Most horror games build tension through movement, running, escaping, reacting.
But while developing Penance, I discovered that real tension can also come from stillness, as long as that stillness resonates

In Penance, the player is never truly in silence.
Even when nothing seems to happen, the world keeps breathing:
corrupted objects emit deep, unsettling vibrations; purifying ones glow with soft harmonic tones; and distant spectres whisper through the fog.
When Faith rises above 70%, faint angelic choirs begin to echo.
When Guilt reaches the same threshold, distorted human murmurs appear,  remorseful, broken.
The soundscape constantly mirrors the player’s spiritual state.

As Elias loses Faith and his steps grow heavier, players start to notice what would normally go unheard: an echo, a breath, a crack beneath their feet.
Every detail turns into emotional feedback.
And because there’s always something happening — a narrative object, a flicker of light, a subtle hum,  the experience feels immersive but never empty.

The real challenge in designing slow pacing isn’t speed, it’s variation.
Boredom doesn’t come from moving slowly, but from nothing changing.
That’s why every pause in Penance carries meaning: a change in tone, a new layer of ambient sound, or a whisper of guilt that breaks the stillness. The game never stops; it simply breathes differently.

The result is a kind of tension that doesn’t rely on jump scares or fast gameplay.
The world reacts to your inner balance (or imbalance) and the player feels it in every step.
Horror, in this case, doesn’t need silence.
It just needs something that never lets you rest.

Do you think a horror game needs silence to stay effective? Or can sound itself become the tension?