Undertale is one of those games that's deceiving. You see it for the first time and think, "Oh, look, a retro RPG with simple graphics, cool music, and funny characters."
But what no one warns you is that beneath that adorable facade lurks a dark side that can make your hair stand on end. And if there's one place that demonstrates this best, it's The Real Lab.
Up to this point in the game, you're already used to laughing with Sans, wanting to hug Papyrus, and feeling affection for Toriel. Even the fights have their comedic touch, and while there are tense moments, you never feel true terror.
But when you go down to the secret basement of Alphys's lab... ugh, the atmosphere changes suddenly. You go from a cute game to what seems like a survival horror with a 16-bit aesthetic.
The first sign that something's wrong is the atmosphere: dark hallways, walls covered in half-illegible notes, flickering lights, and music that abandons its cheerfulness and becomes uncomfortable sounds. There are no Sans jokes or friendly dialogue; everything here reeks of danger. Suddenly, Undertale stops being a "heart-warming" RPG and transforms into a psychological horror experience.
And then they appear. The Amalgamates. Oh my. They're Alphys's failed experiments, created when she tried to revive several monsters using "Resolve." The result was these deformed abominations, creatures that look like they came from a glitch, with broken sprites and movements that don't match anything.
Some have multiple heads, others seem taped together, and others simply look like walking visual errors. Toby Fox managed to make them feel pure discomfort when you see them.
The battles against them are something else entirely. They're not difficult, but they are very unsettling. The messages that appear on the screen are like broken voices, meaningless phrases, repeated words, or even cries for help. It's as if several consciousnesses were trapped in the same body, fighting to get out.
And there you are, your heart pounding, thinking: "What do I do? Do I hit them? Do I comfort them? Do I escape?" Undertale puts you in a dilemma that goes beyond gameplay, because these creatures aren't simply enemies: they're victims.
And that's the most disturbing part: the backstory. All of this was caused by Alphys, the scientist whom until now you had seen as a shy, adorable, and somewhat clumsy character. Her good intentions ended up creating living horrors. Undertale reminds you that not all monsters are scary because of their appearance;
sometimes the most terrifying thing is what the most innocent-seeming people hide. And in this case, it's the guilt and the weight of having played god.
The True Lab also serves as a brutal contrast to the rest of the game. Until then, Undertale feels like an adventure filled with humor, tenderness, and small, sad moments. But here, it's all awkward silence, fear, and tension.
Toby Fox proves that you don't need blood or jump scares to create terror: all you need is to change the atmosphere, distort the familiar, and give you the feeling that something is deeply wrong.
When you finally manage to "free" the amalgams and see them find some peace, you feel relief. that experience stays with you. You never look at Alphys the same way again, much less at the game in general.
It's as if Undertale is saying, "Yes, I can make you laugh, I can make you cry, but I can also make you tremble if I want."