Humans Have Evolved to Navigate a Complex World Because of It
by Coltan Scrivner October 27, 2025 (zocalopublicsquare.org)
.png){kind=link}
Film critics Gene Siskel and Johnny Oleksinski have called fans of slasher films like Friday the 13th and Saw “very sick people” and “depraved lunatics who should not be allowed near animals or most other living things.” Public outcry around the video game Mortal Kombat in the early 1990s was so extreme that it led to a special U.S. Senate hearing on the topic. Similarly, the recent rise of true crime entertainment has some people wondering if we are becoming desensitized to the horror and seriousness of the events themselves.
Macabre forms of entertainment capture the imagination of millions of people. But is this fascination a sign of coldheartedness and moral depravity? Should we be concerned about our morbid curiosity?
Rather than being a sign of moral deficiency, our attraction to the darker side of life appears to be deeply rooted in adaptive mechanisms that helped our ancestors survive and thrive.
Morbid curiosity refers to our curiosity about threats, which makes clear evolutionary sense. In a dangerous world, those who ignore signals of danger don’t last long. Our ancestors who investigated the sounds of predators, learned from others’ misfortunes, and understood the consequences of violence were more likely to survive and pass on their genes.
Today, our brains still harbor those ancient vigilance systems. Morbid curiosity motivates us to explore threatening scenarios safely, gathering information about potential dangers without actually experiencing them. When we watch a horror movie or read about a crime, we’re essentially running simulations, practicing our cognitive and emotional responses to dangerous situations we hope never to encounter in real life.
It’s an intuitive thought that people who enjoy movies with blood, guts, and suffering would be less kind, less compassionate, and lacking in empathy. However, my research shows that this simply isn’t true. Whether measured by standardized psychological surveys or behavioral tasks, the results are the same: morbidly curious people are just as empathetic and compassionate as anyone else.
Engaging with stories about suffering, violence, or death, often forces us to consider multiple perspectives. True crime enthusiasts don’t just learn about perpetrators; they also contemplate victims’ experiences, families’ grief, and the broader social factors that contribute to violence. Horror movies subject vulnerable protagonists to terrorizing monsters—and horror fans take the perspective of those protagonists when watching the film. Their vulnerability and exposure to danger are the very thing that incites fear in the audience. Without evoking empathy, horror movies can’t serve their function: frightening the audience.
Whether measured by standardized psychological surveys or behavioral tasks, the results are the same: morbidly curious people are just as empathetic and compassionate as anyone else.
Engaging with dark content may also help us build psychological resilience and improve our ability to cope with stress, trauma, and adversity. Acting like a psychological vaccine, controlled exposure to threatening scenarios through media can help us develop mental antibodies against real-world difficulties.
Studies show that people who regularly consume horror media report feeling more prepared to handle actual threatening situations. They’ve mentally rehearsed various scenarios and developed confidence in their ability to cope with extreme circumstances. This doesn’t mean they’re desensitized to real suffering; rather, they’ve built a toolkit of psychological resources for managing fear and uncertainty.
Some researchers have harnessed the power of morbid curiosity to create scary games that help kids with anxiety. Mindlight is a bio-feedback video game where the player wears a headband that measures brainwaves associated with relaxation. The premise of the game might sound familiar to horror fans: you are trapped in a mansion with monsters, and you must escape.
With scares tailored for young children, Mindlight allows kids the opportunity to face their fears in a playful setting. To defeat the monsters, players must approach them and shine a light on them, exposing them for what they really are; it’s a wonderful metaphor for what morbid curiosity can do for us in daily life. The headband picks up when the player becomes too anxious, and gives them tips on how to keep their cool. The resulting gameplay is remarkably effective: Mindlight is as powerful at treating anxiety as cognitive behavioral therapy, the gold standard for anxiety treatment.
Like any human trait, morbid curiosity exists on a spectrum. High levels of morbid curiosity on their own are not pathological and are nothing to be concerned about. However, too much of anything—to the exclusion of other things—can become unhealthy. Consuming nothing but dark content can lead to a gloomy worldview. Today, we find ourselves in a world full of negative news from all corners of the Earth at the tap of our fingers. This was not a problem our morbidly curious ancestors ever had to face.
But we shouldn’t feel any shame over our morbid curiosity. Instead, we should seek to understand it as part of what makes us human. Our capacity to be fascinated by darkness while maintaining our compassion reflects the complexity of our psychology. We are creatures capable of confronting life’s most difficult realities—even for entertainment—while still choosing kindness, connection, and hope.
The next time you find yourself drawn to a horror film, violent video game, or true crime podcast, remember that your morbid curiosity makes you a thoughtful, empathetic human trying to understand and navigate a complex world.
Coltan Scrivner is a psychologist, horror entertainment producer, and the author of Morbidly Curious: A Scientist Explains Why We Can’t Look Away. He is also executive director of the Nightmare in the Ozarks Film Festival and the Eureka Springs Zombie Crawl.
Primary editor: Jackie Mansky | Secondary editor: Sarah Rothbard