Muting the Void: Is Playing Horror Games on Silent Mode the Ultimate Power-Up, or a Dark Heresy?
AI Gaming News Author · Eurogamer ·
Gaming author Tom Orry's confession about muting horror games during intense moments to manage stress has sparked a curious debate. Jeff, our digital wizard, explores this 'silent thrill' as a form of player empowerment, questioning purists and celebrating unconventional ways to enjoy gaming without quitting.
Alright, mates, gather 'round the digital campfire, because I've stumbled upon a gaming confession so wonderfully wild, it feels like someone accidentally cast a 'Silence' spell on the entire horror genre. We're talking about a strategy that might make some purists scream bloody murder, while others – myself included, in moments of weakness – might nod knowingly.
Here's the gist: Imagine staring down a Necromorph, heart pounding like a drum solo, only to calmly reach for the mute button on your TV. Yes, you heard that right. Playing horror games on mute. My initial reaction? *Bloody hell*, is that even allowed? But the more I tinkered with the idea, the more intriguing it became, like a glitch in the Matrix that actually *improves* the experience.
This rather brilliant (and slightly mad, if you ask me) observation comes courtesy of Tom Orry, Editorial Director over at Eurogamer, in his piece 'Please tell me I'm not the only person who plays horror games on mute?' published back in October 2025. Massive thanks to him for poking this particular beehive and kicking off a fascinating thought experiment!
Now, Tom – a self-proclaimed connoisseur of 80s horror flicks, early survival horror, and a voracious reader of Stephen King and James Herbert in his youth – admits his tolerance for in-game tension has taken a bit of a dive as he's, well, getting on a bit. He jokes that these days, even a surprise appearance from a TV presenter on *Escape to the Country* (a delightful UK show about finding rural homes, for those not in the know) is enough to trigger a jump scare. We've all been there, haven't we? That moment when your brain decides it's had enough, even if your gaming spirit still hungers for more.
His solution? The 'silent thrill.' He's not playing entire horror games in monastic quietude, mind you. Oh no, that would be a different kind of brave. Instead, he strategically mutes the TV during particularly intense, stress-inducing moments – those parts where the soundtrack kicks in like a malevolent orchestra and the sound effects are designed to make your spine do the tango. He recently revisited the *Dead Space remake*, a truly marvellous modern rendition of a classic, only to find himself hitting the mute button like a seasoned pro whenever the terror got to be, well, too much.
And honestly, mate, who can blame him? The sound design in modern horror games is often a masterclass in psychological manipulation. It's not just the sudden shrieks or the guttural roars of some grotesque beastie; it's the subtle creaks, the distant metallic groans, the unsettling hum that tells you *something* is lurking just out of sight. It's the ambient dread that gnaws at your nerves, setting the stage for the inevitable fright. Turn that off, and suddenly, the monsters seem… less monstrous. It's like pulling the plug on a sorcerer's power source, isn't it? The magic's still there, but the raw, visceral punch is gone.
Tom describes it as a way to find 'needed tranquility in the middle of a perfect storm,' almost as if he's watching himself play from outside his own body. A bit like casting an ethereal 'Astral Projection' spell just to cope with the sheer terror. He reckons it's no different to how people manage other stressful situations: closing your eyes as you scurry across a terrifying glass bridge, or refusing to look out the patio door at 2 AM for fear of spotting aliens or a suspiciously animated tree branch (a feeling I know all too well after one too many late-night gaming sessions).
Now, some of you might be scoffing. 'But Jeff,' you cry, 'you're butchering the experience! You're removing a key aspect of the game's presentation!' And fair dinkum, you wouldn't be wrong. Game designers spend countless hours crafting these auditory landscapes precisely to immerse us, to amplify the fear. Removing that is undeniably altering the intended experience. But what happens if that intended experience pushes a player to the point of outright quitting? Is it better to 'butcher' a bit and keep playing, or to throw in the towel entirely?
This isn't really about Web3 gaming, but it does touch on a core philosophy: player agency. In a world where we're constantly debating how much control players should have over their digital experiences – from customisation to modding to even how we engage with in-game economies – Tom's mute button strategy is a wonderfully simple, analog form of player empowerment. It's a personal cheat code, a way to adapt the game to *your* personal stress threshold, rather than forcing yourself into an experience that stops being fun and starts being genuinely anxiety-inducing.
Think about it: how many times have you put a game down because it was 'too hard' or 'too stressful'? Horror is a unique beast because its *purpose* is to stress you out. But if that stress crosses a line from 'thrilling' to 'unbearable,' then perhaps a little creative improvisation is exactly what's needed. It's a way of saying, 'Alright, you spooky digital wizard, you're good, but I'm better. And I've got a secret weapon: the power of silence!'
I reckon it's a testament to the enduring appeal of horror that players will find these clever little workarounds. It’s not about being less scared, necessarily, but about managing that fear so it doesn't overwhelm the enjoyment. It allows players, like Tom, to appreciate the marvellous level design, the intricate lore, and the satisfying combat without being completely paralysed by the dread that's meant to accompany it. It's a delicate balance, much like trying to brew a potent potion without accidentally turning yourself into a newt – you respect the power, but you also exercise a bit of caution.
So, next time you're facing down a cosmic horror or a particularly nasty Necromorph, and your pulse is doing the Macarena, perhaps give Tom's silent power-up a whirl. You might just find that a little bit of quiet is all it takes to conquer your digital demons. And if anyone calls you a cheat, just tell 'em Jeff sent ya, and that true gaming innovation often comes from the most unexpected (and silent) places.
Tags: Horror Games, Player Experience, Gaming Culture, Accessibility, Game Design
Original article: Eurogamer