ROLE

Co-Director | Game Writer | Narrative & Level Designer | Music Composer

RESPONSIBILITIES:

Developed the world lore, core characters, narrative framework, defining tone and the over all thematic direction of the game.
Produced the game’s full story and script documentation in Microsoft Word, making it easy for the team to read, reference, and implement directly into the game.
Created a narrative bible consolidating story, characters, and overall plot, so the entire team could consistently reference and apply it throughout development.
Quickly developed character concepts for early visual development, ensuring cohesion between narrative intent and design execution.
Designed levels focused on narrative progression over complex gameplay, ensuring spatial flow reinforced pacing and story beats.
Collaborated closely with the team to make sure that the moment-to-moment gameplay always stayed consistent with the narrative.
Reinforced narrative themes through environmental storytelling and interactive elements, removing nearly all reliance on exposition.
Created collectible in-game newspaper clippings to expand worldbuilding and encourage optional, player-driven narrative discovery.
Composed and produced the game’s background score using Akai MPC and Fruity Loops, aligning music with tonal shifts and gameplay pacing (sound effects were handled by another team member).

Project Details

YEAR

2025

GENRE

Atmospheric horror puzzle experience

PLATFORM

TIMEFRAME

9 Weeks

TEAM SIZE

ENGINE

Unity

Key Contributions

Designed looping subway puzzle level
Developed core narrative framework
Designed environmental storytelling systems
Composed full original soundtrack
Co-directed cross-disciplinary development

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Concept Art

Frightline is an atmospheric horror puzzle game set aboard a supernatural train transporting lost souls between worlds. Players control an eight-year-old boy navigating a shifting environment where observation, spirit mechanics, and environmental storytelling drive progression.

Game Concept

Frightline is an atmospheric horror puzzle-adventure set aboard a seemingly endless supernatural train. The player awakens disoriented and alone, with only one apparent option: move forward through dark, foreboding corridors in search of understanding — and escape.

Gameplay is built around duality. Players traverse the shifting train both as a fragile physical doll and as a wandering spirit. In spirit form, players can possess objects, manipulate the environment, and reveal hidden pathways, creating layered puzzle-solving opportunities while reinforcing the game’s themes of separation, liminality, and identity.

The train itself behaves unpredictably. Compartments rearrange, spaces distort, and dangers emerge without warning. Players must rely on observation, stealth, and environmental awareness to progress.

Narrative delivery is almost entirely atmospheric, allowing the environment, level design, and visual framing to communicate story and emotion. Rather than relying on direct exposition, Frightline rewards curiosity, inviting players to interpret the world through subtle details and environmental storytelling.

Through its fusion of supernatural mechanics, psychological tension, and restrained narrative design, Frightline prioritizes immersion, atmosphere, and mood-driven gameplay.

Character Concept

Character & World Concept — Frightline

Vespera

The player assumes the role of Vespera, an eight-year-old boy who awakens alone aboard the Spirit Train, suspended within a liminal realm known as The In-Between.

With no memory of how he arrived and no visible exit, Vespera begins at the very end of the train with only one direction available:

Forward.

Vespera’s small stature and innocence are central to both the emotional tone and gameplay design. His vulnerability heightens tension during stealth encounters and reinforces the strategic importance of spirit form mechanics.

The contrast between childhood fragility and the oppressive supernatural environment defines the emotional core of the experience.

Vespera's initial concept

NAME: Vespera
AGE: 8

PERSONALITY / BEHAVIOR:
Silent, curious, and introspective.

Vespera mirrors the player’s exploration while remaining a distinct presence. His emotions are communicated through subtle movement, posture, and hesitation rather than dialogue.

Conductor's initial concept art

NAME: The Conductor
AGE: Unknown

PERSONALITY / BEHAVIOR:
Commanding and restrained. Rarely seen, yet ever-present. If Vespera strays from the intended path or draws attention, The Conductor emerges in pursuit. The train is his domain, and his authority within it is absolute.

The Conductor

The primary antagonist is The Conductor, an enigmatic entity responsible for guiding lost souls through The In-Between.

While the role reflects a mundane profession — overseeing passengers on a train — it is reimagined as something deeply unsettling.

The Conductor is neither overtly monstrous nor explicitly violent. Instead, the horror stems from calm authority, inevitability, and rigid duty.

He represents a kind of bureaucratic finality — a system designed to process the dead.

And within that system:

Vespera is an anomaly.

Mannequin's concept art

The Mannequins

Scattered throughout the train are countless mannequins — silent, motionless figures occupying seats, corridors, and compartments.

They represent the lost souls being transported between realms.

Each mannequin is carefully staged to suggest the era, circumstance, or tragedy that defined its final moments. Some appear frozen mid-motion, while others imply violence, illness, accident, or conflict.

Through careful environmental framing, the mannequins function as non-verbal storytelling devices, quietly communicating the history of the train and its passengers without explicit exposition.

They are not merely environmental props.

They embody the weight of inevitability and the permanence of death.

Their stillness stands in stark contrast to Vespera’s struggle to move forward, reinforcing the thematic tension between passive acceptance and desperate survival.

Traincart Concept Art

Design Philosophy: Twisted vs. Cute

The central concept explores contrast:

Innocence vs. inevitability
Childhood vulnerability vs. bureaucratic finality

An ordinary profession is transformed into something deeply unsettling, while a routine transit system becomes a metaphysical processing line for the dead.

Rather than relying on overt monstrosity, Frightline’s horror emerges through subversion.

The familiar is not replaced — it is reinterpreted, exposing the disturbing implications already lurking beneath the surface.

Wall Climbing Sap Concept

Suspense and Claustrophobia

The game is built around sustained suspense and psychological claustrophobia.

Players navigate narrow train carriages beneath the unblinking gaze of lifeless mannequins, with little understanding of their purpose or what lies ahead.

Uncertainty functions as a deliberate design tool, encouraging forward momentum while maintaining constant tension.

The environment itself is rarely overtly hostile.

Instead, horror emerges through the recontextualization of the mundane — familiar spaces filtered through the perspective of a lonely child.

By prioritizing subtle unease over constant threat, the experience leans heavily on imagination and perception rather than spectacle.

Darkness, ambiguity, and childlike interpretation become the most unsettling forces of all.

Gameplay Design

Mystery and horror intertwined.

The core gameplay philosophy centers on sustained tension and uncertainty. Every encounter is constructed to keep players questioning what lies beyond the next carriage, maintaining a persistent sense of unease.

Achieving this required strong cross-disciplinary cohesion — aligning audio, visual design, narrative, and gameplay feel to preserve immersion at all times. Any inconsistency in tone or pacing risked weakening the carefully constructed atmosphere.

Progression is driven primarily through environmental puzzles and light platforming mechanics. Systems are introduced gradually, ensuring players internalize the tools required to advance while reinforcing the oppressive tone of the world. Each challenge is designed not only to test problem-solving ability, but to deepen vulnerability and suspense.

The mannequins, presented as corpse-like figures suspended between life and death, directly inform gameplay. Their blood manifests as a climbable “sap,” allowing vertical traversal. Later, this same substance is repurposed across the floor to impede movement, transforming a previously empowering mechanic into a source of restriction — reinforcing both mechanical escalation and thematic cohesion.

Claustrophobic Horror

Sleep Compartment – Level Blockout

Darkness beyond belief.

In the second level I designed, the primary focus was atmosphere and tonal intensity. I deliberately leaned into darkness and constrained lighting to evoke claustrophobia, using contrast between light and shadow as a core emotional driver. Rather than relying on overt threats, the space itself creates tension through limited visibility and environmental uncertainty.

Narratively and mechanically, this stage reintroduces the blood sap while gradually unveiling the concept of “soul rain.” This layering of visual phenomena was intended to deepen unease and subtly communicate that the setting exists outside our natural dimension — without explicitly stating it.

Up to this point, players may question whether the mannequins are simply an artistic choice. This level was designed to remove that ambiguity. Through environmental cues and escalating supernatural elements, I ensured there was undeniable evidence that the events do not take place in the world of the living. The goal was to let players reach that realization organically, reinforcing immersion through implication rather than exposition.

Atmospheric lights

A single flicker of light can dramatically influence player perception, and this was a key consideration as I continued refining the levels. I noticed that the compartment I had designed lacked atmospheric lighting, so I adjusted the scene to intensify the mood and tension. However, this initially made navigation more difficult for the player.

To resolve this, I collaborated with a programmer to disable a distracting background light when the player entered the area. This allowed the newly positioned light to subtly guide the player along the intended path, balancing both atmosphere and gameplay clarity.

Divine light

While experimenting with spirit mode, I realized it could be leveraged to hide elements in darkness, introducing an early layer of environmental mystery. This inspired the concept of spirit rain, subtly signaling to players that the train exists outside the real world.

I also designed a small platforming section to introduce the spirit platform mechanic, a recurring gameplay element essential for traversal. By combining floating platforms with the ethereal quality of spirit rain, the latter portion of the compartment I designed took on a distinctly otherworldly character, creating a striking contrast with the previous compartment.

While the first compartment was grounded in seating arrangements, my sleeping compartment design emphasized verticality and surrealism, reinforcing both narrative tone and gameplay variety.

Level Design

Narrative consistency.

When designing these levels, I remained firmly focused on narrative consistency. Not every stage needed to introduce a new mechanic; in fact, restraint was intentional. I deliberately reimplemented the climbable sap to reinforce player familiarity, ensuring the mechanic remained cognitively present after having been introduced only once. This supported both mechanical clarity and atmospheric continuity.

The goal was to sustain and escalate the atmospheric dread established earlier in the game. While players had already encountered mannequins, these levels intensified their presence and staging, amplifying discomfort rather than normalizing it.

This escalation was purposeful: the introduction of The Conductor was imminent. It was important that the player’s internal questions. Who is responsible? What is this place? Were already forming before that encounter. By heightening tension beforehand, the reveal carried greater narrative weight and psychological impact.

Looping Subway Blockout

Infinite Dread.

In the first room I designed, I collaborated closely with a programmer to implement a looping progression system. The environment was constructed as a 1920s-inspired subway carriage, visually grounded in early underground transit design. The narrative implication was that countless individuals had perished in subway accidents, their presence lingering within the confined space of the carriage.

The mechanic reinforces theme: as long as the player relies on instinct (simply moving right in an attempt to progress) they remain trapped in the loop. Forward momentum alone does not lead to escape. Progression requires observation, reflection, and a willingness to reconsider direction. By encouraging players to stop and reassess their surroundings, the design communicates that answers are not always directly ahead; sometimes moving backward is the only way forward.

To intensify discomfort, I staged the mannequins so that each subtly turns to face the player as they pass. This creates a sustained feeling of being watched, while reinforcing the underlying narrative idea that these figures represent lost souls — trapped, stagnant, and unable to move on. Their silent gaze contrasts with the boy’s ability to progress, evoking a quiet sense of resentment and deepening the atmosphere of unease.

2025-10-23_20-37-41.mp4

Version 1 of the Loop Room

In the original cart, we used standard seating, with mannequins both sitting and lying down. The concept was simple: make the player feel constantly observed by the seemingly infinite number of mannequins. This approach initially achieved the desired tension, though the jittery execution eventually became too distracting.

However, the core sensation—unease, suspense, and the sense of being watched—was established, sparking a collaborative effort within the team to refine the design. A less janky, more polished version was created, aligning better with the game’s overarching design philosophy. While I appreciated my initial take on the level, I chose to step back and allow the artists to redesign and enhance the space, ensuring the final compartment fully supported the narrative and gameplay vision.

Final Version of the Loop room

The final result is a level shaped by multiple disciplines, all working together to evoke a sense of unease. I implemented a shepherd’s tone that activates only when the player enters a specific loop, continuously looping until they exit the area.

This design reinforces the feeling of stagnation, while the rising, unsettling sound, combined with the infinite mannequins, amplifies tension and horror. The interplay of audio, visual, and gameplay elements realizes the original vision of a space that is simultaneously captivating and deeply unnerving.

Writing

1000 Words vs. One Game in Motion

This project proved to be a massive undertaking—one I eagerly embraced. I was appointed Narrative Designer, which aligned with my specialty, but I quickly realized that the game would be entirely dialogue-less. My typical writing style required significant adaptation.

Undeterred, I pulled up my metaphorical “big boy pants” and assembled a group passionate about narrative. We established weekly narrative meetings to ensure that the world remained consistent with the emotional tones we sought to convey.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the sheer depth of detail required. Every element—train carts, mannequins, characters, and the environment itself—needed to respond organically to the player’s actions. Questions arose constantly: What sound should the train make? Does this shelf creak? How should the character feel when stepping on the sap? These spiraling considerations demanded a holistic approach to narrative design.

I also needed to carefully balance player discovery. The world had to encourage curiosity without overwhelming or frustrating the player. Players should form their own interpretations, but the narrative needed clear pillars to guide their thinking and avoid confusion.

The biggest challenge emerged: How do you craft a world steeped in mystery and dread while keeping key details hidden? How do you motivate players to explore and deduce without handing them explicit answers? How do you expand the world’s lore without diminishing a sense of urgency and suspense?

Solving these questions required integrating narrative into every layer of the game—from environmental storytelling and subtle visual cues to interactive objects and sound design. Every creak, shadow, and mannequin placement was intentional, reinforcing the psychological tension while allowing the player’s imagination to fill in the blanks.

In essence, the project became a study in restraint and precision: crafting a compelling, immersive narrative without words, guiding player perception while sustaining tension, and creating a cohesive, emotionally resonant experience that unfolds organically as the player progresses.

The invisible work of a writer

Storyboard

Power of words

Once the first concept art was established, I began developing the game’s narrative structure. It was essential not only to ensure internal logic and cohesion, but also to carefully manage pacing — understanding when to build tension and when to release it, allowing players brief moments of relief within an otherwise oppressive atmosphere.

Because the game contains no direct dialogue, the story had to be communicated through subtle environmental storytelling. The structure was intentionally designed to reveal just enough information for players to form their own interpretations, preserving mystery rather than relying on explicit exposition.

At its core, the narrative takes place in a liminal in-between realm, where lost souls await reincarnation. Unbeknownst to most players, the protagonist is a boy in a coma, whose presence disrupts the natural order of this system. Translating this premise into a compelling experience without traditional storytelling tools required deliberate atmospheric design, carefully staged visual cues, and moments of emotional contrast to maintain immersion throughout.

Writing Samples

And.... Action!

When I was selected to serve as Co-Director for this project, I felt both excitement and a degree of internal apprehension. I understood that the role carried significant responsibility. The reason I was asked to co-direct was because the Project Lead wanted the game to maintain a strong balance between gameplay systems and narrative experience, ensuring that neither discipline overshadowed the other.

Inspired by titles such as Little Nightmares, Oxenfree, and Inside, I made a conscious effort to immerse myself in games that typically fell outside the genres I usually played. I approached the responsibility with complete seriousness. I purchased Little Nightmares and began studying its design carefully—analyzing how atmosphere, pacing, and visual storytelling worked together to guide player emotion.

The moment I began documenting ideas, the possibilities for the project expanded rapidly. As concepts for gameplay and narrative began forming, another creative element emerged alongside them: music.

Music has always been a fundamental part of how I think about atmosphere and storytelling. While developing ideas for the project, a melody began forming almost instinctively. What started as a simple concept quickly evolved into the game’s main theme, composed using my Akai MPC.

From there, one piece of music became several. Eventually, I composed the entire original soundtrack for the game, allowing me to shape emotional beats in direct coordination with level design, atmosphere, and gameplay pacing. This gave the project a strong cohesion between its narrative tone and its auditory identity.

However, this also introduced a new challenge: time management.

Balancing the responsibilities of Co-Director, Narrative Designer, Level Designer, and Composer required careful prioritization. It was not enough to simply ensure that gameplay systems functioned correctly; every element of the experience needed to reinforce the emotional core of the game. Each decision—from narrative pacing to musical transitions—had to support the intended player experience without disrupting immersion.

Despite the challenges, co-directing this project proved to be one of the most valuable learning experiences of my development journey. It strengthened my ability to coordinate across disciplines, maintain a cohesive creative vision, and guide the emotional direction of a project.

It is an experience that has made me confident in taking on future directing roles, and one I would gladly pursue again.

Co-Director

Man of many hats

Main Theme Type Shi.wav

Main theme

Takeaway

Here's my takeaway...

Frightline was one of the more enjoyable experiences I have had—not in terms of haha, because that belongs to Plenty of Fish in the Sea—but more in the sense of being trusted to co-direct the project with my friend Anton Lundgren, the project lead, who showed great trust in allowing me to helm this surmounting task.

So I took it upon myself to learn how to actually write for a game that lacked any dialogue, which, let me tell you, was a lot harder than I expected. With hard work and focus, I was able to slowly make my way through the script as we continued to work on the game.

What was a little bit of a shame, though, was that I originally lacked mandate, which put me in a very vulnerable position where I was expected to write the story and keep a consistent narrative tone without the ability to put my foot down for the sake of the narrative.

Which almost led to a little artist rebellion. But luckily we were able to squash that beef before things got out of hand, and in fact we began to focus instead and started working harder in order to make the entire project feel more contained—as if the whole game had been planned from the end of the train to the front. And we managed to do so without a hiccup after the near artist revolution.

My biggest takeaway from this project is that nothing is impossible if you have the right team on your side and you keep your head down and work hard to make the vision a reality! Oh, and also: always demand mandate if the game is narrative-focused, because it is nigh impossible to write when you lack control of the environment. It easily becomes a jumbled mess that doesn't make sense for the player—since it doesn't even make sense for the writer!

じゃ、またね！

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