‘Silent Hill f’ Breathes New Life (and Scares) into the Series [Review]

There’s a lot riding on Silent Hill f. I don’t think it’d be catastrophising to say that the reputation and, perhaps more importantly, the future prospects of a gaming icon hang in the balance here.

Full disclosure, as is the case for many horror geeks my age, Silent Hill means a great deal to me. Watching my dad play through the PSOne debut, hunched over a small CRT television in our living room, was a formative experience that awakened me to a whole new world of genre literature, movies and virtual entertainment that I would go on to voraciously consume.

Meanwhile, its 2001 sequel opened my mind even wider to the unique possibilities for artistic expression in video games, even if I wasn’t quite pretentious enough to articulate those thoughts at the time (I’d eventually get around to writing a conceited university dissertation on the subject 15 years later). And when every last trace of the sublime P.T. was expunged from the PlayStation Store, I went into a period of inconsolable mourning from which I have still yet to emerge.

The point is, if you’re harbouring any doubts about my credentials to review a new Silent Hill installment, then rest assured that I love this IP as deeply as anyone else. But loving something deeply and loving it blindly are seldom the same act. And if we’re being brutally honest with ourselves, the ratio of good Silent Hill media to bad Silent Hill media these days is not exactly favourable.

Thematically on-brand as it may be for this series, I don’t want to pick at old wounds too much here. Suffice it to say, ever since the promising Hideo Kojima and Guillermo del Toro collab Silent Hills was unceremoniously killed in its crib, the franchise has only suffered indignity after indignity at the hands of its publisher.

Indeed, Konami’s contributions to this legacy over the past decade amount to little more than a gaudy pachinko machine, an egregiously-monetised streaming show, and the incessant pimping out of the once-terrifying Pyramid Head to other, trendier properties. Oh, and let’s not forget The Short Message: an on-the-nose lecture about cyber bullying that was so condescending it made your average After School Special look like an exercise in Chevokian subtlety.

The sole glimmer of hope we’ve been able to cling to in recent years is Bloober Team’s update of Silent Hill 2 which, depending on who you ask, was either a worthy revival of a classic or, at the very least, a competent attempt at one. But that’s precisely the issue, isn’t it? When the only decent offering we’ve had lately is a remake of a title that was already a masterpiece to begin with, it doesn’t instil much confidence in the licence-holder’s ability to keep this whole enterprise afloat. What we need, instead, are genuinely exciting and fresh ideas.

Enter Silent Hill f. As the first original, mainline entry in the series for well over a decade — and one that promises to shake up the formula in some novel ways — this new title was always going to be Konami’s best shot at reinvigorating their flagship brand. If it pans out, then it might just be enough to prove there is still some gas left in the tank after all. If not, then it will simply be the final nail in a thoroughly secured coffin.

Time for a Change

If that seems like an unfair amount of pressure to put on a single release, I’d argue there’s cause to have such raised expectations here. After all, the promotional materials have indicated that Silent Hill f would be a bold experiment. One that dares to imagine what the Silent Hill universe could be if it were no longer beholden to its unnecessary baggage and established conventions.

You see, the development team at NeoBards Entertainment aren’t content to merely regurgitate things you’ve seen before. On the contrary, they’ve made a valiant effort to blaze a unique trail of their very own and to cast off the shackles of the past.

For starters, they’ve relocated the action from contemporary small-town Maine to a rural Japanese prefecture in the 1960s. Beyond just providing an interesting backdrop for the game to take place against, this change of scenery crucially means that the developers can’t coast by on familiar iconography to win over long-term fans. Indeed, because of the self-imposed restriction, there’s nary a bobblehead nurse or triangular-faced executioner in sight!

Rather than obligatorily trotting out Silent Hill’s greatest hits, then, Neobards have had the guts to come up with their own original ideas. Sure, there are some nods to the releases of yesteryear (there’s a shit-ton of fog, of course, as well as a nightmare otherworld, a map that’s automatically updated with doodles as you make discoveries, and symbolic monsters that prey on your character’s psychological hangups) but it’s mostly about capturing the spirit of the franchise, as opposed to its minutiae.

So gone are the recognisable lanes of Bachman Road and Koontz Street, replaced now with all new locales that you’ll become intimately acquainted with over the course of this adventure. Likewise, the Jacob’s Ladder-esque creatures that used to be synonymous with the series have been swapped out for more culturally-specific boogeymen — that take on a beguiling floral motif — and the combat has been redesigned from the ground up to place a greater emphasis on melee.

The end result is a breath of fresh air to say the least, comparable to how Resident Evil 7 injected vitality back into Capcom’s rival series after it too had lost its way in the early 2010s.

Nightmare Adolescence

Set during the middle of Japan’s Showa-era (at a time when Godzilla was gearing up for his first bout against Mothra, Tokyo was due to host the Olympics, and the Shinkansen bullet train was ready to be unveiled to the world), Silent Hill f has you taking control of a teenage schoolgirl named Hinako Shimizu.

A lifelong resident of the mountain community of Ebisugaoka, she’s something of a walking contradiction. On the one hand, she’s a bit of a tomboy: thoroughly disinterested in the latest makeup trends, fashion crazes or anything else that the conservative locals would deem appropriate for her sex. Instead, she prefers to think of herself as one of the guys, playing sports with her male classmates, regularly busting their balls and concocting violent sci-fi fantasies in which she and her platonic friend, Shu, must defend Earth from alien invaders.

Yet despite the fact that Hinako doesn’t make much of an effort to conform to gender norms or fastidiously maintain her appearance, she has been intensely scrutinised for her looks ever since puberty hit. Female peers are jealous of her natural beauty, while members of the opposite sex lust after her with the same carnal desire exhibited by that one Tex Avery wolf who obsesses over Red Riding Hood.

In short, she’s constantly being dissected by everyone in her life, regardless of what choices she makes. Hinako’s supposed bestie, Rinko, is clearly envious of the male attention she receives and gossips constantly behind her back, while the town elders criticise her unladylike behaviour, and she’s not even 100% sure if he can trust Shu to not have ulterior motives anymore, now that he’s reached that awkward age. Oh, and domestic life with her parents is a whole other can of worms!

Anyway, these repressed grievances and unspoken frictions all come bubbling to the surface when, one day, a mysterious fog bank envelopes Ebisugaoka. Suddenly, 90% of the local population has disappeared without a trace — replaced by body-horror abominations that are at once terrifying, but also strangely elegant— and Hinako finds herself as the number one target of a malevolent force that’s skulking in the mist.

Headstrong as ever, Hinako resolves to take matters into her own hands and decides that the only sensible course of action available to her is to battle her way out of town (with that fractured friend-group in tow). To do this, she must prepare for a hellish ordeal that will see her facing off against all manner of psychosexual beasties and finally confronting her own personal demons. In some cases, quite literally.

Location, Location, Location

Granted, there is a degree of overlap with James Sunderland’s analogous journey into his guilt-ridden psyche. Nevertheless, there’s still a lot that distinguishes Silent Hill f from its forebears.

The most obvious change being that it doesn’t take place in the titular municipality itself. Or even on the same continent for that matter. In fact, short of moving the franchise “down under”, it’s hard to imagine taking it further away from its geographical roots than Neobards have here.

Yet it’s this trip across the Pacific Ocean that turns out to be the developer’s smartest move. Situating the horror in rural Asia gives all the well-worn tropes and tired mechanics that Silent Hill has struggled to shed a brand-new lease of life. Everything from the enemies to the environmental details, the music, the flavour text and the world-building feels distinctly Japanese. It’s utterly steeped in the culture, to the point where the game’s language settings default to the native tongue when you boot it up (an option I’d recommend sticking with, by the way, as the Japanese voice acting is superb).

And if you’re worried about getting homesick for the nostalgic views of Brookhaven Hospital, Lakeside Amusement Park or Wood Side Apartments, rest assured that Ebisugaoka is just as clearly defined and memorable a setting as Silent Hill ever was. To make this feel like a truly lived-in place, the developers took inspiration from the real city of Gero. Sitting at the base of Japan’s second-highest volcano, encircled by forest and generally quite tough to get to, Gero is a picturesque community that relies on foreign tourism to stimulate its economy, with the main draw being a famous onsen hot spring.

The fictional Ebisugaoka is similarly remote yet doesn’t have the benefit of spendthrift vacationers to prop up its businesses. On the contrary, we’re told that it has fallen on hard times lately, owing to the collapse of its anchor industries in mining and dam construction. When we drop in, the settlement has already become a shadow of its former self and, depressingly, its most notable landmark is an iron bridge that leads out of town towards greener pastures.

Yet despite it being a bit of a ghost town, Ebisugaoka has a lot of character. By taking the time to sightsee and pore over the historical records, you’ll learn all about its post-war turmoil, its challenges with extreme weather & seismic activity, its urban legends that have been passed down from generation to generation, the most popular haunts for local young people, and the reverence that its townsfolk have for all things vulpine. It’s as well thought-out and detailed as Bright Falls from Alan Wake or the UNN Rickenbacker from System Shock 2. And just like with those titles, you’re gonna actively want to comb every nook and cranny to make sure you don’t miss anything.

On that note, the level design is quintessential survival horror through and through. As you progress, you’ll gradually unlock shortcuts to help you get from A to B with less harassment and acquire key-like items that will grant you access to areas that were formerly out of reach. It’s a classic approach, but one that’s executed flawlessly here. There’s one sequence wherein you must traverse Hinako’s old middle school, and it so perfectly weaves together the strands of atmosphere, enemy encounters, storytelling, puzzle solving and navigation that I was pretty much ready to declare this GOTY right then and there.

However, things get really interesting when you stray from the golden path, because Neobards hide all kinds of cool little details, creepy vignettes, optional encounters, and extra riddles for those who are brave enough to go hunting for them. At one point, I managed to break into a physician’s office (that wasn’t at all mandatory) and ended up being rewarded for my initiative with some fascinating character insights and a terrific jump scare that caught me completely off-guard. It’s always welcome when games include skippable content like this, as it shows that the developers really understand the appeal of good exploration and how gratifying it can be to make discoveries on your own terms.

Putting the “Psychological” in Psychological Horror

It’s not just the world of Silent Hill f that feels so incredibly rich, though, as that same care has been extended to its narrative and human characters too.

Eminently likeable, yet not without her jagged edges, Hinako is one of the series’ greatest protagonists to date, and you’ll want to keep playing just to peel back the layers of her increasingly complex psychology and dive deeper into the fraught relationships she’s maintaining with both friends and family. As is the case with any teenage girl, there’s a lot of messy stuff going on with our heroine, yet scenario-writer Ryukishi07 portrays that angst in a way that feels mature, intelligent and, above all else, authentic. Which is an impressive feat for a 51-year-old man who presumably doesn’t have first-hand experience with a lot of these female issues.

Speaking of which, the game is unflinching in its depiction of prickly subject matter. Without getting into spoiler territory, the stakes are higher than you might assume based on the hormonal drama I’ve described above, and we get into some dark territory by the final stretch. Themes of child abuse, misogyny, addiction, oppressive gender roles and toxic relationships are all tackled head-on, and you can easily see how this could backfire if not handled with due sensitivity. Again, credit to Ryukishi07, it’s done very tastefully in this case.

In general, I’d say Silent Hill f’s script is exemplary. There’s one left-field twist around the 7-hour mark that will likely prove divisive amongst audiences (as it flirts with an unexpected genre shift) but at least it’s a big swing and that’s precisely what this IP needs right now!

That being said, the best storytelling in Silent Hill has never been about what the writers outwardly verbalise and has instead been more about what they can evoke through cunning visual metaphor and symbolism. This is yet another area where f excels, as the miscellaneous evils that taunt Hinako throughout her quest are framed as manifestations of her subconscious anxieties. For example, her insecurities about female beauty standards are made flesh in the leggy homunculi that have been stitched together from different body parts and sport mocking grins, while her perception of the licentious men in her life can be best summed up by those pot-bellied, drooling predators that lock onto her in combat and her alone. And we hopefully don’t need to explain what the recurring flower motif represents for a young girl who’s on the verge of womanhood.

The Sound of Fear

On the topic of psychological distress, I am overjoyed to report that Silent Hill f is a fucking scary game at times. There are a few spine-tingling jolts, some disturbing flashes of violence and ample nightmare fuel in the creature department.

But it’s the quieter, more subdued moments that really get under your skin. Those parts where you are paranoidly gazing into the fog, listening attentively to the sounds of rustling from nearby bushes, and praying for whatever unseen abomination that’s currently tormenting you to just get it over with already.

On account of the farmland backdrop, the J-horror vibe definitely feels more Onibaba than it does Ringu. Such parallels are especially noticeable when you’re stranded in the rice fields and the winds keep intensifying and intensifying, threatening to overwhelm your eardrums until they burst.

Actually, the audio is pretty damn effective across the board. The rural acoustics are supremely immersive, the unnatural noises of demons set your hair on end, and the music is uniformly top-notch. In terms of the latter, stalwart composer Akira Yamaoka returns to the series here for a number of tracks that exude his signature ambient sound.

However, there are also some more lyrical pieces that make haunting use of traditional Japanese instruments — including percussive Taiko drums, the melancholic Shakuhachi flute and the unmistakable strings of a Biwa. The resultant score works exceedingly well in context, but I can also see it featuring on rotation in my writing playlist going forward because it has a pleasingly zen quality.

Brains and Brawn

In everything from its ambitious themes to its artistic setting, compelling cast, fascinating narrative, and phenomenal soundscape, Silent Hill f represents a (long overdue) return to form for this iconic franchise.

But what about that most integral ingredient of all: the gameplay? After all, if those bedrock foundations aren’t enjoyable, then nothing will be able to save the overall experience from sinking into mediocrity.

For evidence of this, we need look no further than the last time there was a conceptually interesting outing in this series. Released a little over 21 years ago, Silent Hill 4: The Room did so much right on the creative side. However, it was hamstrung by fundamentally broken mechanics and, as a result, is not held in the same high esteem today as its beloved predecessors.

Well, I can happily report that history hasn’t repeated itself with Silent Hill f, although there are still some niggling gripes that we’ll touch on later. Before we get to that, the first thing you need to know is that your interactions with the game world can effectively be divided into two halves, each with their own separate difficulty settings. On the one hand, you have enemy encounters that supply the more in-your-face terror, while on the other, you have those notorious brainteasers that we’ve all come to (affectionately) dread from Silent Hill.

To assuage any concerns that things might have been dumbed down, I can attest that the game’s puzzle gauntlet is satisfyingly cerebral. There’s nothing as devious as SH3’s Shakespeare anthology headscratcher to bring your progress to a screeching halt. Still, I will happily admit I got stumped by more than a couple of them. There’s a Glass Onion secret box that tests your reading comprehension, a tricky substitution code that requires a bit of lateral thinking, and a sadistic trial involving scarecrows that punishes you severely for misinterpreting its clues.

Even when they aren’t mentally taxing, I do appreciate how the conundrums take full advantage of Asian customs and mythology. For instance, an early standout has you studying the Ema plaques that adorn a procession of Tori gates, matching the Yokai spirits that are illustrated upon these blocks to Kanji letters, and then using that info to bypass a combination lock on a nearby Shinto temple. That’s a lot of Japan crammed into just one puzzle!

Alas, the game’s combat makes a less encouraging first impression. I have to confess, my eyebrows were raised when advanced previews indicated that Silent Hill f was going to lift inspiration from the soulsbourne genre, given that melee has never been this franchise’s strong suit. And the first time I was handed a lead pipe and left to clumsily flail it around at a contorted mishmash of body parts, it felt like my worst fears were being realised. Not in a good way.

When compared to other recent horror titles that incentivise getting up-close-and-personal with your foes — such as The Last of Us Part II, Bloober Team’s version of SH2 or, hell, even the reviled Callisto Protocol — trading blows here just feels very stiff. In fact, the same can be said for a lot of Hinako’s distractingly jerky movements. The transition between walking and sprinting is practically non-existent, her psychological breakdown animation is oddly abrupt, and you often get the sense that, whatever action you happen to be performing, there’s always a few keyframes missing.

If you can get past this sloppy presentation, however, the combat has a surprising depth to it. Where melee fights as James Sunderland essentially boiled down to rounds of grotesque Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots, Hinako has a much more comprehensive moveset at her disposal. She can execute perfect dodges, light attacks, strong attacks, weapon-specific manoeuvres, staggers, and parries (somewhat confusingly dubbed “counterattacks”, even though you’re supposed to deploy them approximately 4-5 business days before an incoming blow has had a chance to make contact). There’s also a tangible difference in how she handles each armament, as well as an opportunity to slightly customise your build with Omamori charms and a nuanced levelling up system.

Once you acclimatise to how clunky they look, the resulting encounters can be surprisingly strategic and fun. Particularly with the fantastic, reflex testing boss battles (which, at the risk of provoking groans, recall, yes, Dark Souls).

Nevertheless, it has to be pointed out that the best sequences are when the developers either allow or explicitly force you to resort to evasive tactics. Sometimes this takes the form of nail-biting stealth — like when you’re being hunted by a blind behemoth who can catch up to you in no time flat — while on other occasions it’s more about panickily running around in abject terror — like when a leaky vagina monster won’t leave you alone as you try to slowly raise a bucket from an excruciatingly cavernous well.

The opening salvo of the game is super intense in this regard, as it leaves you with no means to defend yourself while a cackling wraith hounds you through the labyrinthine streets of Ebisugaoka. Taken in isolation, that moment was the most energised I’ve felt playing a Silent Hill installment since maybe 2003.

Yet the highest praise I can give Silent Hill f is that it’s more than just a collection of these memorable moments. It’s a cohesive vision that proves there’s still life left in this series, as long as it’s entrusted to the right creative individuals. More than anything, though, it’s nice to be excited for the future of this series again.