The game that will always strike a chord of fear in my heart.
I yearned to play it, but at the same time I dreaded gripping my hands on the controller to do so. I loved and despised playing it. This is the game that made me question if pressing on was really a thing I wanted to do. It made me want to vomit. It was mentally draining. But still I went on to complete it, and here I am now.
Breathless. "The fear of blood tends to create fear for the flesh."
Silent Hill is just one of those games. A gripping narrative, a believable cast of characters, coupled with a chilling soundtrack and unnerving set-pieces are everything one could want in a horror video game. However, rather than just going for the standard B-movie scare-tactics a la Resident Evil, Silent Hill redefines the horror genre, while - in its own right - the way for a completely new and horrifying genre - psychological horror. A game that was so terribly scary, I had to draw in all of the courage I could possibly take for a human being to play it. And that's what makes this game such a memorable one, and it is indeed an unforgettable experience that I could never forget, no matter how hard I tried. All of the good memories I had with it, complete with all of the ones I didn't want to remember - Silent Hill simply burns a sick, twisted, and distorted image of a peaceful resort gone wrong into the deepest caverns of your mind. And no matter how hard you try scratching it out of your memory, it'll always still be there.
Developed by KCET and published by Konami, Silent Hill was released for the original Sony PlayStation on 31 January, 1999 - during perhaps "the golden age of horror video games". Notable hits such as Clock Tower and Parasite Eve were making their way into the pool of countless survival horror games at the time, but the most renowned and successful survival horror franchise - Resident Evil - was clearly raking in the dough. However, with the release of Silent Hill, things took a disturbingly hard turn. Gone were the zombies and biological disasters, and that Scissor Man lunatic. The horrifying, terrifying creatures of Silent Hill were the things that could only be seen in your worst nightmares - from the deepest bowels of the earth. That's what made the game so intensely scary and yet so satisfying; the feeling of the unknown has never struck more fear into me from any horror game I've played than Silent Hill.
Resident Evil went for the famous jump-scares that plague many of today's independent "indie" horror games. Biological experiments gone wrong would crash through a disturbingly reflective window when you'd least expect it. It's a shame, really, because whenever there was a window to be seen, you could already expect something to crash through it when you come across the same area later in the game. Silent Hill takes all of the cheap scares and throws it out the window. It embraces you relentlessly, throwing every single piece of violent and disturbing imagery as inhumanely possible and envelops you in its pure-evil atmosphere. That's where the magic of Silent Hill lies. And the way the game's atmosphere was so meticulously, so painstakingly designed to remind you of your worst nightmares (and to, of course, conjure up some new ones) works so unbelievably well that you fear that the game you're playing could potentially be a reality. It's like inviting a living hellish nightmare-town into the safety in your own home.
You play the game through the eyes of Harry Mason, a middle-aged man whose occupation is a writer (however, don't take the phrase too seriously; Silent Hill is a third-person psychological horror game - although it occasionally uses fixed camera angles in some cases). He takes his seven year-old daughter, Cheryl, along with him for a vacation in a peaceful resort town, Silent Hill. During a long drive through the night on the highway, Harry notices that a mysterious young girl is walking across the street, and tries to swerve violently to avoid impacting the girl but ends up crashing his car and is knocked out unconscious. However, the long drive wasn't all for naught - upon waking up in Silent Hill after the car crash, Harry notices that Cheryl is missing and ventures out into the ominous fog that defines the town of Silent Hill. He vows to find her and discover the unknown secrets of the creepy town and find out if the world he is in is a reality or a living nightmare.
Trust me, I'd go on and on but that puts you at risk of some major spoilers. So I'll just leave it at that. The third-person camera makes use of some fixed camera angles for more cinematic in-game shots (and in cinematic cutscenes) and the freakier scares, but for the most part the camera is always controllable, giving you a better view of your surroundings. That might seem that having a camera you can easily control takes away from the fear, but it only adds to it in the end. At least it doesn't venture into the notorious trope of Camera Screw and adding artificial difficulty by having a seriously uncooperative camera.
Harry Mason is in a way an "everyman", or an average person who has no real defining qualities other than being an average Joe and simply serves as a sort of avatar for the character. The scary thing about this is, is that Harry is in no way a seasoned veteran, nor has he ever had any sort of experience with fighting, and that makes you feel like you're helpless in some cases - like you're so hopelessly weak and have no chance of surviving in the hellish world. Controlled from a third-person perspective, Silent Hill doesn't feel as clunky in controls or as robust as Resident Evil's infamous "tank controls". There are several ways that give the gameplay a more fluid feeling, such as being able to strafe from side-to-side and - my personal favorite - the ability to shoot and walk in any direction at the same time. The combat system is so limited and hard-to-use, but is effectively scary in the sense that Harry has such little experience with fighting - especially fighting things he's only seen in his worst nightmares.
Harry will also have to take care of himself and manage a rather large assortment of items. The majority of the weapons are melee-based, but ranged weapons can also be used. There is a strangely large amount of ammunition to be found in Silent Hill, and there will be rare cases where you'll run out of ammo for your shotgun or hunting rifle unless you've been shooting it around like a mad dog. Healing items are few and far between, and you're likely to use them frequently, as Harry is a generally weak individual. He can die from a few attacks and is relatively, physically weak - which only adds to the feeling of helplessness, isolation, and desperation. Keys and other items are used for navigating throughout Silent Hill, and maps have to be found to traverse through the large overworld. Locations vary from convenience stores, small houses, to police stations and gas stations. I won't spoil the more important locations.
The atmosphere in Silent Hill is simply the best I've seen in the genre. Derelict and dilapidated buildings, along with cafes and mom-and-pop stores that have seen better days all add to the feeling that Silent Hill is an empty, deserted town. The haunting vision of a town with a dark past is only enhanced by the addition of Silent Hill's trademark: fog. The fog is so thick and heavy that you have no idea what might be ahead of you. Cleverly used as a way to hide the Sony PlayStation's limitations at the time, the game's limited point-distance is hidden with the fog effect that is used so effectively that it made the daytime as scary as pure darkness. The game tricks you into thinking you're in a safe place, and the numerous save points scattered throughout the overworld make each one feel like a breath of fresh air.
And then the lights go down. There is no mercy now. Silent Hill grips you at the neck and refuses to give you any chance of hope or feeling of safety. It is a brutal, mentally-draining experience until the very end. My most memorable moments of the game came from the relentlessly dark portions of the game, where Silent Hill was enveloped in pure darkness. This is what makes Silent Hill so unique in the horror genre. During these portions of the game, enemies are far more disturbing and aggressive. All you have to light the darkness with is a flashlight attached to your jacket - and you never know what lurks ahead or what is hiding in the impending shadows. This is where the radio comes in. Whenever an enemy is nearby, the radio will emit static, and the sounds of demonic children with bloody knives can be heard growling as their bare feet scrape towards your direction. The shrieking of gargoyles and the moaning of the possessed inhabitants of Silent Hill send chills down your spine and make you want to cover your ears in fright.
The tension is further increased with the music and sound departments. Masterfully composed, the game's soundtrack is minimalist in some cases while heart-pounding in others. Depressing and mellow undertones add to the psychological elements of the game, and Harry's feelings that he might not make it out alive with his daughter can be reflected in the game's soundtrack. The haunting blaring of the air raid sirens in the background are so mysteriously timed in the game; so startlingly original. It all makes you wonder about the mysteries of what really happened in Silent Hill. There's nothing scarier when you've just narrowly escaped an ambush from bloodthirsty, savage dogs with the relentless lashing of industrial beats and entering into a room you've never been to before, only to notice that the music has suddenly disappeared. The fear of the unknown is the greatest scare-tactic in this game, and it worked so effectively that I had to play the game in breaks at times, listening to Bossa Nova music - the game is that intense. It robs you of your sanity and throws you into multiple locales that you've never even imagined before and expecting you to explore it.
And where would a great horror game be without puzzles? Silent Hill is chock-full of riddles and clues, many of which left me scratching my head in confusion. Puzzles are abundant and are deviously confusing and devilishly created to make you want to look up answers via walkthrough. Many will leave you frustrated, especially later in the game. The problem about the puzzles is that many of them are so impossibly vague that they put Zelda and Metroid to shame. They are ridiculously hard, but the feeling of conquering the puzzles are so satisfying that it's hard to judge whether the riddles add or subtract from the game. Aside from these, Silent Hill adds a twist on the puzzles. It takes standard items you'd find in your average household and forces you to cleverly use them in a different way. The game really makes you think about that random rubber ball in your inventory, or that metal ring.
The scares of Silent Hill are its core, next to the atmosphere. Even though they almost never use jump-scares to make the player have to buy a new pair of pants, the feeling of imminent death and the fear of what lurks ahead scares me way more than the dogs that crashed through the mansion windows in Resident Evil. Sometimes you'll hear your radio emit static, but there won't be anyone around. You might hear noises in a room next to you, or you might enter a room you once thought was safe but as soon as you open the door a possessed nurse is ready to stab you senselessly. In many cases, you'll wonder if you're hearing things, such as hearing scraping noises on the walls of the room next to you or a banging on the door shortly after you enter an operating room gone wrong. The disturbing imagery works so well here, taking conventional objects and places and turning them into things you'll want to stay away from in real life. The game psychologically attacks you whenever possible, and burns the visions into your skull, making you want to forget the horrifying scenes you've just seen even though it's impossible.
Silent Hill is a startlingly original entry in the horror genre. It builds up the tension to the point where you're simply expecting something to happen, but nothing does. And then it gets you when you least expect it. Although on the short side (the first playthrough can be completed in around five to six hours), every scream you make and every pounding your heart makes makes the journey worth it. It's like an amusement park ride from hell, and the characters are sympathetic. It makes you actually want to care about Harry Mason and whatever might happen to his daughter Cheryl, along with the mysteries of Silent Hill and the tragic occurrences of the past.
It made me want to check into a psychiatrist. It made me want to close my eyes forever. Anything you see in this game will be a thing you'll want to forget about. Silent Hill is a game that defines horror, and is pure psychological horror fuel. It's a game that will build you up and break you down, and drag you through a world you won't ever want to remember.
The game that I wanted to forget. The game that will always strike a chord of fear in my heart.