You: "The door opens, and it's nasty. Nick is lying in a bloody heap, a metal spike protruding from his head. He's been dead about--"

Player: "Hey! It's Nick on a Stick!"

(The group breaks up laughing.)

You: "Ho, ho. So anyway, the room is dark but there's a strange pulsing radiance coming from Nick's eyes. It's like--"

Player: "Get some sunglasses, dude!"

(The group breaks up again.)

You: (Small mewling cries.)

What's going on here? It's obvious. The players just aren't into the mood of the game, and when the game is horror, mood is everything. Most genres of gaming don't really demand the level of involvement that horror RPGs do. They really demand that at key points in the game, the players should be really into it. They should be uneasy, suspicious, jumpy, or just plain scared. Every so often, they should all look at each other, put on shaky grins and whisper "Oh christ, this is so cool!" before turning their full attention back to you and the situation at hand.

That's not easy. Running horror games is tough on the GM, and it also asks a lot of the players. No matter how much you as the GM are into it and ready to go, without motivated players the game will probably suck. So how do you motivate the players to be engaged, uncertain, and scared?

Horror RPGs have been wrestling with this since the beginning (much as horror fiction has sought the same reactions from readers). The Call of Cthulhu rules urge GMs to downplay combat and to focus on the everpresent loss of sanity. The first edition of Chill had much to say on setting and mood, and used many examples from other media to illustrate its points. But this is all pretty much baseline stuff; yeah, you and your players know the way it's supposed to be played. So what if they aren't making the effort, or are out of practice? How do you get them unbalanced and scared again?

It's not that hard, but it's going to require that you push the envelope a bit. You need to confound the players' expectations and scare the crap out of them. Not the game, not the NPCs...you. To scare the players, you must be scary yourself. H.P. Lovecraft wrote that the oldest and strongest form of fear is fear of the unknown. Your players know you, so how can they be scared of you? Easy. Don't be yourself. Try some of the following techniques out and see how they work. You don't need to use all of them, and you might think some of them are just a little bit out there. But I've used all of these things, and they really do work.

#1: Be A Jerk
The Theory: Don't make small talk. Don't laugh at their jokes. Don't smile. Glare at them when they break the mood. Don't ask for die rolls or other requests: demand them. When damage is dealt to the players, spit the total at them and demand to know how close they are to death. When damage is dealt to the players' foes, shrug it off as if it's inconsequential. Speak in short, clipped sentences. Furrow your brows. If they goof off, do not play along. If they go to the bathroom, keep playing while they're gone and wound their character if possible. If anyone protests about anything, you should rule for or against them fairly; but do it quickly, cleanly, and with as few words as possible.

The Practice: You can't do this all the time or the players won't come play anymore. Think of this almost as a persona that you adopt at certain times. In particular, I'd urge you to switch into this mode only during one or more of the following situations: during the climax of a session; when they've stupidly botched something and are suffering the consequences; in an unexpected combat or other surprise situation. Soon your players will know that when you're being The Jerk, it means something, and they'll get serious, too. God bless Pavlov.

#2: Make Them Stand
The Theory: When players sit at a table, they get comfortable. They lean back, they put their feet on the table, they slouch, they put their head down, they play with dice. This annoying little tic of the human animal can be dealt with by taking the chairs away and forcing the players to stand. They may lean, they may shuffle, they may pace: but they will never really be comfortable. They will be, quite literally, on their toes.

The Practice: This is really feasible only in a few situations: if your session will only be an hour or so; if it's for a portion of a session and occurs after or between some sort of break or intermission; if used in tandem with some other disorientation tactic employed to accentuate a climax or other dramatic phase. For example, let's say that the climax of the session is a night-time chase through a swamp. So, turn off the lights, hand out a flashlight or two, and take away the chairs. The players will be confused, restless, and quite unrelaxed. Once the chase ends, bring the chairs out again. Another good reason for this tactic is that it encourages more physical roleplaying. If the players are moving around anyway, they're more likely to swing their arms, lean over someone menacingly, and in other ways use their whole body to roleplay.

#3: Split the Herd
The Theory: Like junior high students on a field trip, the herd mentality gives the players strength and solidarity. People don't get scared in groups; they get scared inside their heads. So, split them up: not just the characters, but the players. Manipulate play so that you can put each player in a different room--or at least one or two of them--because their characters have been split up. Keep the lights off or dim, and move quickly from one player to the next. Allow no communication between them. If at all possible then play loud, disorienting music or sound effects so they don't spend their time waiting in silence. Confuse them, misdirect them, and if they end up shooting each other by mistake then so much the better.

The Practice: Like most of these techniques, this is really helped by darkness. Get each player alone and in the dark, with some horrible racket going on so they can't think straight, and they'll get spooked pretty easily. It won't be for very long, but it doesn't need to be. It's even better if, once the group re-assembles, not all of them make it back. This technique works very well with "#1: Be A Jerk," by the way: you can move from player to player with a sort of ruthless efficiency that's bound to bother them. It also works well with the next technique.

#4: Get Physical
The Theory: Most GMs, even when animated and excited, are still friendly and respectful. Not you. Whenever you're portraying a hostile NPC then get in their face, wave your arms around, talk loud, swear at them, and engage in hostile speech and hostile body language. Plan some sort of physical action for key encounters, like a sudden attack or NPC temper tantrum or something. Then, when playing, do it for real: throw a punch (as long as you know you'll miss), grab them by the collar, hurl a dish against the wall. Do something they would never expect you to do. If someone gets hurt just a little then break character and apologize, but only for a moment. Then get physical again. Shock them.

The Practice: Works well in tandem with your players signing liability waivers! In all seriousness, it really isn't hard to pump up the physicality of your NPC performances---only in key encounters, not in every one---and really jar your players. Pulled punches, broken dishes, slammed doors, and other gross physical acts are outside the range of most players' experiences and they'll usually be too shocked to do anything but gape. This is excellent if it's just you and the player alone (see #3 above) since when you rejoin the group the player will be shaken and twitchy and the other players will wonder why. But you can't be stupid about this. Suddenly throwing a punch when you're standing several feet away and not getting anywhere near the player can be as effective as throwing it right past their head, and it's a much safer idea. The goal here is surprise value, not to make them think you're really going to hit them. This isn't stage combat; the player should be the audience for this kind of technique, not a participant.

#5: Get Help
The Theory: Splitting up the players is all well and good, but then while off giving some poor schmo the treatment you know the rest of the group is doing Monty Python routines and crunching chips. That won't do. Get a second GM to help you instead, and the two of you can tag-team your games. One GM works for a bit while the other slips around the table to resolve individual queries and secret goings-on, then switch roles. When the group splits up, the other GM keeps the rest of the group going. No one should ever be waiting for a GM.

The Practice: Having two GMs formalizes play to an extent, making the players less likely to screw around. It also evens the odds: there's now two of you. You can play good cop-bad cop if you like, or have one GM do certain NPCs while you do certain others. Of all these techniques, this one may sound like the most foreign and the least likely to work, but in practice I've found that two-GM games can be truly exceptional. Not all scenarios are right for this, but most can be made to work and will be improved as a result. Splitting the NPCs is an especially good idea. If each of you only plays one or two major NPCs, you'll get a much greater range of performances and you'll also be able to play off each other when your NPCs are in the same scene. In addition, in major scenes between the players and your NPC, the other GM can handle all the questions, dice, etc. while you just play the NPC.

Conclusion
Your goal is to scare the players. None of the above techniques are scary in and of themselves (well, not usually) but all of them should be unexpected and out of the ordinary. If they players start wondering what you're up to and what you might do next, they'll be less sure of themselves and more likely to react in fright when scary things happen.

I didn't mention things like dim lighting, music, sound effects, props, costumes, and other stuff like that as particular techniques. They're good too, if used sparingly and with precision. A session that begins with the characters at a library doing research shouldn't begin in darkness with candles and spooky music. Look at movies: when scary things are happening, you get the funky lighting and music. When things are mundane, it's all very normal.

The key to scaring your players is knowing when to be scary, and when not to be. You can't keep players afraid for four hours straight, so you've got to go for brief moments of fright where appropriate. It's in those moments that the techniques described above really shine. None of these things are meant to encourage you to be adversarial or unfair in your GMing; you should still be a fair GM. But they should make your players think that anything is possible, and if they really think that then you've got them right where you want them: credulous, bleating sheep shuffling fearfully towards the slaughter...

Good hunting!