministry of Health declaring her tick and rabies-free.

Bob Mackey is a grad student, writer, and cyborg, who uses the powerful girl-repelling nanomachines mad science grafted onto his body to allocate time towards interests of the nerd persuasion. He believes that complaining about things on the Internet is akin to the fine art of wine tasting, but with more spitting into buckets.

Joe Keiser has a programming degree from Johns Hopkins University, a tiny apartment in Brooklyn, and a fake toy guitar built in the hollowed-out shell of a real guitar. He writes about games and technology for a variety of outlets. One day he will stop doing this. The day after that, police will find his body under a collapsed pile of (formerly neatly alphabetized) collector's edition tchotchkes.

Cole Stryker is an American freelance writer living in York, England, where he resides with his archeologist wife. He writes for a travel company by day and argues about pop culture on the internet by night. Find him writing regularly here and here.

Peter Smith is like the lead character of Irwin Shaw's The 80-Yard Run, except less athletic. He considers himself very lucky to have this job. But it's a little premature to take "jack-off of all trades" off his resume. Besides writing, travelling, and painting houses, Pete plays guitar in a rock trio called The Aye-Ayes. He calls them a 'power pop' band, but they generally sound more like Motorhead on a drinking binge.

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