A fair warning: The following video regards a horror game, and it will feature some jumpscare
sounds and overall creepiness.
{What I Love!}
[sound of phone ringing]
Uh, hello?
Hello hello?
I’m Scruffy, and today we’ll be talking about Five Nights at Freddy’s, an indie
horror game that has shaken up the genre and become a worldwide phenomenon, starting from
a single developer with a small budget.
And in light of that developer, Scott Cawthon, supporting developers of Five Nights at Freddy’s
fangames, and also because Halloween is coming up soon, I’d like to take an analytical
look at the ways sound made this game so compelling and spooky.
I’ll only be touching on the first game for now, and I won’t be addressing the lore
of the game much since there are still so many mysteries about it.
Now, it’s been plenty established that Five Nights At Freddy’s is, or was, frightening,
if you haven’t played it before.
And small wonder, it capitalizes on a broad discomfort with animatronics, robots that
fall right in the uncanny valley: too humanoid to be a cartoon, but moving too mechanically
to pass for something living.
But even more than that, you are trapped in a single spot, the security office of a pizzeria,
while these animatronics not only move where they aren’t supposed to, while you aren’t
looking, but are coming for you specifically.
It is a nightmare scenario built off of two pillars: the absence of information, which
prevents planning, and the absence of action, the inability to fight or flee.
Now if this were actually a nightmare, those two would perpetuate until we wake up in a
cold sweat.
But since this is a game, and there is a win condition, some of these pillars have to be
sacrificed to allow the player a chance to think under pressure and win over their stress.
And this is where developers like Scott turn to visual signals and audial clues to dole
out some control.
I say “clues” because, while a map of the pizzeria and camera feeds of the animatronics
are clearly helpful visuals, it’s more complicated when it comes to audio.
Some audio works to your advantage, giving you information, and some audio works against
you, muddying information, creating unknowns, and even contributing to the absence of action
feeling.
Let’s break down each of these, starting with the advantageous audio.
That is, any audio that helps you form a plan and figure out how to survive.
In a scenario with absence of action, you are desperate for information like this, although
at first, nothing you hear seems advantageous.
It all starts out unknown, which is yet more stressful.
It’s only after you spend some time in this environment and listen for patterns, that
you start to pick up where advantages lie.
And the sound files of FNaF confirm this line of thinking: for instance, there are four
different sound files for pots, pans, and oven doors clanging about.
[sound of pots and pans clanging]
Must be important, especially when you can hear these sounds even without using the camera
system.
Initially this sound is a stressor, but eventually you can pick up that the sound is louder when
you look at the kitchen camera, which only has an audio feed.
And then you pick up that Chica, the chicken animatronic, is nowhere else to be found.
So, all along, this sound was actually trying to help you understand that Chica is currently
in the kitchen, and going forward, you can determine that without using the camera, saving
you some power.
Not every advantage in the game has an audio clue, but the ones that do are well designed.
Another one you’ll hear is Freddy’s voice whenever he moves to a new room.
There are three versions of this sound.
[Freddy's voice samples play]
Again, this can be heard on camera or off, so initially it sounds like some otherworldly
threat is just laughing at you.
But, eventually, with enough camera usage, you can tie Freddy’s movements to his laughter.
In fact, Freddy’s difficult to see on camera, and you’ve got to conserve power anyway,
so for some players, it could be easier to count the times Freddy laughs to indicate
how close he is to the office.
The audio may be unnerving, but since it forms a pattern in an otherwise unpredictable environment,
it’s advantageous.
Now, there’s other audio that forms patterns, but doesn’t give you an advantage.
These are just good ol’ sound effects, scored directly to what happens on screen.
There are the sounds of camera feed failing when an animatronic you’re watching suddenly
moves...
[sound of camera failing]
...there’s the sound of Foxy running down the hall to indicate you have a very limited
window of time to save yourself...
[sound of Foxy running]
...and the sound of him banging on the door. [four bangs on the door]
These sounds are consistent with their actions, but the player never really picks up help
from them.
They’re mainly to immerse you more in the environment.
And you’ll notice most of them are diegetic, that is, most of them are sounds that the
in-game world would be making.
There is one sound that doesn’t seem diegetic, however, and that’s an audio stinger when
Chica or Bonnie appear right in your doorway.
That sound is not manufactured by a camera or machinery, and I don’t think it’s meant
to come from Bonnie or Chica.
It’s more of a classic horror music cue that makes you jump a little more at something
sudden: a stinger.
In fact I think it’s extended technique on a string instrument, slowed down 100%?
Here it is sped up:
[violin-esque stinger]
I’m not sure about that, the little sounds at the very end remind me of handling a violin,
but... suffice it to say, it is non-diegetic music rather than an in-game sound.
These sounds don’t help or harm you, they just make the world more real, direct, and intense.
And now, we get to audio that’s special for a horror game, audio that’s actively
trying to scare you, or even working against the information and actions you have.
Let’s unpack the different ways audio can deter you from beating this nightmare.
First, we have what I’m calling “muddied” information, audio that isn’t clear or that
blocks other audio signals.
For instance, the cameras make haphazard static noises when they experience interference,
or when you can hear one panning back and forth.
[sound of camera interference]
The little bit of audio coming from camera feed is also garbled, you know, it’s put
through a couple of audio filters to simulate a poor transmission of sound energy.
So all in all you hear very little straight from the source.
Plus, there are other sounds getting in the way.
The loudest distraction by design is the fan in your office.
This remains on for the entire night, buzzing incessantly.
And here, let me clarify something: I mentioned in a previous video about Animal Crossing:
New Horizons that having some nonzero sound ambience actually makes an environment calmer
than one with total silence.
However, if that ambience is loud enough that it’s harder to pick up audio patterns that
matter more, it can become stressful all over again.
The fan does quiet down when you’re focusing on the camera, but that’s using up power.
So there’s definitely an exchange of sacrifices between you and the game here.
The more information you are allowed, the more power you use up.
And the more you conserve your power, the more information is obfuscated behind filters,
distance, and noise.
And then here is the truly devious part: Hidden beneath the noise of that blaring desk fan
are not only the sounds that impart information, but other sounds that don’t, and are either
meant to confuse you or just scare you more.
Sounds like this strange swirling noise.
[menacing drone sound]
Doesn’t really signify anything other than… a creepy atmosphere that can’t be identified.
Same with these even subtler noises.
[subtler, unsettling room tone]
They’re just barely audible under the fan, but this sound in particular is resonant enough
that you can discern it.
Your ear just can’t make out any details, and thus it’s another potential stressor.
This time though, you don’t pick up any pattern or advantage from it; it’s just
sometimes there, conveying some vaguely metallic sound far in the distance.
Other red herrings fit a bit more specifically in the location of a children’s pizzeria.
Sometimes you’ll hear this room recording of a pipe organ, internally called “circus.”
["circus" plays]
A festive little jingle like this feels at home in a kids’ pizzeria or an arcade, although
it’s juxtaposed with the nightmarish scenario.
And once again it’s not giving you any real information, it’s just getting you that
much more stressed.
Same with the song Foxy will occasionally sing, internally called “pirate song2.”
["pirate song2" plays]
You can hear both of that and "circus" anywhere in the game, and this one specifically can
be traced to Foxy’s stage, but it doesn’t signal anything about Foxy’s erratic behavior.
It’s misleading clues mixed in with the legitimate ones.
One more misleading clue interestingly begins as a legitimate one.
At the start of each night, you receive a previously recorded phone call from another
employee, who has been dubbed “Phone Guy.”
His call on the first night sets the scene, tells you how you’re in danger, and what
actions you have to keep animatronics at bay.
He keeps things vague partly because he doesn’t know all there is to know about animatronics,
and partly because he’s skating around the suggestion of mortal peril to try and keep
you from quitting.
But as the nights progress, you realize that the animatronics will start moving even while
this call goes on, and the call itself gives you less and less advantageous information
after Night 1.
Instead Phone Guy sometimes opts to deepen the lore of the game, and sometimes gives
you suggestions that aren’t actually helpful.
For example, during Night 3, he advises the player to sit still and try to play dead once
Freddy is outside the office, yet doing so actually has no effect.
These phone calls become serious red herrings.
They directly speak distracting information to you, and the sound of the phone call interrupts
other important sounds, like Freddy laughing.
What initially seems like your only lifeline in this scenario has become yet another problem.
Now, the last category of detrimental audio isn’t necessarily messing with your ability
to parse other sounds.
These are sound effects that make you feel like you’re dealing with a supernatural threat.
I gave the following sound effects a special category because they’re a lesson in themselves
for crafting horror game sounds: the slightest hint of language in an otherwise corrupted,
garbled sound.
It’s like there’s information or threats hidden in a message to you, but not only is
the message not in any discernible language, but it also doesn’t sound like the messenger
is human at all.
Scott gives the animatronics in all his games humanoid sound effects, mainly because they’ve
been possessed, but also so that the animatronics can appear to attempt communicating with you.
And it just comes off as alarming, supernatural wrath.
Here’s a sound you’ll hear when Bonnie or Chica are right at the corner toward your
office, staring sidelong at you from the camera, while their heads twitch.
[menacing, vaguely vocal sound]
This only happens after Night 3, when you’ve been with them for a while, so it seems to
convey the animatronics’ aggression ramping up.
But why are they making a sound so reminiscent of backwards human speech?
Is there a message encoded in there?
Why does it sound so off?
If we players had the time to answer these questions we ask, we’d figure out that it
is a recording of a person reading an excerpt from “Autobiography of a Yogi,” by Paramhansa
Yogananda, with the formant tuned down, speaking backwards, sped up artificially, with ringshifting
applied to electrify the vocals and remove them further from human vocal cords.
Ahem.
Similar to animatronics going in the visual uncanny valley, sounds like these go in an
audial uncanny valley, where they’re definitely closer to language than any other sound in
this library, but they’re too distorted for you to recognize who made the words or
what they mean.
These vaguely vocal sounds are littered throughout FNaF1, from quick flickering hallucinations,
to Night 5’s phone call, which is another garbled lowered passage from "Autobiography
of a Yogi," talking about how “marvelous mechanisms” will make lives easier in future
generations.
Freddy’s laughs also count as vaguely vocal sounds, they are slowed-down versions of a
child laughing.
[Freddy's voice plays at the speed it was recorded, and then slowed down]
And, if Bonnie or Chica are already in your office, but you have the camera up to avoid
them, they’ll make their presence known with these labored breathing noises.
[sound of Bonnie exhaling]
There are four of these sounds, and unlike most of the sounds in the game, these are
dry and remarkably close-mic sounds, since doom is right in front of you at that point.
And, on that note, let’s talk about more endgame sounds, beginning with losing the
game by letting animatronics get into your office.
Before you hear any right in front of you, you might first test the light button to find
it no longer works.
Ordinarily the light gives out a harsh electric hum when you turn it on, and it flickers:
the sound is not consistent.
When you first test this light, the sound and flickering combined immediately demonstrate
absence of action.
They make you think, “This shoddy little lightbulb is my last line of defense?”
Of course, as it is one of the few actions you can perform, you immediately miss it and
tension spikes up when you suddenly hear this short, curt sound instead.
[sound of light failing]
Presuming you can’t hide in the cameras long enough, you’re about to get the infamous
Five Nights at Freddy’s jumpscare, the sound for which I’ll be playing in 3, 2, 1...
[JUMPSCARE SOUND]
...Yeah.
It’s pretty well-known at this point that this is a cut-off, overdriven sound of a child
yelling*,
(Editor's note: incorrect, it's a woman's scream from Inseminoid (1981))
which fits the lore behind the game and, again, is just vocal enough.
If you’re unlucky enough to encounter Golden Freddy, this sound is slowed down 100%.
[Golden Freddy's scream]
No natural, comforting sounds to be found there, but it is a big sudden release of tension.
The difference between that and winning the game is that, in winning the game, you get
laudatory sounds of chimes and children cheering, which are finally close and resonant
sounds free of heavy distortion and garbling.
And then, in a twistedly comedic fashion, those celebratory sounds get truncated by
silence as the next night begins.
The final endgame condition is using up all your power, which shuts everything off with
this long, descending drone.
I’d say there is cold comfort here: it’s a release of tension from checking cameras
and shutting doors constantly, like, there’s less information to worry about not having.
But there’s also total absence of action: all you can do is wait for whichever comes
first: Freddy’s blood-curdling scream, or the jubilant chimes of 6 AM.
After this first stage of just you and the drone, we get the second stage, where Freddy
shows up at the door and plays his tune: the refrain of an aria commonly called the Toreador
March from the opera Carmen, by Georges Bizet.
And played on a music box, once again juxtaposing the sound of childish play and lullaby with
impending supernatural death.
The refrain itself is fitting: it describes the toreador, the bullfighter who dreams both
of the bull’s eyes watching them and the love that awaits them if they succeed.
Good metaphor for this moment, only to be cut off again by the final stage: total silence,
total darkness.
No more information, no more action,
no more—
It’s stressful, right?
I’m not going to play a jumpscare here, I’m just showing how a little silence goes
a long way.
All of these sounds go a long way: they perform functions beyond just a scary atmosphere.
They deal in the information and agency with which the player controls the game.
FNAF1 doesn’t solely rely on sounds to create its atmosphere or to play with the player.
The sounds are rather a supplement to everything else.
The animatronics don’t make any noise on camera, and they still prove scary enough
just to look at, especially when they stare right back at you.
But then the sounds as they approach the office enhance the experience, supporting the frightening
visuals with unsettling and unnatural voices and noise.
It’s not the only way to craft a horror game soundtrack, but it’s a token of playing
to audio’s strengths.
And that is how Five Nights at Freddy’s turns a nightmare into a game.
I’d like to thank my friend Wolfgang for helping me put together this script!
And I’d like to thank my supporters on Patreon.
If you’d like to vote on the music I arrange, get behind-the-scenes looks at my productions,
and join my Discord server, you can become a patron using the link in the description.
I would very much appreciate it.
With that, it’s me, Scruffy, and thank you very much for watching.