If you've played any entry in the Fable series you should at least be familiar with the Demon Doors, Sentient, often grouchy, granite blokes who have a task that needs completing - often irreverent and whimsical in nature. There's one in particular I would like to break down and it can be found in 2008’s Fable 2.
After buying a lute and playing an incredible solo performance for the door, he’ll open up and allow you to explore this cute winter wonderland. The design here is masterfully done, the long, winding path to the house is solely soundtracked by the crunch of snow beneath your avatars feet, and when you finally end up on the home stretch to the lodge, the warm tones from inside the house contrast with the dark, cool tones from outside. It draws you in, it’s warm and open and inviting.
Then you step through the threshold. The warm and cozy lodge is instantly replaced with a grimy, burnt-out husk. Furniture is swapped for torture equipment and there’s skeletal remains liberally scattered around. Sure, it’s maybe a little over the top, but it works. In the upstairs of the lodge there’s a chest containing a master-quality longsword, which would be quite the boon depending on where the player is in terms of equipment.
Now it’s maybe a little anecdotal, but at this point it dawned on 14 year old me that there’s a very long path to get to the exit of this area. Suddenly that winding, snow-blanketed path felt a lot less enjoyable. I inched my way back down that track, constantly on edge that my avatar was about to be ambushed. The addition of hanging cages containing skeletons didn’t help at all. The suggested ambush or fight to flee the area doesn’t happen, but chances are, you’re still tense and on edge the entire time.
It’s been more than a decade since I experienced this aspect of the game, and it’s rather telling that I can’t really remember much from the game outside of this moment. It’s a masterful combination of Game, Level and Audio design. Music permeates the game, there’s always some kind of ambient music track playing apart from this area. Before the change, the lack of music draws attention to the area, the sound of crunching snow. After the change, the silence is cloying and oppressive, somehow desperately notable in its absence. The only artificial sound in the whole area is the shrill scare chord on crossing the threshold, a fitting, if cliche demarcation to pull the player out of the sense of security.
The loss of the warmth of the lodge only draws attention to how cold the environment actually is, which inherently plunges the emotional tone of the area way down.
Frankly, I love this and it still spooks me
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