Maybe Silent Hill f’s greatest success is unshackling the series from the singular dead-end town that gives the series its name. There are nowhere places like Silent Hill all over the world, so when the developers at Neobards decided to set this game in Japan, the prospect of seeing what shape the series’s horrors would take in a less Westernized context was exciting. Pity, then, that the 1960s-set game feels so familiar in so many disappointing ways.
Shimizu Hinako (voiced by Konatsu Katô), a teenage girl from the rural village of Ebisugaoka, is very much shackled to her dead-end town. And the process of freeing herself over the course of Silent Hill f’s story gets ugly, harrowing, self-destructive, and, eventually, powerful. But before the game becomes any of that, it’s an incredibly boring trek through town.
Strong aesthetics have always been the glue holding together janky mechanics in the Silent Hill series, and that’s no exception here. The trademark fog is now joined by an eerily beautiful red spider lily infestation that gradually blooms into living, undulating flesh growing out of every porous surface of the town. It’s a nauseating but undeniably captivating sight only enhanced by series ace Yamaoka Akira returning once again with a brilliant, mind-shattering soundscape.
But a game can only coast on aesthetics for so long. Even for a series known for slipshod mechanics, they’ve never felt so estranged from the narrative as they do here. Swinging lead pipes at unholy monstrosities has always felt off in Silent Hill games, and while Silent Hill f clings to the stiffness that’s defined the series’s mostly layperson protagonists, it adds a dodging and stamina management to the gameplay, which has invited comparison to Dark Souls. That its implementation is less than smooth is as disappointing as it is perversely appropriate.
It doesn’t help that, on the enemies front, the game is short on ideas. That’s alleviated by the terrifying creature design, a few easy but narratively intriguing puzzles that use those enemies in a smart way, and that Ebisugaoka is, like many Japanese towns, mostly composed of narrow walkways and alleys. Compared to other Silent Hill games, you can’t just run past most enemies here, but that also means more uncomfortable static with the combat. There’s also the matter of weapon degradation rearing its ugly head, and an excruciatingly limited inventory system means that you’ll be spending a lot of time discarding more items than you’ll ever get to use.
Combined with a narrative that feels like all the worst tendencies of YA manga playing out as po-faced as possible, even the stellar art direction and sound design can’t stop the game from feeling wasteful. But as the story finally gets less obvious and juvenile, we get to see how a very specific brand of Japanese small-town traditionalism and generational misogyny takes its toll on Shimizu, and how it forces her to tear it all down—occasionally by brutally tearing herself apart.
The game doesn’t become much more enjoyable to play as it goes along, but it most definitely has something to say by the end, and says it louder and louder until it reaches a terrifying crescendo whose power is undeniable. Will you stick the course? Maybe it’s Western arrogance to expect a small-town Japanese girl to advocate for herself much sooner, but Silent Hill f gives players too many good reasons to give up on Shimizu before she does.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.
