Hill

In my restless dreams, I see that town. I see its fog-drenched foothills and derelict buildings. I see its dead-end alleys and blank-faced inhabitants. And though it’s not the same haunt that ensnared Harry, Heather, James, and the others–the same town that’s siren song broke many a man while simultaneously building one of the most iconic horror game franchises in existence–Silent Hill f’s Ebisugaoka is still a place that demands your attention; a place that, once you’re there, you never truly leave. Or perhaps more aptly, it never leaves you.

The same can be said for Silent Hill f itself. Although the game distances itself from previous entries in the series–most notably by trading in its Lynchian-meets-Boschian ambience and small-town America setting in favor of slow-burning Japanese horror and the humid foothills of Honshu–its overall experience is every bit as memorable as those offered by its predecessors. And yet Silent Hill f is not merely a somewhat-divergent continuation of a beloved series; it’s an evolution, offering several gameplay improvements while also paving a new path forward. With its brilliant writing, well-designed and strategic gameplay, engaging combat, and spectacular visuals, Silent Hill f firmly establishes itself as a phenomenal work of psychological horror and among the best entries in the Silent Hill series.

Though Silent Hill f’s setting is, to be cliche, very nearly a character in itself, at the center of the game’s story is Shimizu Hinako, a young high school student who is violently thrust into a disturbing version of her hometown. In the game’s opening moments, it’s made clear that Hinako’s relationships are rife with tension. As a young woman growing up during the late 1960s, much of this tension stems from her resistance towards being a “proper” young woman, much to her parents’ dismay. In her journal, she writes that her father is the very definition of a patriarchal husband–demanding, severe, and domineering–while her mother is passive to the point of cowardice. For a long time, Hinako’s older sister, Junko, was the only person she could rely on for companionship and protection. This changed, however, once she got married and left home, leaving Hinako alone and drowning in resentment.

The events of Silent Hill f kick off shortly after yet another fight at home. Following the argument, Hinako leaves to find someone–anyone–whom she can talk to. As she makes her way through the eerily quiet Ebisugaoka, we are introduced to her three closest friends: Sakuko, Rinko, and Shu. In typical teenage fashion, Hinako’s relationships with these three have an underlying sense of unease, though it’s not immediately clear why. And yet, teenage drama quickly becomes the least of her concerns once a fog-shrouded monster begins to hunt her down, leaving flesh-devouring spider lilies, chrysanthemums, and red streams of rot in its wake.

Hinako is forced to then navigate the narrow alleyways and abandoned buildings of Ebisugaoka as she attempts to avoid the infestation and the grotesque creatures who accompany it. And yet, this is only half of the harrowing experience Hinako endures. At certain points throughout the game, Hinako is thrust into a spirit realm, in which a disarming young man referred to as Fox Mask guides her through strange temples and dark trials.

Though this premise is plenty peculiar, Silent Hill f is in some ways a bit more straightforward than previous Silent Hill titles. Well… at first, anyway. At the very least, it’s not quite as uncanny. Rather than stumbling into suffering strangers who speak in riddles, SHF uses those closest to Hinako to heighten intrigue and tension–to alarm and unease. Whereas previous Silent Hill games always felt a bit like David Lynch’s take on a Hieronymus Bosch painting–alienating, dreamlike, and horrifying–Silent Hill f feels more like a collaboration between surrealist filmmaker Satoshi Kon and horror manga legend Junji Ito. I wouldn’t dare to say one is better than the other, even if my personal preferences skew me towards the latter, but I will say that Silent Hill f moved, unsettled, and awed me in ways few games can.

Regardless of whether Hinako is trudging through rice fields, roaming the halls of her former middle school, or traipsing alongside Fox Mask in the spirit realm, the world of Silent Hill f is stunning and atmospheric. Though I’ve never been to Kanayama–the real-life Japanese town that inspired Silent Hill f’s Ebisugaoka–I was extremely impressed by the way Konami managed to replicate a rural Japanese town. I certainly won’t claim to be an arbiter of authenticity, but as I wove through alleys and watched concrete and chainlink give way to worn-wood homes and dampened dirt paths, I was reminded of the time I’ve spent near Nagano, or south of Osaka: places where nature and culture coexist in such a surreal but beautiful way. As I moved through Ebisugaoka, I felt as though I could taste the humidity; as though I could smell the forest floor.

The spirit realm, on the other hand, feels appropriately unknowable–steeped in history and reverence. When you walk through its temple halls, it feels as if the world should be eerily quiet, ultimately making the rattling chains of four-legged enemies, chattering of dolls, and Akira Yamaoka’s phenomenal compositions all the more impactful. Yes, composer Yamaoka returns for Silent Hill f, and while he naturally retains his ability to build tension at the drop of a hat, Silent Hill f also might just show off how beautiful and consuming his work can be, too. I was impressed by how he makes SHF sound like a Silent Hill game while also giving it its own identity and celebrating its new setting, placing traditional Japanese instrumentation, guttural singing, and haunting choirs alongside his signature industrial sound.

Yet fidelity and sound aren’t all that contribute to how artistically profound Silent Hill f is. Among the more crucial elements are the game’s haunting visuals and nightmarish creatures, both of which disturb as much as they fascinate, and accomplish the game’s mission of exploring the space where the gorgeous and grotesque meet. Boss designs are consistently remarkable, drawing upon traditional Japanese attire, weaponry, and folklore to elevate them, while your standard enemies–from hewn mannequins to feminine monstrosities whose bodies are covered in pulsing, pregnant bellies–are every bit as unsettling. Expect to see flesh fall, bones snap, and plenty of viscera during your time with Silent Hill f, as well as cinematic cutscenes that feel utterly otherworldly.

More important than being both visually and audibly remarkable, however, is how Silent Hill f’s locations serve the game’s narrative and themes. Prior to Silent Hill f’s release, Konami stated that Silent Hill should be viewed as a state of mind rather than a physical location, hence why some games in the series–including SHF–don’t take place in the East Coast-inspired town. That said, if we are to view the locations these protagonists explore as metaphors for the human psyche, I can’t imagine a more suitable world than the one crafted here.

Ebisugaoka’s alleys cut through the town like neural pathways–twisting, turning, connecting, and coming to abrupt ends. Both the town and the spirit realm disorient just as much as they dazzle, heightening this sense of confusion and loss. They also revel in contradiction. Throughout the game, we witness gorgeous grotesquery as flowers and gore consume the town in equal measure; we stumble across sacred places that feel utterly profane, and watch as the supernatural and otherworldly collide with the lush and natural. Much like Hinako and Silent Hill f itself, this world is not meant to be entirely understood.

Naturally, this sense of mystery also heightens one of the Silent Hill series’ most notable features: its puzzles. Throughout Silent Hill f, there are roughly a dozen puzzles to solve, with a particularly important one sprawling across the entire game and requiring at least one playthrough to be completed before you can start it. Others are more straightforward, and task you with things like deciphering a coded language, finding and correctly placing medallions, or navigating complex hallways by pulling levers to open and close doors.

By and large, these are all engaging and just the right level of difficulty on the game’s Hard mode, its default puzzle difficulty. After completing the game once, you’ll also gain Lost in the Fog difficulty, which adds a bit more of a challenge, though I didn’t find it to be too extraordinary a jump. That said, one or two of these puzzles stand out as far less enjoyable (and more convoluted) than the others, ultimately dragging on a bit too long for my liking and resulting in my facing off against a grating number of enemies.

Fortunately, Silent Hill f alleviates some of the annoyance these moments stir up with remarkably fun close-quarters combat. Compared to previous entries in the series, Silent Hill f is more action-oriented, relying on executing perfect dodges and parrying at the correct time to dish out damage to enemies. Though the studio has shied away from comparisons to soulslikes, there is an undeniably familiar feeling as you bounce back and forth between light- and heavy-attacks before quickly dodging out of harm’s way. And whereas some horror games stumble when they lean too far into action, Silent Hill f manages to do so to great success, creating a fluid and engaging system that enhances the game rather than detracts from it.

That said, it’s not perfect. At times, I felt enemies were not quite as responsive to my attacks as I wished and lacked proper feedback. Other times, I found myself a bit frustrated by how the game’s tight corridors, quickly depleting stamina bar, and imperfect controls created situations where I was unable to do anything as an enemy continuously wailed on me. This didn’t happen too often, though, and considering horror games aren’t known for having particularly jaw-dropping combat, I didn’t mind those few moments of unreliability and overwhelm. In some regards, it served as a reminder that Hinako is just a high school girl, not a military-trained operative you might find in Resident Evil 3’s Raccoon City.

And while combat is more fluid than ever, this doesn’t necessarily mean it’s easy or that you should engage with every enemy you encounter. Keeping in line with former Silent Hill games, there is no real incentive for you to take on enemies you’re not required to kill to progress–no items are dropped, and no experience is given. In fact, choosing to do so can come at a detriment, as combat can be quite challenging and will always cost you more resources than you net, including your weapons.

Yes, in addition to your health, stamina, and sanity, you’ll want to pay attention to your weapon’s durability as you play, as weapon degradation is back. While this might sound like a lot to monitor, in execution it works extremely well, and greatly heightens the stakes and sense that Hinako’s survival must be won.

In addition to weapon degradation, Silent Hill f’s permanent-upgrade system also adds another layer of strategy and resource management. Throughout Ebisugaoka and the spirit realm are shrines Hinako can visit to enshrine select objects, including some of those used to heal or regenerate sanity and stamina. Enshrining an object converts it into Faith, which can then be used to draw an omamori–a talisman granting Hinako a random boon–or to permanently upgrade one of her stats. This adds an interesting element of choice, as you must consider whether you should hang on to your various healing items to use in battle or convert them into faith for permanent upgrades.

Trading in your items for upgrades is made even more tempting by the fact that both Hinako’s stat upgrades and omamoris carry over to New Game Plus, greatly heightening their usefulness and making subsequent playthroughs easier. And while you might not typically be the type to replay a game on New Game Plus, Silent Hill f makes an extremely compelling case to reconsider your stance.

Although a playthrough of Silent Hill f takes around 10 hours to complete, you’d be remiss to call it a 10-hour-long game. Within the game there are five endings, one of which you are locked into the first time you play, and it was only after unlocking two of them that I began to feel as though I somewhat understood what was happening to Hinako and her hometown; that I began to grasp that each playthrough should not be viewed as a separate experience, but as part of a whole.

As such, playing through Silent Hill f multiple times feels absolutely essential to the overall experience. For those of you familiar with the game’s writer, Ryukishi07, this might come as no surprise, as his other works are known for doing precisely this and often use their first ending to raise questions rather than answer them; Silent Hill f is no exception. Thankfully, fantastic gameplay, the ability to skip old cutscenes, plenty of new content each playthrough, and dramatically different endings–complete with different bosses–make playing through the game multiple times an exciting prospect.

Yet the most compelling reason to replay Silent Hill f is simply to experience every bit of its brilliant, horrifying, and, oftentimes, deeply cathartic story. Though I won’t dive too deep into the ideas and themes of the game in order to preserve the experience for others, suffice to say I was blown away by the mastery in which Silent Hill f explores gender roles, agency, isolation, identity, relationships, and womanhood, as well as by the way it perfectly balances clarity and ambiguity to create something profound and reflective. Among AAA titles, there are few games that dare to broach the same topics developer NeoBards Entertainment does in this title–and far fewer that handle them with even close to the same amount of grace, nuance, and conviction.

Perhaps this isn’t surprising, considering that nearly every part of Silent Hill f is crafted with the same level of care and skill. And yet, that doesn’t make anything about this game and what NeoBards has achieved any less impressive. Silent Hill f is not just a return to form, it’s a remarkable evolution; it’s a visual spectacle, a mastercraft in psychological horror, a work of narrative brilliance, and a new benchmark for the Silent Hill series.

Source link