The first time I saw a Licker, I almost jumped out of my skin. The room was dark save for the crackling glare of the stocky Panasonic TV set in front of me, and I was far too little to be playing Resident Evil 2. The PlayStation controller felt slippery in my sweaty palms as I ambled through Raccoon City Police Department, guided the whole way by my kind older brother who pointed out zombies before they could take a chunk out of my heroic Leon S. Kennedy.
That is, of course, until a sprawling figure crawled across the window. It happened so quickly, nothing more than a horrifying blur as I turned a corner while navigating the labyrinthine corridors. I yelped, chucking the controller forcefully at my poor brother as if to say: "take over for me while I fetch my inhaler". Resident Evil 2 was the first game that scared the crap out of me, and I'm not the only survival horror fan with a renewed sense of urgency to relive it.
