Using Typical Genre Elements to Generate Horror Story Plots

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman

By isolating the types of characters, actions, settings, processes, and motives or causes upon which horror movies are typically based, we can devise a plot generator.

Although this is a basic list, a starter, as it were, which can be extended by further considerations of horror, both on the sound stage and on the page, it suggests the method.

Who? What types of characters generally appear again and again in the horror genre?

Protagonist, antagonist, victim, authority figure, expert, parents, siblings, tormentor, extraterrestrial, supernatural being

What? What types of actions do many horror stories represent? In other words, what type of activity occupies the characters? What do they do, on a sustained basis, throughout the film or most of the film?

Filming, capturing, escaping, experimenting, rescuing, conceiving, avenging, exploring, invading

When? Where? What settings (times and places) are typical of horror fiction?

Isolated property, closed public property, private property, laboratory, spaceship, suburbs, school, town, forest

How? What processes are typical of the horror genre? In other words, what type of series of actions forms the basis, or vehicle, of the story's plot, as opposed to the actions of the characters themselves? What propels the story as a whole?

Traveling, visiting, creating, reproducing, disturbing, working, persecuting, vacationing, possessing, exorcising, trespassing

Why? What are the motives of the protagonist and the antagonist? If one or both of these characters is (are) otherworldly (e. g., extraterrestrial or supernatural) or a physical force (e. g., energy or disease), what causes them to “act”?

Revenge, financial profit, escape, conquest, insanity, invasion, survival, destruction

Now, it is possible to generate plots by mixing and matching these typical foundational elements. Here are a few examples.

This example uses the first words from each category:

Protagonist films on isolated property while traveling during a vendetta.

To make the plot more concrete, substitute more specific terms for the generic ones; in doing so, it is all right to eliminate an element that no longer seems to fit; in the following revision, “traveling” has been omitted.

The camera operator is hired as a member of a film crew shooting a documentary concerning life inside a prison so he can avenge his father's death by killing the inmate who murdered him.

Here is another example, based on the third term in each of the categories. In this example, it was necessary to add a noun after “by creating”:

A victim escapes from private property by creating a ruse in order to be free.

Again, to make the plot more concrete, substitute more specific terms for the generic ones; in doing so, it is all right to add or alter an element if doing so is desirable and appropriate.

An enslaved woman escapes from an island resort by disguising herself as a guest so she can leave with other departing visitors.

Horror Movies Are Mysteries, Too

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman

Many horror stories are mysteries which typically follow a well-established format:

1. An unknown monster is killing people.
2. Often, as the killings continue, the protagonist, sometimes aided by friends or others, investigates; intelligence is gathered, clues are solved.
3. The monster is identified; it is known.
4. Knowledge about the monster is used to neutralize or eliminate it.
5. The status quo returns.

 

This same formula can apply to plagues:

1. An unknown disease is killing people.
2. Often, as the killings continue, the protagonist, sometimes aided by friends or others, investigates; intelligence is gathered, clues are solved.
3. The pathogen is identified; it is known.
4. Knowledge about the pathogen is used to neutralize or eliminate it.
5. The status quo returns.

 

Of course, many a detective story also follows this path:

1. An unknown murderer is killing people.
2. Often, as the killings continue, the protagonist, sometimes aided by friends or others, investigates; intelligence is gathered, clues are solved.
3. The murderer is identified; it is known.
4. Knowledge about the murderer is used to neutralize or eliminate him or her.
5. The status quo returns.
   
   
   
   
   

Where does variation come into play? The same variables that make the structure of fairy tales, as this structure is defined by Vladimir Propp in Morphology of the Folktale, makes the particulars fresh and intriguing, despite the sameness of the underlying formula's structure.

What is the monster? How is he, she, or it different than others of his, her, or its kind? Physically different? Emotionally different? Behaviorally different? Volitionally different? What motivates it?

Whom are the victims? Why are they targeted? How does the monster kill them?

Where do the killings occur? Why here and now, rather than elsewhere at another time?

What theme does the story suggest, and how does it do so?

A dictionary definition can help us to answer the question, What is the monster?

A dictionary definition does two things: it classifies, or groups, and it distinguishes, or differentiates. First, a dictionary definition tells to which group the term being defined belongs. What type of person, place, or thing is it? Then, a dictionary definition explains how it differs from the other members of its group. The group is the genus; the differences, the differentia.

Monster (n.): an imaginary creature (genus) that is typically large, ugly, and frightening (differentia).

 In what way is your monster “large”? Height? Length? Weight? Strength? Intelligence? Tall? Godzilla fills the bill. Long? What about the worms in Tremors? Heavy? The Blob! Strong? There's a reason King Kong was king of the jungle on Skull Island. Intelligent? The computer in Demon Seed or, for that matter, the extraterrestrial of Species sure turned out to be to die for.

What makes your monster “ugly”? Appearance (but be specific)? Behavior? (but, again, be specific)? Lack of emotion or twisted emotions? Other (specificity counts, always!)? Although Michael Myers, of Halloween, wasn't a bad-looking guy—some say he looks a lot like William Shatner, in fact—his penchant for murdering randy teens and sexually aroused young adults made him a lot less attractive, to be sure.

Why is your monster frightening? It's hard to defeat, perhaps? It has amazing powers, maybe? It is absolutely relentless, possibly? It is supernatural or otherworldly? Other (specificity counts, always!)? The dinosaurs in Jurassic Park, like the alien in Alien, had all these characteristics and more.

The same process applies to other characters, such as the protagonist, victims, experts, warriors or soldiers . . . . How do they differ from everybody else's? What makes yours unique? The expert in The Sixth Sense, the psychiatrist, differs from his peers (or most of them, at any rate) by his being dead.

A setting should be integral to the story's plot, of course. If it is, it can be used not only to frighten—it's a spooky place, after all—but also to symbolize, to suggest, and to reveal, even as it conceals. In The Descent, for example, the caverns through which the female spelunkers spelunk may symbolize the female reproductive system itself; the cave-creatures they encounter, their aborted fetuses. On the literal level, the underground passages also add to the characters—and the audience's—claustrophobia.

 

Plug your own versions of these characters and an appropriate setting of your own into the horror-movie-as-a-mystery formula and you, too, can offer a new wrinkle to the subgenre.

Mental Disorders and Ilnesses Will, Like Murder, Out

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman

Throughout the 1960s, a trend in horror movies is the human “monster.” Often the victim of a significant mental disorder or a mental illness of some kind, the “monster” frequently preys upon his or her peers: he or she is “one of us” without being one of us. Therefore, the monster seems even more terrifying, since victims have no sense of the monster's monstrosity: he or she seems just like everyone else.

Examples abound, including Psycho (1960), Peeping Tom (1960), Nightmare (1963), The Sadist (1963), and Straight-Jacket (1964).

Survivors include a sister and her boyfriend (Psycho) and a neighbor (Peeping Tom). In this subgenre of the horror film, survivors tend to be few and far between, as do heroes. A woman searching for her sister, who has disappeared under mysterious circumstances, and her boyfriend and a naive, but sincere, young woman who has befriended a psychotic neighbor have the right stuff: courage, loyalty, and love, in the sister's case; friendliness and compassion, in the neighbor's case. Do they survive because of these qualities, or are they simply lucky? By leaving such a question in viewers' minds, these films are unsettling: perhaps our fates do not depend on our behavior, but on pure, dumb luck.

Alfred Hitchcock's Psycho is so familiar it need not be summarized. Anthony Perkins, as the mad transvestite killer Norman Bates, who, half the time believes he's his dead mother, provides a stand-out performance, as does his first victim, Janet Leigh, as Marion Crane. Hitchcock gives his audience some hints about Bates's state of mind: Bates's nervousness and evasiveness, the birds he's stuffed and mounted as an amateur taxidermist, his statement that “sometimes, we all go a little mad,” and his admission that he is under his mother's control. Such clues, however, don't seem to register with Crane, as they do with Detective Milton Arbogast (Martin Balsam). (Nevertheless, both Crane and Abogast are killed.)

Peeping Tom features a camera operator's assistant, Mark Lewis, whose sideline is photographing scantily clad or nude women for a his local porn dealer and whose pastime is filming the young women he kills to capture their expressions as they are faced with their own imminent murders for a documentary work-in-progress.

Between sessions with his camera, he enjoys replaying his victims' screams as he watches their terror in the comfort of his home. The movie's back story suggests that Lewis was himself victimized by his father, a psychiatrist who subjected his son to bizarre experiments during the boy's childhood. In the last moments of the film, he becomes his own final victim.

Nightmare keeps audiences guessing. Janet sees her mother kill her father. Her mother is institutionalized. At the finishing school at which she stays, Janet has nightmares about a woman in white (her mother). A teacher takes her home, but her guardian, Henry Baxter, is not there, so the teacher leaves Janet in the care of Grace, a nurse-companion whom Henry has hired.

Janet's nightmares continue, and she is sedated when Henry returns home. When Henry's wife comes home, Janet mistakes her for the woman in her nightmare and stabs her to death, after which she is institutionalized.

Grace, who has been masquerading as the woman in white in Janet's “nightmares,” marries Henry, with whom she has conspired to deceive Janet into believing she was experiencing nightmares. Suspecting that Henry seeks to drive her mad, Grace stabs him to death, thinking the police will suspect Janet, who, Grace believes, has escaped from the institution. However, Janet has not escaped, so Grace is arrested and charged with Henry's murder.

Besides Janet's mother, who else is mad? Janet? Grace? Both?

 

An everyday incident turns into a nightmare of pain and suffering when a trio's car breaks down near a combination gas station-junkyard and a pair of sadistic serial killers on the run from the police turn up. The Sadist is horrific not only because of the acts of sadism the killers commit against their victims, but also because it shows how an ordinary inconvenience can be transformed, without reason or justification, into an orgy of violence and misery, just like (snap) that.

As in Nightmare, Straight-Jacket pits a daughter against one of her parents. This time, however, it's the youngster, Lucy, who's the villain. Her mother, Carol, hoping to marry a wealthy married man whose parents Lucy has alienated following her return home from the mental institution to which she'd been confined after murdering her husband and his mistress, commits murders, hoping Lucy will be blamed, going so far as to disguise herself as her daughter as she does so. However, despite the dead bodies, things don't go exactly as either Carol or Lucy hoped.

Although a bit far-fetched, each of these films generates suspense and fright by showing what troubles troubled characters can cause, for themselves as well as for others. Except for the murderous couple in The Sadist, the villains are everyday people—mothers, daughters, a camera operator's assistant, a motel proprietor—who happen to suffer from significant mental disorders or illnesses.

Because they are relatives or neighbors or business owners, they catch their victims with their guards down, as any of us might be caught off guard by similar human monsters disguised as fellow citizens. That is their greatest source of terror in a time in which society seemed, for many, turned upside-down and parents and children were caught not only in a generation gap, but also in a cultural war in which, for parents, society might seem to be coming apart at the seams and, for their children, tradition was a thing of the past in more ways than one.

These films frighten as much for their subtexts as they do for their violence. It may be, as Bates observes, that, “sometimes, we all go a little mad.” We just don't want to be the person who does, nor do we want to be the victim of the one who does.

Freaks of Nature (and Applied Science)

Copyright 2020 by Gary L. Pullman

Horror movies of the 1950s often feature bizarre freaks of nature, in the films' titles as well as in the movies themselves: The Creature from the Black Lagoon (1954), giant ants (Them!) (1954), Godzilla (1954), Monster from the Ocean Floor (1954), Tarantula! (1955), The Mole People (1956), Attack of the Giant Leeches (1959), The Alligator People (1959), The Wasp Woman (1959), The Return of the Fly (1959), and on and on . . . and on.

Victims include scientists' assistants, the expedition ship's crew members, and scientists, (The Creature from the Black Lagoon); a store owner, a state trooper, an FBI agent and most of his family (Them!), ships' crews, islanders, and residents of Tokyo (Godzilla), a diver (Monster from the Ocean Floor), a scientists and a laboratory assistant (Tarantula!), an archaeologist (The Mole People), an adulteress and her lover (Attack of the Giant Leeches), a hermit handyman and a newlywed bridegroom (The Alligator People), a cosmetics company owner (The Wasp Woman), a spy, and a scientist (The Return of the Fly).

Although some victims are simply in the wrong place at the wrong time, others are attacked because, as investigators or scientists, they play integral roles in the campaigns to stop the monsters or support such individuals, as the ships crews and lab assistants do. They are troops, as it were, in the perpetual war of science vs. nature.

The Creature from the Black Lagoon succumbs to massive gunfire. Sub-machine guns and flamethrowers dispatch the giant ants in Them! Godzilla is asphyxiated by a secret weapon that destroys oxygen molecules. A napalm attack, courtesy of a squadron of Air Force fighters, kills the giant tarantula of Tarantula. The Mole People find it difficult to withstand the debilitating effects of natural sunlight. Dynamite explosions end the menace of giant leeches. A faceful of carbolic acid and blunt trauma from a fall from a height is too much for the wasp woman. The Return of the Fly's human fly reverts to being only a human after the process that transformed him into a human fly is reversed. Only the fate of the alligator people is ambiguous.

These films suggest that freaks of nature are overcome—that is, annihilated—in one of two ways. Nature kills them, or they are destroyed by an application of human technology. While the Mole People are subdued by nature, the Creature of the Black Lagoon, Godzilla, the giant tarantula, the giant leeches, and the human fly are destroyed by human technology. The wasp woman is destroyed by both human technology (carbolic acid) and nature (gravity).

Interestingly, these films' freaks of nature are the spawn both of nature itself and of human technology. More often than not, the latter both produces and destroys these freaks. The theme of these movies seems to be that, yes, technology can backfire—it can produce monsters—but so can nature itself. In either case, though, technology can be counted on to destroy monsters, whether they are of natural or technological origin (or both). Through technology, even when meddling with nature itself causes monstrous results, science saves!

Scientists may not be gods. They err, because, well, to err is to be human. But they also know how to fix their mistakes. That's not ideal, these films imply, but it's the best we can do, and being a demi-god isn't half bad.