We should not enjoy fear, and yet we do. Sometimes, at least.
Horror is one of the most lusted-after genres across film, literature, and gaming. Resident Evil is perhaps the best example of why that is. For nearly thirty years, the franchise has taken players to the edge of collapse, from deserted laboratories to plague-ridden towns, all infected with the same themes: Viral panic, corporate failure, and wonderful, creeping dread.
But this is not just escapism. Resident Evil works because it reflects the fears that already live under the surface. The virus isn't just in the test tube, it is in the system.
Before we get too far into biohazard territory, it is worth looking at how players arrive at horror in the first place. It is rarely their first stop. Many get there by accident. They start with action or strategy games, and eventually, curiosity or boredom leads them to something darker. Sometimes they try horror once, find it too much, and go looking for something else altogether.
Horror gaming has a way of getting under your skin. When a game genuinely unsettles you, the next instinct is often to take a break. Not to give up, but to find a palate cleanser. This is where a lot of players suddenly switch genres. Some move to puzzle titles, others to simulations or social games. And increasingly, many are turning to the best online casino platforms. These experiences still offer tension, but the kind that is more calculated and less emotionally draining.
There is a reason for that. Horror and iGaming both rely on atmosphere, pacing, and risk. You are constantly asked to make decisions with limited information. Whether it is opening a suspicious door in Resident Evil or betting on the next card in blackjack, the same mental processes apply: Weigh the odds, breathe deeply, and commit.
But if there is one thing Resident Evil does differently, it is how it grounds fear in reality.
When Fiction Starts to Feel Real
The first Resident Evil game gave us an old, creepy, creaking mansion, flickering lights and vague government denials. It was gothic in tone and strange in delivery. But the concept behind it never really left. An experimental virus escapes containment. People change. Trust breaks down. Officials lie.
As the series moved and reshaped, it stopped pretending to be pulpy horror and started leaning into the real anxieties of modern life. There were conspiracies, cover-ups, biological testing, and population collapse. Everything the world experienced (or thought it experienced) in the early 2020s, Resident Evil had already played out on-screen.
By the time COVID-19 restructured our day-to-day, many returning players said the games hit differently. The idea of barricading your home, watching the outside world fall apart, not knowing what’s true, all of it felt strangely familiar. The zombies are fictional. The unease is not.
Umbrella Corporation, the series’ ever-present villain, remains one of gaming’s most effective metaphors. The company’s calm branding, white-walled labs and clinical explanations mirror how real-world power often operates. The scariest part is not the virus. It is the silence before it.
Playing With Chaos
Survival horror, in general, works because it gives you structure inside the panic. There might be monsters outside the safe room, but you have a plan. You know what is in your inventory. You know where the next typewriter is. You understand the logic of the game, even if the world it shows is lawless.
This kind of psychological balance is what makes the genre rewarding. It shows you a system collapsing, then gives you the chance to survive it. And when you do, the satisfaction is real.
Of course, not everyone finishes a horror game in one sitting. Many jump in and out, returning only when the emotional pressure feels manageable. Again, this is why we see players switch genres mid-playthrough. You might spend two hours in Resident Evil, barely making it out of the police station, and then load up a card game or a relaxed narrative adventure just to unwind.
A World We Know Too Well
Resident Evil’s genius lies in the depth and familiarity of its environments and characters. Take the Raccoon City Police Department, for instance. It is much more than just a backdrop. Its marbled halls and maze-like corridors set the tone for one of the most iconic survival horror experiences ever built.
In the 2019 remake of Resident Evil 2, Capcom revealed that over 60% of players completed Leon’s campaign. That’s a remarkable stat for a genre where players frequently give up due to difficulty or dread. This location doesn’t just house enemies - it forces players to memorise, map and survive.
Characters like Leon S. Kennedy and Jill Valentine have grown into cultural figures, not just gaming favourites. Leon’s transformation from rookie officer to steely government agent spans decades and multiple games. Jill, meanwhile, embodies resilience and focus, often standing alone against the tide when everyone else has already fallen.
Why We Always Return
Even when we step away from Resident Evil, it pulls us back. Part of it is nostalgia. Part of it is the way the series builds worlds that feel haunted even before the virus hits. But it is also about control. In real life, we cannot stop a crisis. In these games, we can.
That is a powerful feeling. Especially when the rest of the world feels uncertain.
The franchise has lasted as long as it has because it adapts. It has moved from static camera angles to deeply immersive first-person. Then there’s playing RE with a VR headset, which is most definitely not for anyone with a heart condition.
It has embraced remakes and reimaginings. It has balanced old-school difficulty with new-generation polish. Yet the core of the experience remains the same. You, against the unknown, with nothing but a map, a knife, and a slowly breaking radio signal.
It is intimate. And it is exhausting.
And then, just when you think you’ve had enough horror, Resident Evil releases another chapter. Rinse and repeat.
Familiar Fear in a Changing World
There are few constants in entertainment. Audiences change, platforms shift, new genres rise. But Resident Evil has lasted because its fears have remained familiar.
It is not just a game about the undead. It is a game about systems breaking down. About not trusting what you’re told. About trying to do the right thing with limited resources and almost no support. That is a far more chilling idea than any monster behind a door.
As one study on horror consumption reported, our willingness to confront fear can be explained by a blend of emotional coactivation and safe detachment, giving us a strange but potent satisfaction.
So we keep playing. Because even if the fear is uncomfortable, it is also recognisable. And somewhere inside that haunted lab, beneath the flickering lights and broken radios, we know we’ll find a way through.
We always do.
