Resident Evil 9 and the return of playable fear: Why Horror games matter more than ever

This article was written by Dr Eoin Murray, BA(Hons) Creative Writing lecturer and organiser of Falmouth University’s upcoming Horror & Gaming Conference this July. 

As the days slowly grow longer and the winter gloom begins to loosen its grip, we might be forgiven for thinking the shadows are finally retreating. The evenings brighten, the air shifts, and a sense of seasonal optimism creeps back in.  

But just as the light returns, a new shadow of terror is gathering in the gaming world: the return of one of horror’s original icons, Resident Evil. Because no matter how much daylight we gain, some franchises have a way of dragging us straight back into the dark and shining a light on what lurks in our real-world shadows. For that reason, a new Resident Evil isn’t just another sequel — it’s a cultural temperature check. 

Each major horror release tells us something about how audiences want to experience fear, and more importantly, what they want that fear to mean. As an avid researcher into horror video games, with two published book chapters on Resident Evil games specifically, the enduring success of the series reminds me of the place horror occupies not only within video games, but as a cultural discussion point.

Horror provides us with a prism through which we can tackle difficult real-world subjects behind the safe ‘surrogacy’ of fictional horrific scenarios. Recent horror films like Sinners delve into racial tension, whereas 2024’s The Black Girl Survives in This One horror anthology sought to empower Black female characters in settings where, traditionally, agency is lacking. 

Video games, however, take this a step further. While books and films allow us to witness fear, games require us to act within it. You are in control of a character or scenario, and this makes that surrogate experience feel just a little more real. In Resident Evil Requiem, I won’t be watching Leon Kennedy battle zombies, I’ll be fighting zombies through him and if I fail, so will he. In horror games, fear is not observed — it is enacted. 

And when fear is enacted, players become complicit in the choices they make under pressure. That complicity creates a uniquely interactive form of moral engagement — one that other media cannot replicate in quite the same way. 

Recent studies have shown horror fans are looking for more narratives that deal with heavier topics, which reflects the general political landscape. We’ve seen other horror games tackle some of these subjects in different ways: Papers, Please explores immigration and policed states, Detention deals with societal martial law and historical trauma, and Observer engages with censorship and surveillance. These are not simply games that scare. They are games that ask players to navigate systems of control, scarcity, paranoia and moral compromise. 

Video games now have a player base of 2.7 billion worldwide, 23% of which engage with horror games, so this is not a niche conversation. It represents a vast global audience interacting with themes of contagion, authoritarianism, isolation and collapse, often through mechanics that simulate vulnerability and limited power. 

In industry terms, that makes horror one of the most efficient vehicles for experiential storytelling currently available. Where blockbuster action games often empower, horror frequently constrains — and constraint is a powerful design tool.