Liminal Spaces in Minecraft: An Analysis of Digital Nostalgia and Eeriness

This research investigates liminal spaces and non-places in virtual environments, using Garry's Mod as a case study. Physical transition spaces like bus stations and airports are designed for circulation, not habitation, and deteriorate when abandoned. Virtual spaces differ fundamentally because they remain intact as long as data is maintained, making them atemporal. Victor Turner's concept of liminality refers to ambiguous elements that escape cultural classification systems. Mark Augé's concept of 'non-places' refers to spaces necessary for accelerated circulation where people become anonymous and no culture is generated. Garry's Mod, a sandbox video game launched in 2006, reached 70,000 daily players between 2014-2016, then declined to 20,000. A new trend emerged where players explored abandoned servers and old maps, experiencing liminal sensations of anguish, nostalgia, and fear. The research employed qualitative methodology with four volunteers exploring four community-created maps. Key findings reveal that video games have an intrinsic liminal condition because while technical knowledge exists, little knowledge exists about interpreting games as habitable spaces. Unlike non-places, video games do not necessarily mediate relationships with oneself. Players produce identity when they play, and Garry's Mod invites habitation, allowing players to found themselves in communities and culture. This suggests video games should be considered 'anti-non-places'—spaces of transit where users are not anonymous if they choose, where new practices can be generated, and where the universe of action possibilities and communities can expand.

Marc Augé's concept of 'non-places' refers to spaces of circulation and transit (such as airports, highways, and shopping malls) that lack the identity, history, and social relationships that characterize traditional 'places'; these spaces are characterized by their functional purpose for movement rather than their significance to human identity, representing a fundamental transformation in how contemporary society experiences and constructs meaning in space.

Marc Augé defines 'non-places' as spaces that lack historical context, rational identity, and social interaction, contrasting them with traditional 'places' that form organic social relationships; these non-places are characterized by commercial, contractual, and solitary interactions (such as transit, commerce, and leisure spaces) where individuals exist as anonymous clients or users rather than as members of a community, representing a fundamental shift in how modern society experiences and relates to physical spaces.

French anthropologist Marc Augé distinguishes between 'anthropological places'—spaces with historical, relational, and identificatory characteristics that foster human connection and identity—and 'non-places'—modern spaces like highways, shopping malls, and industrial zones that lack these qualities and fail to create meaningful human relationships or cultural identity.

Marc Augé's anthropological concept of 'non-places' refers to spaces of circulation and transit (workplaces, leisure spaces, transit areas) that lack the characteristics of traditional places with identity and meaning. This concept is part of his broader analysis of supermodernity, which differs from postmodernism by focusing on the present rather than the past. Supermodernity is characterized by the superabundance of events, unprecedented interdependence of the world system, and the acceleration of transportation and communication technologies that transform space and human experience. The world of supermodernity has no exact measures because we live in a world we have not yet learned to fully understand, requiring us to learn to think about space and time again.

Kenopsia is the eerie, unsettling feeling you experience when visiting a place that was designed for people but is now empty. Examples include schools during summer break, offices on Sunday evenings, or stadiums an hour after a game ends. What makes this different from simply being in an empty room is that you can feel the absence - the chairs, signs, and layout all assume people should be there. When they're not, something feels off in a way that's hard to explain. This feeling extends to old social media profiles or home videos of people who have since died, where the structure remains but the person is gone.

Kenopsia describes the unsettling atmosphere of places designed for crowds but currently empty. Examples include schools during summer breaks, shopping malls after closing, or stadiums after events. The unease comes not from the location itself but from the contrast between how the space should appear (full of people, noise, movement) and its current emptiness. The brain's memory of how the place normally functions creates a palpable sense of absence, as if the space still retains echoes of its usual activity.

Kenopsia is a neologism describing the unsettling atmosphere of places normally full of people and noise that become completely abandoned and silent. It differs from liminal spaces (transitional zones) by referring to destinations built for crowds. The psychological impact is immediate tension as the brain detects anomalies when expected stimuli are absent. From an evolutionary perspective, humans are gregarious species dependent on groups for survival, and our brains interpret mass absence as evidence of evacuation due to threats. Kenopsia manifests in schools (oppressive at night), shopping malls (designed for overstimulation become oppressive when closed), transportation hubs (airports and train stations during early morning hours), indoor play areas (colorful structures designed for children's energy acquire sinister tones in silence), and digital environments (Garry's Mod, Minecraft, Super Mario 64). Narrative kenopsia attacks time and emotional connection to story. In open-world games, secondary missions serve as emotional buffers, but this safety net disappears in linear games like Portal and Half-Life. When the story culminates and the screen goes black, players are completely stripped of control, with the sensation of emptiness potentially prolonging for days—a real digital grief demonstrating the immense power linear worlds have to connect with vulnerable emotions.

Kenopsia is the eerie, forlorn atmosphere of a place that was once busy with people or procedure but is now abandoned, creating unease through the tension between operational architecture and absence. In Halo's Lockout, Blackout, and Lockdown maps, this concept manifests through facilities that appear functional (with platforms, lifts, tanks, and containment structures) but are empty, leaving players suspended between containment and catastrophe. The unsettling feeling comes not from what is shown, but from what is implied—a cracked tank, vague figures in containment cells, and spaces designed for procedures that no longer exist. This liminal state, where architecture suggests use but contains no users, creates a unique psychological tension that distinguishes these maps from traditional battlefields.

Kenopsia is a term coined by J. Cohenic, combining the Greek words 'kenosis' (emptiness) and 'opsia' (vision), to describe the melancholic and unsettling atmosphere of places that are normally populated but are now empty. This concept explains why abandoned malls, airports, and stadiums feel particularly eerie—their emptiness creates a sense of wrongness that triggers our instinctive unease. The term represents a specific emotional response to the absence of human presence in spaces designed for crowds.

Liminality, from the Latin 'limes' meaning limit or boundary, is a concept developed in Arnold Van Gennep's 'Rites of Passage.' It refers to the state of openness and ambiguity characterizing the intermediate phase of a transition - being at a threshold between what has passed and what is coming. States like illness, adolescence, sleep, or temporary madness are liminal, as are journeys. Liminal places include airports, prisons, and hallways - spaces designed for transit without windows, connecting destinations. These spaces are recorded in our brains in a particular way, making us recognize them when seen statically but struggle to identify their origin, as they are 'non-places.' This explains the intense fascination the Backrooms have generated. The Backrooms represent one of the primary examples of urban legends created by an enormous online community, a collaborative construction that has surpassed predecessors like the SCP Foundation. Like cosmic horror universes, the Backrooms offer no salvation through willpower or learning, representing the certainty that something exists beyond mundane reality that is incomprehensible and without apparent purpose.

Liminal spaces, such as The Backrooms—a collaborative digital folklore phenomenon originating from a 2018 4chan post—represent transitional zones between realities that challenge human perception and consciousness; these spaces, characterized by their unsettling familiarity and absence of clear boundaries, serve as metaphors for exploring the human psyche, collective anxiety, and the liminal reality of the internet itself, where users engage in transformative experiences through first-person narratives and community-driven storytelling.

Liminal spaces create a distinctive atmospheric vibe characterized by a sense of being in a transitional space that doesn't belong in normal reality. The exhibit features pale shelves, nameless products, and strange secret doors that create this liminal atmosphere. The Backrooms aesthetic involves creating environments that mimic the surreal, liminal spaces depicted in internet horror lore, including repetitive rows of items and a general atmosphere of emptiness. The phrase 'trapped forever in the back room' captures the core theme of being trapped in an endless, repetitive space.

This segment explores the concept of the Backrooms as a liminal space, which is a transitional area between two different environments. The speaker describes the Backrooms as an 'infinite living room' or 'infinite insane asylum,' characterized by yellow wallpaper, fluorescent lights, and an endless, maze-like structure. The video shows a mysterious chair in the corner, pipes on the walls, and a dark abyss of nothingness. The speaker notes that someone has broken in, which is a significant plot point. The segment includes a scene where a character walks into a closet, referencing 'horror movie rule number one' that characters should never open closets. The speaker also notes a mysterious chair in the corner and pipes on the walls, questioning what they could mean. The segment ends with the speaker noting that the basement is one of the strangest they have ever seen, with a hole in the brick that is 'never a good sign.'

The Backrooms is a popular internet folklore phenomenon describing an alternate dimension consisting of endless, unoccupied office spaces with fluorescent lighting, manila walls, and ugly carpets, where individuals can 'clip' or slip into from reality and become trapped in an eternal labyrinth with no exit, potentially encountering malevolent entities; this concept has evolved from creepypasta into a complex mythology involving theories about human experimentation, portal technology, and the possibility of sentient beings from this dimension observing Earth.

This segment explores minimalism and environmental storytelling in games. The player encounters giant empty rooms with as few elements as possible. The speaker mentions that the thing must be an RGB converter but doesn't look like it. The environment draws the player further in, deeper into the trap. This reflects a design philosophy where minimalism in game design can create challenging puzzles while environmental design serves as storytelling.

Dishonored represents an anti-approach to modern game design by prioritizing environmental storytelling over direct narrative delivery. The game communicates through environmental elements like NPC conversations, body placement, and audio recordings, allowing players to choose whether to engage with lore. This narrative minimalism enhances immersion by enabling players to construct their own understanding of the world. The silent protagonist further deepens this effect, allowing players to project themselves into the character and build their own interpretations of the narrative.

Hell is Us demonstrates that environmental storytelling can be most powerful through minimal, carefully chosen details rather than overwhelming spectacle. The game depicts war-torn locations through small elements like crudely drawn murals, bombed-out houses with children hiding in attics, and evacuated buildings. These details paint pictures of countries fallen into chaos where leadership has collapsed and citizens are left to themselves. The game achieves disturbing realism through a 'less is more' approach, showing that thoughtful environmental design can convey complex narratives about human suffering.

Inside represents a paradigm shift in game design, functioning as an artistic experience rather than mere entertainment. The game employs rigorous minimalism where every element serves a purpose—no louds, sponsorships, or dialogue exist. Narrative is conveyed through environmental storytelling: the boy running through forests, the deserted gray cities, masked survivors, and controlled 'zombie humans.' Players construct their own story by piecing together subtle clues, making them co-creators of the narrative. This approach creates profound immersion, with players feeling a transition of reality when removing the headset. The game's power lies in what it does not say, leaving space for interpretation and personal meaning.

Games can tell stories through environmental design and subtle environmental cues. The player notices that the game tells its story in a 'bem sutil, minimalista' (very subtle, minimalist) way, which is a common design approach in games by Fumito Ueda. This demonstrates that environmental storytelling is a powerful narrative technique where the game world itself conveys information and emotion without explicit dialogue or text.