silent hill 2

Loaded Questions Vol. 10

Loaded Questions is a regular feature at Game Bias. If you have a question you would like to submit, please email it to pressgrove84@yahoo.com or tweet it to @jedpressfate. Questions can cover anything closely or tangentially related to video games or art, including but not limited to criticism, culture, and politics. Questions may be edited for clarity.

Question 1

Dani: Do you tolerate tank controls in games like Resident Evil 4 or God Hand? I read a piece where you talk about how this mechanic was awful in Silent Hill 2, but you have praised Resident Evil 4, so I’m curious why.

Jed Pressgrove: I haven’t played God Hand, but the protagonist in Resident Evil 4 controls fine as a tank, and it’s all due to perspective.

Before I go any further, I’ll explain what basic tank controls are for those who may not be familiar with them. In a game with tank controls, pressing “up” on a control pad or joystick will move you forward. To turn, you must press “right” or “left” on a pad or joystick, and when you turn, your avatar stops moving altogether. In other words, you can only move forward when you’re facing in the direction you want to move, but to face another direction, your avatar must pause and turn. Moreover, if you press “down” on a pad or joystick, your avatar will, depending on the game, do nothing or move in reverse without facing the opposite direction.

Regardless of whether you’re playing Resident Evil 4, Silent Hill 2, or Combat (which actually involves tanks), tank controls usually take time to get used to. But perspective, or the position of a game’s camera, can significantly impact your experience using this control scheme.

In Resident Evil 4, the camera is behind the shoulder of the protagonist; thus, the player is always looking in the same direction as the protagonist. This perspective allows tank controls to be more intuitive, as when you press “up,” the protagonist moves “up” into the background that he is facing. And because the perspective never changes, you’re tied to the eyesight of the character, which produces a strong connection between you and the avatar.

In Silent Hill 2, the camera angle changes dynamically depending on where you are walking in the environment, similar to the case in the original Resident Evil. The camera might be behind your character one moment, only to show a side view of your character in the next. And yet, the whole time, you’re expected to keep pressing “up” to move forward. The random changes in perspective are intended to be discombobulating, but I consider this a cheap trick that serves as a contrived reminder that you and your avatar are fundamentally at odds, and let’s not forget, the Resident Evil series already pulled this trick multiple times.

To me, the epitome of Silent Hill 2’s clunky stupidity is the early encounter with Pyramid Head where you have to keep running away from him in circles within a small room. The concept itself is silly and kinetically uninteresting, and the only reason it’s remotely tense is due to your avatar’s weird pauses in movement every time you have to turn (rather than any heightened connection between you and the avatar). The elongated routine completely destroys any suspension of disbelief that one might have, as no one in their right mind would awkwardly pause as they’re running away from such a destructive creature within an enclosed space.

Question 2

Kenji Madaraki: Is replayability a factor for you when deciding if a game is one of the greatest ever? I know that Indie Gamer Chick, for example, has stated that she doesn’t care much at all about replay value and will still put a game in her top 10 even if she liked it drastically less on a second playthrough. Has a game ever fallen out of favor with you to a considerable degree after you played it again?

Jed Pressgrove: I definitely fall more on Cathy’s (Indie Gamer Chick’s) side when it comes to replayability.

First, games are frequently addictive for various reasons, but just because a game is addictive doesn’t mean it’s great. Case in point, if you were to go by hours played to identify my top game of 2016, Street Fighter V would be the clear winner. However, I didn’t play Street Fighter V for hours and hours and hours because it was great. I did it because I’ve been playing the Street Fighter series since I was a young kid, and I’m very competitive when it comes to any of those games. Even though Street Fighter V isn’t that good (see my review here), I still got a rush from beating people online, so I played the game for a ridiculous amount of time.

Second, I don’t call a game “great” before going through a rigorous process of questioning my instincts and feelings and comparing the game’s strengths and weaknesses to those of various other games. There is no objective truth here, though I do have a lot of knowledge and experience to draw from when making these determinations. So while it can be helpful to replay certain games when I’m trying to rank them in a specific order, replayability doesn’t help me evaluate the various qualities of a game in a historical sense.

To answer your final question, sometimes replaying a game might make me think it’s not as good as I thought it was, but I can’t recall a single time when this has happened for a game that I consider one of the greatest ever, and that’s due to the second reason above. I don’t throw around “greatest” lightly.

Question 3

Cesar Marquez: What is art? What isn’t art? How can video games be art and sport at the same time?

Jed Pressgrove: Very broadly, art is something that involves craft and/or personal expression/style, and it can be appreciated by an audience as a display, statement, or performance. This definition allows quite a number of things to be art — from paintings to lawns, from chess to basketball, from cross-stitching to glassblowing. Art is not necessarily good, but I think it should be a very wide umbrella.

The main thing that I exclude from the artistic realm is advertising. If the sole purpose of something is to get you to spend money on something else, that thing is my sworn enemy as a critic and human being.

There is a competitive element to many games, so that’s why they can be sports, which can be art themselves. The art in games can be seen in their individual elements (music, visuals, etc.), what they express as a whole (Nier: Automata as a portrait of discrimination, Earthbound as a statement on the unifying power of faith, etc.), and what players can achieve (Dayo’s come-from-behind victory in Street Fighter III is beautiful and elating).

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Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice Review — Against Self-Hatred

by Jed Pressgrove

In the so-called canon of great games, the sensitive Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice should replace the fear-mongering Silent Hill 2. Through the trials, tribulations, and redemption of its protagonist Senua, Hellblade flips the video-game script on psychosis with a tale that puts players into the shoes of someone who fights voices and visions in her head as she goes about life. Games like Silent Hill 2 make Hellblade’s statement necessary, as the former propagates the lie that high-quality horror is about scaring people. Silent Hill 2 and its ilk want us to be consumers who are frightened of mental illness (or, more directly, the human mind itself), but Hellblade’s horror asks audiences to embrace the challenge of overcoming self-hatred brought about by psychological struggle.

Developer Ninja Theory opens Hellblade with Senua in a canoe crossing a river to arrive at a hellish place, where the impediments to Senua’s happiness are quickly established for players. As a narrator whispers exposition, you also hear additional competing voices while Senua travels. Representing the internal dialogue of Senua, these voices are unnerving in their inconsistent messaging: lines like “Go back,” “You don’t know where you’re going,” and “That’s it, that’s it, that’s the way” are only a few examples of how Senua’s conflicting selves attempt to influence her mood and actions. And while this audio chaos is disturbing, the player, through pushing Senua to the next challenge, immediately grasps the strength of this character in how she can function despite the madness within her.

Soon, Hellblade becomes a game of puzzles and fights, with the former illustrating how someone with Senua’s condition sees the world differently (nature) and the latter representing the self-destructive fear and hatred that Senua developed because of her father’s abuse (nurture). The gradual reveal of Senua’s upbringing is especially illuminating: her father treats her inherited psychology as a curse that will destroy everyone around her, much like the events and notes in Silent Hill 2 speciously connect mental illness to automatic murder and tragedy.

Through Senua’s battles with male foes (undoubtedly visions connected to her brutal dad), Hellblade is the first game I’ve played since Golden Axe: Beast Rider that elicits gender-based intimidation in the heat of physical combat, though the nonverbal preening of Hellblade’s musclebound men is more subtle than the screams of “Bitch!” in Golden Axe: Beast Rider. This element begs for another comparison to Silent Hill 2, as that overrated game’s protagonist James can deal damage to ostensibly feminine foes, a supposed representation of James’ frustration with his dying wife. Whereas Silent Hill 2 revels in its depiction of misogyny without a clear lesson (multiple endings can kill thematic purpose), Hellblade’s climax, where players must literally stop killing the bad guys if they want to see the conclusion, leads to universal philosophical implications in a single, unforgettable coda.

The violent men that Senua dispatches throughout Hellblade emanate from Hela, a goddess that Senua sees as her ultimate opposition. But when you finally give up against the neverending male horde at the end, something incredible happens: Hela becomes Senua. This transformation rejects the intolerant feelings Senua has about parts of herself: at one point, she tells the voices in her head, “I didn’t ask you to be part of me.” But they are part of her, just as all humans have parts of themselves that cause guilt and fear. After Senua realizes she has ultimately been trying to destroy herself, she can start to appreciate the beauty of life again. In this way, Hellblade triumphs over the monotony of its combat and, hopefully, takes its rightful place above pop horror games that rarely edify us.

Silent Hill 2 Review — Horrible Survival

by Jed Pressgrove

Pay Your Respect

Very few video games command as much reverence as Silent Hill 2. Ben “Yahtzee” Croshaw, a critic known for negative reviews of popular games, said Silent Hill 2 was evidence that “gaming is still worth defending” (a paranoid sentiment, but that’s beside the point). Not even Resident Evil, a substantial influence on survival horror, gets as much respect as Silent Hill 2. People often praise Capcom for releasing updated versions of Resident Evil. But when I asked if I should play the HD version of Silent Hill 2, the answer was strictly “No.” The implication was that great art should not be defiled.

Despite this reputation, playing Silent Hill 2 for the first time in 2015 hasn’t given me a greater appreciation of survival horror. Silent Hill 2’s supposed focus on survival is pretentious, as survival is an old idea in video games. One could call Space Invaders, Pac-Man, Donkey Kong, or Dig Dug “survival games,” so it’s a no-brainer that survival is more of a “horror” with counter-intuitive design. Compare survival horror’s tricks with 1993’s Doom, which doesn’t rely on clunky controls to be exhilarating and even frightening.

Silent Hill 2’s cheap scares are stuck in 1996 anyway. Like the original Resident Evil, Silent Hill 2 thinks a human should control like a tank from Atari’s Combat, despite the fact that the Playstation 2 controller has analog control. Like the original Resident Evil, Silent Hill 2 tries to exploit you with bad camera angles, such as when you walk through a door to be attacked by enemies you can barely see. Silent Hill 2 does allow you to strafe and to reposition the camera at times, but other games had better execution of these ideas before 2001, Silent Hill 2’s year of release. But that’s survival horror: take things from games and do them worse (and be hailed for this lack of imagination).

As outdated as the controls are in Silent Hill 2, the game has a surprisingly strong commitment to the Second Amendment and healthcare. Health and ammo seem to be around every corner. I killed almost every enemy in Silent Hill 2 to avoid the inconvenience of dealing with obstacles while going back and forth in halls. You become unstoppable after you collect all of the weapons, none of which are hard to find. Once you have everything, all you have to do is blow an enemy to the ground with the shotgun, then switch to the giant sword and swing as the enemy stands up. Silent Hill 2 gives you so much healing and killing power that the sight of a monster is merely monotonous.

Many suggest Silent Hill 2 isn’t about combat like Resident Evil 6, but that’s baloney. Silent Hill 2 is a lot like Resident Evil 6, only more repetitive. Silent Hill 2 even tells you how many enemies you killed and how much time you took beating everything. Given its pretension, the term “survival horror” doesn’t have much use here. Silent Hill 2 isn’t a survival horror game. It’s a horrible survival game.

Atmosphere Is the Buzzword

Silent Hill 2 is often mentioned with that cloudy word “atmosphere.” If one says “Silent Hill 2 does atmosphere very well” while standing in fog during a pitch-black night, the phrase becomes quite appropriate. In Silent Hill 2, atmosphere is darkness and/or fog.

I exaggerate to an extent. Anyone can understand the praise for Silent Hill 2’s atmosphere when you enter a trashed apartment as foreboding industrial music breaks the silence. One such apartment is inhabited by butterflies. When you examine the bedroom, the protagonist James remarks about a single dead butterfly, evoking a memorable sense of futility. Later in the game, you walk down an almost laughable amount of steps before jumping into one hole after another, not aware of what’s coming next yet knowing there’s no turning back. Does the game end in Hell?, you might wonder.

But in many cases, the atmosphere of Silent Hill 2 amounts to poor visibility due to overuse of fog and darkness. The most challenging part of the game is squinting to make sure you’re not missing any of the game’s essential items. This visual tedium trumps the feelings that producer Akihito Imamura wants to convey.

When Story and Levels Clash

As much as I’d like to believe Silent Hill 2’s greatest character is the town, as Croshaw argues, the game is a series of simple levels with an absurd number of broken door locks. And while the tradition of linearity and boss fights doesn’t suggest an issue by itself, Silent Hill 2 doesn’t serve its story with this approach. As a result, Silent Hill 2 struggles to maintain a serious tone, filling its levels with risible dialogue and boneheaded violence.

For example, look at the apartment level. Some would rather refer to the name of the apartment buildings, but it’s an apartment level. As James, you’re searching for your wife Mary in Silent Hill, but monsters start attacking you on the street, and you find the apartment level. Once you get to the apartment level, James won’t let you leave it, even though he has little to no reason to believe Mary is in the apartment level (in a letter, Mary clearly says she’s waiting for him in their “special place,” a hotel). Alright fine. A traditional game in disguise. But the apartment level, outside of an occasional memorable scene like the butterfly apartment, is incredibly silly.

The level could pass as a parody of a reality show called Apartment Hunting in Hell. In one apartment, you examine a dead body in the kitchen. James wonders “Who could have done this?” Hmmmm … perhaps the monsters you’ve been whipping with a nail board. In another apartment, James catches a glimpse of the monster Pyramid Head. Then in another apartment, he meets Eddie, some random guy throwing up in a toilet. James proceeds to ask Eddie if he is “friends” with the “pyramid guy.” Yeah, Eddie and Pyramid Head are drinking buddies, and Eddie just can’t handle his alcohol as well as Pyramid Head. James leaves Eddie behind, knowing that Eddie could be killed. This lack of concern for Eddie suggests that James really wants to find his wife, right? Yeah, the wife who is obviously not in the apartment building! (You later face Eddie in a boss fight. Just save your rifle ammo and heal often, and Eddie isn’t a problem. After you kill Eddie, James says, “I … I killed a … a human being … a human being.” William Shatner couldn’t have said it better). In any case, the apartment level climaxes with a Pyramid Head encounter, a play on the boss fight tradition. To win, you run around in circles until Pyramid Head walks away, which wouldn’t be remotely stressful if not for the knockoff Resident Evil tank controls.

You could theoretically write off any of this nonsense as part of a surreal nightmare scenario (bonus points if you mention David Lynch). Indeed, Silent Hill 2 is very happy to tell you about an imaginary relationship between grief, mental illness, and sadism. A document in the hospital level — as if any health institution would buy into this drivel — speaks of an illness that can afflict anyone, that can drive you to “the other side” where reality and unreality meet. Silent Hill 2’s link between violence and mental illness is impersonal and out of touch compared to Remigiusz Michalski’s The Cat Lady. Even Edgar Allan Poe’s relatively primitive understanding of madness comes from personal experience. Silent Hill 2’s dime-store psychology doesn’t say anything meaningful about humanity and therefore doesn’t excuse levels that waste time with banalities about locked doors and deranged killers.

Great Ending, Though

Some claim Silent Hill 2 has the best ending in video game history. I agree if by “ending” we mean voice actress Monica Taylor Horgan’s reading of Mary’s full letter to James. Horgan’s passion underlines the truths in Mary’s letter, which portrays both Mary and James as flawed, believable human beings: “I was so angry all the time and I struck out at everyone I loved most. Especially you, James. That’s why I understand if you do hate me.”

Before Horgan reads the letter, Silent Hill 2 portrays James as a confused party before employing that “The protagonist is actually the killer” cliche. As James wanders around Silent Hill bashing and shooting feminine creatures, the game does a disservice to the reality it tries to convey: a wife and husband struggling to reconcile their feelings about permanent separation. The violence emphasizes mindless sadism and unfair punishment to scare players, but these concepts hold little insight about the complex relationship of Mary and James. Horgan’s sincere expression of complicated adult life exposes the combat as contrived game lengthening.

Several hours of flawed game design for one brilliant moment of artistry. That is Silent Hill 2.