As a Silent Hill protagonist descends further and further into madness and depravity, inevitably, they all ask a version of the same question: is this a dream?
That inquiry cuts to the core of Silent Hill's brand of "psychological horror." If Resident Evil derives its scares from the immediate terrors of the material world (predators, death, a lack of resources), Silent Hill engenders fear by making players confront the fragility of the human mind and the uncertainty of a shared, fixed reality. What is real? What isn't?
Silent Hill fans will soon be asking themselves if they are the ones dreaming. That's because Silent Hill f is one of the boldest, darkest, goriest, grimmest, and flat out best games in the entire series; a tremendous achievement that just over a year ago seemed unfathomable.
After more than a decade of neglect and middling entries, Konami has now released two back-to-back Silent Hill bangers in less than a year's time. Silent Hill 2 did the impossible by remaking an iconic game. But Silent Hill f is even more impressive. This is a brand new entry that fully understands the appeal of the franchise. But it's also one that takes bold risks with its setting and narrative approach.
Silent Hill f tells the story of Hinako, a teenage girl growing up in a small village in 1960's Japan. Her tale begins with largely domestic troubles: friction with parents, the looming prospect of marriage, a growing discomfort between lifelong friends. But it soon becomes clear that these mundane events are rooted in a different and very real kind of suffering. As that interior strife becomes more evident, the beautiful mountain village gives way to rot, decay, and of course, actual monsters.
What works so well here is how a cloak of ambiguity is constantly draped over the narrative, pulled off at just the right moment to keep us hooked. Who is Hinako, and how is she implicated in this story of violence and madness? What role do her friends play in all of this? Who is the mysterious man in the Fox mask (and what does he want with her?)
The new game riffs on one dynamic more than any previous Silent Hill game: the role that society and culture play in informing our character's mental breakdown. Is Hinako mad, or is the world around her mad? Hinako battles not just against her own mind, but with the rigid patriarchal norms and pressures of the era. That social context is a constant presence in Silent Hill f's story.
Not all of the game's many questions and loose ends get answered after the credits roll. There is a lot to mine here, far too much for one playthrough, and I can't wait to dissect this story alongside other fans and YouTube video essayists. It's that kind of game. A puzzle that is packed with mysteries and clues, rife for interpretation.
There are other things to wax poetic about. The cutscenes, of which there are many, are among the most artfully crafted and stylish I've seen in a video game. The game's pacing is relentless. Its puzzles are smart and rarely a nuisance. Its difficulty is finely tuned (even on Story mode, which is how Konami suggested I play the first time through).
If I had to nitpick, I'd point to the game's (much discussed) overreliance on combat scenarios and mechanics. There are light attacks, heavy attacks, focus attacks, counters ... it's all a bit much. Although the game believably ties these frequent encounters to the narrative, I would have definitely traded a handful of them for a few extra puzzles or spooky bouts of exploration.
But the best Silent Hill games live and die by their atmosphere and narrative. Silent Hill f is an absolute triumph in this regard. To my utter surprise, it's my favorite game in the series since the original Silent Hill 2.
Yes, it's that good.
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