Grimrunner Tales is a series of horror stories with the intent of explaining the gameplay surrounding Nightholme. Each week features a new article that look into a specific topic.
This week's focus is Atmosphere.
Cosmic horror is not about big scares or flashy moments, it is about how everything fits together. The visuals set the mood, the sound pulls you in deeper. Every detail builds in the same direction to keep players tense and on edge. In Nightholme, atmosphere is not just set dressing, it drives how you play the game from start to finish
We hope that you enjoy it.
It’s one of those places you smell coming. I catch it half a mile out, thickening the air. A viscous, sticky black something, clotted in the vein. Bad meat and fruit gone to mush, undercurrent of salt and fish. Kinda familiar. Kinda sweet.
Stepping across the town’s border, my ears start ringing, then go dead. No wind, no insects, no screams or sobs. Town’s holding its breath. Quiet as a trap.
The buildings come on slow, sagging from the dark. Old tar, wet hemp, hooks rusted shut. A fishing town’s rotten corpse, hollowed out between the ribs. Once, it might’ve looked like the place I grew up.
But the Gloom’s rooted deep here. It snakes across walls, coils over crates and lampposts, greasy and knotted thick. Makes me feel watched, a thousand eyes prickling the back of my neck. Waiting.
On my next step, a loose stone skitters away from the toe of my boot. Sounds like a shotgun in the quiet dark. I stop breathing. Something might’ve heard.
I eye the alley to my left, narrow and slick, black as a well. Fifty-fifty it’s a death trap or good cover. Here’s hoping something else isn’t already crouched inside.
I slip into it, because the open street feels worse. Keep thinking I hear something heavy dragging itself across the cracked pavement. There’s breathing around me, but I don’t know if it’s mine.
Human or not, I don’t want to meet what’s out there. The monsters want to peel me slow, savor my agony. My fellow Grimrunners want the payout before I get it. They’re no safer. Everyone wants something.
People call this a hunt, like it’s a sport. Like it ends clean. But we know better. It’s older than that, quieter and colder. A ritual. Once you step in the circle, your only choice is to see the work through.
The dragging sound gets louder. Dread starts to pool around my hindbrain, and my hand finds the cross dangling against my chest. The runes I etched there are almost worn smooth. A heretic’s lucky charm. Sure.
Something moves in the mouth of the alley. I don’t see it so much as notice once it’s gone, the absence of a shape that blocked the light. Slipped its head back around the corner. It was there the whole time.
My fingers twitch. Part of me wishes it had stayed.
It’s gonna be a long fuckin’ night.
Come talk with us on on Discord. Share your ideas, give feedback, and connect with other players.
Discord:
https://discord.com/invite/nightholme
Stay vigilant, Grimrunners,
— Studio Ellipsis Team