Why Is the Elevator Always a Bad Idea?

...Or how do we know something is going to happen in the elevator?

There are many things we have learned from playing video games.

Don't trust the suspiciously friendly stranger.

If there's a locked door, we'll eventually need to find the key (Yes, even in Mideel, if you know, you know).

If someone tells you not to go into the basement, you should probably go into the basement.

And if you walk into an elevator?

Something is about to go horribly wrong.

It doesn't matter what kind of game you're playing.

Horror game?

Definitely something terrible.

Mystery game?

Something suspicious.

Action game?

The elevator is going to break.

Metal Gear Solid?

Guys in stealth camo are about to attack.

Final Fantasy VII?

Rude's going to pop in and ask you to take him, and you, to the prison floor.

And if you're playing Silent Hill?

Well...

You'd better check the floor indicator.

Because there may be a floor there now that absolutely wasn't there five minutes ago.

The elevator isn't transportation.

The elevator is a promise.

And that promise is usually:

Something terrible is about to happen.

Rule #1: Never Get on the Elevator

This is the obvious one.

You walk into a building.

There are stairs.

There is an elevator.

The elevator doors open.

The game gives you the option to use it.

Don't.

You know better.

The elevator is suspiciously clean.

The music has changed.

There's nobody else around.

The doors close a little too slowly.

This isn't transportation.

This is a trap with buttons.

But you get on anyway.

Because apparently the protagonist has places to be.

Rule #2: If the Story Needs It to Break, It Will Break

Video game elevators have one primary job:

To stop working at exactly the moment the story needs them to.

It doesn't matter how recently the building was constructed.

It doesn't matter whether the elevator was working perfectly five minutes ago.

It doesn't matter if you just watched another character use it.

The moment you step inside?

Something happens.

The lights flicker.

The elevator shudders.

The doors close.

The music stops.

And then:

CLUNK.

You're going down.

Or up.

Or sideways, apparently.

Then the elevator stops.

The lights go out.

And your protagonist says the inevitable:

"What the hell?"

You know what the hell.

The story needed you somewhere else.

Rule #3: The Elevator Will Never Stop Where You Expect It To

You pressed Floor 3.

You are going to Floor 3.

Probably.

Maybe you'll get Floor 2.

Maybe Floor 4.

Maybe the basement.

Maybe somewhere that the building's architect forgot to mention.

The elevator doors open.

You look outside.

This is not Floor 3.

You know it's not Floor 3.

The character knows it's not Floor 3.

The game knows it's not Floor 3.

But apparently we're going to explore it anyway.

Because that's what you do in video games.

Rule #5: In Silent Hill, There Will Eventually Be Another Floor

This deserves its own rule.

Because Silent Hill has elevated elevator logic into an art form.

In a normal building, you can generally trust the floor buttons.

In Silent Hill?

Absolutely not.

You may start with:

B1
1
2
3
4

Everything seems normal.

Then something happens.

The elevator goes somewhere it shouldn't.

The doors open.

And suddenly there is another floor.

A floor that wasn't there before.

A floor that makes absolutely no architectural sense.

A floor that the building definitely did not have when you entered.

And naturally...

You're getting off.

Of course you are.

Why wouldn't you?

You are playing Silent Hill.

At this point, discovering a mysterious new floor is less a warning and more an appointment.

The elevator has essentially said:

"Would you like to visit the nightmare dimension?"

And the protagonist responds:

"Sure."

Rule #6: The Elevator Doors Take Too Long to Close

This is one of the simplest ways games create tension.

The doors begin closing.

Slowly.

Painfully slowly.

You are standing there.

Waiting.

Nothing happens.

The doors are almost closed.

Then—

Something moves.

Maybe it's a shadow.

Maybe it's an enemy.

Maybe it's another character.

Maybe it's absolutely nothing.

But you're staring at the gap.

Because video games have taught us that something is going to appear in that six-inch opening.

The doors finally close.

You breathe again.

Then the elevator moves.

Great.

Now you're trapped.

Rule #7: Someone Will Always Be Waiting When the Doors Open

You arrive at your floor.

The doors open.

Someone is standing there.

Just standing.

Not moving.

Not speaking.

Facing away from you.

You immediately think:

Nope.

The game thinks:

Oh yes.

You step out.

The person slowly turns around.

Maybe they're friendly.

Maybe they're a ghost.

Maybe they're an enemy.

Maybe they're someone you've been looking for.

But whatever happens next, the elevator has already done its job.

You're uncomfortable.

Rule #8: The Elevator Is an Excellent Place for a Jump Scare

You are trapped in a small metal box.

You have nowhere to run.

You can't see what's coming.

You have approximately three square feet of maneuvering room.

This is basically the perfect horror-game environment.

Maybe the lights go out.

Maybe something appears in the reflection.

Maybe the doors open on a completely different location.

Maybe you look at the corner and discover that something has been standing there the entire time.

Or maybe the game does something even worse.

Nothing happens.

You arrive safely.

You step out.

You start to relax.

And then something attacks you.

Because apparently the elevator wasn't the scary part.

It was just the loading screen.

Rule #9: Never Turn Around in an Elevator

This is another unofficial rule.

You get inside.

The doors close.

You face forward.

That's it.

You do not turn around.

Because what is behind you?

You don't want to know.

The reflection in the doors might show something that isn't actually there.

Someone might suddenly be standing behind you.

Or perhaps the person who entered the elevator with you isn't actually a person.

So just stare at the doors.

This is safer.

Probably.

Rule #10: Elevators Are Where Games Put Their Weirdest Conversations

Not every elevator is trying to kill you.

Sometimes it's trying to tell you something.

Two characters get into an elevator.

The doors close.

And suddenly, they're having a deeply important conversation.

Confessions.

Arguments.

Exposition.

Character development.

Long-buried secrets.

Apparently nobody can discuss any of these things until they're trapped in a metal box together.

Which is why elevator scenes can actually be some of the best moments in games.

There's nowhere to go.

Nobody can conveniently wander away.

For a few minutes, the game makes you stand still and listen.

And then someone says:

"There's something I've never told you."

Oh no.

Not again.

Metal Gear Solid bucks this trend by putting the "Can Love Bloom on a Battlefield?" scene next to an elevator.

Rule #11: The Elevator Is Always More Complicated Than the Stairs

Have you ever noticed this?

The stairs:

Go up.

The elevator:

Requires a key.

The key requires a puzzle.

The puzzle requires an item.

The item is in another building.

The other building is locked.

The key to that building is in the elevator.

The elevator is currently broken.

At some point, you stop asking questions.

You just accept your fate.

Rule #12: The Elevator Will Betray You

This is perhaps the biggest problem.

We trust elevators.

In real life, an elevator is usually a fairly boring machine.

You get in.

Press a button.

Wait.

Get out.

Video games have ruined this relationship.

Now, every time we step into an elevator in a game, we wonder:

"What are they going to do to me?"

Will it stop?

Will it fall?

Will the doors open somewhere impossible?

Will an enemy attack?

Will the power go out?

Will the elevator suddenly become a completely different elevator?

Will the game make us ride it seventeen times?

We don't know.

And that's the point.

Rule #13: The Elevator Is Never Just an Elevator

That's why elevators work so well in games.

They are transitional spaces.

You're leaving one area and entering another.

The game has a perfect opportunity to change the environment, the music, the enemies, the story, or the rules.

The elevator gives developers a few precious seconds where the player is contained.

And containment creates tension.

You're not running through a field.

You're not exploring a huge open world.

You're in a box.

A box with one door.

A door you don't control.

That's terrifying when you think about it.

And Then There's Silent Hill

Of course, we have to come back to Silent Hill.

Because few game series have done more to destroy our trust in elevators.

A Silent Hill elevator isn't transportation.

It's a reality check.

You enter thinking you understand the building.

You leave realizing you understand absolutely nothing.

The floor numbers become suggestions.

The architecture becomes meaningless.

The building may contain spaces that couldn't possibly exist.

And if the elevator starts doing something strange?

Don't assume the game has made a mistake.

The elevator knows what it's doing.

The problem is that you don't.

That is part of what makes Silent Hill so effective.

It takes something completely ordinary and makes it fundamentally wrong.

An elevator is supposed to connect floors.

In Silent Hill, it can connect realities.

And once you've experienced that, every elevator in every other horror game becomes suspicious.

The Elevator Rule We All Know

Maybe the funniest thing about all of this is that we keep doing it.

We know.

We've learned.

We've been betrayed before.

We have watched elevators break.

We've watched them fall.

We've watched them open onto places that shouldn't exist.

We've been attacked inside them.

We've been trapped inside them.

We've watched characters get on elevators and immediately make terrible decisions.

And yet...

The doors open.

The game gives us the prompt.

Enter elevator.

And we press the button.

Every time.

Because somewhere inside every gamer is a tiny voice saying:

"Maybe this time it'll be normal."

It won't.

It never is.

The elevator is there because the story needs something to happen.

Maybe it needs to break.

Maybe it needs to trap you.

Maybe it needs to introduce a character.

Maybe it needs to reveal a secret.

Maybe it needs to take you somewhere impossible.

And if you're playing Silent Hill?

Maybe, just maybe, the elevator is going to discover a whole new floor that definitely wasn't there before.

So the next time you're playing a game and you see an elevator, remember:

You have been warned.

Check the floor numbers.

Check the doors.

Check the ceiling.

Check the reflection.

Check whether the button you're about to press actually exists.

And whatever you do...

Don't assume the elevator is taking you where you think you're going.