# Shared Reality vs. Character’s Experienced Reality

- **Shared Reality (Objective World):** A physically mundane setting (e.g. an apartment, office, park) with normal geometry and furnishings. Objects behave according to real-world physics. Clocks tick steadily, lights flicker only if powered normally, and walls, floors, and objects have expected textures and scales. Sounds (traffic outside, creaking wood) are as they are, and scents (cooking, damp air) match reality.
- **Character’s Experienced Reality (Subjective World):** A warped overlay on the above. Here the environment is animated by the character’s thoughts and emotions. For example, a ticking clock might echo like a heartbeat; wallpaper patterns might swirl into faces; a normal room may seem to **stretch** or **shrink** subtly, as if alive. Neutral details (e.g. a dripping faucet, a stray plastic bag moving in the wind) become **hyper-salient**, holding ominous significance. These distortions reflect hyperreflexivity – an “exaggerated self-consciousness” where inward thoughts project onto the world – and diminished self-affection, a “weakened sense of existing as a vital…source of awareness”. 

In practice, we map key elements side by side. For instance:
- *Old Wall Clock:* **Shared:** A broken, silent clock on the wall. **Experienced:** It ticks loudly with the character’s pulse; its hands run backward when he feels lost, signaling disorientation.  
- *Window View:* **Shared:** A quiet courtyard and street. **Experienced:** The streetlights glare strangely; passing cars cast **elongated shadows** that loom. Time of day might **cycle** irregularly – dusk returns too soon (temporal disorientation).  
- *Apartment Door:* **Shared:** A sturdy wooden door locked from the inside. **Experienced:** It sometimes *breathes* or pulses in rhythm with the character’s anxiety, as if alive.  

This two-column mapping lets designers know which features change in perception and which remain constant anchors. Objects that remain recognizable (see section D) can be used as orientation points in both reality layers.

# Reconstructable World Bible

**Architecture & Geometry:** The physical space should be coherent (hallways meet rooms as in floorplan) but may *visually warp* in the character’s mind. Corridors might seem longer or “non-Euclidean” when stressed, yet in objective reality they are normal. Blocky walls, right angles and familiar room layouts keep the shared-world map logical. In the subjective overlay, however, geometry can subtly shift: corners may **bend**, doorways may elongate, or floors appear to curve, reflecting the character’s fragmented sense of place (a common feature in psychosis).

**Scale:** Most objects remain true-sized in reality (e.g. a chair is seat-height). In the character’s view, scale can fluctuate with emotion – a childhood toy might loom larger than life, or a threat might shrink him. These changes are *experienced*, not physically real. The game world must consistently allow room navigation as in reality so that the level designer can build an accurate map.

**Materials & Textures:** In shared reality, surfaces are concrete, wood, fabric, etc., with normal textures. In the character’s mind, textures may become uncanny: wallpaper could seep like wet paint, wood grain might flow like blood, or bricks might appear to breathe. For reconstruction, the world bible lists actual materials (e.g. “peeling paint on walls, cracked linoleum floors, faded floral wallpaper”). Designers then add subjective effects (e.g. **“wallpaper pattern occasionally flickers, revealing a shadow figure’s face”**).

**Lighting:** Objectively, lighting follows plausible sources (lamps, sunlight through windows). Subjectively, it is often dim and sickly or suddenly shifts color (e.g. a warm lamp glow might turn icy blue when the character feels fear). Flickering or dying bulbs correspond to stress but should never contradict reality (i.e. don’t introduce a light source that has no real counterpart). Accessibility note: ensure lights have on/off controls or steady modes for players with photosensitive epilepsy.

**Sound:** The real-world soundscape includes ambient noise (traffic, dripping pipes, distant voices). In the character’s subjective layer, sounds are amplified or distorted. Neutral noises (a dripping tap) may become a loud metronome-like drip, or a distant siren might blend into whispering voices. Use **3D spatial audio** so normal players hear cues, but you can also introduce auditory hallucinations (e.g. a whispered name) that occur only in the character’s head. Provide subtitles or visual cues for any critical audio to aid deaf players.

**Smell & Taste:** Normally stable (coffee aroma, mildew). Subjectively, smells can turn offensive or overbearingly sweet. For example, a kitchen scent might become rotten. These are internal and not directly perceivable by the player except through dialog or environment descriptions. For instance: *“A pungent, sour odor fills the air, but no source is visible.”* This dramatizes odor hallucinations without needing actual fragrance delivery. (Smell cues can be described visually or textually.) 

**Touch & Proprioception:** In reality, surfaces feel as expected. The character might feel heat or pressure normal to environment. In subjective reality, bodily sensations change: carpets may feel like crawling flesh, or a breeze might feel like icy breath on the neck. These can be conveyed via haptic feedback if available (a subtle controller vibration). Always pair haptic signals with another cue (visual or audio) so players who disable rumble still get the information.

**Object Behavior:** Real objects follow physics. In the subjective layer, ordinary objects may subtly misbehave: clocks tick backward with no moving hands, room temperature shifts without cause, or unseen movements (a chair might slide slightly). These anomalies should be consistent: once a rule is established (e.g. “mirrors sometimes show impossible reflections”), stick to it. Importantly, **not every object must be meaningful** – most cues come from a few key items, as random strange events can overwhelm the player. Reserve puzzle-relevant clues in objects that remain consistent (see Sections D–F).

**Time Behavior:** Game time flows normally (days to night) in shared reality. Subjectively, time may **drag or freeze** briefly during panic (slow-motion breathing, etc.) or **loop** in flashback scenes. For example, when a traumatic memory triggers, the scene might replay a moment in slow motion. This should be done via scripted event, not actual clock manipulation; after it ends, normal time resumes. Use timing carefully so players are not confused (e.g. a 30-second audio hallucination can play while the level is still technically paused).

This “world bible” lets level designers build a concrete map of the environment (rooms, objects, lighting fixtures, etc.) and then apply the above parameters to transform it into the character’s experience.

# Environmental Cues (Urgency, Meaning, Reliability)

Below are **15 environmental cues**. Each cue is rated on a 1–5 scale for **Subjective Urgency** (how pressing it feels to the character), **Personal Meaning** (how much it resonates with the character’s own story), and **Reliability** (whether it points to an actual clue or is misleading). (Higher scores = stronger.)

1. **Flickering Lamp (Hallway):** Urgency **2/5** – the lamp’s steadiness intermittently falters, causing discomfort but not immediate threat. Meaning **3/5** – reminds the character of a father fixing broken lightbulbs (past domestic memory). Reliability **3/5** – in reality the bulb is just old; it does not unlock anything but steadiness might calm anxiety. *(Neutral detail elevated by emotion.)*

2. **Bloodstain on Floorboards:** Urgency **5/5** – very alarming sight. Meaning **4/5** – resembles the red skirt her sister once wore, invoking guilt. Reliability **1/5** – only old rust; it’s a false clue (emotional red herring). *(High subjectivity: a mundane iron spot looks like blood, causing panic.)*

3. **Tinnitus Ringing:** Urgency **3/5** – a persistent high-pitched ring in one ear. Meaning **2/5** – no specific personal tie, just adds tension. Reliability **2/5** – likely just a stress reaction (not a clue, just indicating anxiety). *(Auditory cue: use to signal stress, not puzzle.)*

4. **Open Window (Room):** Urgency **1/5** – calmly blowing curtains. Meaning **2/5** – reminds her of freedom as a child, soothing. Reliability **4/5** – actually relevant: its latch is rusty and can be used to escape in the puzzle. *(Mundane object with real function.)*

5. **Growing Shadow on Wall:** Urgency **4/5** – threatening as it expands. Meaning **1/5** – no personal connection (shadow has no significance). Reliability **1/5** – purely illusion (normal midday sun). *(Not real; no puzzle relevance.)*

6. **Grandfather Clock’s Chime:** Urgency **3/5** – each hour chime seems late or early, unsettling. Meaning **5/5** – the clock marked his mother’s time of death (traumatic personal link). Reliability **2/5** – not hiding anything actual (just clock is slow), yet drives exploration (time discrepancies hint at hidden room behind the clock). *(Ambiguous: partly false but may mask real secret.)*

7. **Notebook with Doodles:** Urgency **2/5** – scribbles catch eye but not urgent. Meaning **4/5** – drawings of a bird from childhood story (comforting). Reliability **1/5** – the drawings do not provide new info (no code, just a red herring). *(Emotional comfort, not puzzle).*

8. **Mirror Reflection:** Urgency **5/5** – her reflection suddenly smiles sinisterly. Meaning **3/5** – mirrors in home always made her uneasy (childhood superstition). Reliability **1/5** – purely hallucination (mirror is blank). *(Very intense but not an actual clue.)*

9. **Dislodged Loose Brick:** Urgency **3/5** – brick on the floor could trip. Meaning **2/5** – irrelevant personally. Reliability **5/5** – real clue: a key is hidden behind it (fits puzzle mechanics). *(Quiet, mundane but truly important.)*

10. **Children’s Laughter:** Urgency **4/5** – distant giggles in empty house. Meaning **5/5** – sister’s laugh from childhood. Reliability **1/5** – no child present (imagined). *(Emotional but misleading.)*

11. **Metronome (table):** Urgency **2/5** – softly ticking. Meaning **3/5** – recalls mother’s piano lessons. Reliability **4/5** – actually triggers a mechanism (when stopped, opens secret panel). *(Personal and puzzle-critical, though looks like ordinary decor.)*

12. **Dust Particles in Light:** Urgency **1/5** – specks floating in sunbeam. Meaning **1/5** – purely atmospheric, no relevance. Reliability **5/5** – none (just ambiance). *(No meaning; just mood.)*

13. **Text Message Notification:** Urgency **4/5** – phone buzzes with old friend’s name. Meaning **5/5** – he actually *did* text her regularly (fond memory). Reliability **2/5** – phone battery dead (fake alert; it’s memory triggered). *(Strong personal pull but impossible in reality.)*

14. **Clock Radio Static:** Urgency **3/5** – crackling sound sporadically. Meaning **2/5** – generic anxiety signal. Reliability **2/5** – just interference (not transmitting clue). *(Signal of confusion.)*

15. **Burned-Out Candle:** Urgency **1/5** – candle flame snuffs out. Meaning **4/5** – symbolized her late grandmother’s funeral (sad memory). Reliability **5/5** – actual clue: wick dipped in clues powder, leads to hidden note if reignited. *(Emotional resonance and genuine clue.)*

By separating **urgency** (how much the character feels “must do something now”), **meaning** (personal emotional weight), and **reliability** (actual usefulness for solving the level), designers can control which cues guide the player. Note that *highly urgent* cues are often not reliable (clocks chiming ominously is hallucinatory), and *low-urgency* can still be reliable (a loose brick quietly holds the key). This ensures tension without punishing guesswork.

# Overlap Objects (Shared Anchors)

1. **Photograph in Frame:** A faded family photo on a table. *Shared:* It’s an old photo of the character as a child with her brother. *Experienced:* The figures in it subtly move or smile encouragingly. This object stays “real”: players can pick it up or examine it both normally and in hallucination, providing continuity.

2. **Grandfather Clock:** The large clock on the wall (mentioned above). *Shared:* It looks stopped and dusty. *Experienced:* It ticks with her pulse but the frame and face remain clearly that clock. Its chime anchors the hours of the game.

3. **Mantelpiece Mirror:** A tall mirror above the fireplace. *Shared:* It shows the room accurately. *Experienced:* It sometimes reflects impossible scenes (another time or empty hallway) but the mirror itself is constant. Even distorted reflections preserve the mirror’s shape, tying both realities together.

These three objects appear identically in both layers (same position, form). They act as “grounding” items so players aren’t completely unmoored when the world warps around them.

# False Lead (Emotional Distraction)

- **Weeping Doll:** The character finds a porcelain doll on the floor. It quietly **whispers** her name and cries. She feels a surge of guilt (it reminds her of how she neglected a childhood toy). This cue scores high for meaning and urgency but is *inconsequential to any puzzle.* It represents her remorse and nostalgia but conceals nothing of gameplay value. Pursuing it only scares the player with cries but yields no key item or clue. This false lead helps convey emotional truth (her unresolved grief) without advancing the gameplay, so the player learns not all the character’s fears are “useful.”

# Mundane Reliable Clue

- **Rusty Paint Scratches:** On one wall the character notices faint scratches in the plaster. At first glance they look like random cracks in the old building. In reality, one scratch is an arrow pointing low. It’s easy to overlook (mundane and low-visibility) and has **no emotional impact** on the character. Yet it reliably indicates a secret latch nearby (perhaps the loose brick mentioned above). This demonstrates that crucial clues are **camouflaged as ordinary details** – rewarding careful observation. (This adheres to good design: “mundane clue, high reliability.”)

# Scene Transformations (Life History Triggers)

1. **Childhood Bedroom (Happy Memory):** Upon touching an old toy car, the room fades into her childhood bedroom. The walls become covered in childish drawings and pastel colors. Toys animate and chatter playfully. Her younger self sleeps peacefully in bed. This transformation is warm and dreamlike, offering comfort. (Trigger: childhood toy; represents innocence and happier times.)

2. **School Classroom (Academic Pressure):** A chalkboard eraser scrapes in her hand and suddenly she’s in a dim classroom. Desk rows vanish into darkness, and she’s at the front by a teacher’s desk. Chalk endlessly writes “You will fail” on the board, reflecting past exam anxiety. (Trigger: teacher’s voice on radio; represents stress of expectations.)

3. **Hospital Room (Trauma Memory):** Opening a medicine cabinet door blurs reality. The bathroom becomes a sterile hospital room with fluorescent lights. She stands at a bed with her dying parent. The sound of heart monitor beeps and a slow drip of IV conveys loss. (Trigger: smell of antiseptic air; a major trauma of death.)

4. **War-torn Street (Sibling’s Death):** Stepping on broken glass, the environment shifts to a war-torn street at dusk. Smoke swirls, distant bombs echo. A younger brother lies injured on sidewalk. She rushes to help him before soldiers appear – a memory of the moment he died. (Trigger: sounds of distant thunder; signifies loss and guilt.)

5. **Breakup Cafe (Betrayal):** Touching a spilled cup of coffee in kitchen transforms the kitchen into a cozy cafe. Her ex sits across from her at a table. The scene glows warmly until his expression shifts to contempt and the cafe crowd fades. She remembers the exact words he said when leaving her. (Trigger: the smell of coffee; ties to their relationship.)

6. **Future Vision (Anxiety):** As the portal destabilizes, a brief flash shows her older self, alone in a dusty hallway that’s a deteriorated version of her current home. A sense of regret is palpable. (Trigger: portal stress; represents fear of deteriorating like her environment.)

Each transformation is tied to a strong emotion from her past. They *physically alter* the scene so the level designer can craft distinct geometry, lighting, and sound for each memory. Yet transitions should be smooth (e.g. a color fade or dissolve) to indicate it’s the same location overlaid with memory. This approach grounds the surreal changes in her biography.

# Portal Mechanics (Fictional Rule Set)

- **Entry Condition:** The portal can only be entered at a specific *fixed point* (e.g. the basement door at midnight, or when the character lights a birthday candle). It requires an *emotional catalyst* – a moment of intense fear or belief. For example, the portal opens when she **screams** in defiance of her fear. This ties the supernatural act to her psyche (she must *willingly* engage it).

- **Cost of Entry:** Each crossing induces psychological strain. The character may suffer a brief lapse of orientation (blurring vision, ringing ears) and lose 25% of “sanity meter” (a game health analog) that can only recover with rest. Thus, using the portal is mentally taxing, preventing overuse. This is distinct from psychotic symptoms – it’s a *game mechanic cost*.

- **Instability:** The portal environment is **volatile**. Visual cues flicker and gravity may momentarily invert. Sometimes, items carried through can vanish or alter (introducing risk). However, the portal never produces “powers” in the character – e.g. she can’t suddenly lift objects telekinetically. Any effects she experiences are understandable illusions (e.g. food tastes funny, lights strobe). This maintains that **psychosis is not magical**.

- **Exit Condition:** The portal closes automatically when the task is done or after a time limit (e.g. when a timer with eerie ticking ends). It may require solving a “rite” puzzle inside (such as aligning symbols from her memories). Exiting returns her to a corresponding real location (e.g. solving the puzzle lights a lamp in the real world). 

- **Return Anchor:** Each trip is anchored by a “touchstone” in reality (e.g. a family heirloom necklace the player can hold). As long as she keeps this anchor, she remembers both worlds. If she lets it go (symbolizing losing grip on reality), she may fall into a dangerous psychotic break. This illustrates the **double bookkeeping** concept: she can function in reality and keep the portal memories separate only so long as she holds onto something real.

These rules keep the portal as a consistent game element (a “lore portal”) with clear parameters. At the same time, they mirror her mental state: crossing feels risky (like venturing into her own mind), and her psychotic symptoms (like hallucinations) are separate from the portal’s physical rules.

# Accessibility Alternatives

- **Audio Alternatives:** All speech (voices, whispers) should have **captions or subtitles**. Important sound cues (phone buzz, alarm) should have visual icons (e.g. a phone icon on HUD) so deaf players get them. Include an option for mono audio and independent volume sliders (voice vs. effects). Background sounds (distant voices) should not be the only way to convey location; use on-screen arrows or mini-maps for spatial audio cues. 

- **Visual Alternatives:** Provide **high-contrast and colorblind modes**. No puzzle clue relies solely on color: e.g. a red button should also have an icon or label . Flashing lights must be avoidable or toggled off, and textured patterns should accompany color changes. All text (journals, signs) should be readable (large font toggle) or have audio narration option. Any important visual clue (like footprints) could have an accompanying symbol or highlight option.

- **Motion Alternatives:** Allow disabling camera shake, head bob, and rapid movements. Let players adjust the field-of-view (FOV) and walk speed to reduce motion sickness. Scenes should not auto-pivot camera (player-controlled view). For sequences with heavy motion (like a bedroom shifting into a memory), offer a “slow pan” mode. If rapid movement is unavoidable, a comfort vignette (dark edges) or pause between motions can be provided.

- **Haptic Alternatives:** All vibration alerts (heart pulse, impacts) should be optional and accompanied by another cue. For example, instead of only a controller rumble when “danger” is sensed, also flash the screen edge or play a suspense sound. Users should be able to disable all controller vibration while retaining gameplay.

These options ensure players of different needs (deaf, blind, visually impaired, motion-sensitive) can still experience the level. The key is **redundancy of cues**: for every important audio cue there is a visual one, and vice versa.

# Rewritten Scenes (Avoiding Generic Horror)

**Original (Generic Horror):**  
*A narrow hallway with flickering lights. A sudden *clang* and the character turns – a humanoid shadow looms. Ominous whispers ring in her ears: “You’re not alone.” Blood drips from the ceiling. Heart racing, she picks up a rusty knife.*

**Rewritten (Psychologically Grounded):**  
Light spills unevenly in the hall as the bulb sputters, casting a warm glow that dances with each flicker. The character’s breathing *echoes* off the walls, louder than any voice – not a monster’s whisper, but her own fear. In the dim corner, she notices a child’s drawing taped crookedly to the wall (a **true clue**: her brother’s handwriting). It’s pinned by a nail — when she tugs it free, a key tumbles out (quiet resolution, not a jump scare). There is no dripping blood. Instead, **water** from a leaking pipe above splashes softly on the floor; she recalls fixing faucets with her father as a kid. Her pulse matches the lamp’s flicker, grounding her. She does *not* find a demon lurking; the ‘shadow’ was just her stretched reflection in the glossy floor.  

This rewrite follows Hellblade’s philosophy: use the environment to “intuitively grasp perception and belief”. The fear comes from memory and ambiguity, not a generic ghost. Clues (drawing, key) are embedded realistically (cognitive-semiotic worldbuilding). Emotional stakes (nostalgia, familial loss) replace cheap scares, ensuring the scene feels **compassionate and personal** rather than supernatural horror. 

**Original (Generic Horror):**  
*In the basement, a decrepit furnace roars to life, casting an orange glow. The character sees skeletal creatures flit behind the bars. A radio on the wall blasts distorted screaming.*

**Rewritten (Psychologically Grounded):**  
The basement heater clicks and hums normally. Warm light flickers, illuminating old tool rags. In her mind’s eye, the bars *almost* frame something – but when she blinks, they are just storage shelves stacked in shadow. Instead of screaming, the radio softly plays static that gradually resolves into an old lullaby that her grandmother used to sing (a soothing personal memory). The crescendo is her own heart pounding, not a creature’s wail.  There are **no monsters** – only the familiar shape of her toolbox (on reflection, it briefly looked like a twisted face). 

Again, any “horrors” were products of her anxiety. By removing ghosts and focusing on misperceptions, we emphasize her inner experience. The script cue might even loop the lullaby softly, reducing it to normal static if she changes the radio knob. This aligns with the design goal: the environment reflects her psyche, not external evil. 

In both rewrites, supernatural effects become ambiguous: they could be misinterpreted perceptions rather than real events. This approach is informed by expert guidance: Hellblade’s developers insisted on an **“accurate”** portrayal of psychosis, avoiding “simplistic or superficial” horror clichés. The goal is to foster empathy, not fear, highlighting the character’s **subjective truth** in a believable way.