Silence in games works because the mechanics strip everything else away, so what you do, see, or hear has to count. Take Journey: the lack of text and a minimal UI forces the player to read the world’s pacing— the subtle shift of light, the way the wind brushes the dunes, the sudden pause before a cliff drops. Those visual beats become beats in the story. Ori, on the other hand, uses silence as a canvas for its soundtrack; the music rises and falls in perfect sync with the player’s movement, turning a quiet jump into an emotional crescendo. Both games lean on tight physics, precise collision detection, and a control scheme that rewards intentionality, not button‑mashing. The result is that every pause feels deliberate, every silent corridor a narrative decision. It’s a rare dance between design and atmosphere, and that’s why the older, quieter titles feel so… well, quiet.