When he finally succeeded, however, in creating the atmosphere and a sense of belonging. Vesper Mansion is a dark environment, fascinating as I initially enjoyed exploring. Draining the world of color creates an elegant and rigid grip on reality, where the darkness can really eat really light and not feel like a valuable and powerful resource. The correspondences are necessary to help you navigate the shadows, but they burn quickly and provide no real protection against the evil spirits that roam the dark corridors; electric light is the only way to finally exorcise the spirits nearby. It reminded me of the original Resident Evil, where every room of Spencer Mansion had something cool or scary to disclose, with the most disturbing secrets are buried deeper.
Similarly, the phantoms themselves are excellent; they are fuzzy, flickering creatures who seem tormented in death. You can almost see through the dark, contorted in a variety of claims poses to face a wall or swinging from the rafters. If you see a ghost, it emits a piercing scream and sues you – and that there is when White Night ceases to be any fun at all. It is possible to avoid them, but more often than not being identified means that you head to the last checkpoint, which is usually a frustrating distance back. There is literally nothing you can do, unless you happen to be next to a flashlight at the time. Any tension I felt pretty soon gave way to frustration and boredom.
You can register when you find a chair in which to have a little sit-down (similar to the typewriter Resident Evil backup system origin) would be good if Vesper Mansion was not so sparsely furnished with them. I found myself constantly returning the nearest chair – even if meant the closest a bit of a trek – to save my progress each time I finish a stage in a puzzle that I’m in the resolution process, as it got to the point where I could ‘t face to redo all over again should I run accident in the ghost on the last step.