Is there anything left that Silent Hill can offer us? Last year, I felt the answer to that question was a resounding no. The series’ comeback game The Short Message, a short teaser of a horror experience, landed far, far away from my tastes, and last year’s Silent Hill 2 was a remake of a game that needed one perhaps less than any other. This year is different though, because it has a true, full-sized, and most importantly new entry to bring this question back to the forefront. And Silent Hill f is a game that has, annoyingly, put me in my place.
The game’s series-first setting, 1960s Japan, feels quite well positioned to deal with some pretty big themes outside of the usual guilt and grief – in particular, gender inequality. Going into it, this is probably what made me the most nervous. Having now played it, that anxious feeling has quietened, as I think what it does have to say is in part worth saying in the first place, but also worth engaging with – even if I have some caveats. An intriguing turn of events for Silent Hill revival sceptics like myself.
Silent Hill f starts us off with teen girl protagonist Shimizu Hinako bailing on an argument with her alcoholic, abusive father to go see some friends, including Shu, her male (that’s important) best mate. That classic fog starts to roll in soon after her arrival, another friend turns into flowers, and a monster gives chase, sending the remaining lot of them into a surreal, twisted version of the place they call home. Same shit, different country.
Immediately, I felt surprised by how it did all feel like ‘a Silent Hill game’. For one thing, Hinako is introduced with precious little context for her life and backstory: she’s just thrust into the mess of it all and forced to deal with whatever trauma she’s been keeping bottled up. It’s a similar trick to the one Silent Hill 2 pulls early on, withholding details on why James has come to town, and Silent Hill f is certainly successful at spinning the intrigue on who Hinako is and why she’s in this position herself.
Its more important accomplishment, though, was having me Scooby-Doo-style spinning my legs in the air in an attempt to run away in terror. SHf’s monsters, beasties, and physical manifestations of [insert interpretations here] were truly horrid to look at, and worse to have snarling up in your face. Some of them move erratically, which makes their violent lunges harder to predict, and while bigger enemies are slower and more lumbering, they still move with an domineering sense of threat. All of which makes the more Souls-influenced melee combat interesting, if still likely to prove divisive.
Hardware ed James, for one, wasn’t the biggest fan when he played at Gamescom last month. I don’t know if any tweaks were made since then to tighten up the bludgeoning, but I had no problems with it myself. Missing a swing generally felt like my fault, the impact of steel pipes and axes always landed with a satisfying thunk, and nothing – be it my arsenal or the fog’s monsters – felt imbalanced for an action-horror adventure.
It’s just.. it is quite actiony. You have a stamina meter, which depletes with weapon swipes as well as dodges, though perfect dodges will restore that stamina while slowing down time. Combined with a parry-ish move that stops enemies in their tracks so you can launch into a counterattack, the fighting is rarely bad, but it never feels very Silent Hilly (Shilly?).
This isn’t the Resident Evil 4ification of Silent Hill either, to be clear. Hinako doesn’t do any sick flips, and not once does she parry a chainsaw. I’d even say I enjoyed the combat more often than not. But still, I’m not sure at home it feels within a world like Silent Hill’s, especially considering Hinako is a teenage girl with no apparent combat training. It’s something I ended up justifying in my own head: Hinako is quite an angry teenage girl, as many are and should be – the world is not known for being kind to that particular demographic historically – so why shouldn’t she get to exert some of that rage?
As it happens, the reasoning behind Hinako’s rage is something that Silent Hill f manages to explore with both zero subtlety and a surprisingly amount of nuance, whether it’s focusing on Hinako herself or exploring why her dad is such an abusive drunk. Ultimately, Silent Hill f isn’t about dash-dodging around yokai: it’s about expectations of gender.
See, there are two other things to know about Hinako. The first is that she has an older sister, Junko, whose youthful kindness and playfulness faded away once she got married – not that it hurt her position as their parents’ favourite daughter. The other is that Hinako is seen as quite masculine by her friends and family. She’s a bit rough and tumble; she doesn’t care for dolls, but she does like playing Space Wars with her platonic “partner” Shu.
Now, I’m not saying that in the year of 2025 we’re entirely free to express ideas around gender as and how we like, but it certainly was a damn sight worse in the sixties, and Silent Hill f doesn’t shy away from that. It’s immediately apparent that there’s an expectation placed upon Hinako that she must fit into society and, just like her sister, eventually find a man to settle down with – notions she wholly rejects. Shu’s just her partner, people.
Even so, they’re notions she can’t seem to escape, even when she’s repeatedly plucked from the ‘real’ world to another, more mystical one, as this is a realm where tradition reigns supreme. There are torii gates. There are old lanterns. There are Zen gardens and Shinto temples. At my most cynical, this is where Silent Hill f’s presentation of its new setting seems to teeter on the edge of Thing, Japan a little too precariously. It’s not without purpose, however. The trials that Hinako endures here certainly feel tantamount to being forced to fit into society, and it’s something that I think that might even strike a chord with gender non-conforming folks out there.
I don’t want to spoil too much of what textually happens, because Silent Hill has always been its best when you’re interpreting its themes for yourself. Likewise, it’s hard to examine the effects of writer Ryukishi07’s signature approach to structure without giving too much away, even if it’s executed wonderfully. But for me, it’s a game about figuring out who you are when the people close to you (and society at large) have such narrow expectations for you. There’s even an eyebrow to be raised here at Hinako’s mother, a parental figure you’d think, or hope, would be more protective than she is shown to be in such a world. Nuance! All of this is a powerful thing to feel and experience in a game, and a fresh one for Silent Hill specifically.
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I still hold complicated feelings on Silent Hill f. There’s a big part of me that wanted to resist it, simply because of the industry’s current overreliance on wringing out (and recycling) existing series. And yet here I am, constantly thinking about it, what it’s saying, dealing with how I’ve been confronted with messy emotions and upsetting realisations. It is, in fact, interesting, and games being interesting is more important to me than how they fall on a simple good/bad scale.
So yes, Silent Hill does still has something to offer, and right now I can’t stop thinking about the game that provides it. Or talking about it! I’m excited for my partner, a fellow Silent Hill lover, to play it, so I can dig into its themes with them. And then grab my friend, who’s only just got into the series, and do the same with them.
There’s nothing I love more in life than a piece of art that triggers a desire for discussion, and in the face of my own assumptions, Silent Hill f has done that for me. Its combat, its new setting, or even its subject matter might not do that for you, but the bottom line is, it turns out that even after all these years, Silent Hill can still strike up an exciting conversation.