Survival horror has never been short on memorable enemies. The Necromorphs of Dead Space, P.T.’s Lisa; Pyramid Head. Resident Evil has its fair share of icons, of course. In the last seven years alone we’ve embraced Lady Dimitrescu’s operatic silhouette and revisited rustic Spain for another face-off with Dr. Salvador’s chainsaw. Yet, as magnetic as these enemies are, they can’t hold a candle to Resident Evil 2’s Mr X.
In 2019’s Remake, Mr X isn’t just about using spectacle to evoke fear; he sustains pressure, relentlessly and systemically, using his senses and intelligence to coerce you out of hiding. And this is why his deadly cat-and-mouse tactics are so effective: it’s how he occupies space. He listens, he reacts, he haunts. See, Mr X is as much a benchmark for stalker design as he is an iconic survival horror antagonist. He’s a fan favourite the developers are yet to beat.
But, what actually makes a great Resident Evil enemy? Well, we’ve already alluded to their intelligence. Digitally written to make their behaviours seem real, or unpredictable, cold, clinical, or emotionless. Their AI is key, sure, but so is their aesthetic design or emotional backstory. Even their introduction into your world is a contextual extra worth considering.
Dr Salvador – the “Chainsaw Man” – makes an explosive entrance, but his fear is sharp and short-lived. The wall-scrambling Lickers are among the series’ most memorable mutant designs, but their chamaeleonic tongues are avoidable (certainly in Resident Evil 2 Remake) once your trembling subsides and you figure out their movement patterns.
Jack Baker – RE7’s maniacal, shovel-wielding stalker – was terrifying, in part, because he felt relatable. His sections were intense, darkly funny, and masterfully representative of that thing Resident Evil does so well – the seesawing between tension and relief. Yet, his appearances were narratively bound; yes, he’s a fan favourite like Mr X, but the tall, dark, fedora wearing Tyrant doesn’t just corner you in specifically scripted moments, but is an omnipresent threat who redefines how you interact with the world. This imprint he makes on you, this is his superpower.
So, cast your mind all the way back to 1998, to when Leon and Claire first tiptoed through the Raccoon Police Department’s suffocating narrows. The Mr X of this era, as foreboding as he was, was constricted to specific encounters. He’d chase you down corridors and through rooms, but he wasn’t relentless. Like tank controls and fixed camera angles, Mr X’s appearance in 1998 was a defining quirk of the original Resident Evil 2, a design born from technological limitations as much as creative intent. Yet, tank controls, for all their awkwardness, heightened combat tension while fixed camera positions offered a kind of deliberate, cinematic framing that modern, over-the-shoulder perspectives can’t easily replicate. Mr X’s segments, however, were constrained in a way which can’t be reinterpreted. Bottom line: he was underutilised, his appearances making the RPD feel less of a continuous space and more a collection of isolated moments. Much like you, Mr X wasn’t there to occupy the building. He was just passing through.
In 2019, that limitation disappears. Mr X finally becomes the Tyrant the original game only implied. Not just a towering assailant, but a persistent menace enabled by modern systems to exist in the RPD at all times. Once he’s arrived, everything inside the police station seems to compress – not structurally, but experientially. Puzzles develop urgency, herbs become lifelines, and darkened stretches need renegotiating. Even safe rooms feel like temporary annexes for deep breaths and downtime, rather than sanctuaries.
Crucially, this sense of oppression isn’t achieved through teleporting AI power. Mr X still operates independently when off-camera, prowling through every room like a real person would. He doesn’t know your precise location, only where noise, movement, and probability suggest you might be.
Yet, this doesn’t break the illusion but heightens urgency. Likewise, multiple breakdowns of Mr X’s off-camera walking pace show he obeys the same spatial rules as you do, so long as he’s in your vicinity. Once his searches bring him to an adjacent room or corridor, he’ll step to a pace that’s measured and fair.
The result of these systems is an enemy which feels intelligent because he exists convincingly within the game’s rules, not cheapened by reality-defying powers. And, if the systems in which he’s built are designed for constant, grinding pressure, it’s the sounds he stirs which puts your fear in a chokehold.
See, Mr X’s most powerful tool for oppression isn’t his intelligence, his reach, or his invulnerability, but the sound that he makes. Blending with the score’s atonal dissonance, Resident Evil 2 uses Mr X’s sound design – more specifically, his thumping footsteps and cavernous door slams – to conjure atmospheric dread, deploying an audio mix that gives a looming sense of danger to what’s unseen. The result: Mr X – perhaps inadvertently – “teaches” you audibly how to survive, but he hammers on psychological pressure when doing so.
These are deliberate uses of what sound designers describe as acousmatic sound, or audio that is disembodied from any visible source. The effect is deeply concerning, as without visual confirmation you’re left to estimate Mr X’s proximity based on the volume and intensity of his footsteps. The Raccoon City Police Department is a grand, spacious, echoey sort of place, so every floorboard creak, gust of wind, or distant howl will break the clarity of Mr X’s movement. Your ears need to be consistently engaged, but you’ll struggle to establish a rhythm. Your tempo – in avatar movement or real-life heartbeat, perhaps – is dictated to you by the soundscape.
But – funny thing is, as stridulant as this audio can be, silence is still worse. Ambiguous sound is better than no sound at all, but this only serves to unsettle you more. And this brings us full-circle, like a sine wave, back to what elevates Mr X above other Resident Evil enemies that have come after (or before, for that matter).
Take Lady Dimitrescu, for instance. She’s undeniably unforgettable, but her contributions are more limited in scope compared to Mr X. She’s confined to specific sections where her audible presence is tied to clearly telegraphed bellows and musical cues. Resident Evil 3 Remake’s version of Nemesis sees the iconic BOW through some spectacular chase sequences, but this scripted design leaves no room for audio-led tension to marinate. If we pluck a stalker-type enemy out of Resident Evil’s back-catalogue, say Resident Evil: Dead Aim’s Morpheus, we find an enemy with narrative ambition overshadowed by a lack of meaningful audio. Sound sells terror, and Resident Evil 2’s remade Mr X knows this better than anything else.
So, seven years on, Mr X hasn’t been surpassed because the developer hasn’t tried to outdo his specific philosophy. He’s the only Tyrant who hammers pressure through constant pursuit and psychologically tortuous sound. Whether Resident Evil Requiem introduces a stalking presence to rival him remains to be seen, but future entries don’t need to replicate Mr X beat for beat – only the design principles that make him terrifying: make him seem real, and make him play fair.
Note: The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily represent the views of, and should not be attributed to, GamingBolt as an organization.
