The drums quickened. Stephanie huddled against me. I must confess that I took some pleasure in it. Only now did she see me as anything more than a face in the crowd.
The embers of our extinguished campfire painted her face in a dark, angry red. The pounding grew louder. Perhaps they were closer; perhaps they were past us. At this time of night, it was impossible to tell what was happening beyond the tree line. Please, be past us. Please.
Something rustled in the underbrush. I drew her closer, trying to savor whatever moments we had left, but that sinister rhythm invaded my thoughts. Twisting the syllables of her name to the beat.
Then they ceased, and all was still…
Suspense is perhaps the most vital aspect of any horror tale. It is both the tension that winds the story taut and the instrument by which that tension builds. It buys the audience time to run free with their imagination and magnify the terror in ways the creators of such stories could never do on their own. It is the horrific counterpart to anticipation, and much of the energy in a Dread game is derived from it.
It is indispensable. Although it can be a little tricky at first, it will become one of the easiest elements to use in your game. In this chapter you will find some tricks that will help you incorporate suspense in your stories. Not all of them are necessary to every story, and this list of tricks is by no means exhaustive. Once you get a feel for your game and your players, this will become second nature. Until then, experiment and find what works best for you.
One of the reasons suspense is so easy to come by in Dread is the physical manifestation that looms over the gaming table. The tower is a time bomb, ticking away at the heart of your story. It is a very clear representation of a very vague sense of doom. Though the players may not yet be aware of the horror that awaits them, they can be sure it is lurking in their future. As each block is pulled the tower grows taller, thinner, and shakier, and it reminds them of its dark promise.
Every time a character attempts something with a questionable outcome, no matter how mundane, every player’s complete attention will be on the tower. This is something of a double-edged sword. While the players will be focusing on the game, they might not be focusing on the story. Their minds will naturally turn to thoughts about the tower: which block seems the loosest, where would it be most strategic to pull, does it lean too far in that direction, and so forth. There is nothing inherently wrong with this, but if the story is at a point of high tension, or when you really want to build the suspense further, you will have to keep the story at the forefront of their minds.
Try narrating while the player is attempting to pull. Not a play-by-play per se, but more of a recap of the most recent events, reminding the other players why this block is being pulled and exactly what is at stake for their characters.
Watch your players the first few times a difficult pull is made. They may take a moment to congratulate the puller, or otherwise celebrate the victory. This, too, is okay. It is a natural release of all the tension built up under the stress of the pull. But, if you want to capture that energy, and draw it back into the game, you should start describing what the pull accomplished right away. Don’t fight with your players over the moment. Just start the story back up and let them fall back into character on their own.
When designing your own stories, consider the ultimate horror you wish to reveal to your players a gift. Wrap it in deception, knowing smiles, and red herrings. They are not to open it until the final act, and even then, only if they are ready. Tease them with hints of what awaits, but keep them in the dark as long as you can.
In practical terms, try to wait until the opening of your third act before the true evil in your story is revealed. Even if there is no question what the characters are up against, you don’t want them facing it in all its hideous glory until the last third of the game. Of course, this gives the tower enough time to become unstable (and thin the herd of characters in the process), but more importantly, it gives the story a chance to build.
If the players know what they are facing from the beginning, then there are a couple routes you can take. If it makes sense, you can still keep this menace at arms’ length, lurking in the shadows for the first part of the story. A group of military specialists sent to hunt down and destroy a pack of werewolves can end up playing mouse-and-cat with the beasts for quite a while. The wolves attack in the cover of darkness, hitting and running to prevent sustained combat. The soldiers can only make out heat blobs on their night-vision scopes while soldier after soldier is dragged into the night. Then, when the den is uncovered, it’s a full-on assault, and the survivors witness the savage might of the pack up close.
Or, you can twist the ending with an altogether different sort of horror. The dead have risen and zombies pour into the streets, consuming flesh. The characters begin in the thick of things, fighting their way to safety. The action is immediate and the danger is apparent, but the suspense grows over the internal arguments among the survivors instead of the act of survival itself. The third act opens with one craven soul in a pick-up truck stranding the others in a sea of dead because he refuses to risk his life for those who never took him seriously anyway. In this case, the tension builds towards a moment of evil in which the walking corpses are no different than the water engulfing a sinking ship.
Whatever you do, try not to design the story so that your whole hand is revealed too soon. If the players manage to figure out the ending before you planned, don’t sweat it. That is a thrill in itself.
Before the story even begins there are opportunities to lay the groundwork for suspense. Sneak questions into the questionnaire that will have your players thinking about the directions you may take them. Merely asking what wild animal savagely attacked them as a child will have them thinking about the creature any time you lead them into the woods.
The questionnaires are the foundations of the story as well as of the characters. Previous chapters discussed using elements of the answers in the story. When you do this, think about how this might clue the players into what is in store. Ask what gives them nightmares, even if you don’t intend to shape your story around it. Instead, you can use these answers to flavor the clues. If one character is terrified of needles, put tiny puncture wounds on a corpse, no matter how it died.
Don’t be afraid to be blatant with your questions. In general, the players shouldn’t share too much of their characters with each other. Even if you spell out the entire plot in questions, they shouldn’t realize it until nearing the end of the tale. Ask straightforward questions like, “Why are you certain tonight is your last night to live?”
As hinted at in the section on Suspense and the Tower, during the game the host’s job is less about building suspense and more about protecting it. Children wake early on Christmas morning, rush to the tree, and fervently tear open their gifts, all because of the energy generated by the anticipation. Your players should be no different. The only problem is that this energy, like water, flows along the easiest path.
Humor tends to be one of the easiest paths. This can be helpful or harmful. Keep your eye on it—if things get too relaxed, you will have to turn up the heat a bit.
Otherwise, you can direct this energy by introducing different parts of the story when you feel the suspense start to ebb.
Your voice is also a great tool for setting the mood and sustaining the suspense. Slow your speech a bit, and lower the volume on your voice—not too slow, and not quite to the point of a whisper—just to the point where the players won’t be able to hear it over their own. Typically, everyone will follow suit. The hushed tones will have the same powerful effect experienced by anyone who has ever told a ghost story at a sleepover or by the campfire. As the volume lowers the expectation that something is about to happen will grow, and that expectation brings suspense. Just remember not to break the spell with a shout or other sudden noise. The goal isn’t to make them jump; the goal is to get them ready to jump when that tower falls.