Virtual tabletop games contain Cthulhu maps which behave like cursed tomes. You begin a light-hearted moment with friends while in the next touching you feel eerie sensations in a screen where images seem to stir. You shift your eyes from laughter to screen shadows which appear to shift across the display. The abandoned spaceship emits mysterious noises like those of alien sources. The Victorian manor displays portrait images that blink in front of your eyes. Your heartbeat accelerates no matter which situation you are facing.
These maps aren’t scenery. They’re traps. The faulty glow of a lantern warns about impending danger rather than creating mood. The locked door should not dissuade you because it presents nothing more than a challenge. Every pixel oozes dread. The player reactions of excited questioning about background noises confirm that the map design is effective.
Virtual tabletops crank this to eleven. The overhead sounds can blend together creating a combination of far-off footstepping with child noises and slithering wet sounds across stones. At this moment your players advance beyond their normal gameplay experience. The speakers produce sounds that force their players to experience physical discomfort. Someone asked “Did you hear that?” while the other player responded “Hear what?” Cue the paranoia.
Excellent horror maps build complex psychological challenges. They’re optical illusions. A too-long corridor stretches in front of the players. A hollow basement part goes beyond what should exist normally. The wrong feel of the structural elements provides all the necessary frights because jump scares are not required. The maze should create psychological confusion in your game participants. The doorway appears to show the same opening as before.
Absence drives the success of horror since it creates greater impact in the story. The empty chair at the dinner table. The unmarked grave in the yard. Absence creates stronger mental discomfort than any existing thing does. Allow your players to create horrors by themselves through their imagination. Players will envision more horror even if you fail to draw something frightening.
Lighting’s your MVP. Players must strain through total darkness of pitch-black spaces in the dark hallways. Torchlight that dies after 10 feet? Chef’s kiss. Each movement forward now requires players to play a game of chance. Set the timer as a way to make them experience high-stake anxiety. The lighting becomes weak so we remain stationary and assess our situation.
Scale matters. Claustrophobic corridors breed panic. Vast, open wastelands breed despair. Alternate between the two. Place the player in a tunnel that is incredibly narrow before forcing them into a space big enough to reverberate their voices. Whiplash is your friend.
Props sell the story. The text written in red ink fills a page of the journal. A doll missing an eye. A half-eaten meal still steaming. These aren’t details. These traces provide mysteries that lead to deeper sinister facts. The game’s villainous elements should be reconstructed by players through story fragments. Your plot’s core theories will fade in comparison to what the players will imagine.
Monsters? Overrated. The real terror is anticipation. Make the monsters audible throughout the encounter even when players cannot yet observe it. Heavy breathing under the floorboards. Claws scraping metal. When they finally meet it? Make it anticlimactic. A shadow. A blur. The fear of imminent events causes more fright than digital special effects monsters.
Humor’s your secret sauce. A skeleton displays a joke book as it poses reading. A “Beware of Dog” sign outside a vampire’s crypt. The beats of laughter create a sudden break in tension that intensifies the following moments of fear. The audience enjoys watching people move between laughter and shrieking while going through the game.
Storage? Nightmare fuel. The players should detect labeled jars inside a refrigerator when they enter. “Grandma’s Eyes, 1987.” A closet with seven identical black coats. The excitement rises if the object creates motion at their follow-up inspection.
Weather’s your co-GM. Rain masks sounds. Fog hides threats. Snow erases footprints. Use it to isolate players. Everyone turned to check their locations yet Jess seemed to have disappeared completely out of sight. Spoiler: Jess isn’t Jess anymore.
The use of horror maps gives you an advantage which practically makes you invincible. Their task supports your lazy coffee breaks alongside your malicious laugh. Keep in mind that your objective should not involve the aim of causing player fear. Your ultimate goal should be to create conditions that let the players frighten themselves. The mission succeeds when a player asks for happy music during the following session.