Introduction
The unsettling nature of certain architectural space, and architecture of fear if you like, is an interesting topic and has, for a long time, been a point of discussion in fields such as psychology, phenomenology, and horror studies. Some environments evoke a primal fear that seems disconnected from any immediate threat. Architectural spaces have the power to unsettle us, often, not because of what they contain, but because of what they lack. So, by creating games in which the environment itself becomes the primary antagonist, a skilful game designer could use this simple observation to their advantage.
Drawing upon phenomenological perspectives (Herrington, 2008; Frers, 2013), environmental psychology (St-Jean, Clark, & Jemtrud, 2022), and horror studies (Bickerdike, 2024; Benson-Allott, 2015), in this post, I would like to think about the architecture of fear, or the eerie quality of places that feel haunted even in the absence of ghosts.
Spatial Uncanniness: When Familiar Places Become Terrifying
Here, we are concerning ourselves with the concept of ‘Architectural uncanniness’ which arises when an environment defies our expectations. This empowers the environment itself to create a sense of cognitive dissonance. The uncanny, as described by Freud and expanded upon by Hook (2005), can manifest itself in spaces that feel familiar and, yet, disturbingly altered. Abandoned homes, deserted offices, or corridors that seem to stretch endlessly into the distance, all have the power to disrupt our perception of normalcy.
Sartre’s concept of absence (Herrington, 2008) expands upon this phenomenon, positing that absence itself is an active presence in architectural experience. This notion is evident in liminal spaces, which are best defined as transitory locations that feel neither here nor there, such as empty malls or abandoned amusement parks (Naja et al., 2023).
Silent Observers: The Feeling of Being Watched
Within certain environments there is the potential of triggering the sensation of being observed despite an apparent lack of observers, we often describe it as a sensation of ‘being watched’. This effect is triggered or enhanced in spaces with reflective surfaces, security cameras, or architectural elements that create a sense of exposure. For example, St-Jean et al. (2022) highlight how certain architectural stimuli, including sightlines and spatial openness, can induce physiological responses associated with anxiety.
Potentially, particularly powerful is the psychological effects of surveillance, which are well-documented in architectural and social research. The panopticon model proposed by Bentham and later explored by Foucault suggests that the mere possibility of being watched alters behaviour and perception (Hook, 2005). This architectural principle is evident in spaces such as open plazas, corridors with convex mirrors, and buildings with extensive glass facades.
Lingering Presence: How Spaces Hold Memories
The concept of spatial hauntings, the ability of spaces to retain the presence of past inhabitants, can be approached and interpreted through the lenses of phenomenology and cultural geography. Frers (2013) suggests that absence exerts an emotional weight on those who experience it, suggesting that the memory of past events lingers within physical spaces.
This phenomenon is particularly evident in abandoned buildings, where objects frozen in time—a forgotten coat, a child’s doll, a chair that seems ready for the occupier to come back at any moment, intensify the eerie sensation of the absence of physicality but presence of spirit. Saltmarsh (2009) describes this as the “haunting concept” in social research, where places seem to resist temporal progression, trapping remnants of their past.
The Role of Absence: Fear of the Things That Aren’t There.
This concept, that fear is often generated not by what is present, but by what is missing is one that, I think, we can easily understand and, with a little imagination, can learn to apply constructively. Bickerdike (2024) gives additional context by discussing the ways in which British horror cinema exploits spatial absence to create unease, utilizing empty spaces, locked doors, and obstructed sightlines to evoke fear. This aligns with Frers’ (2013) assertion that absence has a materiality of its own, actively shaping our experience of space.
Spaces that break architectural logic also have the potential to elicit unease, staircases leading nowhere, doorways that open to walls, or other architectural anomalies can all impact our psyche and force us to ask questions about the ‘purpose’ of the world we are living or playing in. Such distortions of expected space are frequently found in horror literature and film, as exemplified by Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves and the shifting interiors of haunted houses in cinema.
Objects as Omens: When the Ordinary Becomes Sinister
We have spoken before about the haunting properties of ordinary objects. Objects left behind in empty spaces take on an ominous significance. As Herrington (2008) suggests, the presence of an object implies an absent owner, reinforcing the notion of spatial haunting. Benson-Allott (2015) explores how horror films utilize objects, mannequins, dolls or masks, as non-narrative triggers of unease and this sensation of the ‘absent observer’, demonstrating that fear can stem from the arrangement and displacement of familiar objects.
A single chair in the centre of an empty room, for example, suggests recent occupation, encouraging us to ask questions of ourselves about who sat there, where they went and when they may return. This aligns with the phenomenological approach to absence, which views these empty spaces as charged with meaning (Frers, 2013).
Conclusion
I think we can begin to see, then, that the architecture of fear is not merely about haunted houses or supernatural threats; it is about how space, design, and absence interact to generate unease. By leveraging architectural uncanniness, surveillance effects, and the power of absence, certain spaces create an atmosphere of dread, a canvas for all of our other layers of horror story telling and, sometimes, the very story itself.
Ultimately, these spaces do more than frighten us, they work to challenge our perception of reality itself. Whether in horror fiction, games or real-world environments, the manipulation of spatial norms continues to be a powerful tool in evoking fear.
References
Benson-Allott, C. (2015). Dreadful Architecture: Zones of Horror in Alien and Lee Bontecou’s Wall Sculptures. Journal of Visual Culture, 14(3), 267–278.
Bickerdike, K. (2024). There’s Something Wrong with This Place: Spatial Tension in British Horror Cinema. Sheffield Hallam University.
Frers, L. (2013). The Matter of Absence. Cultural Geographies, 20(4), 431–445.
Herrington, S. (2008). You Are Not Here: Sartre’s Phenomenological Ontology and the Architecture of Absence. Architecture and Phenomenology, 51(4), 51–64.
Hook, D. (2005). Monumental Space and the Uncanny. Geoforum, 36(5), 688–704.
Naja, M. F., Kuswanto, I. R., Purnama, A., Fathurraziqin, H., & Wardhani, M. K. (2023). Exploring Experience and First Impression in The Liminal Spaces. Journal of Architectural Design and Urbanism, 6(1), 12–22.
Saltmarsh, S. (2009). Haunting Concepts in Social Research. Discourse Studies in the Cultural Politics of Education, 30(4), 441–456.
St-Jean, P., Clark, O. G., & Jemtrud, M. (2022). A Review of the Effects of Architectural Stimuli on Human Psychology and Physiology. Building and Environment, 219, 109182.