#ExistentialHorror

[boredtechnologist]

"Signalis," an indie survival horror game, draws players into a haunting, dystopian world where the line between humanity and machinery is blurred, and the concept of free will is constantly questioned. Central to the game's narrative is the phrase "None of us are here by choice," a powerful statement that encapsulates the existential themes of the game. This analysis will delve into the implications of this phrase, exploring how it reflects the characters' struggles with agency, identity, and the oppressive systems that govern their lives.

Choice and Agency: "Signalis" immerses players in a bleak, retro-futuristic world where characters, primarily synthetic beings with human-like qualities, are trapped in a cycle of duty and survival. The phrase "None of us are here by choice" serves as a thematic cornerstone, suggesting that the characters’ presence in this world, and their roles within it, are dictated by forces beyond their control. This lack of choice highlights the game's exploration of agency—whether the characters, or by extension the players, have any true autonomy in their actions or are merely following predetermined paths.

Transition to the Loss of Identity and Free Will: As players progress through "Signalis," the narrative reveals that the characters, particularly the protagonist, struggle with a fractured sense of identity. They are synthetic beings, engineered to serve specific purposes, with memories and emotions that may not be their own. This artificiality strips them of the ability to choose their paths in life, as their actions are heavily influenced, if not entirely dictated, by their programming and the roles imposed upon them. The statement "None of us are here by choice" thus resonates with the characters’ existential dread, as they grapple with the realization that their sense of self and autonomy might be nothing more than an illusion.

The Oppressive Systems and Lack of Choice: The world of "Signalis" is governed by a cold, bureaucratic regime that views its synthetic inhabitants as tools to be used rather than beings with agency. This oppressive system further reinforces the notion that none of the characters are present by choice. They are created, assigned roles, and expected to fulfill their duties without question. The game’s environment—a series of bleak, industrial landscapes filled with broken machinery and lifeless corridors—reflects the dehumanizing nature of this system. The absence of choice becomes a pervasive element, driving home the sense of entrapment and futility experienced by the characters.

The Psychological Impact of Lack of Choice: The realization that their lives are devoid of true choice has a profound psychological impact on the characters in "Signalis." This theme echoes existentialist ideas, particularly those of Jean-Paul Sartre, who argued that the recognition of one’s lack of control can lead to a crisis of identity and meaning. The characters' struggles with their roles, the haunting repetition of their tasks, and the oppressive nature of their environment all contribute to a deep sense of despair and nihilism. The phrase "None of us are here by choice" becomes a mantra that underscores the game’s exploration of these existential anxieties.

The Enduring Significance of Choice: "Signalis" is a game that uses its haunting narrative and atmospheric design to delve into the complexities of choice, or rather, the absence of it. The phrase "None of us are here by choice" encapsulates the characters’ struggles with agency, identity, and the dehumanizing systems that control their existence. Through its exploration of these themes, the game offers a profound commentary on the nature of free will and the psychological toll of living in a world where choice is an illusion. This analysis highlights how "Signalis" uses its narrative to challenge players to reflect on their own perceptions of agency and the systems that shape their lives, making it a deeply introspective and thought-provoking experience.

[artandrandomthoughtsoflife]

The dystopian cyberpunk nightmare we all secretly assumed was coming. You got your mass-produced bio-enhanced soldier children, their glowing visors flashing encrypted directives, the perpetual drizzle that somehow makes everything ten times worse—classic. These kids don’t ask questions. These kids don’t dream. These kids just comply.

[deathclawstudios]

Guess who watched the amazing digital circus pilot!!! So excited for the continuing episodes. (go watch it if you haven't!!) And of course, I have made a new character: Based on the abstraction. It seeks to worsen and accelerate everyone's existential crisis, so they join it. Whether benevolent or malevolent is yet to be seen...

[mixedreviewsmedia]

🧠 Who Am I? 60 Horror Films That Shatter Identity & Reality 🔪

Ever watched a movie and thought, "Wait… am I even real?"

I put together a Letterboxd list of 60 horror films that will mess with your head, question your existence, and make you look twice at your reflection. From doppelgängers to mind-warping memory loss, these films explore the breakdown of self and reality in all the most twisted ways.

Perfect for fans of psychological horror, existential dread, and that sweet what the actual f** did I just watch feeling.

🔗 Check out the full list on Letterboxd Let me know your favorites—or which one broke your brain. 🫠

[nocturnalversesandtales]

The worst horror stories aren’t about monsters—they’re about when you can’t trust yourself anymore.

[paranormalrchive]

The Whispers Below and the Crimson Shadow

The Beginning of the Underground Exploration

In a remote mountain town, deep within the rugged countryside, a peculiar subterranean structure was unearthed mere months ago. My invitation to the site came under the pretext of assessing its structural integrity as an architectural engineer. The official letter of request, marked with an air of urgency, stirred within me a subtle thrill—an emotion born of the rare opportunity to step into the realm of ancient relics.

Yet, the moment I first laid eyes on the site, that excitement swiftly gave way to an unsettling unease. The entrance yawned wide upon the mountainside, a gaping maw from which a cold, moisture-laden breeze issued forth incessantly. The wind carried with it a faint metallic tang, hinting at something otherworldly within the dark recesses.

The local guide spoke of "forbidden places" within the ruins—areas steeped in regional folklore as the sanctuaries of the "Red Shadow." These tales, he explained, warned of dire misfortune befalling any who dared to intrude upon these sacred grounds. Though some in the team laughed off the superstitions, I could sense an unspoken trepidation shared by all present, lingering just beneath the surface of their bravado.

As the provisional lights at the entrance illuminated the gloom, the bare rock walls gleamed with an almost organic luster, as though the stone itself pulsed with a latent vitality. Amidst this rugged tableau, we noticed an oddly smooth section of the wall, an anomaly of precision as though deliberately hewn to contrast with its surroundings. The unnatural symmetry whispered of a purpose long forgotten, and yet disturbingly deliberate.

"Ready?" came the terse inquiry from behind me. Turning, I found the team leader gripping a flashlight, his expression taut with determination, though faintly marred by a flicker of unease.

"Let’s go," he said. We formed a single line, our steps plunging us into the oppressive darkness. With the first step, the light behind us receded, swallowed whole by the encroaching void. What followed was a silence so profound it seemed not merely the absence of sound, but a negation of our very being—a smothering, alien stillness.

That oppressive quiet, combined with the foreboding aura of the place, was enough to suggest that our expedition would soon uncover something unspeakable—something far beyond the grasp of ordinary understanding.

Anomaly During the Exploration

The moment we stepped into the structure’s interior, an abrupt drop in temperature enveloped us all. The beams from our flashlights scattered chaotically off the uneven rock walls, their light unable to focus on the ground ahead, instead diffusing into an eerie glow. With each step forward, the cold thickened, to the point where our breath emerged in pale wisps, tangible in the oppressive chill.

The passage gradually narrowed, and the walls began to display irregular carvings. At first glance, they seemed the product of natural erosion, but upon closer inspection, it became clear they were anything but. These carvings were deliberate—meaningless geometric patterns, their lines intertwining with a complex rhythm, as if inscribed by some long-lost intent.

“Could this be some kind of ancient script?” someone murmured, their voice barely audible.

I shone my flashlight on the patterns and extended a hand to touch them. The cool texture of stone met my fingertips, but at that very moment, a faint sound drifted from the distance. It was not the whistle of wind but rather an unsettling murmur, as if some unseen presence whispered just beyond perception.

“Did you hear that?” I turned to ask, but none of the others seemed to notice. Dismissing it as a trick of my imagination, I returned my focus to the patterns. Yet, the murmurs persisted, their cadence drawing nearer, as though seeking to whisper directly into my ear.

As we pressed onward, the passage suddenly opened into a vast chamber. The ceiling soared so high that even the strongest beams of our flashlights failed to reach it. The walls bore the same geometric patterns, repeated endlessly, but in the chamber’s center stood something different—a peculiar carving, its form reminiscent of an altar meant for some arcane ritual. Stains of deep crimson, like ancient blood, dotted its surface, their origin untraceable.

“What is this…?” one of the team muttered, stepping closer to inspect it.

But before they could advance further, a sharp sound rang out from the chamber’s corner—a metallic screech, as though something dry and cold was being dragged across the stone floor. Instinctively, we froze, our flashlights snapping to the source of the noise. Yet, nothing was there. Only the shadows seemed to thicken, deepening as if devouring the light.

“Maybe we should turn back,” someone suggested hesitantly. But the leader shook his head. “Not yet. We need to investigate a little further.” His words carried a semblance of resolve, but the faint tremor in the beam of his flashlight betrayed his unease.

We moved toward the chamber’s center, inching closer to the altar-like structure. With every step, the whispers grew louder, clearer. This time, they did not merely mutter—they called our names, one by one, as if summoning us into the dark embrace of the unknown.

The Forbidden Chamber

At the far end of the chamber, a colossal door loomed, its presence both commanding and ominous. The ancient wooden surface was adorned with bizarre carvings—intricate geometric patterns interwoven in the same cryptic manner as those we had seen before. At its center, a rusted iron handle, darkened to a reddish-black hue, seemed untouched by human hands for centuries.

“Are we really going to open it?” someone asked hesitantly.

The leader kept his flashlight trained on the door, his pause betraying a fleeting moment of doubt. Then, in a low voice, he muttered, “It’s worth investigating.” Tension gripped us all as we watched him press against the door, its hinges groaning under the weight of neglect as it slowly yielded to his push.

As the door creaked open, a wave of cold air surged out, carrying with it the pungent odor of damp earth and rusted iron. The space beyond was smaller than we had anticipated, dominated by a floor inscribed with a red pattern. At first glance, it appeared abstract, but upon closer inspection, the shapes twisted into grotesque forms resembling distorted human figures.

“What… is this?” someone whispered.

I stepped inside, shining my light on the floor’s strange markings. They weren’t painted; the red hue came from ancient blood, deeply soaked into the surface. A chill ran down my spine as I realized the implications.

“This is a ritual site,” the leader declared, pointing toward a small hole at the center of the floor. Surrounding it were stone basins, each stained with the same dark crimson residue.

Suddenly, a peculiar laugh echoed faintly behind us. I spun around, heart pounding, but no one was there. The others, too, were visibly tense, their faces etched with fear. “Did anyone else hear that?” I asked. Everyone nodded in unison, their expressions grim.

Then, without warning, the door swung shut in utter silence. I rushed to grab the handle, only to find it immovable. Worse still, the metal was unnaturally cold, forcing me to withdraw my hand instinctively.

“We’re trapped!” someone exclaimed, panic seeping into their voice as the group broke into nervous murmurs.

In that moment, the floor’s markings seemed to emit a faint, eerie glow. The strange light arrested our attention, and we froze, watching in stunned silence as a nebulous red shadow began to coalesce at the pattern’s center. It hovered uncertainly, shifting and flickering between light and dark, its form refusing to solidify.

“What… is that?” the leader murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. None of us had an answer.

The shadow lingered for a moment, then began to move—slowly, deliberately—toward us. Its presence was overwhelming, suffocating, and none of us could summon the will to do anything but stand frozen, our breath caught in our throats.

Witnessing the Red Shadow

The red shadow possessed no fixed form, its shape shifting and bleeding into the light as it moved. At times, it appeared almost humanoid, but in the next instant, its outline would collapse and dissolve into formlessness. Paralyzed by fear, none of us could move. This was no mere shadow before us—it felt like a fragment of something incomprehensible, observing us with an inscrutable awareness.

“We… we need to run,” I muttered, my voice barely audible. Yet my legs refused to move, as though they were anchored to the ground. The others seemed equally frozen, transfixed by the shadow, their breaths held in unison.

As the red shadow drew closer, the air grew oppressively heavy. A deep pressure expanded within my skull, and my heart thundered against my ribs, each beat more frantic than the last. An incessant ringing filled my ears, drowning out all other sound. Someone groaned, and when I turned, I saw one of the team members collapse to their knees, clutching their head in agony.

“What’s happening to us?!” the leader shouted, but even his voice sounded distant and hollow, as though reverberating through a dream. Reality itself seemed to waver, its edges dissolving.

Then, the shadow passed through us. A piercing cold enveloped my body, and for a fleeting moment, my vision went dark. When I blinked my eyes open again, the shadow had returned to the center of the room, where it hovered over the patterned floor. Its movements, once fluid and subtle, now grew wild and erratic, pulsing with a sinister energy.

“We have to get out of here—now!” I shouted, desperation overtaking my fear. I sprinted toward the door, throwing my weight against it, but it remained steadfastly sealed. Another team member joined me, slamming into the door with all their strength, but to no avail.

Meanwhile, the shadow began to expand, its presence seeping into every corner of the room. The air grew thick with a red-black glow, and within its suffocating radiance, our forms appeared grotesquely distorted. Even my own shadow, once a familiar shape, seemed to dissolve, consumed by the crimson light.

“What do we do?!” another voice cried out, tinged with despair. The speaker’s face was pale, beads of sweat rolling down their temples as panic set in.

From the center of the room, a low, resonant hum began to emanate. It was accompanied by a faint trembling, as though the ground itself quaked in response. The shadow’s density deepened, filling the space with an overwhelming sense of being watched—of being judged.

When the shadow abruptly ceased its erratic movement, the atmosphere froze. It turned its formless gaze upon us, its presence radiating a terrifying omniscience. All thoughts of escape evaporated; we stood motionless, unable to breathe, unable to think—captives to its overwhelming stare.

And then, without warning, the shadow swelled, enveloping the entire room in its scarlet glow. The world dissolved into a sea of red light, and in that moment, I saw nothing. Nothing but the void.

Terror and Collapse

The moment the red light enveloped the world, my vision was utterly consumed. No sound accompanied it—only an infinite expanse of crimson-black darkness stretched out before me. I couldn’t tell if I was standing, kneeling, or lying on the ground. The only certainty was the chilling sensation of being watched—of "it" observing me from somewhere beyond comprehension.

“Is anyone there?!” I shouted, my voice echoing into the void, swallowed by the oppressive silence. No answer came. I couldn’t sense the presence of the others. I was utterly alone.

Then, from the emptiness, a strange whispering began. It wasn’t a single voice, but a cacophony of murmurs intertwined, their meanings inscrutable yet imbued with a sinister resonance. The whispers grew louder, filling my head with their haunting tones, pressing against the walls of my mind.

“Let me out…!” I screamed, flailing my arms against the darkness. As if in response, the red light began to shift, taking on a faint form that emerged from the void. The light intertwined and coalesced, slowly forming the shape of an enormous, otherworldly eye.

It was staring at me—not just looking, but piercing through every layer of my being. I felt its gaze reach into the depths of my soul, dismantling my sense of self and tearing me into countless fragments. My breath caught in my throat, and pain exploded in my chest. The overwhelming sensation coursed through me like an unrelenting tide.

When I became aware of my surroundings again, I was on my knees. My body trembled uncontrollably, sapped of all strength. I couldn’t even muster the will to stand. And then, without warning, the whispers ceased.

In the pulsating red light, the shadow began to take shape. At first, it seemed humanoid, but its contours soon warped and twisted into an incomprehensible monstrosity. The moment I laid eyes on its grotesque form, I instinctively looked away. Yet even with my eyes closed, the image burned into my mind, inescapable and indelible.

“This is just a dream… only a dream…” I muttered to myself, desperate to grasp at any semblance of reality. But the terror only deepened. The shadow’s movements suddenly halted, and the red light began to converge, focusing into a singular, suffocating presence.

Then, a deep voice whispered directly into my ear.

“I’ve found you.”

The instant those words reached me, my entire body froze. A moment later, a tearing sensation wracked my consciousness, and the world collapsed into total darkness.

Return to the Surface

When I opened my eyes, I found myself lying beneath a dim and overcast sky. My vision was blurred, my head throbbed with pain, and nausea churned in my stomach. In the distance, I could hear the faint whistle of wind cutting through the silence. Somehow, I was outside the ruins.

“How… did I get here?” I murmured to myself, trying to piece together my fragmented memories. Yet, no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t recall the final moments inside. All that remained was the haunting image of the red shadow and the echo of those sinister whispers.

I looked around, but none of the team members were in sight. No voices called out, and no replies came to my shouts. Struggling to my feet, I staggered toward the entrance to the ruins. To my dismay, the passage was completely sealed with rubble, leaving no trace of the way back inside.

Fumbling through my pockets, I found my notebook and a small flashlight. The notebook seemed ordinary, filled with routine notes from the expedition. But on the final page, a symbol had been drawn in red ink—one I didn’t recognize. It mirrored the geometric patterns we had seen on the walls of the ruins.

“Who…?” I whispered as I stared at the symbol. The moment I closed the notebook, an inexplicable chill crawled through my body, a deep, primal fear that I couldn’t shake.

As I walked away from the ruins, an unsettling sensation clung to me. It felt as though something—or someone—was watching me, not from the shadows, but openly, as if it trailed just behind me. Each time I turned around, nothing was there. Yet the whispers persisted, faint but unrelenting, echoing in the recesses of my mind.

Upon reaching the town, I immediately contacted the police. I reported the disappearance of the team and requested a rescue operation. But even as I gave my account, the thought of stepping back into that accursed place filled me with dread. All I could muster was a warning: “No one should go near that site again.”

Days passed, and the search was called off. Neither the missing team members nor the ruins were ever found. A quiet unease settled over the town, with locals refusing to speak further of the incident, as if the mere mention of it invited misfortune.

Since then, I have been plagued by nightmares. Night after night, I find myself back in the ruins, standing before the red shadow as it slowly advances toward me. Its whispers grow louder, drowning out every thought, until I wake in a cold sweat. Each morning, without fail, I discover a scrap of paper beside my bed, marked with the same ominous symbol from my notebook.

What happened that day inside the ruins? Why was I the only one to emerge alive? I may never uncover the answers. But one thing I know for certain: the shadow found me. And even now, it’s still watching.

[chicar]

Merry Winter Solstice

Richard Williams’s A Christmas Carol: https://youtu.be/ZTzyC9CZuOA?si=PLRsg6jxThJu6izM

Goodwill To Men: https://youtu.be/2dvBm_r8x4w?si=dxvpa2yAa2zJOemj

Ghosts Stories For Christmas: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=PLhf5g0fltvWVyoznO96U6qHJxk1cwU6Zs&si=zd_koaPlBCe2aiGm

[spectrasgothiccinema]

What Scene From a Movie Traumatised You When You Were Younger?

For me, it was this. Nosferatu’s elongated shadow creeping up the staircase in Nosferatu: A Symphony of Horror. The way it seemed alive, more terrifying than the figure casting it, haunted me for weeks. I couldn’t walk past a staircase without feeling those spectral fingers reaching for me.

Movies have a way of lodging fear in the corners of your mind, don’t they?

[voucwjryey]

[divinehorrorarchives]

"Watching him feast reminds me of the natural order. The food chain. The ugly truth of life—cruel to the victims, glorious to the abusers"

Insane Entities, a novel called blasphemous on Goodreads. It is violence, full of gore, twisted but if you know Christianity very well, you will have fun grasping the sick symbolism.

[puppygirl-existentialhorror]

Hello my friend, I am a hadiah from Gaza.

Can you help my children and donate evetn a little

I was working as a lawyer to bring justice, and now you are the ones who will bring justice to me...We lost our jobs, our homes, all our belongings, we became homeless.. Asking for help is not easy, but saving lives on the front lines

I have children. I suffer from a hernia, diaphragm, stomach bacteria, and infections, and I need continuous treatment...it is expensive.

In the name of humanity and not participating in genocide.I ask you to re-share my story and help my children if possible. Ten dollars is enough to save my children.

🙏😭🌹🍉💔💔

Please do what you can.

I want my children to live in safety and peace. Please don't neglect to do what you can to  participate or donate

Link in bio

My campaing vetted by @90-ghost

@ayeshjourney

Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #136 )

Ask puppygirl-existentialhorror a question

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[brotherorpheus]

[thirdeyecomics]

Great new #existentialhorror by way of #davidcronenberg creepiness in @aftershockcomics #lonelyreceiver this week!!! Snag it & check it out! Want to reserve or preorder this or other items? Here’s how: 1. Email ✉️ steve@thirdeyecomics.com or DM us here. 2. ‼️ Make sure to include: the item, your name, your phone # or email address, and whether it’s for in store pick up (pls include the Third Eye location) or mail order! 3. We’ll get you paid up & it’s yours! #comics #comicbooks #comiccollector #comiccollectors #horrorcomics #buythirdeyeordie (at THIRD EYE COMICS) https://www.instagram.com/p/CEwa4LHB2HO/?igshid=l8psytfll2wc

[brucedrawsworlds]

I finished "The Will to Soar" for my patrons, and yikes never needed 20+ work in progress saves before! Definitely the most challenging piece I've ever taken on. Looking forward to a change of pace, next. #imaginativerealism #horror #frankenstein #existentialhorror #12continents #challengeyourself #fantasyart #fantasyillustration # https://www.instagram.com/p/B35OmNVgHF2/?igshid=wp2h70wwzpxn

[markelton]

#tbt to a couple months ago for a piece done in collaboration with @arcanegeometer in which he wrote an excellent piece of serialized #horrorfiction for the #halloween season. Anyone else in the mood for a hot cup of coffee? . . . #existentialhorror #horror #illustration #illustrationartists #artistsofinstagram #artistsoninstagram #artistsonig #hotcoffee #coffee #cafe #collaboration #art #digitalart #digitalartist #digitalartists #cupofjoe #throwbacktuesday

[squoose]

When I'm not drawing silly, well sillier stuff, I make fine art. Can somebody please add about 5 more hours to the day or give me lots of money so I have more time to make art? This one is 5x7 watercolor and pencil on Yupo. #unionsquare #somerville #squoose #joshuaporterfield #boston #pig #pigsofinstagram #wheredidthelastpiggygo #ilovededyoupiggy #couch #lovecraftian #existentialhorror #watercolor #yupo (at Union Square (Somerville))